by Carol Durand
“An old injury?” she heard Beckett ask as she opened the screen door.
“Yeah,” Carlton shrugged embarrassed. “I played lacrosse in college and sprained it really badly. It hasn’t been the same since.”
“Hey Chas,” she greeted him happily, not moving in for a kiss in consideration of her guest.
“Missy,” he nodded, returning his focus to Dobbs.
“Would you like some tea?” she offered, thinking that the detective looked exceptionally hot and cranky.
“No, I’m not going to be staying long. Can I drive you home, Dobbs?” he asked curtly, apparently having been properly introduced while Missy had been in the back yard.
“Actually, I think if I wrap it, I can make it back to my car and drive myself home. Thanks for offering, but Chauncey doesn’t really do well in strange vehicles, so I’ll just need to suck it up and make it happen,” he smiled ruefully.
“I have a First Aid kit in my car. I’ll get you an Ace bandage and you can be on your way,” Chas said coolly, jogging down the steps before Carlton could reply.
“He must have a lot on his mind,” Missy mused awkwardly, wondering what on earth was wrong with the taciturn detective.
“Completely understandable,” Dobbs remarked politely. “Does he have a stressful job?”
“You could say that,” Missy nodded. “He’s a detective with the LaChance PD.”
A look that was difficult to discern passed over the handsome blond man’s features, but Missy was more focused on the grim-faced man who mounted the porch steps, First Aid kit in hand. He tossed an Ace bandage to Carlton, who caught it without a word and immediately started wrapping his ankle, flexing it back and forth, his jaw clenched against the pain.
“Better?” Missy asked.
“Better,” Dobbs nodded, slowly rising to a standing position.
“Need help?” Chas asked as Carlton moved toward the steps.
“Nahhh…I’ll just brace myself on the railing. Thanks though,” he said, wincing with every step.
Missy unconsciously held her hands to her throat, hoping that he didn’t take a spill as he made his way down the stairs. She and Chas watched him head down the sidewalk, and he raised a hand before disappearing around the corner, Chauncey at his side.
“How do you know this guy?” Beckett asked, as soon as the injured man was out of sight.
“He came into the shop in Dellville and bought a cupcake. He’s new in town,” Missy said, once again leaving out the fact that she had also gone to the park with him and the dogs.
“What’s he doing in this part of town? Does he live around here?” Chas frowned.
“No, he just likes taking Chauncey to Nelson Park to play,” she explained, wondering at her boyfriend’s strange manner.
“I bet he does,” the detective said under his breath. “Hey, I’ve changed my mind, do you think I could get a glass of tea after all?” he asked.
“Of course, anything for you, handsome,” she flirted, hoping to lift his mood.
“Perfect,” he kissed her on her way to the door. He waited until she was inside, then carefully snagged Carlton’s glass from the tray, flung the contents into the azaleas below, and tucked the empty glass into his First Aid kit, returning it to the trunk of his car.
Chapter 11
Detective Richard Keller, of the Dellville PD was waiting for Missy when she arrived at Crème de la Cupcake the next day. Missy sighed inwardly, the last thing she wanted to do was talk about the nasty mess that Donna Chesman was in. She felt bad for the girl, but after the emotions that she’d seen her express in reference to the victim, Mrs. Dowler, she didn’t think that it was entirely out of the question that the girl was indeed the murderer.
“Good morning, Detective,” she greeted him as pleasantly as she could, trying not to let her reluctance show. “What can I do for you?”
“Have you heard from Donna Chesman lately?” he asked.
“Not since the day after the bake-off, when I went over to take her a cupcake,” Missy replied, wondering why he had asked.
“Has anything suspicious happened to you in the past few days?
She told him about the incident with her new security light, but was quick to add that there had been no other occurrences since. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t want to alarm you, but Miss Chesman seems to have disappeared, and just last night, Mrs. Dowler’s home was burglarized. Mr. Dowler wasn’t home at the time, and it seemed to be an oddly personal assortment of items that were taken, which would lead us to believe that it was indeed the work of a vengeful teenager.”
“That poor man,” Missy sympathized. “As if things haven’t been difficult enough for him already,” she shook her head.
“Do you have anyone with whom you can stay until Miss Chesman is found?” Keller asked gravely.
Missy nodded. “Yes, I have a safe place. Do you really think I need to leave my home though?” she asked.
“I think it would be a good precaution,” he answered firmly.
“Okay,” she agreed. “If you think it’s best.”
**
“Echo, I’m just so tired of dealing with all of this,” Missy complained while her friend devoured a vegan Carob Crunch cupcake. “It’s bad enough that I’m suspecting a teenage girl of being a murderer, but to then have to move out of my house because the police are afraid that I might be next…it’s just so sad and frustrating.”
Her friend relished a bite of cupcake, washing it down with ice water before replying. “Look at it this way,” she waved breezily. “It’s a heck of an excuse to enter “man world” on a live-in basis,” she teased, taking another huge bite.
“I don’t have to resort to manipulation tactics to stay at Chas’s, he’s made it quite clear that the girls and I are welcome anytime,” she reminded her irreverent pal.
“Lucky girl,” Echo said through a mouthful of Carob Crunch. “So, did you decide that you’re keeping that sweet little powder puff of a doggie?”
“I don’t know. I’m having lunch with the mayor at 1:00. I suppose I’ll ask him what he thinks. I’d hate to get super-attached to Bitsy and then have his wicked witch of a daughter sue me to get her back,” Missy made a face at the thought of Priscilla Chadwick.
“Oh, that’ll be a fun conversation,” Echo’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“Yeahhhh….” Missy agreed, dreading the encounter.
Chapter 12
“Melissa Gladstone, as I live and breathe! Little darlin, you get prettier every time I see you,” Mayor Felton Chadwick’s voice boomed through the hushed lobby of Cher Margeaux. The stout little man was resplendent in a three piece white suit with an American flag tie, pale blue shirt and elaborately-tooled grey cowboy boots. The mayor always looked vaguely like every day was the 4th of July. He swiped at the sheen on his forehead and upper lip with a red, white and blue handkerchief, and smiled as though his re-election depended upon it.
“Hello, Mayor Felton. It’s a pleasure to see you,” she lied smoothly, as any polite southern woman would.
“Let’s get to our table, little lady, we’ve got business to discuss and I don’t intend to do it on an empty stomach,” Felton grinned like a schoolboy, tapping lightly on his ample midsection with both hands.
Missy followed him to the same booth in which she had been seated with his abominable daughter, apparently it was the only table at which the Chadwicks ever sat. She took the same seat that she had occupied at her atrocious meeting, and was happy to see that a bottle of wine had preceded their arrival to the table.
“Now, I hear that there was a bit of a misunderstanding that occurred when you met with my Prissy here recently,” Mayor Chadwick stated as the server poured a generous measure of wine for each of them.
“Misunderstanding?” Missy was baffled. “Umm…no, Mayor Chadwick, our communication was perfectly clear,” she declared.
“I told you, darlin, call me Felton,” he said, raising his glass and cli
nking it against hers before taking a sip of the expensive French wine. “My daughter seems to think that you don’t want to work with her on her wedding, and I assured her that that was simply not the case, having discussed the matter with you personally,” Felton smiled, looking at her expectantly.
“Your daughter made it very clear to me that she didn’t care what your wishes were in regard to her wedding, and that there was no way in the world that she was going to work with me. Having met with her, I have to say that I agree it would be best if we part ways and forget the idea of me helping out,” Missy stared him down.
The smile dropped from the mayor’s face and he blinked rapidly, once, twice, three times. “I don’t believe that you understand the situation, Miss Gladstone,” he said, taking out his handkerchief to wipe his brow. “My daughter is getting married in just under a year from now, she will have a perfect wedding, and you’re the one who’s going to make certain that folks are still talking about her wedding decades into the future,” he commanded, leaning forward. “Now, I am fully aware that my daughter can be a bit…headstrong, but I’m absolutely certain that a woman of your caliber is more than qualified to provide my precious Prissy with the guidance that she needs in order to…harness her creativity in a positive way,” Felton insisted with a determined smile.
Missy didn’t quite know how to respond. She had always believed that honesty was the best policy, but how does one go about telling the highest elected official in the parish that his precious Prissy is an ill-mannered, spoiled brat? She knew that she would have to present her views strongly to withstand the smiling tempest in a teapot who sat across the table from her, but she opted to go with tactful diplomacy rather than brutal honesty in consideration of his love for his venomous offspring. “Mr. Mayor…Felton, your Prissy and I have a serious personality conflict that cannot be overcome to a degree that planning her wedding together would be possible. We are gasoline and flame, and I really don’t think you want that kind of volatility overshadowing this special time in her life,” Missy smiled triumphantly, figuring that she had won.
“Now, Miss Gladstone, I’m sure that you as an adult, will find a way to reach out to my lovely daughter and help her to see things from a reasonable, adult perspective. I know you’ve been enjoying tremendous success in your business lately, and I, for one, would hate to see a decline in your customer base if word happened to get out that you, Melissa Gladstone, were in the habit of committing to projects that you can’t finish, or making promises that you can’t keep,” the politician clucked his tongue and shook his head as though disheartened by the thought.
Missy admirably held her tongue, not saying the things that were screaming inside her skull, relating to manipulation, entitlement, ill manners, etc… Since diplomacy didn’t work, clearly she’d have to be more direct. “Felton, your daughter refuses to work with me. Her exact words were, “You’re fired.” There’s no grey area there, her meaning and intentions were quite clear. She was angry that you hired me, and more than willing to get rid of me at the earliest opportunity. She threw her dog at me for goodness sake!” Missy exclaimed.
“Yes, she’s a spirited female, you’ll need to get used to her sense of humor. She told me that she had given you the dog since you were so taken with the creature. She has such a generous side to her,” the mayor smiled. “So, you choose a date when the two of you can get together again, and try to get some actual planning done this time. That girl is so hard to pin down, I can only imagine how challenging it must be to try to brainstorm with her, but I’m confident that you’ll make it happen. Oh dear, look at the time,” he pursed his lips, glancing at his watch. “Sugar, you order anything you like, lunch is on me, but I’ve got a speaking engagement that I’m going to be late to if I don’t shake a tailfeather,” he said, standing and moving toward the lobby. “Great talking with you again, glad we could come to an understanding,” he called over his shoulder, waving a pudgy hand in farewell.
Missy was furious. Felton Chadwick hadn’t listened to her at all, and had actually threatened her business if she didn’t bow to his wishes and acquiesce to his demands. Instead of coming out of this meeting having severed all ties with the insufferable Priscilla Chadwick, it seemed that she was more entrenched now than she had been before. She had no idea how she was going to make the mayor understand that his daughter was beyond help, but for the moment, what she did know was that she was going to make the most of her free lunch. The menu had no prices listed on it, which automatically meant that everything was expensive and she didn’t hold back, ordering a soup course, salad plate, appetizer, entrée and dessert, with coffee and a port wine to finish her meal. She had eaten only small bites of everything except the salad, and requested a doggy bag for all of the leftovers. She left feeling full, but bitter, and just the tiniest bit ashamed of herself.
Chapter 13
Missy arrived at Chas Beckett’s lovely home with her hands full of luggage, dog toys and leashes, Toffee and Bitsy in tow.
“Here, let me help you with that,” the gallant detective said, taking her suitcases and bags as though they weighed nothing, and leaving Missy with only the leashes attached to two very excited dogs.
“Thank you so much for letting me stay Chas,” she said, somewhat breathless from having carried her belongings. “I really appreciate it.”
“Oh don’t worry, you can earn your keep around here by keeping me entertained with stories about our illustrious mayor,” he teased, glancing over his shoulder at her.
Missy’s heart was warmed when she saw that, in addition to the large dog bed that he kept in a corner of his living room for Toffee when she visited, there was another, tiny, pink doggie bed for Bitsy. “Chas, you didn’t have to…” she said, her eyes welling as she gazed at the little bed.
“Of course not,” he dismissed her protests with a smile. “I wanted to.”
“Mmmm…something smells amazing, what’s cooking?” she asked trailing into the kitchen after unleashing the dogs.
“I figured I’d whip up something special in honor of my favorite guests,” the handsome detective replied, coming back from stashing her things in the guest room and kissing her soundly.
“Toffee and Bitsy?” Missy teased, moving over to see what was bubbling on the stove.
“Exactly,” Chas nodded. “There’s just nothing better than an evening with…Toffee and Bitsy,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her neck just below the ear while she peered into the pots.
“Oooooo! Alfredo?” Missy asked, her stomach growling.
“With homemade bread sticks.”
“Oh my, a girl could get used to this,” she grinned.
“See, a yankee can learn southern hospitality after all,” Chas remarked, pleased with himself.
“You’d better not let anyone outside of this house hear you say that,” Missy warned, with a wry smile.
Chas seated her at the formal dining table, which was set with linens, china, silver and candles, pouring her a glass of wine to enjoy while he plated their meals. He brought back plates heaped with creamy fettuccini alfredo, garnished with basil and finely shredded prosciutto, and a basket of garlicky bread sticks, fresh from the oven and still piping hot.
“Oh Chas, you’re going to spoil me,” Missy observed, her eyes wide as she gazed at the sumptuous spread.
“That’s the idea,” he grinned, sitting down across from her.
They chatted, laughed and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company while they devoured the delicious fare, then settled in on the couch, doggies at their feet, to watch a movie. About halfway through the movie, Missy started yawning, her long day finally catching up with her. Chas pulled her close, and she fought against sleep, leaning her head against his broad, muscular chest, safe and secure. The detective’s phone rang, and he paused the movie while he went to his den to take the call. When he came back, his face was grim.
“I have to go out for a bit to investigate a home invasion,” he told her apol
ogetically. “You can finish the movie if you’d like, or just leave it paused and watch something else. I may be a while, so when you’re ready for bed, you know where everything is, don’t wait up for me,” he instructed, tucking his pistol into a shoulder holster which was then hidden by the sport coat that he hastily donned. Beckett gave her a quick kiss on his way out the door, along with another apology and a promise to make it up to her. Knowing full well that this was the life of someone who made a conscious choice to date a law enforcement professional, Missy turned off the TV, took the dogs out for a short walk, then came back and went to bed.
She slept soundly, knowing that she was safe and secure as long as she was in Chas’s care, but woke up when she heard him coming in a few hours later. Wrapping a red plaid flannel robe around her, and cinching it at the waist, she padded barefoot into the kitchen, where the worn-out detective was fixing himself a glass of ice water and a light snack.
“Hey you,” she said softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Hey beautiful,” he murmured, taking her into his arms.
“Everything okay?” she asked, not lifting her sleepy head from his chest.
“Not as okay as I’d like,” he admitted, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her back.
Missy pulled away a bit, so that she could look up into his deep blue eyes. “What is it, Chas? What’s wrong?” she frowned.
