A Pinch of Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery (Frosted Love Mysteries Book 2)

by Carol Durand

  “Not at all,” Missy admitted. “I told her that I wasn’t interested, and she didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer, so she told me that she’d talk with me again this morning.”

  “I see.” Detective Brasco finished writing something on his clipboard and put down his pen. “We’ve been instructed to inform you that the competition is postponed, pending further investigation,” he told her ruefully. “How long are you planning to be in town?”

  “I actually booked an entire week, so I’ll be here until Saturday.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Great. Hey, can you do me a favor? Don’t leave town without checking in with me, okay? You’ve been very helpful, and I might like to ask you a few more questions as the investigation proceeds, if that’s alright with you.”

  “Of course,” Missy agreed, her heart heavy that the competition had been postponed. Now she was stuck in Vegas for a week with nothing to do. Well, she could certainly work on her tan.

  Detective Ramirez opened the conference room door, giving Missy her cue to leave, and she made her way back to her room, lost in thought. She felt bad about ‘ratting out’ a hometown girl, but the reality was that if anyone had done anything improper, it was Marta, and she would just have to face the consequences of her unpleasant behavior.

  She flipped on the TV when she returned to her room and was surprised to see the ballroom of the hotel on the screen. Thinking the story was about the scandal of Marta trying to essentially bribe a contestant, she turned up the volume. The camera view switched from the ballroom to a shot of a body bag on a gurney, being loaded into a coroner’s hearse. Missy trembled violently and her knees gave way, the couch catching her fall, as the words ‘Cooking Celebrity Murdered’ flashed across the screen. The reporter’s words barely penetrated the numbness that engulfed her as Missy tried to process the fact that Marta was dead and apparently someone had killed her. Now she understood why the detectives questioned her so thoroughly about her relationship with Marta. Her stomach churned violently, and an abject panic rose within her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a loud rapping on her door drowned out the horrible words of the newscast. She took a deep breath and stood shakily, moving to the door and opening it.

  “Housekeeping,” a uniformed employee smiled brightly at her.

  Missy shook her head. “No…no thank you, I don’t need anything,” she murmured, shutting the door before the woman could reply. She leaned against the door weakly, her heart pounding within her chest. Numb, she did the only thing that she could think of, dialing Chas Beckett’s cell phone number.

  Chapter 7

  Chas Beckett stepped into the terminal in Las Vegas, troubled. Missy had been so upset when she called that it was difficult to get a real grasp of the situation, but he could tell from the questions that the detectives had asked that she was at the very least a person of interest in the murder of Marta Cambridge, if not an actual suspect. If he was being honest, based upon the information that she had provided, she looked like a pretty solid suspect, but knowing her as he did, he knew that the beautiful, sweet soul had just gotten herself into yet another sticky situation that he would have to help her unravel.

  “Chas!” Missy threw herself into his arms, tears in her eyes, when he appeared at her door.

  He gave her a brief hug, then, feeling a bit awkward at her show of emotion, he led her over to the couch and handed her his handkerchief. Settling down into a chair across from her, he instructed her to give him a play-by-play of everything that had happened since she’d been in Vegas.

  She stared at him for a moment, forlorn. “How is Toffee?” she asked pitifully, tearing up again.

  Chas stifled his frustration, completely understanding her need for an update on her best friend. “Doris is taking excellent care of your girl,” he smiled reassuringly. “When we got to Happy Tails, Toffee greeted her, gobbled down a cookie and ran out to the yard to play with Bubba the bloodhound.”

  Missy smiled through her tears. “Toffee loves Bubba,” she nodded, relieved.

  “Now tell me what’s going on, from the beginning,” Detective Beckett instructed gently.

  Missy filled him in as to what had happened at her lunch with Marta, and what she had said to Detective Brasco. His jaw tightened a bit when he heard the tactic that the detective had used to gain Missy’s confidence and get her to talk without ever telling her that she was being questioned as a potential suspect.

  “I thought he was just being nice,” she lamented. “He seemed so caring in contrast to his rude partner.”

  “That was also a deliberate tactic,” Chas said grimly.

  “So what do I do now?” Missy worried.

  “For the moment, nothing. I’m going to look into Marta’s background and see if I can find any leads on people who might have a grudge against her for some reason. ” Chas looked at her, concerned. “Don’t worry Missy; we’ll get to the bottom of this. I have some leave time built up, so I can be here for you until this mess gets resolved, okay?”

  She nodded, tearing up again and Chas moved to the couch to embrace her, holding her lightly while she cried.

  He was surprised at the protective instinct that rose up within him at the thought of Missy being targeted as a suspect, and was determined to see the case through to the very end. In an unguarded moment, he brushed his lips across her forehead and squeezed her tight. She melted into his arms, drawing from his strength and wetting his handkerchief thoroughly with the tears that she had previously been too numb to shed. She took several deep breaths, collecting herself, and when Detective Beckett felt her breathing return to some semblance of normalcy, he gently released her.

  “I’m going to go do some research and see if I can find some answers,” he told her, his strong hands on her shoulders. “In the meantime, you keep a low profile. Hang out at the pool, but don’t drink anything stronger than Cola, we need to keep you sharp in case you encounter Brasco again. If you do see him, be polite, but don’t answer any questions, understand?”

  Missy nodded, and swiped at her nose with the sodden handkerchief. Beckett stood to go and headed for the door. “Chas?” she called out softly. He turned back to her, his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks,” she attempted to smile at the handsome detective who was coming to her rescue.

  “Don’t mention it,” he smiled back encouragingly, his adorable dimples evident.

  Chapter 8

  Missy pulled the brim of her large, floppy sunhat down low over her eyes, feeling as though she just wanted to hide from the world. Her lime green bikini contrasted beautifully with her slight tan, but she was entirely unaware of the attractive picture that she presented as she settled into a lounger with her lemon water and book. She had her phone with her in case Chas needed to get in touch. He had rented a room at the hotel, which was now largely deserted – a result of the rapid departure of everyone associated with the competition. Marta’s death had cast an understandable pall over the hotel, and people couldn’t seem to leave quickly enough. Missy was more than uncomfortable staying, but knew that it would look terribly suspicious if she left, under the circumstances. She tried as hard as she could to concentrate on the novel that she had brought, but found her attention wandering so often that after she had read the same sentence at least four times, she closed it in frustration. Closing her eyes and soaking in the sun, she was acutely aware of the tension that gripped her entire body. Her neck and shoulders ached, her stomach was in a constant state of turmoil, and her head throbbed dully. She sipped her water, turning the details of her current situation over and over in her mind, coming up with nothing but more confusion and worry.

  She turned over to lie on her stomach, absently enjoying the feel of the intense Nevada sun baking into her aching back.

  More than an hour later, she heard a deep male voice say, “Excuse me, is this one taken?” Opening her eyes and looking over her shoulder toward the voice, she saw an attractive man who looked vaguely familiar. She turned back over,
sat up the back of her lounger and told him that the lounge chair he was referring to was available.

  “You’re Melissa Gladstone, right?” the blond man with the incredibly tanned and sculpted chest asked, making himself at home next to her.

  “Have we met?” Missy was instantly suspicious, but tried carefully not to show it.

  “Yep, sure have, but it was a long time ago. We competed at the Belmont Bake-Off a few years ago. I’m Andrew Benson,” he extended his hand with a smile.

  “Drew! Yes, I do remember now, how are you?” she shook his hand, relieved. Andrew owned a shop up north called The Pastry Party, and was renowned for his ultra-light and fluffy croissants with a delectable assortment of fillings.

  “I’m good. Seriously disappointed about this competition though,” he made a face.

  “Yeah,” Missy nodded vehemently. “Such a terrible thing.”

  He leaned forward confidentially. “I saw the police talking to Marta Cambridge’s assistant for quite some time,” he said, raising his eyebrows as if that meant something.

  “Is he a suspect?” Missy’s heart filled with hope, for which she immediately felt guilty.

  “I don’t know, but if you think about it, he had access to her 24/7, so it seems logical. If he didn’t do it, maybe he has a really good idea who might have,” Drew shrugged.

  “Makes sense I guess,” she murmured. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” she picked up her phone to text Chas about the police talking with Marta’s assistant.

  “Sure thing. I think I’ll take a quick dip in the pool before I get settled – join me?” he invited.

  “Nahhh…I’m just going to soak up some sun, thanks for the invite though,” she smiled at him, glad to have run into a friendly face.

  “No prob,” he got up and headed for the pool, leaving his towel and a men’s fitness magazine behind. Missy watched him go, thinking that he must spend an inordinate amount of time at the gym to have developed a physique like that.

  “Who’s that?” Chas’s familiar voice startled her. He came from behind her chair and sat on the unoccupied side of her.

  “Andrew Benson,” she answered. “We met at a competition a few years ago. The one that Darryl won because he stole my recipe, actually.”

  “Small world,” Beckett commented, his face expressionless.

  “It really is,” Missy agreed, completely missing his somber tone. “Whenever I go to these things, I always see several people who are familiar. Have you found any good leads yet?”

  “I’m thinking that the personal assistant angle may be a good one to pursue. Do you know him at all? Or know his name?”

  Missy shook her head ruefully. “Nope, I’ve tried to steer clear of Marta Cambridge for years, I really know very little about her.”

  “Is she likable?” Chas asked.

  “That’s a tough question for me to answer,” Missy admitted. “We’ve been at odds with each other ever since I can remember, so it’s awfully difficult for me to be unbiased. She was popular in school. Her parents have a huge estate and she used to have pool parties and horseback rides with the other popular kids. She always seemed to be pretty pretentious to me – the kind of person who would smile to your face and sneer behind your back, but I really can’t say for certain.”

  “Well, she’s incredibly successful, so that alone probably generates a few enemies,” he mused, thinking. “I’m going to get back upstairs and make some calls. Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?” he seemed suddenly shy. “We could talk about the case,” he tacked on needlessly.

  “I’d like that,” Missy agreed as he stood to go.

  “Great – just text me when you’re ready to head out,” he smiled and took his leave.

  Missy had to admit, even under the circumstances, she couldn’t help being incredibly attracted to the dashing detective. His rugged good looks and quiet strength made her a bit weak in the knees, but she was careful not to let it show. Chas Beckett had made it quite clear that he was not relationship-oriented, so she vowed to respect his feelings despite the blush that rose to her cheeks whenever he was near. Gathering her things together and slipping her feet into her sandals, she stood to leave just as Drew came back from the pool, drops of water clinging to his body and leaving his hair in tousled spikes.

  “Heading out?” he asked, running a towel over his powerful upper body.

  “Yeah, hitting the shower before dinner,” Missy confessed with a smile.

  “Want company? For dinner, I mean.”

  “Oh…sorry, I already have plans,” she demurred kindly.

  “No prob. Just figured there’s no sense eating alone if there’s good company to be had,” he replied easily.

  “Thanks for the offer. Enjoy the sun!” Missy left, feeling Drew’s gaze on her as she made her way back into the hotel.

  Chapter 9

  Chas and Missy took a cab to an Italian restaurant that was known for superb food and an extensive wine selection. The delightfully air-conditioned interior was beautiful yet still homey, featuring elaborately printed wallpaper that was a rich Cabernet color and lovely hand scraped wood flooring. The lighting was romantically low, and soft music played in the background. The hostess led them to a plush velvet-upholstered booth in a quiet corner, and presented them with menus. Every description sounded delicious, and Missy, who hadn’t eaten since nibbling on a piece of toast for breakfast, was suddenly ravenous. Her stomach gurgled audibly, making Chas grin and Missy blush. The detective selected a wine that would go with both of their entrees, and Missy took a small sip, the complex fruity flavor delighting her palate with an explosion of flavor.

  “Mmm…that’s so good,” she sighed appreciatively.

  “Just take it slow and easy,” Beckett cautioned. “You haven’t had much to eat today.”

  To underscore his point, her stomach growled again, cracking them up.

  “Clearly,” Missy agreed, giggling. She took another sip, and then set her glass down and her demeanor became more subdued. “So did you find anything interesting today?”

  “Not really,” Chas admitted with a sigh. “I found out the name of Marta’s assistant and have been checking into his background, but so far there really haven’t been any red flags.”

  “Do you know what the police are doing at this point?” she asked, worried.

  “No. There are no details disclosed in any of the news reports, and I haven’t questioned any of the detectives on the case because I don’t want them to know that I’m doing what amounts to a shadow investigation of their case. They’d be watching you much more closely if they suspected that you had a friend in law enforcement,” he assured her grimly. He saw the look on Missy’s face and his tone softened. He reached across the table to squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it figured out, these things just take time, okay?” Missy nodded and took another sip of her wine. “So how’s Toffee doing?” Chas asked, knowing that Missy would’ve called Doris from Happy Tails to check in, and wanting to take her mind off of the case.

  “They went for a walk in the woods today, and Toffee and Bubba swam in her pond and had to have baths,” she grinned broadly, picturing her exuberant pet leaping into the pond and paddling contentedly.

  “You know, your face just lights up so beautifully when you talk about that furry girl,” Chas observed, gazing at her with naked appreciation.

  Missy blushed from the nape of her neck to the tips of her ears at his compliment. “She means the world to me,” she confessed, missing those big brown eyes and floppy ears. Detective Beckett’s comment warmed her from her head to her toes, and she was quite sure that the giddiness that she felt, despite her circumstances, had nothing to do with her tiny sips of wine.

  “She’s lucky to have you,” he remarked with a soft smile, holding her gaze longer than necessary. Missy was spared from having to respond, not certain that she could respond around the lump in her throat, by the arrival of the waiter with their foo
d. She had ordered a creamy, delightful alfredo, and the detective had ordered a hearty lasagna. They both dug in with gusto, having been too busy to stop for a proper meal during the day. Missy attributed the return of her appetite to the relief that she felt knowing that Chas Beckett was on her side and would help her figure out what had happened to poor Marta Cambridge.

  Chas and Missy savored their meals thoroughly, trading bites so that each could taste the others, and generously supplementing their repast with wine and conversation. For two relationally shy people, they were getting along fabulously, finally relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Neither of them wanted the carefree evening to end. Going back to the hotel would be a profound reminder of the grave reality of Missy’s situation, and it was nice to leave it behind for an evening, so they prolonged their meal by ordering a dessert sampler and decaf espresso. Missy’s eyes grew wide when the waiter brought the tray of delectable dessert bites. She was understandably quite particular about such things, but if the taste was even half as good as the presentation, she’d be completely satisfied. Her first bite was a fluffy, white chocolate cheesecake with a fresh raspberry reduction that absolutely melted in her mouth, and each successive treat was just as good as the last. They both sampled all four desserts and had just set down their forks when Chas’s text tone went off. He looked at his phone and frowned.

  “Bad news?” Missy asked, fearfully.

  “Don’t know, could be great news, I’ll have to wait until I get back to my computer to find out,” he responded. “I sent some feelers out regarding Taylor Whitcombe, Marta’s assistant, and just received a message that one of my guys found something. If it’s significant, it could be just the break we need.”

  “Oh! Okay,” Missy said, digesting the news. “I hate to feel good about the potential downfall of others, but…”