Southern Pecan Killer

by Summer Prescott

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  SOUTHERN PECAN KILLER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Southern

  Pecan

  KILLER

  Cupcakes in Paradise

  Book 5

  By

  Summer Prescott

  Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott Books

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  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

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  SOUTHERN PECAN

  KILLER

  Cupcakes in Paradise Book 5

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  Melissa Gladstone-Beckett had a spring in her step, as she headed into her shop, Cupcakes in Paradise. The beach was near enough for her to smell the tang of salt water in the air, and there was just enough of an early autumn breeze in the morning to keep the heat and humidity in the Calgon, Florida day from feeling oppressive. She didn’t have to unlock the back door, her new employee, Beulah, had gotten to the shop before sunrise, and the smells coming from the small but immaculate commercial kitchen were heavenly.

  “Oh my goodness, Beulah,” Missy exclaimed, drinking in the scent. “It smells like my new recipe is turning out wonderfully.”

  “Yes ma’am,” the plump elderly woman nodded, never pausing in her task of whipping up a fresh batch of caramel buttercream frosting. “Them Southern Pecan cupcakes are gonna go fast today, you mark my words.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Missy grinned. “We’ll have to set aside some of them for our snack later.”

  “You gonna make me gain a hundred pounds, as I live and breathe,” Beulah groused, shaking her head.

  “I’ll take your share if you really want me to,” Missy teased.

  “From my cold, dead fingers, Miz Beckett,” Beulah raised a reproving eyebrow, making Missy chuckle.

  Beulah was a treasure. She was a stubborn, opinionated, hard worker and Missy loved her to death. She’d been overwhelmed with her business growing by leaps and bounds, and had needed some help, never imagining that it would come in the form of a seventy-something firecracker, with a sharp wit and a seeming inability to use social filters. By the time Missy came in this morning, Beulah had already baked and frosted a test batch of her newly invented recipe, Southern Pecan cupcakes.

  The delicate white cakes were filled with a gooey pecan pie mixture, and were topped with caramel buttercream frosting, a drizzle of thick caramel sauce, and crushed pecans. They were beautiful to look at, and delectable to taste.

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Beulah,” Missy marveled.

  “It’s your recipe,” the old woman shrugged. “I just followed the instructions.”

  “Have you tried one yet?”

  “I might’ve had a bite or two.” Beulah loaded a bag with frosting, preparing to squeeze it artfully onto a cooled batch of the cakes.

  Missy noticed the two empty cupcake papers in the trash and grinned. “Good, quality control is important. I have to load up that batch of Cookies and Cream cupcakes for the Kindergarten play this morning. Are you going to be okay here alone for a few hours? It gets kind of busy in the morning.”

  “Ain’t nothing I can’t handle. Once I finish these last two batches, we’ll be good to go. I already stocked up the display cases out front.”

  Missy stared at her in shock. “Already? Beulah, how long have you been here this morning?”

  “Since four. My old bones don’t let me sleep much these days, so I might as well be busy,” she shrugged.

  “Now I feel awful leaving you here alone while I go make the deliveries. You’ve been working so hard,” Missy frowned.

  “I’d be working just as hard whether you was here or not,” Beulah waved her off. “I got this. You go do your thing and we’ll eat us some cupcakes when you get back.”

  “You’re the best, Beulah.”

  “You better believe it.”

  Just then the back door opened, and Missy’s best friend, flame-haired free spirit, Echo Kellerman came in with her baby Jasmine.

  “I don’t know what that amazing smell is, but I want some,” Echo grinned, giving Missy a hug and peering over Beulah’s shoulder to see what she was doing.

  “Don’t be thinking you’re gonna be bringing that sweet child in here and not handing her over to old Beulah,” the elderly woman beamed at Jasmine, putting down her bag of frosting and reaching out for the tot, who cooed with delight and held up her arms.

  Echo handed Jazzy over and surveyed the trays of beautifully decorated cupcakes. “Oh my, what have you cooked up now?” she asked Missy, accepting a steaming mug of coffee.

  “The vegan ones are on the left,” Missy pointed. “Try one,” she encouraged.

  “Why people can’t be eating eggs and real butter and good ole cream, goodness only knows,” Beulah muttered, giving Jasmine a little tickle to make her giggle.

  Echo rolled her eyes and reached for a cupcake, groaning with pleasure after she bit into it.

  “Beulah, you’re gifted,” she commented, her mouth full.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” was the reply as Beulah handed Jasmine a rubber spoon to play with.

  “I have a delivery to make at the elementary school,” Missy told Echo. “Want to ride along?”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t. I told Joyce I’d be in to babysit the cash register while she did inventory today.”

  Echo owned two adjoining shops in an eclectic building downtown that had been willed to her by a sweet neighbor lady. One was a bookstore, the other was a shop where she sold handmade candles with fragrances inspired by Missy’s cupcakes. Joyce was the highly educated bookworm whom she’d hired to run things when she realized that she was pregnant. She was also Beula
h’s niece and the reason that the elderly woman had moved to Calgon.

  “Don’t forget that we’re going to yoga tonight,” Echo reminded Missy.

  Missy closed her eyes and sighed. She had totally forgotten. “Maybe we should start with the next class,” she suggested.

  “You said that last time, and it never happened,” Echo folded her arms and tapped her foot. “No. We’re going tonight. You’ll have fun once you get there, and it’s good for you.”

  “In my day the only working out that folks needed was a good day of hard work,” Beulah mumbled, making faces at Jasmine while the child giggled wildly. “Getting in them weird positions, all twisted up, ain’t nothing good gonna come of that, no sir.”

  Trying not to giggle, Missy answered her friend. “Okay, fine, but then we need to go out for ice cream or something afterwards.”

  “That kind of defeats the purpose,” Echo raised her eyebrows.

  “Balance, life is about balance,” Missy grinned.

  “So is yoga,” Echo sighed. “Fine, we’ll do something fun afterwards, but no ice cream.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  Missy didn’t feel strong and empowered, she felt ridiculous as she sat with her legs in a very uncomfortable position trying to breathe out negativity and breathe in strength. The instructor had suggested to the class of a dozen women, most of whom were far younger than Missy and Echo, that they close their eyes to fully focus their energy. Sneaking a peek when the instructor’s voice indicated that she had turned in a different direction, Missy looked around, dismayed to see that most of the class looked perfectly serene and content. They apparently didn’t feel like unbalanced pretzels. She struggled through the rest of the class as best she could, using the wall to hold onto so that she didn’t fall over during standing poses, and as a result, received a pitying glance from the slip of a woman who was teaching the class.

  The last pose was one that she could totally get on board with. It was simply lying flat on her back, with a scented pillow over her eyes. She was doing really well until her stomach growled audibly, which in turn gave her a fit of the giggles. She thought she’d burst, trying to hold back her laughter, and her shoulders shook, while her tummy bounced up and down with the effort. Tears of mirth wetted her scented pillow, and she lifted it up to see the instructor standing over her, staring down at her with as much disdain as the laid back woman could muster.

  “There, now wasn’t that fun?” Echo elbowed Missy playfully as they headed out of yoga class.

  “Fun is a strong word,” Missy gave her a look. “I didn’t even know I had muscles in all those places. Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow?”

  “You’ll be fine. Let’s go get a vitamin-boosted smoothie and figure out what to do next.”

  Missy was spared from having to answer by the ringing of her phone.

  “It’s Beulah,” she murmured, hoping that everything was okay. The elderly woman never called her. Texting was her preferred form of communication. “I should take this,” she said apologetically to Echo, who nodded.

  “Hi Beulah,” she answered. “What? Are you sure? Yes, yes he is. Okay, just keep her safe, we’ll be right there.”

  Missy hung up the phone, her eyes as round as saucers.

  “What’s wrong? Is Beulah okay?” Echo asked.

  “We have to go over there right now, and I have to call Chas to have him meet us,” Missy blurted, sprinting the rest of the way to the car. “Get in, I’ll explain.”

  **

  Beulah had been thankful for a long, busy day at the cupcake shop, and when she got home, before she even started cooking her dinner, she picked up her wicker laundry basket and headed for the clothesline to take down and fold her linens, which had been hung out to dry that morning. Methodically taking down clothespins and putting them in the pocket of her well-worn floral dress, she folded the laundry as she went, dropping the fresh linens in her basket. When she got to the end of the clothesline that was closest to her fence, she heard a keening sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The closer she got to the fence, the louder the sound became. Stepping up onto the bottom cross brace, she grabbed the top of the fence, hoisted herself up, and peered over.

  A pale little girl with bouncy chocolate colored curls, who looked to be no more than four, was sitting, her back against a tree, arms around her knees, crying.

  “Hey there, little peanut,” Beulah cooed. “What you crying for on this beautiful day?”

  “Mamaaaa…” the girl wailed, tears pouring down her cheeks. She hiccupped twice, seriously distraught. “Mamaaa…” she said again, her tiny shoulders heaving.

  “Where’s your mama, child? She inside?” Beulah frowned.

  The little girl nodded.

  “Well, why don’t you go inside and see her, honey?”

  “Mama seepin,” the little girl choked out.

  “She’s sleeping?” Beulah repeated. The tiny tot nodded.

  “Where’s your daddy?”

  Alarm bells were going off in Beulah’s head and only got worse when the child answered, “He seepin ttt-too.”

  “You stay right there, peanut. Aunt Beulah’s coming to see you, okay?” the old woman’s pulse raced.

  The crying child nodded and Beulah stepped down from the fence, forgetting her basket of laundry entirely, headed for her neighbor’s house.

  The back yard, where the child was sitting, was overgrown with weeds and strewn with litter. The child’s t-shirt and shorts were dirty, and when Beulah reached for her hand, the tiny little hand that reached toward hers was smeared with something that looked eerily like blood.

  “What’s your name, child?”

  “Kaeey.”

  “Kaylee?”

  The girl nodded.

  “That’s a beautiful name, Kaylee. Let’s go see your mama and daddy, okay?” Beulah walked the child toward home, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Lord have mercy,” she exclaimed, when Kaylee opened the front door and the smell hit her.

  Blood, lots of it, if the smell was any indication.

  “Hello?” she called out, her voice shaky, bile rising in the back of her throat. “Ain’t nothing good ever come from a smell like that,” she muttered, allowing Kaylee to lead her by the hand to the back of the house, where the source of the smell became evident.

  Flies buzzed around the master bedroom, where little Kaylee’s parents lay in overlapping pools of partially dried blood.

  **

  Chas Beckett, former detective, who was now a private investigator and homicide consultant for the Calgon PD, had already arrived at Beulah’s tidy ranch home by the time Missy and Echo got there. Beulah and Kaylee sat side by side on the floral couch, and Chas sat across from them in a wingback chair. Not wanting to interrupt, Missy and Echo tiptoed into the room and sat in two club chairs beside the couch.

  “Kaylee, can you tell me what happened before you found your mommy and daddy?” he asked gently.

  The child shook her head no and burrowed into Beulah’s considerable bulk.

  “Maybe she’ll feel better after a cookie and some milk,” the elderly woman suggested, giving Chas a meaningful look.

  “Of course,” he agreed readily, his heart going out to the traumatized child.

  Missy waited until she heard the duo talking in Beulah’s kitchen before she asked Chas what happened. Splashes of blue light washed over the room from the light bar on the police cruisers that were descending upon the neighborhood en masse as he explained.

  “It looks like a murder-suicide right now. We’ll know more once Tim gets here,” he said, referring to the Coroner.

  Missy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, tears springing to her eyes. Echo gave voice to her thoughts.

  “Oh no! What’s going to become of that poor, precious girl?” she whispered.

  “We’re
searching for next of kin right now,” Chas’s face was grim. “But the worst part is going to be happening in just a little while. Since Kaylee was at the scene, the lab techs have to swab her hands to see whose blood is on them and take her clothing into evidence.”

  “Oh the poor lamb is going to be so scared,” Missy breathed. “Will they let Beulah stay with her?”

  “There’s a social worker from the Department of Child Services who’ll be handling Kaylee as soon as she gets here. They know how to work with the kids and the police so that there’s as little trauma as possible.”

  “Oh Chas, I just feel so bad for her. Do you think she saw what happened?”

  “I don’t know. Anytime I try to ask her questions, she shuts down, which is normal for her age, but she may be a key witness, so it’s going to have to come out at some point.”

  “How old is she?” Echo asked sadly.

  “Beulah’s best guess is right around three.”

  “Oh my,” Missy exclaimed. “I hope they find some relatives to take her in.”

  “That’s the hope,” Chas nodded, then stopped talking as Kaylee came back into the room with Beulah, holding a cookie that was nearly as big as her little face, and a sippee cup full of milk.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  It had been a long day for Fiona McCamish. The spunky young woman was the assistant to Calgon’s only mortician and coroner, and they’d had back to back intakes all morning. Apparently Tuesday was a good day to die. They’d all been natural deaths, so no autopsies were on the agenda, but just doing the paperwork for all those stiffs had been exhausting, and her boss, Timothy Eckels, would probably want to get an early start the next day. The two of them were next door neighbors and carpooled to and from work to save time and money.

  She had just settled into her porch swing and opened a can of sparkling lime water when her neighbor on the other side came home, raucous heavy metal music blaring from the speakers of his tiny truck so loudly that she heard him coming long before she saw him. Loud Steve, as everyone referred to him, for obvious reasons, had been her former brother-in-law. Her sister had divorced him several months before she died, and Fiona had never thought of him as anything but a lousy husband and a horrible human being. He had military stickers all over his truck, and while he had actually served, he’d never done any of the heroic things that the stickers seemed to indicate, so she despised him for that as well.