by Carol Durand
Missy sighed. “She called her an old wretch and said that she wished that she would just drop dead. She also said that she could take a flying leap. I felt that she was being very disrespectful, but since I knew that she was so upset, I didn’t chide her about it, I just changed the subject.”
“Have you had any reason to think that you might be in danger recently?” he asked, seemingly changing the subject.
“In danger? Well, I’ve been hearing strange noises in the yard, and yesterday my dog was downstairs in the morning staring out the window and some of my bushes were broken, but I don’t necessarily think that I’m in danger, why do you ask?” Missy’s heart beat a bit faster.
Keller leaned forward slightly, as though he was about to divulge important information. “Miss Gladstone, the reason that we detained Donna Chesman this morning, is that Mrs. Dowler was found dead, with one of Miss Chesman’s cakes and copies of the score sheets from the bake-off on the table in front of her. We have reason to believe that you and Principal Sanders should take extra precautions for the time being.”
Missy gasped in horror. She didn’t know Donna well, but Echo did, and seemed to think the world of her. Was it possible that an innocent-looking young girl had perpetrated such a heinous crime? And if she had, was Missy next? “That’s awful,” she replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “I saw her arguing with Mrs. Dowler at the bake-off, but I really didn’t think that anything would come of it. How did she die?”
“We won’t know the answer to that until the results of the autopsy are in. Do you have any idea what the argument was about?” Keller asked.
“No, I was too far away to hear it, but their body language was definitely hostile.”
“I see. Well, I think we’re done here for now, but if you think of anything else that might be helpful, please call me immediately. And Miss Gladstone…try to be very aware of your surroundings. We don’t have enough evidence yet to hold Miss Chesman in jail, and until we do, you might be at risk,” the detective warned her.
Missy nodded numbly. The world had been such a safe, sane place until a few minutes ago. Now she didn’t know which end was up or what to think. The thought that a poor, disturbed teenager might have been lurking about in her yard chilled her to the bone, she shuddered just thinking about it.
Chapter 7
Missy dressed with care, making sure that her simple, vanilla-colored designer dress fit perfectly, her makeup was understated, but lovely, and no hair was out of place. She was meeting Priscilla Chadwick, the mayor’s daughter, for the first time, to begin the wedding planning process. The event was a year away, so it seemed a bit over-the-top to be starting already, but Missy had graciously accepted the young lady’s invitation to lunch so that they could get acquainted and start things off on the right foot. The restaurant that Priscilla had selected, knowing full well that her daddy, Mayor Felton Chadwick, was footing the bill, was the most expensive French restaurant outside of New Orleans. Cher Margeaux was known for its exquisite cuisine and extensive collection of fine wines, and Missy was excited to sample the fare.
Glancing at her watch, Missy paced back and forth in the well-appointed foyer of the velvet-draped interior of Cher Margeaux. Priscilla was now 15 minutes late, and had promised half an hour ago to be there in a few minutes.
“Perhaps Mademoiselle would prefer to wait in the comfort of a booth,” the mustachioed host suggested tactfully.
Missy sighed, then made up her mind that, even if Priscilla Chadwick never showed, the mayor was going to not only reimburse her for her meal in this fine establishment, but also pay her an hourly rate for the time wasted while being stood up by his daughter. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you,” she attempted to smile at the polite little man, and followed him into the chandeliered dining room.
Once seated, she ordered a glass of wine. The sublime vintage was worth every bit of waiting and stress, and she found herself hoping that Priscilla wouldn’t make it to the meeting after all. She ordered escargots for an appetizer, and savored the tender morsels dripping with drawn garlic butter, mopping up the excess with crusty slices of baguette. About halfway through her delightful appetizer, she heard a rather loud, nasal voice complaining to the host.
“What do you mean she started without me? How could you allow this, Claude? Wow, how rude can you be,” the voice huffed indignantly.
Missy’s fork stopped midway to her mouth when she saw a creature straight out of Hollywood approaching her table, followed by a clearly apologetic host. Priscilla Chadwick was dressed in yoga pants, a sequined sports bra, and a fringed white leather jacket. Her heels were hot pink stilettos, and she carried an ostrich bag that was larger than Missy’s carry-on luggage. Her long blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders, and she had so much makeup on that she appeared faintly orange. She tossed her bag into the booth opposite from where Missy sat, dumbfounded, and plopped onto the velvet seat.
“Look,” she began, her valley-girl affectation grating on Missy’s nerves already. “I have no idea why Daddy hired you, okay? I know exactly what I want, and I will have no problem getting it. The only thing that makes this whole “wedding planner thing” less of a nightmare is that now, I get to call all of the shots and you have to do all of the work. So let’s get something straight here, old lady, I tell you what to do and you do it, end of story. Got it?” the spoiled socialite ended her opening tirade, examining her fake nails as though she were terribly bored.
Missy was quiet for a moment, trying to decide precisely how to respond, and jumped a bit when a furry head popped out of Priscilla’s bag. The sweet little toy dog had a pink bow in her fur, and her tongue hung out happily as she made her appearance. Priscilla looked annoyed and pushed the poor creature back down into the depths of the bag, zipping it shut. That action of careless disregard for another living being decided Missy’s response. She had been inclined toward graciously making the best of a bad situation by being polite until she could tell the mayor that she couldn’t help his daughter, but after seeing the bratty bride’s treatment of an adorable dog, she changed her mind and went in for a full verbal assault.
Leaning across the table a bit, she smiled sweetly and unleashed a torrent of truth in Prissy Priscilla’s direction. “Young lady, let me tell you something,” Missy began, her southern drawl deepening with her passion. “You may be accustomed to treating people like dirt and never suffering the consequences of your behavior, but I don’t work that way. You are 45 minutes late to a luncheon that you arranged – that is unacceptable. You have also been nothing but rude to me from the minute you walked in the door – also unacceptable. Your attitude is ugly, and your treatment of that poor, defenseless animal in your purse is nothing short of appalling. As for the nature of our arrangement, I work for your father, not you, and I don’t take orders from anyone, period. You will not tell me what to do or how to do it, and I will not be your little whipping girl, you’d just better understand that from the get-go darlin. And just one more thing, baby girl, I am not old, I am mature, and that’s something you’re going to have to work long and hard to be able to say. Now you can stay and have lunch and a civilized conversation with me while we talk about your wedding, or you can take your rude little attitude on out of here and come back to me when you’ve learned how to be civil, it’s completely up to you,” Missy finished calmly, picking up her wine and taking a sip.
Priscilla’s mouth was an O of affronted shock. “You awful woman, just who do you think you are?” she shrieked, drawing glances and raised eyebrows from other diners.
Missy leaned further over the table, and said quietly, “I’m either your worst nightmare or your best friend. That’s for you to decide.” She sat back, looking at the infuriated young woman placidly.
“You’re fired,” she spat, jumping up from the table. “And if you care so much about the stupid dog, you can keep her,” she hissed through clenched teeth, throwing the bag with the dog across the table at Missy, who deftly caug
ht it, managing to avoid the breakage of any glassware.
Missy watched the horrific bride-to-be flounce haughtily from the restaurant, nauseated at her treatment of the sweet little doggie in the ostrich bag.
Chapter 8
Detective Chas Beckett had just finished checking all of Missy’s security measures, finding that every door and window was secure, and had added a security light in the back yard and on the garage. He found Missy in the kitchen, waiting for him with a glass of wine, the tantalizing scents of dinner making his stomach growl in anticipation.
“Well, that should do it,” he said, putting an assortment of hand tools back in the drawer beside the sink, then washing his hands.
“Thanks so much, Chas, you’re the best,” Missy smiled at him, despite the worry that she felt. “Do you really think that I have anything to worry about?”
The detective shrugged, drying his hands on a towel. “Hard to say. It would be highly unusual if a teenage girl first killed her teacher and then chose to stalk another judge of a high school baking contest, but stranger things have been known to happen. Who are we to say what’ll set people off?”
“Speaking of setting people off, I’m so glad that I won’t have to work with Priscilla Chadwick on her wedding. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with this precious girl,” she scratched the ears of the tiny Malti-Poo on her lap.
“Do you really think that the mayor is going to let you off the hook that easily?” Chas asked.
Missy made a face. “The way I see it, he doesn’t have much of a choice. She doesn’t want to work with me, I don’t want to work with her, there’s really nothing to debate.”
“We’ll see about that. Do you want me to stir something?” he asked, peering into one of the pots simmering on the stove.
“Nope, I’d like you to make yourself comfortable while I finish making dinner. Cuddle up with this pretty lady,” she instructed, handing him the petite fluffball.
The couple had a lovely dinner, and snuggled up on the sofa to watch a movie, with Toffee curled up at their feet, and the tiny new addition nestled securely between the retriever’s protective paws. Chas left after the movie, exhausted after a long day that started early, and Missy took the dogs out one last time before bed. She came back into the house, put on her cotton nightshirt, brushed her teeth and turned out the lights, snuggling under the covers. She had just closed her eyes when she heard a sound in the back yard that sounded like glass shattering. Sitting bolt upright and looking in the direction of the sound to try to determine its source, she noticed that the light that Chas had just installed had gone out. Heart pounding in her chest, she slipped over to the window, peering into the darkness. Seeing nothing, she padded softly down the stairs, listening for any unfamiliar sounds. Under the cover of darkness, she sidled up to the back door of the kitchen, looking outside. Thinking she saw a dark figure moving across the yard, she charged back upstairs and dove for her phone to call Chas, who couldn’t be far away, he’d only left a few minutes prior.
The detective was at her door in a matter of minutes, and seeing nothing but a broken security light, invited her to stay the night at his house. Missy refused his kind offer, assuring him that she’d be fine as long as she stayed inside and kept her doors and windows locked. Beckett then offered to sleep on the couch downstairs if it would make her feel better, but she refused to impose on him that way, and eventually he took his leave, making her promise to call him if anything out of the ordinary happened.
Chapter 9
Missy sat across the table from her friend Echo in the seating area of Sweet Love, Echo’s vegan ice cream shop, spooning her favorite Vanilla Bean “rice cream” into her mouth, savoring the silky sweetness.
“I just can’t believe that Donna would do something like this,” Echo worried. She was concerned not just because the girl worked for her, but because she seemed like such a “normal” teenager. “You know, it’s crazy, you think that you know who you can trust in this world, and yet you find out all the time that people aren’t at all what they seem to be.”
Missy swallowed a bite of her frozen treat. “Well, the possibility still remains that she didn’t do it,” she suggested.
“Yeah, but apparently the police interviewed some people who overheard her argument with Mrs. Dowler, and they said that threats were exchanged. It’s just so sad all the way around,” the free-spirited shop owner shook her head, discouraged.
“Why was Mrs. Dowler teaching anyway? Her husband came from a wealthy New Orleans family and owns a highly successful brokerage firm,” Missy mused, puzzled.
“Donna said that teaching was basically a means of paying for her hobbies,” Echo explained. “Apparently her tastes were pretty expensive.”
“Really? She didn’t seem like the high rolling type at all,” she frowned.
“She collected antiques from all over the world. Their house on the north side is supposed to be a treasure trove that collectors and museums would envy.”
“Hmm…I wouldn’t have guessed,” Missy raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“On a lighter note…I met a fabulously attractive guy yesterday,” Echo confessed with a grin.
“Do tell!” Missy leaned forward.
“He’s new in town and said he’d never heard of vegan ice cream before, so he came in to see what it was all about. Said he noticed the shop when he was across the street, buying the most delicious cupcake he’d ever had,” she waggled her eyebrows comically.
“Oh, I love to hear that!” Missy exclaimed.
“He said that the two of you had met, and I got the impression that he was rather taken with you,” she said slyly. “But then of course, I flirted with him like mad to make him forget you and turn his attention my way,” she teased.
Missy blushed slightly, remembering that she had wondered whether or not Carlton Dobbs was flirting with her or merely being kind. “I remember who you’re talking about. Carlton, right?”
“Carlton indeed,” Echo said putting her chin in her hands dreamily.
“He did seem quite nice.”
“Quite nice?” her friend scoffed. “The man was kind, well-mannered, well-spoken, and smokin hot! Not all of us are lucky enough to have a catch like Chas Beckett on our arm. Carlton is the best thing that’s graced my doorstep in a very long time.”
Missy kept her doggy play date in the park with Carlton to herself, not wanting to make her friend feel bad. Besides, it was merely a coincidence that they had happened to run into each other. “So, did he ask you out?”
Echo frowned. “No, he didn’t, but I think he might. I dropped some hints about being happy to show him around, and he seemed to be open to the idea, so we’ll see.”
“Well good for you,” Missy encourage her friend. “He seems like a really nice guy.”
“Who’s incredibly gorgeous,” her zany mahogany-haired friend reminded her.
“If you say so,” Missy giggled, shaking her head.
Missy finished her dessert while Echo tended to a customer who had come in, then hugged her friend goodbye and went back across the street where Ben was just finishing up. Making sure that all was well, she left the shop and headed for home.
Chapter 10
Pulling into her driveway, Missy was alarmed to see someone sitting on the sidewalk out in front of her house, apparently in a great deal of pain. She didn’t recognize the man at first, but when she saw the majestic Doberman at his side, she knew.
Getting quickly out of her car, she ran to him to see if he was okay. “Carlton, are you okay?” she called out, approaching the writhing man who was holding his ankle in both hands. “Should I call an ambulance?” she worried, stopping short when Chauncey growled a warning.
“Hi Missy,” he replied, through gritted teeth. “No, there’s no need for an ambulance, I have a weak ankle and I rolled it. Happens about once a year. I just have to baby it for a while and I’ll be fine,” he grimaced.
“Can you walk? How c
an I help?” she asked, hating seeing him in pain.
“If I could impose upon you to help me sit on the porch so that I can elevate it, that would probably help,” he suggested.
“Oh, it’s no imposition at all, really,” she assured him. “Let me go put my purse inside and I’ll be right back out to help you to the porch.”
Missy hurried inside, put down her purse and her keys, leaving the car in the driveway, and returned to Carlton’s side in minutes. She helped him to a standing position, ever mindful of the overly protective Doberman at her heels, and supported him while he hobbled over to the porch. The stairs were a bit tricky, with the tall, athletic man placing a good deal of weight on his petite helper, but they made it to the top slowly, and eased him onto the porch swing, lifting his foot carefully up onto the seat beside him.
“Well, it doesn’t look swollen, so that’s good,” Missy observed. “Would you like an ice pack?”
“I’m really sorry to put you to all this trouble,” Carlton apologized. “An ice pack would be great, thank you,” he winced as he shifted his weight to get more comfortable.
Missy disappeared into the house, returning shortly thereafter with an ice pack and a pillow, which she arranged carefully under the injured ankle. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, disappearing again. This time she came back carrying a small tray that held a plate of homemade sugar cookies and a glass of minted iced tea. Scooting a small table over beside the porch swing, she set the tray on it. “I have to run in and let the dogs out in the back yard, but I’ll be back in just a few minutes,” she promised.
“Thanks so much, Missy. I really appreciate this,” Carlton responded pitifully, reaching for the tea. Chauncey the Doberman had settled under the swing, baring his teeth occasionally.
Missy went back into the house, put leashes on Toffee and the Malti-Poo, whom she was calling Bitsy, taking them to the back yard for relief. When they were done taking care of business, she let them frolic freely in the in the back yard since they wouldn’t be going to the park anytime soon. She was confident that, although tiny, Bitsy wouldn’t shimmy between the white pickets of the fence to escape. The diminutive sweetie seemed quite content to stay close to her new best friend, Toffee. Pouring herself a glass of tea and returning to the front porch to check on her impromptu patient, Missy was delighted to see Chas Beckett standing in front of Carlton, arms crossed. Chauncey had stood and assumed a pre-attack position, growling loudly at the detective, who kept a wary eye on the animal, while assessing his owner.
