Ice Cream Corpse

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Ice Cream Corpse Page 10

by Stacey Alabaster


  I held my breath before I lifted it up.

  “Empty.”

  I let out my breath in relief. It was okay. No one else was dead.

  But then we heard footsteps.

  “What a surprise to find you two in here,” Levon said, holding that same crowbar Athena had dropped two nights earlier. “Well, this will certainly make it easier for me.”

  Pippa and I backed away from him, but there was no place to hide. We could only back into the display freezers that I was scared were about to become our permanent homes.

  “Before you kill us, at least tell us what happened to poor Harry,” I said, shaking my head. “What did he ever do to deserve being stuffed inside a freezer?”

  Levon pondered the question for a moment. “You’re right, that kid was kind of dumb. Innocent. But he saw too much. It had to be that way.”

  We just had to stall him a little longer. Come on, Marcello, I thought, staring at the ceiling. What was taking him so long? What was the point of him keeping watch if he totally missed a maniac climbing down the staircase to kill us?

  “I was all set to take over the store, when suddenly, Rocky comes into all this extra money.” Levon shook his head. “But at that stage, I had already torn up half of his ugly black and white tiling…but he didn’t like that. Not one little bit. There was an argument. Rocky wound up on the ground, with his head bleeding.” He shrugged like he was recalling something no more serious that a piece of fruit rolling onto the ground.

  I remembered that argument I had heard that summer’s day three years earlier. Rocky had been arguing with someone. About unprofessionalism. Maybe it hadn’t been Harry. Maybe it had been Levon.

  “What about Harry?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

  “That stupid kid came in a few days later to collect his last paycheck, only I didn’t see him enter the store. He went out the back, looking. He opened the freezer. Which was unfortunate.”

  So Harry had died just for the crime of discovering what Levon had done to Rocky.

  This guy was crazy.

  Come on, Marcello.

  “So you just gave the freezers back?” I asked, still trying to stall for time.

  Levon shrugged again. His eyes looked glassy. “Someone came to collect them before I had a chance to move the bodies.” He looked around. “I said that I required the freezers myself for a little while longer, which bought me some time. But when I realized that these old freezers would no longer be used, I thought, well, why not just keep them there? Saved me the hassle.”

  Geez. He was a maniac.

  “But they were safe here, for these past two years, as it turned out. Until you two went and stuck your noses into my business.”

  I could not believe that Marcello was taking so long.

  “Where is Athena?” I asked.

  Levon stopped. For the first time, he looked slightly surprised. “Who is Athena?”

  “She’s the tour guide at this factory,” I said. “The one who discovered the bodies you buried here. What did you do with her?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Levon came right up to me and reached behind me for the display freezer.

  He opened the lid.

  “Looks like you’ll fit in here perfectly. These older models are far more roomy.” He grinned. “Maybe we will only need to use one.” He dropped the crowbar to the ground and grabbed Pippa, tying her hands behind her back. I tried to reach for the crowbar, but he shoved me out of the way, and I was down on the floor with Levon above me.

  Finally, we saw a crack of light and the overhead door opening.

  I screamed in relief as the person jumped to the ground and ran toward us.

  “Marcello!”

  There was a swing and the sound of a skull cracking, and then Levon’s body was on the floor.

  But it wasn’t Marcello who had saved us. It was Athena. I never thought I would be so grateful to see her.

  Athena reached around to untie Pippa’s hands as police sirens grew closer. “I might have to give you one of my paintings on the house, after all this.”

  Epilogue

  “I think this goes really well here,” Pippa said, standing back to admire the painting. “The muted tones go with the decor of the bakery quite well, don’t they?”

  I tilted my head to the side and thought about it. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how well the dusty colors went with lavender, but if Pippa wanted to hang the painting there, who was I to stop her?

  “Well, I’m off to the market,” Pippa announced, picking up the box of apples she had brought into the store. “Jack is going to arrive with his truck in a few minutes so that we can take the rest of the stock in.”

  I shook my head. I still wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Pippa assured me having Jack help out at the property was all fine, though. As she pointed out, he was strong, he owned a truck, and he was good at keeping lawns and crops well-watered. And she told me he had been getting along well with Marcello for the past couple of days while they’d been working together to pick fruit.

  “How are you going to pay him?” I asked, seeing the black truck approach in the distance. “You’ll have to sell a lot of apples to make a profit.”

  “I was thinking I could pay him in free food?” Pippa asked, nodding toward the brand new display freezer that Athena had supplied us with. “After all, it seems like ice cream hasn’t turned out to be such a big seller. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat it again.”

  Jack was just about to pull in when we both heard the sound of something heavy dropping on the roof.

  “Is that rain?” Pippa asked.

  “No way…” I said, tearing off my apron as I ran to the window.

  It was raining in hard, fat drops. The heat wave had finally broken.

  We dashed out onto the street and danced in it, feeling the cool drops against our faces. Life was finally getting back to normal again.

  Thanks for reading Ice Cream Corpse. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  If you would like to know about future cozy mysteries by me and the other authors at Fairfield Publishing, make sure to sign up for our Cozy Mystery Newsletter. We will send you our FREE Cozy Mystery Starter Library just for signing up. All the details are on the next page.

  Lastly, at the very end of the book, I have included a couple previews of books by friends and fellow authors at Fairfield Publishing. First is a preview of Up in Smoke by Shannon VanBergen - it’s a fun (and funny) story about vigilante grannies in a retirement home who solve crimes and stir up all kinds of trouble. Second is a preview of Croissants and Corruption by Danielle Collins - it’s the first story in the popular Margot Durand Cozy Mystery series. I really hope you like the samples. If you do, both books are available on Amazon.

  Get Up in Smoke here:

  amazon.com/dp/B06XHKYRRX

  Get Croissants and Corruption here:

  amazon.com/dp/B06X9C3G5T/

  FAIRFIELD COZY MYSTERY NEWSLETTER

  Make sure you sign up for the Fairfield Cozy Mystery Newsletter so you can keep up with our latest releases. When you sign up, we will send you our FREE Cozy Mystery Starter Library!

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  After you sign up to get your Free Starter Library, turn the page and check out the free previews :)

  Preview: Up in Smoke

  I could feel my hair puffing up like cotton candy in the humidity as I stepped outside the Miami airport. I pushed a sticky strand from my face, and I wished for a minute that it were a cheerful pink instead of dirty blond, just to complete the illusion.

  “Thank you so much for picking me up from the airport.” I smiled at the sprightly old lady I was struggling to keep up with. “But why did you say my grandmother couldn’t pick me up?”

  “I didn’t say.” She turned and gave me a toothy grin—clearly none of them o
riginal—and winked. “I parked over here.”

  When we got to her car, she opened the trunk and threw in the sign she had been holding when she met me in baggage claim. The letters were done in gold glitter glue and she had drawn flowers with markers all around the edges. My name “Nikki Rae Parker” flashed when the sun reflected off of them, temporarily blinding me.

  “I can tell you put a lot of work into that sign.” I carefully put my luggage to the side of it, making sure not to touch her sign—partially because I didn’t want to crush it and partially because it didn’t look like the glue had dried yet.

  “Well, your grandmother didn’t give me much time to make it. I only had about ten minutes.” She glanced at the sign proudly before closing the trunk. She looked me in the eyes. “Let’s get on the road. We can chit chat in the car.”

  With that, she climbed in and clicked on her seat belt. As I got in, she was applying a thick coat of bright red lipstick while looking in the rearview mirror. “Gotta look sharp in case we get pulled over.” She winked again, her heavily wrinkled eyelid looking like it thought about staying closed before it sprung back up again.

  I thought about her words for a moment. She must get pulled over a lot, I thought. Poor old lady. I could picture her going ten miles an hour while the rest of Miami flew by her.

  “Better buckle up.” She pinched her lips together before blotting them slightly on a tissue. She smiled at me and for a moment, I was jealous of her pouty lips, every line filled in by layers and layers of red.

  I did as I was told and buckled my seat belt before I sunk down into her caramel leather seats. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally, from the trip. I closed my eyes and tried to forget my troubles, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly to give all my worry and fear ample time to escape my body. For the first time since I had made the decision to come here, I felt at peace. Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

  The sound of squealing tires filled the air and my eyes flung open to see this old lady zigzagging through the parking garage. She took the turns without hitting the brakes, hugging each curve like a racecar driver. When we exited the garage and turned onto the street, she broke out in laughter. “That’s my favorite part!”

  I tugged my seat belt to make sure it was on tight. This was not going to be the relaxing drive I had thought it would be.

  We hit the highway and I felt like I was in an arcade game. She wove in and out of traffic at a speed I was sure matched her old age.

  “Ya know, the older I get the worse other people drive.” She took one hand off the wheel and started to rummage through her purse, which sat between us.

  “Um, can I help you with something?” My nerves were starting to get the best of me as her eyes were focused more on her purse than the road.

  “Oh no, I’ve got it. I’m sure it’s in here somewhere.” She dug a little more, pulling out a package of AA batteries and then a ham sandwich.

  Brake lights lit up in front of us and I screamed, bracing myself for impact. The old woman glanced up and pulled the car to the left in a quick jerk before returning to her purse. Horns blared from behind us.

  “There it is!” She pulled out a package of wintergreen Life Savers. “Do you want one?”

  “No, thank you.” I could barely get the words out.

  “I learned a long time ago that it was easier if I just drove and did my thing instead of worrying about what all the other drivers were doing. It’s easier for them to get out of my way instead of me getting out of theirs. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be.” She popped a mint in her mouth and smiled. “I love wintergreen. I don’t know why peppermint is more popular. Peppermint is so stuffy; wintergreen is fun.”

  She seemed to get in a groove with her driving and soon my grip was loosening on the sides of the seat, the blood slowly returning to my knuckles. Suddenly I realized I hadn’t asked her name.

  “I was so confused when you picked me up from the airport instead of my Grandma Dean that I never asked your name.”

  She didn’t respond, just kept her eyes on the road with a steely look on her face. I was happy to see her finally being serious about driving, so I turned to look out the window. “It’s beautiful here,” I said after a few minutes of silence. I turned to look at her again and noticed that she was still focused straight ahead. I stared at her for a moment and realized she never blinked. Panic rose through my chest.

  “Ma’am!” I shouted as I leaned forward to take the wheel. “Are you okay?”

  She suddenly sprung to action, screaming and jerking the wheel to the left. Her screaming caused me to scream and I grabbed the wheel and pulled it to the right, trying to get us back in our lane. We continued to scream until the car stopped teetering and settled down to a nice hum on the road.

  “Are you trying to kill us?” The woman’s voice was hoarse and she seemed out of breath.

  “I tried to talk to you and you didn’t answer!” I practically shouted. “I thought you had a heart attack or something!”

  “You almost gave me one!” She flashed me a dirty look. “And you made me swallow my mint. You’re lucky I didn’t choke to death!”

  “I’m sorry.” As I said the words, I noticed my heart was beating in my ears. “I really thought something had happened to you.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Well, to be honest with you, I did doze off for a moment.” She looked at me, pride spreading across her face. “I sleep with my eyes open. Do you know anyone who can do that?”

  Before I could answer, she was telling me about her friend Delores who “claimed” she could sleep with her eyes open but, as it turned out, just slept with one eye half-open because she had a stroke and it wouldn’t close all the way.

  I sat there in silence before saying a quick prayer. My hands resumed their spot around the seat cushion and I could feel the blood draining from my knuckles yet again.

  “So what was it you tried to talk to me about before you nearly killed us?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to push away the irritation that fought to come out.

  “I asked you what your name was.” I stared at her and decided right then that I wouldn’t take my eyes off of her for the rest of the trip. I would make sure she stayed awake, even if it meant talking to her the entire time.

  “Oh yes! My name is Hattie Sue Miller,” she said with a bit of arrogance. She glanced at me. “My father used to own most of this land.” She motioned to either side of us. “Until he sold it and made a fortune.” She gave me a look and dropped her voice to a whisper as she raised one eyebrow. “Of course we don’t talk about money. That would be inappropriate.” She said that last part like I had just asked her when she had last had sex. I felt ashamed until I realized I had never asked her about her money; I had simply asked her name. This woman was a nut. Didn’t Grandma Dean have any other friends she could’ve sent to get me?

  For the next hour or so, I asked her all kinds of questions to keep her awake—none of them about money or anything I thought might lead to money. If what she told me was true, she had a very interesting upbringing. She claimed to be related to Julia Tuttle, the woman who founded Miami. Her stories of how she got a railroad company to agree to build tracks there were fascinating. It wasn’t until she told me she was also related to Michael Jackson that I started to question how true her stories were.

  “We’re almost there! Geraldine will be so happy to see you. You’re all she’s talked about the last two weeks.” She pulled into a street lined with palm trees. “You’re going to love it here.” She smiled as she drove. “I’ve lived here a long time. It’s far enough away from the city that you don’t have all that hullaballoo, but big enough that you can eat at a different restaurant every day for a month.”

  When we entered the downtown area, heavy gray smoke hung in the air, and the road was blocked by a fire truck and two police cars.

  “Oh no! I think there might have been a fire!” I leaned forward in my seat, tryin
g to get a better look.

  “Of course there was a fire!” Hattie huffed like I was an idiot. “That’s why Geraldine sent me to get you!”

  “What?! Is she okay?” I scanned the crowd and saw her immediately. She was easy to spot, even at our distance.

  “Oh yes. She’s fine. Her shop went up in flames as she was headed out the door. She got the call from a neighboring store owner and called me right away to go get you. Honestly, I barely had time to make you a sign.” She acted like Grandma Dean had really put her in a bad position, leaving her only minutes to get my name on a piece of poster board.

  Hattie pulled over and I jumped out; I’d come back for my luggage later. As I made my way toward the crowd, I was amazed at how little my Grandma Dean—or Grandma Dean-Dean, as I had called her since I was a little girl—had changed. Her bleach blonde hair was nearly white and cut in a cute bob that was level with her chin. She wore skintight light blue denim capris, which hugged her tiny frame. Her bright white t-shirt was the background for a long colorful necklace that appeared to be a string of beads. Thanks to a pair of bright red heels, she stood eye to eye with the fireman she was talking to.

  I ran up to her and called out to her. “Grandma! Are you okay?” She flashed me a look of disgust before she smiled weakly at the fireman and said something I couldn’t make out.

  She turned her back to him and grabbed me by the arm. “I told you to never call me that!” She softened her tone then looked me over. “You look exhausted! Was it the flight or riding with that crazy Hattie?” She didn’t give me time to answer. “Joe, this is my daughter’s daughter, Nikki.”

  Joe smiled. I wasn’t sure if it was his perfectly white teeth that got my attention, his uniform or his sparkling blue eyes, but I was immediately speechless. I tried to say hello, but the words stuck in my throat.

 

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