Fatal Frosting: The Misadventures of a Cat Detective: The Misadventures of a Cat Detective, #7

By Alice Stone

In a town where magic simmers and danger bakes, a whisker-ious cat and unspoken love hold the key rescuing the detective from the eternal flames of darkness.

 

When Rachel meets a tragic end in Picklesquare, I'm whipped into a soufflé of adventure to save Detective Grey, my heart beating faster than a mixer at high speed. 

 

Navigating peril and our own feelings amidst the dangers tests our resolve, Pearl's secrets become as essential as flour in a cake as we journey into the treacherous Wild Woods that could bring victory or leave us toast.

 

Holding onto the enigmatic guidance of my cat, Pearl, the secret ingredient to our dangerous dance with the Dark Lord, I try to stay calm in the unknown rhythm.

 

We must unveil the Dark Lord's evil plan and save the world from his treacherous grip, or die trying.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice Stone
• Release date: Jun 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227692955

Book preview

Fatal Frosting

A Paranormal Culinary Cozy Mystery

Alice Stone

MM Innovative Creations

Copyright © 2024 by Alice Stone

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1.The Beginning of the End

2.The Girl

3.Pickpocket

4.An Ivy and A Ring

5.The Wild Woods

6.The Messenger

7.Arthur

8.Roots

9.The Golden Hearts

10.Cupcakes and Bridges

11.The Baker

12.The Librarian’s Curse

13.A Brother’s Salvation

14.Pearl and Friends

15.The Land of Fur

16.Bugs in the Dark

17.The Disciple

18.Ring of Loyalty

19.Lucid Moments

20.The Final Showdown

1

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The Beginning of the End

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the garden where the tea party was in full swing. Diana and I had outdone ourselves this time; the tables were laden with treats, and the air was filled with laughter and the tinkling of porcelain. The birthday girl, beaming in her frilly dress, was the center of it all, her eyes sparkling as she cut into the towering cake we had designed just for her. 

This is the best cake ever! one child exclaimed, and a chorus of agreement followed.

I broke into a smile at the scene, the joyous chaos of children chasing each other, their faces painted with butterflies and superheroes. It was moments like these that made our job worthwhile. Yet, as I watched the birthday girl surrounded by her friends and family, a shadow fell over my heart. Detective Grey's face flashed in my mind, his smile that could light up the darkest room, now lost to the Dark Lord's cruel magic.

Three months had passed since that fateful day when the Dark Lord had possessed Grey's body and vanished without a trace. The void he left was deep, a constant ache that no amount of time seemed to heal. I had no leads, no idea where the Dark Lord could be, and the chance to save Grey felt as distant as the stars.

What are you thinking about? Diana Milligan, my chef and best friend, said beside me. 

Nothing.

Well, it doesn’t look like nothing.

Diana, I said, do you think we'll ever find him?

Diana placed a hand on my shoulder. Charlotte, I know you're still hurting about him. But don't lose hope. We've faced worse, and we've always come out on top. We'll find Grey, I promise.

Her words were a balm to my troubled soul, and I nodded, trying to believe. Thanks, Di. I just... I miss him.

We all do, she replied, squeezing my shoulder. But for now, let's focus on making this party unforgettable. For the kids, for the birthday girl, and for us. We'll find our way back to Grey, one step at a time.

As the party continued around us, I took a deep breath and let Diana's assurance sink in. The laughter of the children, the joy in their eyes, it was a reminder that life was still full of beauty and wonder. And somewhere out there, Grey was waiting for us. We would find him, and we would bring him home. 

Just then, Pearl, my cat, became the unintended star of the show when some of the kids started chasing her. Her sleek, white form darted through the sea of tiny, excited bodies, her tail high and her ears back. The children's laughter turned to squeals of delight as they chased after her, their small hands outstretched, eager for a touch of her soft fur. But Pearl was having none of it.

Miss Miller, can you please control your cat? one of the parents called out.

I nodded and excused myself, weaving through the crowd in pursuit of Pearl. Here, Pearl, I cooed, hoping to coax her away from the children. But as I reached out to grab her, the world around me seemed to fade. A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I was no longer at the party but in a place shrouded in shadows.

There he was, the Dark Lord, wearing Detective Grey's familiar face. His lips barely moved, but his whisper cut through the silence, chilling me to the bone. Charlotte... The way he said my name, it was like a knife twisting in my heart, his voice a symphony of malice and threat, the sound of it echoing in the hollows of my soul.

Fear rooted me to the spot, my breath caught in my throat. I wanted to scream, to run, but I was paralyzed, trapped in the trance. And then, as quickly as it had come, the vision shattered, and the sounds of the party rushed back in.

Diana stood before me, concern written on her face, Pearl safely cradled in her arms. Are you okay? she asked, her eyes searching mine for an answer I wasn't sure I had.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise. Charlotte? It was Detective Bush, his figure emerging from the crowd, his expression serious. Something in his tone told me this wasn't a social call.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I'm fine, Diana. Thank you.

Detective Bush approached us now, his footsteps almost silent on the soft grass. How's the party going? he asked, his gaze sweeping over the festive scene before settling on me.

It's going well, I replied, the words automatic, even as my mind raced with the remnants of the trance. 

Diana glanced at me. I don’t think she’s fine, Detective Bush.

I laughed, a sound that felt empty even to my own ears. Come on, I'm fine. Why are you reporting me to the Detective? I'm sure he has better things to worry about than me.

Bush leaned in slightly. That's actually why I'm here, he said, his voice low. There's something I need both of you to see.

The levity of the moment vanished, replaced by an urgency that seemed to tighten around my chest. Whatever Bush had found, it was important enough to bring him to a child's birthday party. I exchanged a quick glance with Diana, and I could tell that we were both wondering what the man had found.

2

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The Girl

The drive to the morgue was a blur of houses and people, the city passing by in a haze of indistinct shapes and colors. Diana sat beside me, and like me, she said nothing. Detective Bush's revelation at the party that he was going to take us to the morgue had left me with more questions than answers, and the knot in my stomach tightened with every mile that brought us closer to our destination.

What's going on, Bush? Why are we going to the morgue? I asked with a steady voice, despite the turmoil inside me.

You'll know soon enough, he replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The thought that we might be on our way to identify Grey's body haunted the edges of my mind. Had the Dark Lord discarded him like a used vessel? The idea was too painful to bear, and I pushed it away, focusing instead on the rhythmic thump of the car's tires against the pavement.

The morgue was a gloomy place, the air heavy with the scent of disinfectant and the faint, underlying smell of death. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a pallid glow on the stainless steel and white tile. It was a place of finality, where stories ended and questions were answered, often with more finality than one hoped for.

Bush led us down a narrow corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls. He stopped in front of a steel door, his hand hesitating on the handle for just a moment before he pushed it open.

Inside, the room was cold, the chill seeping into my bones. A single body lay on the table, covered by a thin sheet. My heart pounded in my chest as Bush approached the table and pulled back the covering.

It wasn't Grey.

The face that stared back at us was Racheal's, her features still and pale in death. Racheal, the Dark Lord's disciple, the one who had called him back to our world. Her eyes were closed, but I could still remember the fervor with which she had spoken of her master, the devotion that had bordered on obsession. Now, seeing her lying there so still, it was almost impossible to connect this quiet shell to the fiery disciple I knew. The boils that marred her skin told a harrowing story of her last moments—a painful death, no doubt. It was a disturbing sight, one that made my stomach churn with disgust.

I had felt relieved that it wasn’t Grey. How did she die? I asked, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet of the morgue.

We found Rachel sneaking into Picklesquare, Detective Bush said. Honestly, we wouldn't have noticed her if not for the boils. They were... hard to miss.

I swallowed hard, the image of Racheal's body still fresh in my mind. The boils had been like angry, red welts, swollen and oozing, clustered across her skin as if they were trying to escape from within her.

She panicked when we tried to arrest her, Bush continued, and covered the body. Took off running right into the street, and... well, a truck hit her.

Diana and I exchanged a glance, the same question unspoken between us. Why was she in Picklesquare in the first place? I asked. Isn’t she supposed to be with the Dark Lord? I doubt the Dark Lord will be hiding in Picklesquare.

Bush shook his head. I don't know, Charlotte. I wish I did.

Maybe she was meeting someone, or hiding something there, she suggested.

I shook my head, feeling the weight of despair settling over me. No, those aren't the reasons, I said, more to myself than to them. It's something else, something we're not seeing.

But what could it be? Diana pressed, her brow furrowed in thought.

I don't know, Di. And that's the problem. It feels like a dead end. Racheal's death... it doesn't get us any closer to finding out where the Dark Lord is hiding.

Bush looked at me and broke into a sad smile. We'll keep looking, Charlotte. We won't stop until we find him.

We have to, I agreed. For Grey, for all of us. We can't let the Dark Lord win.

My men are combing through every inch of Picklesquare, Detective Bush assured us. If they find anything—anything at all—you'll be the first to know.

Diana gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Let's go home, Charlotte, she said softly, and together we walked out into the fading afternoon light.

The ride back to the mansion was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Bush dropped us off with a promise to stay in touch, and Diana insisted on making tea. You need to relax, she told me, and I couldn't argue with that.

It was 2:00 pm when I finally sat down by the window, the warm cup cradled in my hands. Outside, the world of my estate bustled with life. Joe Abernathy was tending to the garden, his movements meticulous as he pruned and weeded, ensuring every plant was in perfect health. Ron Rigsby was further out, the hum of the lawn mower reaching me as he explored the expanse of green.

Watching them work, I began to reflect on how much my life had changed. This mansion, with its sprawling grounds and ancient walls, had brought me wealth and comfort. But it had also thrust me into a world where evil magic was more than just a tale to scare children. Entities, dark and powerful, were real, and they were hell-bent on destruction.

Sometimes, in moments like this, I longed for my old life in New York City. There, I was just Charlotte, the bookstore owner, surrounded by the smell of old books and the sound of traffic. If I were there now, I'd be tucked away in a corner, a book open in my lap, trying to lose myself in its pages despite the city's relentless noise.

But that life was gone, replaced by one filled with spells and shadows. And as much as I yearned for the simplicity of my past, I knew that this was where I needed to be. The fight against the darkness was mine, whether I wanted it or not.

The tea was soothing, and for a moment, I allowed myself to just be.

Pearl sauntered into the room with the grace only a cat possesses. She leapt onto my lap, her eyes meeting mine before she curled up, purring contentedly. I stroked her soft fur, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, and for a moment, the world outside faded away.

Grandma, I whispered, knowing that somewhere within Pearl, my grandmother's spirit lingered. I'm scared. What if we never see Detective Grey again?

The room was silent, but in the quiet, I felt the familiar touch of her presence. Charlotte, my dear, her voice came in my mind, don't think that way.