Murder So Sweet: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery (Frosted Love Mysteries Book 3) by Carol Durand, Summer Prescott
Authors: Carol Durand, Summer Prescott
Ads: Link
about was what the cupcake flavor of the day needed to be.
Missy didn’t dress in a suit this time. Her battle armor consisted of a comfortable pair of jeans, a v-necked, sleeveless knit top, and a sturdy pair of running shoes, just in case. Chas had advised her to lay low until the police could figure out what was going on and who was trying to hurt her, but inaction was not in her makeup. Something needed to be done and she refused to sit back and play the victim. She parked her little car in the parking lot of the Crawshack, which was just beginning to fill up with the lunch crowd, and headed for the boardwalk. Remembering her gruesome discovery the last time she’d been here, Missy shuddered, a prickle of goosebumps rising on her skin, despite the sultry day.
A perky hostess greeted her at the door and attempted to hand her a menu, a shadow passing over her face when Missy asked to see Thibedeaux. The young girl asked her to wait a moment, and pushed past a swinging door and into the kitchen. Her stomach churned with nerves as she prepared to face someone who might be Elmer Clements’ murderer, as well as the arsonist who destroyed her shop and tried to destroy her home. She steeled her resolved and, upon the girl’s return followed the tipped-nose brunette down a long corridor past the restrooms to where Thibedeaux’ office could be found. The hostess opened the heavy wooden door, stepped back to allow Missy to enter, and closed it firmly behind her. A white-haired man sat in a club chair in front of a handsomely carved mahogany desk, and turned to see who had just entered.
“Well, well, look who we have heah,” drawled Sheriff Calvin Goins, sharing a smug smile with the thin, icy blonde woman sitting in a leather executive chair behind her desk.
“There must be some mistake,” Missy snipped, glaring at the man. “I requested a meeting with Thibedeaux, I’m apparently in the wrong office. The blonde’s smile grew wider, and if possible, more sinister as she stared at Missy haughtily.
Goins chuckled, apparently enjoying some sort of private joke, as Missy reached for the doorknob. “Now, just hold up there, little Miss High and Mighty,” he commanded, laughing at her. “You haven’t met my daughter-in-law. Melissa Gladstone, meet Chanel Thibedeaux-Goins.”
Missy stared, open-mouthed. “You’re Thibedeaux?” she asked, incredulous.
When the blonde spoke, it was with a charming Creole lilt. “Well now, that shouldn’t surprise an enterprisin’ young business woman like yourself,” she drawled. “I’d think you of all people would appreciate a thrivin’ organization bein’ run by a woman.”
Missy turned to the Sheriff. “Your daughter-in-law? Things are starting to make much more sense now,” she accused, narrowing her eyes.
“Seems we got ourselves a little bit of a problem, now don’t it, sugar?” he gave her a bone-chilling smile.
Chapter 13
Chas Beckett rubbed his head in frustration. A call to the Sheriff’s department to check on the status of the evidence that he had submitted had gone through four different people, only to be told that, as he suspected might happen, they had no record of a possible murder weapon being submitted for testing. This meant that he was going to have to go through a judge in order to claim jurisdiction in the case. The fact that the Dellville case was irrevocably tied to incidents in LaChance would make that claim easier, but it was still going to be a logistical nightmare with a never-ending series of hoops to jump through. Something stunk to high heaven in this case, and he had to get to the bottom of it quickly before Missy got hurt. He glanced at his watch. Hopefully the lab results would be back after he returned from lunch and he’d finally have some answers. He tried to call Missy, and was disappointed when he went immediately to voicemail.
Beckett made it a little over halfway through his deli sandwich, when the front desk sergeant
Missy didn’t dress in a suit this time. Her battle armor consisted of a comfortable pair of jeans, a v-necked, sleeveless knit top, and a sturdy pair of running shoes, just in case. Chas had advised her to lay low until the police could figure out what was going on and who was trying to hurt her, but inaction was not in her makeup. Something needed to be done and she refused to sit back and play the victim. She parked her little car in the parking lot of the Crawshack, which was just beginning to fill up with the lunch crowd, and headed for the boardwalk. Remembering her gruesome discovery the last time she’d been here, Missy shuddered, a prickle of goosebumps rising on her skin, despite the sultry day.
A perky hostess greeted her at the door and attempted to hand her a menu, a shadow passing over her face when Missy asked to see Thibedeaux. The young girl asked her to wait a moment, and pushed past a swinging door and into the kitchen. Her stomach churned with nerves as she prepared to face someone who might be Elmer Clements’ murderer, as well as the arsonist who destroyed her shop and tried to destroy her home. She steeled her resolved and, upon the girl’s return followed the tipped-nose brunette down a long corridor past the restrooms to where Thibedeaux’ office could be found. The hostess opened the heavy wooden door, stepped back to allow Missy to enter, and closed it firmly behind her. A white-haired man sat in a club chair in front of a handsomely carved mahogany desk, and turned to see who had just entered.
“Well, well, look who we have heah,” drawled Sheriff Calvin Goins, sharing a smug smile with the thin, icy blonde woman sitting in a leather executive chair behind her desk.
“There must be some mistake,” Missy snipped, glaring at the man. “I requested a meeting with Thibedeaux, I’m apparently in the wrong office. The blonde’s smile grew wider, and if possible, more sinister as she stared at Missy haughtily.
Goins chuckled, apparently enjoying some sort of private joke, as Missy reached for the doorknob. “Now, just hold up there, little Miss High and Mighty,” he commanded, laughing at her. “You haven’t met my daughter-in-law. Melissa Gladstone, meet Chanel Thibedeaux-Goins.”
Missy stared, open-mouthed. “You’re Thibedeaux?” she asked, incredulous.
When the blonde spoke, it was with a charming Creole lilt. “Well now, that shouldn’t surprise an enterprisin’ young business woman like yourself,” she drawled. “I’d think you of all people would appreciate a thrivin’ organization bein’ run by a woman.”
Missy turned to the Sheriff. “Your daughter-in-law? Things are starting to make much more sense now,” she accused, narrowing her eyes.
“Seems we got ourselves a little bit of a problem, now don’t it, sugar?” he gave her a bone-chilling smile.
Chapter 13
Chas Beckett rubbed his head in frustration. A call to the Sheriff’s department to check on the status of the evidence that he had submitted had gone through four different people, only to be told that, as he suspected might happen, they had no record of a possible murder weapon being submitted for testing. This meant that he was going to have to go through a judge in order to claim jurisdiction in the case. The fact that the Dellville case was irrevocably tied to incidents in LaChance would make that claim easier, but it was still going to be a logistical nightmare with a never-ending series of hoops to jump through. Something stunk to high heaven in this case, and he had to get to the bottom of it quickly before Missy got hurt. He glanced at his watch. Hopefully the lab results would be back after he returned from lunch and he’d finally have some answers. He tried to call Missy, and was disappointed when he went immediately to voicemail.
Beckett made it a little over halfway through his deli sandwich, when the front desk sergeant
Similar Books
