Read Online A Murder Moist Foul: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery (Frosted Love Mysteries Book 1) by Carol Durand - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carol Durand
Ads: Link
exclaimed with a grin. “Come on in, dear, I haven’t seen you
in years, we have some catching up to do,” she beckoned Missy in with a gnarled
but graceful hand.
“Thank you Mrs. Davis, it has been
a long time, hasn’t it?” Missy agreed, taking in the lovely antiques, polished
floors and fine fabrics decorating the cottage.
Leading Missy to a velvet wingback
chair in the parlor, Mrs. Davis made her way to the kitchen and came back with
a tray laden with tea, cream, sugar and a plate of homemade sugar cookies.
Taking a cookie to be polite, and finding it utterly delicious, Missy indulged
Darryl’s mother with lighthearted conversation about her work and how she had
been, receiving a wealth of stories in return, related to Mrs. Davis’
bridge-playing exploits, who was seeing whom in her church congregation, and
the current state of her garden. After nearly an hour, Missy felt that she
could almost comfortably broach the subject of Darryl’s death, her actual
reason for visiting with the widow.
“You must miss Darryl terribly,”
Missy observed sympathetically.
A faraway look descended over the
widow’s gentle face. “Oh I definitely do,” she agreed softly. “There were
some things that we disagreed upon, but he was a good boy, my Darryl. He made
some mistakes in this life, to be sure,” she gazed sadly at Missy, “but deep
down, where it counts, he was a good boy.”
“I’m sure he was, Mrs. Davis, I’m
sure he was,” she patted the widow’s hand reassuringly. “Who’s running his
shop now?” she asked with a “just-curious” expression.
“His brother David,” she replied,
seemingly lost in memories. “So many folks have come by the store to express
their sympathies at his passing. It brings me comfort to know that he was so
loved,” she smiled faintly. “There’s even someone who anonymously drops off a
hydrangea blossom on the back stoop at his house every morning.” Missy’s ears
perked up at this tidbit…it could mean something. “They were his favorite
flowers you know, hydrangeas. The blue ones, specifically.” Widow Davis
suddenly looked very tired and was beginning to ramble a bit, so Missy took her
leave, eager to gather more information that might help Detective Beckett find
the horrible person who killed Darryl. If she could help crack the case, she
just might find out who had been lurking about outside her home and avoid being
the next victim. She had a hunch to follow and drove with determination to her
next stop.
There was no one in Darryl’s Donuts
when Missy entered the sweet-smelling shop, save for the fresh-faced teenaged
girl behind the counter.
“Hey, Ms. Gladstone!” Darryl’s
niece, Debbie, sang out.
“Hi Debbie,” she replied with a
smile. “How have you been?”
“Pretty good,” the bubbly girl
responded. “I mean, you know, it’s been kinda tough around here without Uncle
Darryl and all, but we’re doing okay I guess,” she shrugged, determined to hold
on to optimism.
“I bet,” Missy sympathized. “Your
Grandmama told me that folks have been coming by to talk to y’all about what a
good man he was.”
Debbie nodded vigorously. “Yep,
there’s one lady who has stopped in here every morning for a really long time,
and she still comes in every day. I think of her as “Strawberry Cheesecake,”
because she gets our Strawberry Cream Cheese Danish every day at 7:20 – it
never fails. Well, almost never, I didn’t see her this morning,” the teenager
mused, as a lightbulb suddenly snapped on within Missy’s mind.
Strawberry Cheesecake??? The rude
woman who stopped into her shop this morning ordered a Strawberry Cheesecake
cupcake – was it possible that she had killed Darryl and was now setting her
sights on Missy? Missy had to find out more about this mystery woman – she just
might be the key to cracking Darryl Davis’ murder. After all, doing the same
thing every morning for
in years, we have some catching up to do,” she beckoned Missy in with a gnarled
but graceful hand.
“Thank you Mrs. Davis, it has been
a long time, hasn’t it?” Missy agreed, taking in the lovely antiques, polished
floors and fine fabrics decorating the cottage.
Leading Missy to a velvet wingback
chair in the parlor, Mrs. Davis made her way to the kitchen and came back with
a tray laden with tea, cream, sugar and a plate of homemade sugar cookies.
Taking a cookie to be polite, and finding it utterly delicious, Missy indulged
Darryl’s mother with lighthearted conversation about her work and how she had
been, receiving a wealth of stories in return, related to Mrs. Davis’
bridge-playing exploits, who was seeing whom in her church congregation, and
the current state of her garden. After nearly an hour, Missy felt that she
could almost comfortably broach the subject of Darryl’s death, her actual
reason for visiting with the widow.
“You must miss Darryl terribly,”
Missy observed sympathetically.
A faraway look descended over the
widow’s gentle face. “Oh I definitely do,” she agreed softly. “There were
some things that we disagreed upon, but he was a good boy, my Darryl. He made
some mistakes in this life, to be sure,” she gazed sadly at Missy, “but deep
down, where it counts, he was a good boy.”
“I’m sure he was, Mrs. Davis, I’m
sure he was,” she patted the widow’s hand reassuringly. “Who’s running his
shop now?” she asked with a “just-curious” expression.
“His brother David,” she replied,
seemingly lost in memories. “So many folks have come by the store to express
their sympathies at his passing. It brings me comfort to know that he was so
loved,” she smiled faintly. “There’s even someone who anonymously drops off a
hydrangea blossom on the back stoop at his house every morning.” Missy’s ears
perked up at this tidbit…it could mean something. “They were his favorite
flowers you know, hydrangeas. The blue ones, specifically.” Widow Davis
suddenly looked very tired and was beginning to ramble a bit, so Missy took her
leave, eager to gather more information that might help Detective Beckett find
the horrible person who killed Darryl. If she could help crack the case, she
just might find out who had been lurking about outside her home and avoid being
the next victim. She had a hunch to follow and drove with determination to her
next stop.
There was no one in Darryl’s Donuts
when Missy entered the sweet-smelling shop, save for the fresh-faced teenaged
girl behind the counter.
“Hey, Ms. Gladstone!” Darryl’s
niece, Debbie, sang out.
“Hi Debbie,” she replied with a
smile. “How have you been?”
“Pretty good,” the bubbly girl
responded. “I mean, you know, it’s been kinda tough around here without Uncle
Darryl and all, but we’re doing okay I guess,” she shrugged, determined to hold
on to optimism.
“I bet,” Missy sympathized. “Your
Grandmama told me that folks have been coming by to talk to y’all about what a
good man he was.”
Debbie nodded vigorously. “Yep,
there’s one lady who has stopped in here every morning for a really long time,
and she still comes in every day. I think of her as “Strawberry Cheesecake,”
because she gets our Strawberry Cream Cheese Danish every day at 7:20 – it
never fails. Well, almost never, I didn’t see her this morning,” the teenager
mused, as a lightbulb suddenly snapped on within Missy’s mind.
Strawberry Cheesecake??? The rude
woman who stopped into her shop this morning ordered a Strawberry Cheesecake
cupcake – was it possible that she had killed Darryl and was now setting her
sights on Missy? Missy had to find out more about this mystery woman – she just
might be the key to cracking Darryl Davis’ murder. After all, doing the same
thing every morning for
Similar Books
