Frosty Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 15) Read online

  As for Rye, he was what one might call her adopted son. The coven had realized early on that he was more powerful than anyone had believed, so Aunt Rowena had taken great pains to keep him in her care. She’d purposefully set him up here in Paramour Bay to be close to Nan without revealing his true identity to anyone. It wasn’t until Nan had passed away and I inherited everything that the truth about Rye’s past had come to the forefront.

  As for Leo referring to Rye as a cheating wizard, that adjective had come from the two of them partaking in a weekly poker game with the grim reaper and few other supernatural beings who met every Wednesday night in one of the crypts at the local cemetery.

  “That’s a good idea,” I replied softly behind the rim of my coffee cup. Mom was still talking to Beetle, and she’d even gotten off the stool and made her way to the couch with her coffee and cell phone in hand. “I’m sure that Rye heard about what happened to Otis in town square, but he probably has no idea that it might somehow be related to Mom’s wedding. I know the metal deflector fell from above, but Otis still thought he heard someone say something suspicious.”

  After we send the cheating wizard on his way, we can then head straight to the inn. We’ll talk to Chef Baloney and his two assistants, as well as my doppelgänger. Didn’t he mention that he had reserved a room there? Remind me to find out what hair products that he uses, because I can’t find anything that gives my fur the shine that he gets in his beard.

  “Mom is really confident that none of them have anything to do with the blackmail notes, let alone the murder of Rebecca Dunsbury.” I wasn’t completely comfortable with Mom’s theory, because that would mean the guilty party might actually be someone from Paramour Bay. “You know, we haven’t really talked to Cora Barnes.”

  Your mother’s nemesis is on my list of residents who we need to talk to, Raven. Don’t underestimate the power of mental antioxidants. They can rock harder than my doppelgänger could on his best day!

  “If Cora is behind the blackmail notes, then Rebecca Dunsbury’s murder is definitely not related to the case,” I pointed out, unable to believe that Cora could murder anyone. “Remember, Liam discovered that Otis’ bonk on the head came from the portable heater that he was attempting to turn on yesterday morning.”

  That might very well be the case, but I also have a list of residents who could harbor either ill-will or still be infatuated with your mother from way before she left town for New York City. The list is extensive, so chop-chop! We have things to do and people to see, Raven.

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Leo now had my undivided attention. I took another sip of coffee to make sure that I could follow along with his train of rationality.

  Trust me, it wasn’t always easy.

  You’re talking about when my brain is starved for mental antioxidants, and that’s not the case today. Aren’t you the lucky one?

  “Fine,” I relented, not wanting Leo to get off topic. “What do you mean by infatuation?”

  Have an open mind here, Raven. It all goes back to motive. Means, motive, and mice.

  “You mean means, motive, and opportunity,” I corrected, arching an eyebrow at how Leo’s mind had so easily gotten off track. Today was definitely going to be interesting. “You’re obviously talking about motive.”

  Despite the view that you see before you on the couch right at this moment, your mother was actually coveted by a lot of young men back in her day. Desmond Barnes, Leland Jeffries, Benjamin Holland…and those are just the names that I can rattle off the top of my brain. Not that I would understand the mass psychoses behind it, but there would be your motive. I mean, one of them might be crazy enough to want her back for themselves.

  I had a hard time imagining Desmond Barnes leaving his wife for my mother, for many reasons. With that said, Leo did have a point. What if there was someone who lived in Paramour Bay who still harbored a crush on my mother? I’d pointed out several times that the notes weren’t actually issuing threats, but more of a warning of sorts.

  Could it really be something so simple?

  There’s only one way to find out, Raven, and you’re certainly not going to find out in your pajamas. Speaking of walking messes, my soulmate is certainly going to have her work cut out for her regarding your mother. I’m not even sure a brush can get the knots out of that muddle on top of her head. She really should learn to groom herself better. It’s a matter that requires constant attention.

  Chapter Ten

  I just want to go on record that this is complete and utter torture.

  “You don’t have to eat those generic treats, Leo,” I muttered underneath my breath as I stood next to the large hearth in the parlor of the inn. We’d decided to speak with Chef Amereldine and his assistants first, so that we didn’t interrupt the rest of their day while they baked and cooked for the reception tonight. “I can say that you just got done having your breakfast.”

  Raven, Raven, Raven. Don’t you know that there is an unwritten code in the feline DNA that specifically states that we must eat all treats laid out before us? To do otherwise would be to disrespect the household providing said hospitality. I’ll just have to suck it up, but we’ll need to hit the bakery right after this. I’m going to need some type of cold beverage, preferably fresh cream, to put out the flames in my stomach.

  “Why, I thought that was you!”

  Oh, look! My doppelgänger. Ask him about his hair products, especially for his beard. My tufts resemble that same type of course growth, don’t you think?

  “Hello, Mr. Gastonville,” I greeted with a smile. His carefree attitude and charming grin were very infectious, but nothing could erase the pain in his eyes. He and Rebecca might have had their disagreements, but it was clear that he was hurting over the news of her recent murder. “I’m really sorry to hear about Ms. Dunsbury. I’m sure that my mother would understand—”

  “No, no, no,” Billy replied with a vigorous shake of his head. “I’ve been in contact with Bec’s family. They aren’t exactly happy with me right now, but they most likely won’t have any service until late next week, at the soonest. The police…well, the police believe that she was murdered. They aren’t going to release her body to the family for a while.”

  I know that now isn’t the time for me to point this out, but does this rockabilly doppelgänger have an alibi? I mean, I’m sure that the good ol’ sheriff would have warned us if we were in the company of a potential psychopath. You did text and tell your favorite lawman where we were going, right?

  As a matter of fact, I had texted Liam before borrowing Heidi’s vehicle and driving to the inn. Due to Billy and the band firing Rebecca over a week ago, the first step had been establishing alibis for them. Liam, the neighboring sheriff, and a detective from the NYPD had spoken to each and every member of the band before following up and confirming their alibies.

  Good to know, though that still doesn’t let my doppelgänger off the hook for leaving the notes. It’s clear that he’s not a true doppelgänger though, or else he’d see through your mother’s somewhat simplistic façade.

  “Joey, Carter, and Lou should all be arriving into town around noon today,” Billy replied before looking over his shoulder at the breakfast buffet that held various pastries, an assortment of teas, and two carafes of coffee that separated the caffeinated and decaffeinated beverages. “We’ll set up the equipment, do a couple of sound checks, and then be ready for when the reception starts. I’m going to grab some breakfast and coffee. Do you want anything?”

  Water. Tell him water. Better yet, did we ever locate where the old biddy keeps her fire extinguisher? I’m afraid to breathe. Someone might mistake me for a fire breathing dragon.

  Before I could reply to either Billy or Leo, Cecelia walked through the dining room from the extravagant kitchen. Gertie had mentioned that the chef and his two assistants had already begun their preparations for the day’s event. Mom and Beetle had decided against dinner once they’d
accepted that they couldn’t cut anyone from the guest list, so they’d elected for several appetizers and desserts to be served throughout the evening.

  I was surprised when I caught Cecelia’s gaze raking over him in what one could only call an appreciative glance. Billy was so intent on getting himself some breakfast that he didn’t even notice her attention.

  Ugh. Hairball in the midst of heartburn is on another level of torment altogether.

  “Gertie said you wished to speak with me?” Cecelia stood before us looking down at Leo with her hawkish nose. She then focused on me and made it clear that she didn’t appreciate animals in her space. I shifted my stance just a bit so that Leo wouldn’t get it in his head to retaliate. “You’ll have to make this quick. I have pastry dough rising in the kitchen for one of the appetizers that we plan to present at your mother’s reception.”

  Remind me to have your mother taste test my food that Chef Baloney promised to make especially for me. This woman might know where the rat poison is, and I don’t trust her. Just how sure are we that this woman wouldn’t run your mother over with a steamroller, if given half a chance?

  Leo had a point, but I’d seen Cecelia’s personality be drawn out when she was with people who she was comfortable with versus being in work mode. I’m sure that I was more business-minded when overseeing things at the teashop.

  I’m not saying that this is because I think I might die from eating generic treats and being burnt to a crisp from the inside out, but you are nothing like this duck-bill dinosaur who clearly has some type of kitchen knife fetish. Hey, did the good ol’ sheriff say how the victim died?

  I’d been paying so close attention to Cecelia’s facial expressions that I hadn’t even noticed that she had some type of belt tied around her waist that held a collection of several specialty knives. I understood why Leo would question the method in which Rebecca Dunsbury was killed, but Liam had mentioned that the report indicated the woman appeared to have hit her head after being in some sort of struggle.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me,” I replied, noticing that Chef Amereldine had also come out of the kitchen and into the dining room. I didn’t want him to overhear me, so I quickly got to my point. “Gertie said that you were all busy in the kitchen, but I was hoping that you could provide some insight into who might not want my mother’s wedding to take place. I’m just going to ask you this straight out and trust that I don’t offend you—is there any possible chance that Chef Amereldine would try and stop my mother’s wedding? I have no doubt that my mother explained to you yesterday at the café what has been taking place. I spotted the chef yesterday outside the salon’s window, and I have to say that he seemed quite dismayed.”

  Cecelia must have overheard Chef Amereldine talking with Billy behind her, so she stepped a bit closer to me so that he wouldn’t catch wind of our conversation. I could hear Leo’s nails scratching the hardwood floor as he frantically tried to back up. He must have succeeded and made it to the large area rug, because all was quiet behind me after a few moments.

  “You didn’t hear this from me, but there was a time that Chef Amereldine would have married your mother without hesitation,” Cecelia revealed in a whisper. “He’s clearly still in love with her, but I know the chef extremely well. He wouldn’t resort to measly notes being left behind. Besides, we didn’t arrive into town until Thursday. From my understanding, your mother discovered the notes earlier this week.”

  The Chef Baloney’s assistant has a point. I utilized the mental antioxidants to calculate the math in my head. Chef Baloney couldn’t have left the notes.

  Before I could respond to Cecelia, the chef had fetched himself some coffee and was already walking our way. Billy remained at the buffet table perusing the pastries.

  We didn’t get the name of the products that my doppelgänger uses in his hair, Raven. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn’t return to his room. I’m not to blame if some of that cream in the ceramic pourer happens to fall into my mouth.

  “Miss Marigold, I want to assure you that all is going well with our preparations,” Chef Amereldine replied boisterously, most likely believing that was why I’d stopped by the inn. “My team consists of Cecelia and Debra, and they are the best that New York has to offer. We have a schedule that we’ll abide by, and I predict that we will be done by five o’clock, at the latest. We have calculated time to package everything for transportation. You have no worries that we will be bringing the hors de ’oeuvres, canapés, and the various desserts to town square thirty minutes before the reception is to begin, Miss Marigold.”

  “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Cecelia said with a professional nod. “Miss Marigold, always a pleasure.”

  Did you see the way that baking shrew glared at me? I’m finally beginning to understand why she and your mother get along so well.

  “Thank you, Ms. Murray.” I waited for her to walk out of earshot before questioning the chef himself about Cecelia and the other assistant. I hadn’t even known that her name was Debra until Mr. Amereldine had mentioned it. “Chef, I know that you’ve known my mother for many years. This may sound odd, but do you know of anyone who wouldn’t want her to marry Beetle?”

  Chef Amereldine began chuckling until he had to wipe a tear away from the corner of his eye. He shook his head, but his expression was one of fondness.

  “My dear, you know more than anyone how special your mother is, inside and out. Her beauty is unlike any other woman whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” Chef Amereldine announced with his hand over his heart. “Her laugh in infectious, her emerald green eyes glisten with merriment, and her intelligence rivals no other. I have told her many times that I would be the happiest man on the face of the planet to have her by my side, but alas…she has fallen in love with another. So, to answer your question, there are many admirers who would not wish to see her off the market.”

  We’re in some alternate dimension, aren’t we? It’s the only way that I’d be able to match up a description like that with the woman who we all know and find insufferable.

  “That doesn’t really help me, Chef Amereldine,” I replied with a small smile. He did seem to be completely head over heels in love with my mother, and it was sweet to see her through someone else’s eyes. “I’m sure that she would cherish your compliments. Beetle does make her happy, and I’m really grateful that you came all this way to cater her reception.”

  I’m looking for a way out of this upside-down wormhole that we’ve found ourselves in, and I can only assume it’s through those flickering flames in the hearth. You go first. My insides are already on fire. Let me know what’s on the other side of the upside-down world.

  “I’m sure that whoever left those notes was just doing so in a last-ditch effort to try and garner your mother’s attention,” Chef Amereldine assured me. He then began to twist his black mustache so that the right end curled a little more than the left. It was as if he was gauging if he could trust me or not. “I spent yesterday walking around your mother’s hometown. Believe it or not, it was quite an awakening for me. There were these two women at a teashop who knew everything about everyone. I didn’t even know that was possible, but it had me accepting that your mother wasn’t the woman who I was meant to be with…it was Debra.”

  Okay. It’s evident that these generic treats have destroyed all my mental antioxidants. Have we walked on the set of some soap opera? Seriously, I’m about to push you through those flames in the hearth myself, Raven.

  I grimaced when I realized that Wilma and Elsie had really, really enjoyed their day minding the shop yesterday. Who knows what they said to the customers going in and out of the shop, but I could pretty much guarantee that everyone in town was caught up with the latest gossip.

  On the flip side, I bet they heard a lot of chin-wagging themselves.

  I made a mental note to speak with them later today, just in case they had overheard something that would lead us to the in
dividual who was writing notes to my mother.

  “I’m happy for you, Chef Amereldine,” I said, not knowing quite how to respond to his admission. “I haven’t met Debra yet, but I’m sure that she’s a lovely woman.”

  I would have thought that he would have chosen his shrew of an assistant, but she seems to have the hots for my doppelgänger. He took a seat at the dining room table to enjoy a cherry-filled pastry, and she ran her fingers over his shoulders as she headed back to the kitchen. I almost shuddered at the sight, but I was afraid orange balls of fire would escape my mouth. Anyway, there’s something definitely going on here, Raven. My doppelgänger clearly grimaced when she walked by, and I highly doubt that it was due to the old biddy’s pastry recipe. Who knows? Maybe he’s regretting a chance liaison from last night.

  “She certainly is, and I’m just grateful to your mother that I was finally able to figure out where my own happiness was to be—” Chef Amereldine broke off the rest of his sentence as he began to sniff the air. A look of horror crossed his features as he began to walk backward toward the kitchen in haste. “I must get back to work, Miss Marigold. I can smell a bit too much garlic, and that is unacceptable!”

  I continued to stand in the parlor next to the hearth as the chef made his way through the dining room. Mom had mentioned upon first telling me that she would love to have him make the food for the reception that he was most critical of his own cooking and staff, but that was part of what made his dishes so delectable.

  I glanced down at Leo, wondering if he’d been able to get a whiff of the garlic. His mouth was partially open, but I was pretty sure that had to do with his heartburn.

  I got nothing, Raven. No garlic scent. Nothing. As a matter of fact, I think these generic treats singed my nose hairs. They better grow back before my search party begins on Monday for Skippy and his band of ninja squirrels.