Plain Vanilla Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 12 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) by Carol Durand, Summer Prescott
Authors: Carol Durand, Summer Prescott
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Chapter
1
Melissa
Gladstone glanced at her watch repeatedly as she waited for a slow-moving train
to pass. Sighing at the inconvenience, she started at the rusty,
graffiti-covered cars as they clanked and creaked by so slowly that Missy was
certain she’d be able to walk faster than they were moving. Her daily routine
varied little, and a hiccup like this unsettled the conscientious owner of two
cupcake shops probably far more than it should have.
She
began every morning by taking her two furry friends, a golden retriever named
Toffee and a malti-poo name Bitsy on a vigorous walk to the park, then after
her breakfast and shower, she headed immediately to the first of her two shops, Missy’s Muffins and More, in LaChance, Louisiana. Once she’d established
that all was well in the LaChance store, it would be time to drop in on her
second location, Crème de la Cupcake, in the neighboring town of
Dellville.
The
spunky blonde’s best friend, Echo Willis, owned the vegan ice cream shop across
the street from Crème de la Cupcake , so Missy often ended her days
there, conversing with her free-spirited “partner in crime” who had moved to
Louisiana from California last year. Evenings were usually spent in the company
of the incredibly handsome LaChance detective, Chas Beckett. When she really
stopped to think about it, life for Missy Gladstone was pretty close to
wonderful, a fact that she had to remind herself of while sitting behind the
flashing red lights of the railroad crossing.
After
what seemed like an eternity, but in reality had only been more like seven
minutes, the red and white striped railroad gates finally started rising
slowly, and Missy’s little blue car bumped over the tracks, crawling behind the
traffic that had built up at the crossing. The manager of MM&M ,
Cheryl Radigan, was waiting for her in the commercial kitchen when she arrived,
looking perplexed and holding a slip of paper.
“Hey,
Ms. G.,” Cheryl greeted Missy cheerfully. “I just took this message for you.
The woman was talking so fast, and there was so much noise in the background
that I couldn’t really understand what she wanted, but I think it had something
to do with the catering we did for Whispers of Blood when they were
filming in town,” she guessed, handing her boss the message slip.
“Thanks,
Cheryl,” Missy murmured, glancing at the paper. “That’s really strange…I wonder
why they’d be contacting me,” she mused. The horror movie Whispers of Blood had
been filmed on the outskirts of LaChance a few months ago, and Missy had
prepared cupcakes for the cast and crew on a daily basis, but all accounts had
been settled long ago. “How are we doing on deliveries?” she asked, getting
down to business.
“We’re
good to go – everything is boxed and loaded into the truck. Grayson will be
handling the counter while I do the deliveries, the baking is all caught up so
that we have plenty of stock, and the supplies have been ordered,” the
resourceful young woman replied, double-checking the list of to-do items on her
phone.
“Wow,
somebody’s been busy this morning,” Missy observed, pleased. “Great job. I’m
going to hole up in my office to wade through some paperwork, and to make this
phone call. Tell Grayson to come get me if things get crazy,” she instructed,
heading down the hall.
“You
got it,” Cheryl nodded, rummaging in her purse for the keys to the delivery
truck.
Missy
plopped into her ancient brown leather office chair that had the look and feel
of a well-worn baseball glove, and dialed the California phone number that was
on the message.
“Francesca
Childs’ office, how may I help you?” a voice on the other end of the line that
sounded very young, bored and Californian inquired. Missy gave her name, said
that she was returning a call from Francesca, and waited, listening to smooth
jazz, while the receptionist connected her.
“Melissa,
sweetheart, how are you?” a nasal New Yorker
1
Melissa
Gladstone glanced at her watch repeatedly as she waited for a slow-moving train
to pass. Sighing at the inconvenience, she started at the rusty,
graffiti-covered cars as they clanked and creaked by so slowly that Missy was
certain she’d be able to walk faster than they were moving. Her daily routine
varied little, and a hiccup like this unsettled the conscientious owner of two
cupcake shops probably far more than it should have.
She
began every morning by taking her two furry friends, a golden retriever named
Toffee and a malti-poo name Bitsy on a vigorous walk to the park, then after
her breakfast and shower, she headed immediately to the first of her two shops, Missy’s Muffins and More, in LaChance, Louisiana. Once she’d established
that all was well in the LaChance store, it would be time to drop in on her
second location, Crème de la Cupcake, in the neighboring town of
Dellville.
The
spunky blonde’s best friend, Echo Willis, owned the vegan ice cream shop across
the street from Crème de la Cupcake , so Missy often ended her days
there, conversing with her free-spirited “partner in crime” who had moved to
Louisiana from California last year. Evenings were usually spent in the company
of the incredibly handsome LaChance detective, Chas Beckett. When she really
stopped to think about it, life for Missy Gladstone was pretty close to
wonderful, a fact that she had to remind herself of while sitting behind the
flashing red lights of the railroad crossing.
After
what seemed like an eternity, but in reality had only been more like seven
minutes, the red and white striped railroad gates finally started rising
slowly, and Missy’s little blue car bumped over the tracks, crawling behind the
traffic that had built up at the crossing. The manager of MM&M ,
Cheryl Radigan, was waiting for her in the commercial kitchen when she arrived,
looking perplexed and holding a slip of paper.
“Hey,
Ms. G.,” Cheryl greeted Missy cheerfully. “I just took this message for you.
The woman was talking so fast, and there was so much noise in the background
that I couldn’t really understand what she wanted, but I think it had something
to do with the catering we did for Whispers of Blood when they were
filming in town,” she guessed, handing her boss the message slip.
“Thanks,
Cheryl,” Missy murmured, glancing at the paper. “That’s really strange…I wonder
why they’d be contacting me,” she mused. The horror movie Whispers of Blood had
been filmed on the outskirts of LaChance a few months ago, and Missy had
prepared cupcakes for the cast and crew on a daily basis, but all accounts had
been settled long ago. “How are we doing on deliveries?” she asked, getting
down to business.
“We’re
good to go – everything is boxed and loaded into the truck. Grayson will be
handling the counter while I do the deliveries, the baking is all caught up so
that we have plenty of stock, and the supplies have been ordered,” the
resourceful young woman replied, double-checking the list of to-do items on her
phone.
“Wow,
somebody’s been busy this morning,” Missy observed, pleased. “Great job. I’m
going to hole up in my office to wade through some paperwork, and to make this
phone call. Tell Grayson to come get me if things get crazy,” she instructed,
heading down the hall.
“You
got it,” Cheryl nodded, rummaging in her purse for the keys to the delivery
truck.
Missy
plopped into her ancient brown leather office chair that had the look and feel
of a well-worn baseball glove, and dialed the California phone number that was
on the message.
“Francesca
Childs’ office, how may I help you?” a voice on the other end of the line that
sounded very young, bored and Californian inquired. Missy gave her name, said
that she was returning a call from Francesca, and waited, listening to smooth
jazz, while the receptionist connected her.
“Melissa,
sweetheart, how are you?” a nasal New Yorker
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