Authors: Carol Durand,Summer Prescott
“So
how are you enjoying life as a free woman?” Chas Beckett asked Missy over
dinner at their favorite crawfish café.
“Oh
Chas, I’m loving it – I wish I had done it sooner!” she exclaimed. “I get to
see more of you, I can attend all of the Burgundies and Books meetings, and
yesterday I babysat for Cheryl and Ben and planted some petunias in my front
garden,” she grinned, scooping up a forkful of Cajun “dirty rice.”
“Well,
the transition has certainly been positive for me,” he smiled, reaching for her
hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb.
“Does
that mean that you aren’t tired of me yet?” Missy teased, blushing beneath the
intensity of his gaze. Something seemed to have been changing with Chas lately
– his glances lingered longer, his touches were more frequent, his kisses
deeper, all of which pleased her and scared her to death at the same time.
“I
don’t know that I’ll ever get tired of you, but I’m willing to test the
question,” he waggled his eyebrows comically.
“Lucky
me,” Missy replied, savoring a plump crawfish.
Chas
was about to respond, when his phone buzzed insistently from its place next to
his plate. Glancing at the screen he told her that he had to take the call, and
stepped outside as a courtesy to the other diners. Missy buttered a moist and
dense piece of cornbread, enjoying the quintessentially southern treat while
she waited for him to return.
“Bad
news?” she asked, when she saw the look on his face as he returned to the
table.
“Work,”
he replied, sighing. He signaled the server and asked for a to-go cup for his
sweet tea and a box for his lunch. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”
“Wouldn’t
you know it…just when I get freed up and am available, something comes up for
you at work,” Missy smile ruefully.
“I’ll
make it up to you,” he said, putting his leftover container in a paper bag and
kissing her quickly. “Will you be okay with catching a cab?” he asked,
concerned.
“Of
course, you go ahead. Don’t worry about me,” she smiled, pushing him toward the
door. “I’m going to take my sweet time finishing dinner, and then head home to
read my book,” she explained when he hesitated. “Now git!” she ordered
playfully. With a grateful grin, Chas headed for the door.
**
Toffee
and Bitsy greeted Missy with wagging tails and doggy grins when she returned
home from dinner with Chas, so she quickly dashed upstairs to change into
jogging clothes, and took them to the park for an impromptu game of fetch. As
usual, Bitsy tired long before the lanky golden retriever, and panted happily
at Missy’s feet, watching the antics of Toffee and their owner. They stayed for
about an hour, then headed for home when the sun began to sink toward the
horizon. Missy made sure that her furry friends each had a treat and that their
food and water bowls were full before making her way upstairs for a bath, a
book and bed.
Slipping
into the tub for a relaxing soak, Missy thought about how fortunate she was to
be able to scale back her time at work in order to live life more fully, even
though she still checked in with Ben and Cheryl numerous times a day.
The
Bayou Baker
had completed its first season with great ratings, and the
producers had promised Missy that they would be renewing her contract. Now that
she wasn’t working at her shops full time, filming the show wouldn’t be nearly
as stressful, and she was actually looking forward to the upcoming season.
As
Missy toweled off after her bath, relaxed and ready to read, she heard the text
tone on her phone go off and sighed. Wrapping a fluffy robe around her, she
padded over to her nightstand to check the message. It was from Sam, the newest
member of her book club.
“I
need to talk to you when you have a chance. Please call me when you can,”
the
young nurse had texted.
Missy
glanced at the clock radio that had been her dad’s, which now resided on the
nightstand. It was already nine o’clock, if she called Sam now, she wouldn’t
have any time to read before she grew too sleepy, so she decided to put off the
call until morning, feeling a little bit guilty. She had been working on
seriously guarding her personal time, and felt that occasionally saying no, or
doing things on her own terms was a good thing, but she still felt twinges of
guilt.
After
reading five chapters, her eyelids beginning to droop, Missy was startled when
her text tone went off again.
“You
awake?”
Chas wanted to know.
“I
am now ;)”
she replied.
“I’m
coming over.”
Thinking
it odd that he told her rather than asking her, as was his norm, she said,
“K,”
and pulled on some yoga pants and a t-shirt. Trotting downstairs, Missy
went to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea, wondering what could possibly be
prompting the ever-courteous and conscientious detective to invite himself over
after ten o’clock at night. Just as she poured steaming water into two
oversized mugs, there was a soft knock at the front door, and Chas let himself
in.
“You’re
not supposed to leave the front door unlocked,” he reminded her, moving in for
a hug.
“It’s
LaChance, Chas. I think I’m pretty safe,” she smiled into the most incredibly
blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“I’m
not so sure,” he turned serious, releasing her gently.
“What
do you mean?” she asked, handing him a mug of tea and worried by his somber
tone.
Chas
put his mug of tea down on the kitchen counter, then took hers out of her hands
and did the same, taking both of her hands in his. “Sweetie, I hate to be the
bearer of bad news, but there’s been a murder. That’s why I had to leave at
dinner,” he explained.
“Oh
Chas, that’s awful,” she shook her head, dismayed that something heinous had
happened in their sleepy town.
“Missy…it
was Sally Higgins who was killed,” he said, cupping her face in his hands.
Missy
gasped as though she’d been punched in the stomach. “Sally? But why? She was
the sweetest of souls – she’d do anything for anyone,” she shook her head in
disbelief, plopping onto a barstool next to the counter.
“Our
investigation hasn’t turned up anything yet, and it’ll be a while before
physical evidence will be processed, so for now, we’re focusing on talking with
friends and family members to try to see if someone might have had reason to be
upset with her,” he explained as silent tears slipped down Missy’s cheeks. “She
was in your book club…did she mention having issues with anyone?” he asked.
Missy
shook her head. “No. As far as I know, everyone in town loved Sally. She did a
ton of charity work, had a lot of friends in the community, was the leader of
our book club…I can’t imagine who could’ve done such a thing.”
“I’m
so sorry that this happened to a friend of yours,” Chas sat down next to her,
pushing her mug of tea into her hands. “But I’ll do everything I can to find
out what happened,” he promised.
“Oh
my goodness!” Missy made a sudden realization. “I bet that’s why Sam wanted me
to call her. She works at the hospital, so she must have heard about Sally’s
death,” she mused. “Poor thing, she was probably upset, and I didn’t call her
back.”
“Who
is Sam, and what are you talking about?” Chas asked, eyes narrowed.
Missy
explained that Sam was a new book club member who had texted when she was
getting ready for bed.
“When
you talk to Sam tomorrow, find out what she wanted, but don’t say anything
about Sally,” he advised, seeming a bit preoccupied.
“Okay…but
why?” Missy asked, puzzled.
“Because
there’s no way that Sam should’ve known about Sally, even if she is a nurse.
Sally wasn’t taken to the main part of the hospital, she was pronounced dead on
the scene and was taken straight to the morgue to await the coroner’s autopsy,”
Chas said grimly. “How well do you know Sam?” he asked.
“Not
well, she’s new, but she seems nice,” Missy said, worried. She suddenly
remembered the tense conversation that she’d overheard between Sam and Sally at
book club, and related the story to Chas, who took notes.
“I’ll
need her contact info,” he said, pen poised.
Samantha
Lemmon sat at the nondescript laminated table in the interrogation room across
from Detective Chas Beckett, whom she’d never met before today. She was dressed
in the scrubs that she had worn to work, and her hands twisted nervously in her
lap.
“Can
you tell me about the last interaction that you had with Sally Higgins?” the
detective asked, taking in the young woman’s clueless demeanor and nervous
motion.
“Umm…sure.
I, uh, called Sally yesterday morning. We were supposed to head up the Garden
Walk committee this year, and I needed to know what I should be doing for that.
Sally told me that she and Marsha had always done the planning and that it
didn’t seem fair for her to replace Marsha without asking her if she still
wanted to be involved,” she explained, avoiding eye contact with the intimidating
man in front of her.
“This
is Marsha Mueller?” Chas clarified, having already spoken with her.
“Yes,”
Sam nodded. “Marsha is the one who introduced me to Sally. Sally is…or was, the
leader of our book club,” she said sadly. “We had become such good friends in
such a short time. Actually, I became closer with Sally than I was with Marsha,
even though I’d known Marsha longer.”
“I
see,” the detective stared at her, looking for non-verbal clues. “How did you
respond when Sally told you about the need to consider Marsha for the
committee?”
“I
was disappointed, but I told her that I completely understood and that I’d be
willing to help out in any way that I could.”
“And
did she indicate whether or not you’d be able to help with the project?” Chas
persisted.
“She
said that she’d look into it,” Sam shrugged.
“Did
you and Sally ever have a disagreement?” he probed, remembering what Missy had
told him that she witnessed in Sally’s kitchen.
Sam
shook her head. “No, not that I can think of…we got along really well
together,” she answered guilelessly.
Chas
questioned Samantha for another hour or so, then sent her home, letting her
know that she shouldn’t leave town without notifying him, in case he needed to
contact her for more information. The detective tapped his pen on the cheap
laminate table, thinking. Something about his interview of Samantha Lemmon
bothered him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it just yet.
**
Missy
was going over a delivery order with Cheryl at the front counter of the
LaChance shop when the bells over the door jangled, announcing the arrival of a
customer. It was Marsha Mueller, and Missy immediately came out from behind the
counter to give the fragile-looking woman a hug.
“Marsha,
honey, how are you holding up?” she asked, knowing how close she had been to
Sally Higgins.
“I
still just can’t believe she’s gone,” Marsha replied, gazing despondently at
the floor.
“Here,
come sit down,” Missy led her over to a somewhat secluded table in the corner.
“You get comfortable, and I’ll be right back with cupcakes and coffee,” she
directed, resorting to the most comforting measures that she knew. She returned
to the table with two steaming mugs of freshly-brewed Costa Rican coffee and
two Cardamom Brulee cupcakes. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry about Sally,” she said,
patting Marsha’s hand.
“It’s
so crazy, it doesn’t even seem real,” the distraught woman shook her head. “And
to think it all happened because of the stupid Garden Walk committee,” she took
a sip of coffee and started to peel back the foil from her cupcake.
“Wait…what?”
Missy was confused.
“Sally
had started developing a really close relationship with Sam after I introduced
her to the group, so when she mentioned the Garden Walk committee that she and
I do every year, Sam thought that she intended to give her my spot. Well, that
wasn’t the case at all, and when Sam found out that she’d made an incorrect
assumption, she was furious. She said all sorts of horrible things to Sally and
me, and was so unpleasant that Sally finally agreed to let her help out, but
that wasn’t good enough for Sam. She wanted me out of the picture so that she’d
have Sally’s friendship all to herself. When Sally, stubborn soul that she was,
wouldn’t budge, Sam just kind of…snapped I guess, and now Sally’s gone,” she bit
back a sob and dabbed at her shocking blue eyeliner with a lace hankie.
Missy
sat staring at Marsha with her mouth hanging open in shock. “Do you really
think that sweet little Samantha killed Sally?”
Marsha
nodded. “I think little Samantha isn’t nearly as sweet as she seems, and now my
best friend is gone because of her.”
Chills
ran up and down Missy’s spine at the thought. She didn’t want to believe it,
but it certainly made the hostile behavior that she’d witnessed in Sally’s
kitchen make much more sense. Sam had clearly been trying to drive a wedge
between Sally and Marsha with her insinuations. As much as she wanted Samantha
to be innocent, Missy planned to tell Chas about this conversation as soon as
possible. If Sam really was the killer, he needed to know about it sooner
rather than later.