Apple Cider Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 18 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

  “Well, well, well, let the drama begin,” Kel remarked in a low voice at her shoulder.

  “Kel, what are you doing here?” she asked, pleasantly surprised, when she turned and saw him taking a bite of an elegant cucumber sandwich.

  “Are you kidding? Weddings are a hotbed of interpersonal drama – I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he gave her an impish grin.

  “Good,” Missy replied, actually relieved to have another ally present. “Keep your eyes and ears open…I have a feeling that this crowd is going to be a handful.”

  Chapter 5

  “So what did you find out?” Missy asked Kel, when she joined Echo at their usual table for cupcakes.

  “First things first, my lovely,” the artist replied, carefully peeling back the paper from his Mocha Macaroon cupcake and taking a bite. “Mmm…I’m going to have to do extra miles on the treadmill this afternoon,” he mused, thoroughly enjoying the cupcake.

  “Why don’t you just walk on the beach?” Echo asked, not understanding why anyone would use an indoor treadmill when salt water and sand were at their disposal. She had adopted the habit of walking for miles on the beach at least once every day, and more often than not, Kel tagged along.

  “Beautiful lady, one does not maintain this type of figure at this age by merely strolling recreationally. The treadmill is for exercise, the beach is for pleasure. Both are essential to my health and well-being,” he explained, continuing to devour his treat and washing it down with coffee. “Even more so since this delightful shop opened up,” he grinned at Missy.

  “Well, hurry up and finish then, so you can tell us about the guests that you met,” Echo retorted pleasantly.

  “I shall not. I’ve resolved to savor the sweet moments in life rather than rush through them, so I will slowly relish every morsel of this delectable treat,” he vowed, loving the fact that he was keeping both of them hanging.

  “Fine,” Missy said, getting up from the table. “I’m grabbing the coffee pot then.”

  “Here, here,” Echo raised her nearly empty mug in agreement.

  Missy came back, refilled their coffees and returned the pot to the kitchen, thankful that when she came back, Kel was finally done with his cupcake.

  The gent leaned forward, clearly ready to impart his findings. “It would seem that we have quite the interesting social dynamic happening within the two families,” he began.

  “What do you mean?” asked Echo, who hadn’t been able to attend the Wedgewood Parlor tea because she was minding the shop.

  “The bride’s father owns several different businesses and is a rather well-heeled man of the world. His fanatically fit wife owns a women’s gym and trains movie stars who need to get in shape for upcoming films,” he explained.

  “Oh, how cool,” Echo remarked.

  “Clearly you’ve never met the woman,” Kel responded dryly. “The groom’s father, on the other hand, is a welder, who lives in a tiny house near an industrial complex. He seems to be a decent fellow, who isn’t afraid to “call ‘em as he sees ‘em” as it were, which doesn’t go over swimmingly well with the ultra-appropriate Mr. and Mrs. Covington.”

  “Yeah, I picked up on that during the tea,” Missy nodded, frowning.

  “The two kiddos met during college and fell madly in love, so both factions are trying to grin and bear it, despite the very strong misgivings on one side,” he shrugged.

  “Really? Who disapproves?” Echo asked, elbows on the table, chin in her hands.

  “According to one slightly inebriated uncle on the bride’s side, Carlson and Kendra aren’t terribly thrilled about their only child marrying a young man from the wrong side of the tracks. She stands to inherit quite a fortune someday, and the feeling is that the money should go to someone who is accustomed to handling it,” the artist said, making a face.

  “You kept refilling the uncle’s drink, didn’t you?” Missy accused with amused admiration.

  “Just being hospitable, dear one,” he gave her a wicked grin. “At any rate, everyone on the groom’s side seems to adore young Chelsea. She appears to be a sweet girl, despite her upbringing.”

  “Poor dears,” Missy said. “They’re going to be battling this the rest of their lives.”

  “True love will get them through,” Echo, ever the optimist, comforted her friend.

  “You think so?” Kel asked, eyeing the object of his affection.

  “I hope so,” she amended. “I mean, I think it’s entirely possible, don’t you?”

  “Indeed,” he nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed.”

  Chapter 6

  “Mrs. Beckett, I have a quick question,” Spencer came trotting over to where Missy was busy measuring ingredients into a bowl for the new Dulce de Leche cupcake recipe that she had created.

  “Sure, Spence, what’s up?” she asked, setting down her plastic ring of measuring spoons.

  “Did you clean that counter before beginning your baking?” he asked, frowning, mocking Mrs. Covington.

  Missy giggled. “Yup, spit shined it just for you,” she teased back.

  “I’ve definitely met some interesting people during my time working here, but that lady takes the cake,” he shook his head.

  “But only if it’s baked with non-hydrogenated oils,” Missy replied, deadpan.

  The handsome young man chuckled, then finally got to the real reason he came over. “She’s the reason I’m here, actually…” he began.

  “Oh no…what this time?”

  “Nothing major. She just wants to know if I can drive all of them over to the Pumpkin Patch and Corn Maze in the Shopping Shuttle. I told her I’d ask you about it. Apparently some guy at tea told Chelsea about it and she thought it would be a great place to take some pre-wedding pictures. They want to do the hay ride, walk the corn maze and see the pumpkin patch. I know we don’t usually use the shuttle for anything other than taking guests to the Mall or outlets, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

  Missy smiled, knowing full well that the whole thing had been Kel’s idea so that it would get the guests out of her hair for a good portion of the day. “I think it’s a great idea. They’re our only guests for the week, so if they want to travel by group, we can certainly accommodate them, within reason.”

  “Okay, boss,” Spencer nodded. “Unless you need me here, I can just hang out there for the day, rather than driving back and forth,” he suggested.

  “That sounds like a good idea. Have a good time and bring me the receipts so that we can reimburse you,” she added.

  “For having fun?”

  “For babysitting,” Missy replied dryly. “There’s such a thing as hazard pay, right?” she grinned.

  “Roger that, ma’am.”

  **

  “Everybody in?” Spencer asked, standing in the front of the shuttle, and using his military voice to be heard over the din of chatter.

  “There should be 21 of us,” Chelsea spoke up helpfully from the front seat, as everyone else looked around trying to determine if anyone had been left behind.

  He took a quick head-count, reached twenty-one and gave a thumbs-up, then settled into the driver’s seat. Before he could turn the key in the ignition, Kendra Covington popped up beside him.

  “Young man, do you have a commercial driver’s license?” she demanded.

  “Yes ma’am, I do,” he replied, with a polite smile, despite his inward sigh.

  “I’d like to see it please,” she crossed her arms and tapped her tiny foot, clad in a designer running shoe that weighed less than a bag of potato chips.

  Still keeping the professional smile pasted on his face, Spencer reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out his wallet. He reached into it, withdrew the card, and handed it to her. Kendra refused to touch it, but bent forward to peer at it, examining it carefully.

  “How many times have you driven a vehicle of this size?” she asked next, as he put the card away.

  “Well, ma’am,
I haven’t kept count, but I drove vehicles that were much larger and more complex when I was in Afghanistan,” the young veteran reassured her.

  “I hardly think that driving a vehicle in the middle of a desert, where there are no traffic lights or other cars, would even remotely qualify you for driving commercially here in the civilized world. Do you have a log book or something for trips you’ve made in this specific vehicle?” she persisted.

  Spencer stared at her, blinking and trying to think of a response that wouldn’t get him fired. He’d been through a lot of pain and hardship as a US Marine, and one of the things that made life a bit more bearable after having witnessed atrocities that haunted him still, was the gratitude shown to him by his fellow citizens upon coming home. He wasn’t accustomed to his service being belittled and was at a loss as to how to respond.

  “I’m sorry ma’am…I may not have been driving in Florida traffic, but I was driving through a war zone where I had to scan every bit of the road and roadside for IED’s that if I rolled over them would kill everyone in my vehicle, all while coming under enemy fire; so I’m going to have to respectfully disagree and assure you that my military experience is definitely a valid indicator of my abilities to drive this group of civilians to a pumpkin patch,” he said in an even tone, staring her dead in the eye.

  “So, you’re not going to show me a log book?” Kendra Covington raised her eyebrows. The chatter in the bus went quiet. One could hear a pin drop.

  Marine Spencer Bengal was done. “All due respect, ma’am, if you’re uncomfortable with my ability as a driver, you and your party are welcome to try and secure free transportation elsewhere,” he said, taking the keys out of the ignition.

  Carlson decided it was time to step in and defend his wife. “I don’t appreciate your attitude, young man. We are paying guests here, and we are entitled to respect and service. Now, I’d advise you to stow your wounded pride and patriotism and drive this bus,” he insisted.

  Spencer stood to his full six feet two inches and towered over the executive, not saying a word. A voice from the back of the bus called out, “We’re thankful for your service, son, and we’d like a ride once they sit their butts down!” The bus erupted in cheers, with Chelsea blushing furiously over her parent’s behavior.

  “Daddy, please,” she pleaded, tugging on his polo.

  The overbearing businessman glanced at his daughter, then at his wife and sat down, pulling a bristling Kendra behind him.

  “Don’t expect a tip,” he muttered in Spencer’s general direction, not looking at him.

  “Wouldn’t take it if I were starving, sir,” was the calm reply.

  Chapter 7

  The ride to the Pumpkin Patch and Haunted Corn Maze was uneventful, and the guests, with the exception of the brooding Covingtons, chattered and laughed for the entire ride. Spencer only had to pull over to the side of the road once to allow Lyle Vance, father of the groom, to heave. Once he was done, the salty fellow swished out his mouth with rum from a flask that he’d brought along for the trip, raising it in triumph and getting back on the bus, ready for adventure.

  The weather cooperated for picture taking among the pumpkins, despite warning that there might be rain in the immediate future, so after the photo session, the group bought hay ride tickets, saving the haunted corn maze for last.

  The group filed onto the flatbed truck for the hayride, with Kendra Covington looking as though she’d rather be anywhere else, and sat on hay bales facing each other. Lyle Vance climbed up last, with more than a bit of assistance from his brother and Spencer, ending up sitting, as fate would have it, right between Carlson Covington and Chelsea’s Aunt Lauren, Kendra’s sister.

  “Hello pretty lady,” he greeted Lauren, alcohol emanating from his pores.

  “Hi Lyle, how are you today?” the gracious and attractive 30-something woman replied, as her sister looked on in disgust.

  “Getting better all the time,” Lyle leered, waggling his eyebrows comically.

  “Keep it in check old man,” Carlson growled.

  “Oh don’t get your panties in a bunch, you old stiff,” Lyle rolled his eyes, which apparently threw him off balance, and just before he was about to tumble over the side of the truck, Carlson grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back up.

  “You degenerate, you should be ashamed of yourself, acting this way on an outing like this. Do you have no shame?” the executive sneered.

  “Carl…” Aunt Lauren spoke up softly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

  “It’s alright, beautiful, I’m used to Mr. Stuffy Pants being a jerk. He thinks he’s too good for the rest of us. Him and his psycho wife…no offense,” he said apologetically to Kendra’s sister.

  “Let’s just enjoy the day…okay?” she suggested quietly, patting his arm.

  “See…why can’t you people be more like her?” he bellowed, jerking his thumb at Lauren. “She knows how to treat people,” he nodded, while Carlson glared at him utterly disgusted.

  The hayride driver broke in, letting everyone know to hold on, because they were going to start the tour. When the hayride was over, the group trooped into the quaint little farmhouse restaurant for cider and donuts. Kendra pulled several napkins out of a dispenser and put them down on the rustic bench that was pulled up to the picnic table, sitting primly and refusing to even touch the food and drink. Spencer was starving and ordered juicy pulled pork sandwiches, French fries and a salad with extra dressing to go with his cider and donuts, and the groom and several others followed suit as Kendra shuddered.

  Chelsea sat back, content, after the meal and put her hands on her stomach. “Whew, I’ll need to walk around for a while after all of that,” she grinned.

  “Fresh air stimulates the appetite,” Max smiled down at his lovely bride-to-be.

  “I bet they use dirty towels to clean these tables with,” Kendra commented, to no one in particular, and not surprisingly, no one responded.

  “So…time for the Haunted Corn Maze?” Spencer suggested.

  “Heck yes!” Max enthused, and Chelsea nodded happily.

  “No making out in the corn stalks,” Aunt Lauren teased, making the bride blush.

  “No promises,” Max replied with a wink.

  **

  “Okay,” the Haunted Corn Maze attendant said to the group. “You each have a card in your hand that has twelve squares on it. There are twelve monsters hiding out in the maze waiting to scare you. When you encounter them, they will stamp your card with their own special stamp. If you get all twelve stamps, there is a prize for you at the end,” she explained, as they listened to the screams and laughter coming from the maze. “Getting more than one stamp from a monster doesn’t count, you have to have twelve different ones. Any questions?” she asked with a bright smile.

  “Anybody ever died of fright in there?” Lyle piped up.

  The girl giggled. “Not to my knowledge, sir…please don’t be the first.”

  “Not me, ma’am, I was just wondering if I needed to protect the ladies as we go through,” he joked, slinging arms around Chelsea and Lauren.

  “Sorry, that’s against the rules,” she admonished playfully. “Everyone goes in alone and comes out alone, or your stamps don’t count.”

  “Then, let’s get this party started so that I can get back together with my girl,” Max grinned.

  “Okay, who’s first?” the attendant asked.

  “Might as well get this over with,” Carlson sighed, holding up his card and entering the maze.

  The rest of the group followed, one by one.

  **

  “Oh my gosh, that was so much fun!” Chelsea exclaimed, face flushed from running through the maze. She stood with Lyle and Spencer as they waited for the rest of the group to finish their course. “I got all twelve stamps,” she held up her card proudly.

  “Take it over there,” Lyle pointed toward a small booth. “They’ve got something for ya,” he smiled at his future daughter-in-la
w, enjoying her youthful enthusiasm.

  Chelsea headed for the booth where she’d receive her prize. Spencer had already consumed his prize, a caramel apple dipped in chocolate, nuts and marshmallows. One by one the group finished the maze, everyone coming out grinning and out of breath, with the exception, of course, of fitness guru, Kendra, who was neither out of breath nor smiling.

  Chelsea teased her mother to try to get her to lighten up a bit. “I thought you’d be the first one out, with your fitness level and competitive edge,” she grinned.

  “I only compete when the activity that I’m engaging in isn’t a colossal waste of time,” was the terse reply, as Kendra bent down to tie her loosely laced shoe.

  “Can’t you at least try to be nice and have fun?” the bride pleaded in a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, honey. All this wedding stuff has me stressed out. I just want everything to be perfect for you,” she gave Chelsea a hug and played with a curly tendril of her hair.

  “By my definition, perfect is when everyone is being kind and having fun,” she instructed her mother gently.

  “Okay sweetheart, I’ll try. Don’t be sad,” Kendra kissed her daughter’s cheek, relieving her anxiety for the moment.

  The group loaded back onto the bus after a stop at the gift shop, where all sorts of treats and souvenirs were purchased, and Spencer took a head count. When he came up with only twenty, rather than twenty-one, he noticed that Carlson was not sitting beside his wife. Instead of risking a conversation with the notoriously prickly Kendra, he turned to Chelsea.

  “Is your dad still in the gift shop?” he asked.

  “Carlson would never set foot in such a place,” Kendra sniffed, before her daughter could answer.

  “Should I go look for him?” Max asked, trying to be helpful.

  “No, just hang tight, I’ll go,” Spencer replied, pocketing the keys and opening the bus door.

  He headed in the direction of the gift shop, and heard a decidedly different sort of blood-curdling scream come from the Haunted Maze, which wasn’t followed by the typical startled laughter. The maze attendant and hayride driver ran toward the source of the sound, and Spencer sprinted after them, right on their heels in no time. A female tourist sat on the ground sobbing, and a stunned “monster” stood watching the attendant and driver looking for vital signs. Spencer’s gut clenched with a familiar dread as he peered over the driver’s shoulder and saw Carlson Covington, lying dead as a doornail among the husks of corn.