S'more Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 19 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

  Get Early Access to My Books For FREE!

  Every two weeks you’ll get a new Cozy Novella from me absolutely FREE.

  Sign up now! http://bit.ly/AuthorCarolDurand

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 by Maven Publishing & Summer Prescott Books - All rights reserved.

  All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 1

  The scent coming from the small commercial kitchen in the back of Cupcakes in Paradise was nothing short of heavenly. Petite blonde owner, Melissa Gladstone-Beckett, inhaled deeply as she drew a pan of her fresh, hot newest creations out of the oven. As if drawn in by the delicious smell wafting through the shop, Missy’s best friend, Echo Willis – a free-spirited former Californian – appeared in the doorway.

  “Oh my goodness, what have you done?” Echo breathed, clearly enjoying the scent.

  “Well, I was thinking about Fall, back home in Louisiana, and I remembered the bonfire parties and wienie roasts, and s’mores, and I just had to create a s’more cupcake,” her friend grinned, stomach growling.

  “Homesick?” Echo asked, coming closer to peer at the cupcakes.

  “Sometimes,” Missy admitted. “It’s just a little strange going to the beach and laying out in the sunshine in November. Missy and her husband, Detective Chas Beckett, had relocated to Florida from Louisiana months ago, after purchasing a pre-Civil War home that had been turned into a thriving bed and breakfast. After their move, Missy purchased the cottage next door to the inn and turned it into a tea room and cupcake shop.

  “But, as you know, baking always lifts my spirits,” she added.

  “So, what’s in them?” Echo asked, gazing longingly at the cupcakes.

  “They’re Devil’s Food cupcakes and they’ll be filled with marshmallow crème, topped with vanilla buttercream frosting, and sprinkled with lots of graham cracker crumbs.”

  “Oh my. Is there a vegan version?” the Californian asked hopefully.

  Missy glanced at her watch. “That batch comes out in about 15 minutes, but if you want one, you’ll have to help me frost these.” She was certainly not above using her cupcakes to bribe people into service.

  “Deal!” her friend agreed, donning an apron.

  “How’s work at the gallery going?” Missy asked.

  “I absolutely love it,” her friend enthused. “Kel set up a workroom in the back, so when no one is browsing, I sit back there and talk to him while he works.” Phillip “Kel” Kellerman was a mutual friend and incredible artist who was unabashed in his admiration of Echo, and had hired her to work as his Gallery Manager when he opened his first gallery several weeks ago.

  “Hmm…that sounds positively cozy,” Missy remarked, focusing on the cupcake that she was frosting.

  “Oh, stop it,” Echo chided with a grin. “He’s my boss, that’s all,” she asserted.

  “Okay, if you say so,” the vehement statement was met with a chuckle.

  Missy was spared from a biting reply by the timely arrival of Spencer Bengal, her handyman from the inn, who also filled in at the cupcake shop and at afternoon tea when necessary. The young veteran had made himself indispensable in the short time he’d been employed, and was a genuinely nice person in addition to having model looks and a body that had been honed by the Marine Corps.

  “Good morning ladies,” he flashed his dimples.

  “Morning Spence,” Missy replied, handing over a freshly frosted cupcake. “I’m assuming you’re here to taste test?”

  “I won’t turn it down, but actually no, that’s not why I came over. I finished up some jobs over at the inn, and Maggie said that she wouldn’t need me for the rest of the day, so I thought I’d take some time off today, if that’s alright with you,” he replied, taking a huge bite of cupcake. Echo poured him a to-go cup of coffee and handed it to him to wash it down. “Wow, these are amazing, is it a new recipe?”

  “Yup,” Missy beamed. “I’m glad you like them. They’re S’mores cupcakes.”

  Spencer nodded, swallowed, then replied. “I knew they tasted familiar, I just couldn’t place it, but that’s exactly it – they taste like S’mores…but better.” He popped the last bite in his mouth and looked hungrily at the cupcakes remaining on the tray.

  “Here you go,” Missy insisted, handing him another. “Enjoy your day off, and don’t come back until you’ve had some fun.”

  “Aye, ma’am. I’m just going to be on the beach, so if you need me, just text and I’ll be back in no time,” he assured her.

  “Thanks, Spence – enjoy your day,”

  “Will do, ma’am. Thank you,” he said through a mouthful of cupcake, and headed for the door.

  The two women watched him go, and Echo shook her head.

  “Does that young man have any idea of the effect that he has on women?” the redhead wondered aloud.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Missy replied airily, but Echo knew better.

  “Ha! Look, I know you happen to be married to a magnificent specimen of maleness, but that doesn’t make you blind, honey,” her friend challenged. The only response was a mischievous grin.

  Saved by the bell jangling over the front door, Missy poured a cup of fresh, hot, Costa Rican coffee for the first customer of the day and took it out front, with Echo trailing behind her.

  Chapter 2

  “Good morning, Kel,” Missy greeted the artist, setting the mug of steaming hot brew down in front of him.

  “Lovely to see you, fair lady,” he replied with a nod and a smile, but his eyes were all too eager to remain upon the flame-haired object of his affections. “And you, beautiful muse,” he said to Echo.

  “I’ll go grab the cupcake trays so that we can finish frosting out here,” Missy said, looking at her watch. “And the timer for the vegan ones should be going off momentarily,” she said, smiling when a buzzer finished her sentence for her. She went back to the kitchen, turned off the oven, set the vegan cakes on the cooling rack, and grabbed the partially finished tray and bowl of frosting to carry back out front.

  “So, what’s new in Calgon, Kel?” the cupcake shop owner asked, picking up another decadent cake to frost. Phillip “Kel” Kellerman was the eyes and ears of the Calgon, Florida social scene, and came in every morning to share any potentially interesting news with Missy and Echo, over cupcakes and coffee.

  “Well,” he leaned forward confidentially. “It would seem that Anne Cho, the wife of our new police chief, is considering hiring a medium to determine if he
r house is indeed haunted.”

  Echo snorted. “I wouldn’t have thought that Anne was the type to believe in such hocus-pocus,” she shook her head.

  “She’s typically not, from what I understand,” Kel shrugged. “But events at the house have been such that she’s at her wit’s end.”

  “Really?” Missy said, surprised. “What’s been going on?” She too, had been struck by how sweet and level-headed the new police chief’s wife had seemed.

  “Well, there was the housekeeper who ended up in the hospital when she felt as though she was pushed down the stairs while the house was still vacant…”

  “I thought she said that she just tripped,” Echo interrupted skeptically.

  “Of course she said that. It’s not like she wanted the entire community to think she’d gone bonkers,” Kel rolled his eyes. “Anyway…” he frowned at Echo for interrupting before continuing and she made a comical face in return that made him laugh, despite himself.

  “Then there was the dreadful murder of Freddie Palmer at the masquerade party,” he continued.

  “But that had nothing to do with anything “supernatural,” his evil wife and mistress killed him,” Missy pointed out reasonably.

  “Creating even further bad joujou in the already unstable spiritual environment,” the artist nodded.

  “Please tell me that you don’t buy into all of this stuff,” Echo demanded, an eyebrow raised.

  “I’m merely reporting the series of events,” Kel insisted mildly. “As you know, the chief and his family moved in just before the unfortunate masquerade party, and it seems they’ve been experiencing mysterious phenomena in the house ever since.”

  “Creaks and groans and things that go bump in the night?” Missy teased, putting a newly frosted cupcake carefully back on the tray.

  “Essentially, yes. These things never seem to happen while the chief is at home, but have become so regular when he’s gone that the children and missus are beginning to lose sleep over the predicament,” he explained gravely.

  “Interesting,” Missy mused.

  “It’s probably the kids doing things to scare their mother,” Echo suggested dryly.

  “Perhaps. If so, then they’ve done quite the effective job. Mediums do not work cheaply, or so I’m told, yet Anne is pretty insistent upon employing one to assess their situation.”

  “Hmm…if the money is that good, maybe I should make a career change,” the redhead quipped, sipping her coffee.

  “Make light of it if you will, my lighthearted lass, but the struggle for the Cho family is apparently very real,” he arched a brow at his Office Manager.

  “How did you hear about all of this, Kel?” Missy asked, finishing the frosting on the last cupcake and reaching for the crushed graham crackers that she had prepared earlier.

  “I happen to give watercolor lessons to the nephew of the chief’s housekeeper,” he confided.

  “Ah,” she nodded, sprinkling the crumbs over the frosted peaks of the cupcakes. “Well, keep us posted. I’ve been meaning to invite Anne out to lunch – sounds like she could probably use some girl time.”

  “Indeed. Well, it’s been a pleasure, lovely ladies,” the artist smiled at them in turn, his gaze lingering a bit longer on Echo, then stood to go.

  “See ya Kel,” Missy replied, standing back to admire her handiwork.

  “See ya soon, boss,” Echo waved.

  Heading for the door, Kel paused, and turned back to his Office Manager. “Before I forget, my dear, I have a luncheon engagement today, so I won’t be back in until after one o’clock,” he informed her, then resumed his exit.

  “It’s not on your calendar,” the puzzled redhead called after him.

  “Just came up,” was the cryptic reply just before the door closed behind him.

  Chapter 3

  Spencer Bengal basked in the early afternoon sun, his earbuds in, cooler at his side, stretched out in a beach lounger. His days off were rare, not because he wasn’t offered the time, but because he preferred to stay busy and rarely took it. He lived in a basement apartment at the inn, and made it well known that he was available for whatever needed to be done, pretty much around the clock. Today, however, he was ready for a bit of personal time doing nothing more than enjoying the benefits of life in sunny Florida. Dressed in swim trunks, he’d gone in the surf early, then eased into his lounger, allowing nature to dry the sparkling droplets on his skin.

  One of the things that never left the young veteran after his time in combat, was a constant awareness of everything that was going on around him at any given time, despite any commitment that he might attempt to make toward relaxation. Tuning out the world by listening to classic rock on his IPod, Spencer glimpsed something in his peripheral vision that made him turn his head.

  A young woman, dressed all in black, who was a few hundred yards down the beach from his lounger, walked at a leisurely pace into the ocean, never even flinching as the cool water rose higher and higher around her. Spencer sat up, his instincts telling him that this was no ordinary tourist wanting to experience what it felt like to swim in the early November ocean. Further and further she trudged along at a steady pace, arms at her sides, looking straight ahead. When the water reached the level of her neck, Spencer called out to her. She either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. When her head disappeared nonchalantly below the surface, the young Marine took off at a dead run, keeping his eyes on the spot where she’d gone down.

  Diving into the surf when he got close, he came upon the tall, thin young woman almost instantly. Her eyes were closed under water, but snapped open when Spencer grabbed her around the waist and propelled her toward the surface. She struggled briefly, but then seemed to accept her fate and went limp. When their heads broke the surface of the water, Spencer’s wide, concerned eyes met her black, seemingly defiant gaze as she choked and sputtered against his thickly muscled shoulder. Thick, black mascara and eyeliner ran down her face, making harsh lines against her impossibly white skin.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he spoke reassuringly. “You’re safe now.”

  Rather than responding, the sodden young woman merely stared into the distance, not even bothering to hold on. She looked to be a few years younger than Spencer, but seemed far too thin and scarily frail, as though she might bruise or break easily. The young Marine swam easily with the girl until his feet could touch the sand, then carried her to the shore.

  “What happened out there?” he asked softly, after setting the dismal creature on her feet, her long black skirt and long-sleeved matching shirt clinging to her pale skin.

  “You saved me,” she said, shivering and not looking at him. Her pronouncement sounded like an accusation.

  “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” replied the baffled young Marine. He tried to make eye contact, but she wouldn’t let him, and he noticed that she was shuddering from head to toe, despite the balmy day. “Come on, let’s go get you warmed up,” he said, placing his hand on her upper back to guide her. She flinched away from his touch, staring up at him with fear and anger coloring her dark gaze. Spencer backed away, hands up in a gesture of innocence.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I work at a bed and breakfast that’s just down the beach. We can get you some towels and some hot tea or something,” he explained, still frustrated and sad that she was too timid to look at him. “In the meantime…” he jogged over to his lounger and snatched up his beach towel. “Wrap this around yourself – it’ll help,” he promised, holding the towel out to her. She ignored the towel and moved past him, heading toward the inn.

  “Okaaaay,” the young Marine said, shaking his head, utterly puzzled. He picked up his cooler and IPod and fell in step with the strange young woman, keeping enough distance between them that she didn’t feel threatened in any way.

  Chapter 4

  Detective Chas Beckett had dealt with some interesting folks in the course of his work, but the cops in the office had promised him that
the woman he was about to speak with was a horse of an entirely different color. The guys at the office hadn’t supplied details about the woman, but their expressions and remarks had certainly given him pause to wonder what he was about to encounter.

  He pulled up to the non-descript grey two-story house that was showing signs of neglect. The paint on the black shutters and trim was peeling, some of the screens on the windows were torn, the yard was an overgrown tangle of grass and weeds, and the cement of the front walk and driveway was cracked and heaving up from the ground, an oddity in Florida, where one typically didn’t have to worry about freezing temperatures.

  Chas parked out front, took out his notebook and a pen and headed for the front door. He rang the bell, but heard nothing inside the house, so when the occupant didn’t answer, he knocked. The door opened almost immediately, and a tiny, wrinkled woman with birdlike features peered out at the detective with a scowl.

  “What business do you have coming to my door?” she demanded.

  “I’m looking for Ruth Jones. I’m Detective Chas Beckett with the Calgon Police Department,” Chas replied, detecting a faint smell emanating from the house that put him on guard.

  “Well, it’s about time that you people showed up,” the woman pursed her lips disapprovingly.

  “Are you Ruth Jones?” the detective asked, trying hard to be patient.

  “Of course I am. Who else would be answering my door?” the angry woman made a face.

  “Who indeed,” Chas agreed, blinking a bit at her rudeness. “May I come in? I’ll need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Just don’t track any dirt in here,” Ruth snapped, opening the door wider, and heading into the house, as Chas entered and closed the door behind himself. “I did not spend hours on my hands and knees cleaning this floor for some policeman to come and dirty it,” she groused.

  “I’ll do my best,” Chas replied dryly, dreading the upcoming interview. They entered the living room, which was furnished with what looked like original pieces from the 1950’s. There were plastic pathways across the short nap brown carpet, and plastic covered every piece of upholstered furniture. All of the heavy, foam-lined, blackout curtains were shut, making the house dim and cool, even in the bright light of a Florida afternoon, and the detective felt as though he had stepped back in time when he sat down on the plastic-wrapped sofa. There was no television, nor artwork of any kind, and the scent that he’d caught a whiff of earlier was a fraction stronger once he came inside.