A Frozen Scoop of Murder: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #1
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About this ebook
Tara got more than she bargained for when she opened up The Frozen Scoop ice cream Shoppe in the small town of Caesar’s Creek, Georgia. Newly divorced and disgusted with corporate life, she feels a small town atmosphere is a welcoming change to her prior chaotic life. That is until the town is rocked by murder and mayhem.
Now it’s time for Tara to put her amateur sleuth skills to work along with her friends and co-workers Stormi and Paige. But what happens when a new man in Tara’s life might become a suspect in the murder case?
This is a short cozy mystery filled with humor, suspects and scrumptious visions of ice cream delicacies.
Constance Barker
Constance Barker lives in the Midwest with her husband and two Akitas where she can look out from her screened porch onto a wooded area brimming with activity. Since she was a young girl she read mysteries, often given to her by her grandmother. She loved figuring out who the culprit was and sometimes she was right and other times startled at who the author picked as the assailant. Now she enjoys writing mysteries herself. When she isn't writing stories, she can be found in her favorite vacation spot, Las Vegas or shopping for bargains.
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Titles in the series (11)
Death by Chocolate Sundae: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Caffeinated Crunch: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Frozen Scoop of Murder: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSoft Serve Secrets: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsIce Scream You Scream: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #4 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDouble Dip Dilemma: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMelted Memories: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #6 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTriple Dip Debacle: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #7 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWhipped Wedding Woes: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #8 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Sprinkle of Tropical Trouble: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #9 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Drizzle of Deception: Caesar's Creek Cozy Mystery Series, #10 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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A Frozen Scoop of Murder - Constance Barker
I heard the tinkle of the bell as a customer entered my ice cream Shoppe. I’d only been open three months, but business was booming. Of course, it was spring and who doesn’t want a scoop of almond fudge or chocolate mint to cool their senses. I hoped winter in the heart of Georgia wouldn’t dull my customer’s palate for cold concoctions.
Previously I worked a dead end job as a secretary for a technology firm. Not only was it dull but it felt like it was sucking my soul right out of my body with each type written report. I wanted to be my own boss, but being a divorcee with no other support system...well, it seemed like a pipe dream. Until the day I decided to open my own ice cream Shoppe, The Frozen Scoop. Not only could you get ice cream, but frozen drinks and ice cream cakes as well. What I hadn’t counted on was the social aspect of the Shoppe. It was a meeting place where customers gathered to talk about the goings on in the town. Okay, it was a gossip hive, and oh, how I loved to listen and join into the conversations.
My friend Stormi worked as an employee. She decorated the ice cream cakes and helped with the nightly cleanup. My other friend, Paige, was married with a 16-year-old daughter. She didn’t work since her husband made enough to support three families, so she’d come into the shop to help during the busy periods.
I walked from the back of the store to the front to greet my customers and there she stood. Miss Greta Haglemier. She was the town snoot, snob, witch...well, you get the picture. Many people used more crass terms to describe her, including Stormi. She never married, although she was seeing a man of some importance, at least that’s what the gossip hounds reported.
Miss Greta was the best at everything, according to her. Every year she won the grand champion ribbons for her peach and apple pies, except for last year, which would live on in history as the day Miss G came undone. Oh and she would win for her prized red roses as well. However, if you believed the whispers, Greta paid off the judges. Not sure if that’s true or not, as her roses were the most beautiful I’d seen. Never tasted her pies however. She treated her pies like precious gems. The tasty treats could only pass the lips of someone worthy, like the judges or her dearest friend Trixie, a widowed lady who accompanied her today.
Hello ladies,
I happily greeted the two women. Miss Greta wore her customary scowl accompanied by an oversized multicolored blouse and a red skirt. She was rather rotund, but that never slowed her down. Honestly, I wouldn’t win a foot race with her if the finish line were rimmed with bakery goodies. She wore her brown hair in a bun and her beady brown eyes bore into my flesh.
Miss Trixie was the opposite of Miss Haglemier. Trim with short grey hair, she wore a fashionable taupe pantsuit with a brandy colored blouse. Trixie was steak to Greta’s ham loaf. How the heck these two were friends was beyond my comprehension.
Trixie was a widow twice now and both times her husbands left her with hefty life insurance policies, the last one rumored to be in the one million dollar range. Yet, you’d never know it. While she lived in a nice home, every hair in place, and weekly manicures, she never put on airs. She was a treat to be around, unlike her best buddy Greta.
Greta never married and she worked as a tax preparer in the spring. She lived in a cottage where she grew up. Her mother left it to her along with one car and a sizeable bank account that allowed her to remain largely unemployed until the social security checks would start rolling in next year. She dyed her grey hair an auburn color, but the cheap store bought color appeared odd against her stark white skin. She should have gone the same route as Trixie and left her hair au natural but not Greta. In fact she didn’t like Trixie’s hair or clothes and wasn’t afraid to let her and everyone know it. But Trixie laughed it off. In my book, Trixie was a saint.
I want to order an ice cream cake for my book social on Thursday evening,
Greta growled.
I grabbed my order tablet from the counter and said, Would you like a custom cake Greta or one that we already have in the freezer?
Oh I want a custom cake and I want it made fresh that day. No day old cake mind you,
Greta said as she slammed her purse on the counter next to the register.
Well, an ice cream cake should sit in the freezer for at least a day to ensure the ice cream is set properly,
I replied holding my pen aloft and hoping this wasn’t a reflection of how my day would go.
Oh Greta, how would anyone know if an ice cream cake is made fresh or two weeks old?
Trixie chided. Besides, these ice cream cakes are so delicious they’ll be consumed within seconds and no one will ever wonder how old they are.
Yep, I loved Trixie.
Fine then,
Greta harrumphed. Make it one day prior. But that cake better be moist!
It will be Miss Greta,
I said cheerily while inside I cussed. Is there anything else I can get for you ladies today?
No that’s it,
Greta replied.
Speak for yourself woman,
Trixie exclaimed. I’ll take one dip of the chocolate fudge in a sugar cone Tara.
You’re paying for that,
Greta said.
Of course, don’t get your panties in a bunch. But you’re paying for your fresh ice cream cake sister.
Greta grumped and pulled out her billfold. I took down the order, chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream, and delivered Trixie her cone.
Now remember, I’m allergic to peanuts. Don’t get peanuts anywhere near my cake, do you hear me?
Greta said as she placed her billfold back into her purse. I’m deathly allergic. Even if you use the same scoop to dish out ice cream with peanuts in it and then my ice cream you could kill me!
I remember Miss Greta,
I answered. How could anyone forget. She’d told the entire town 102 times she’s allergic to nuts. I’m surprised no one hasn’t slipped her a slivered almond or even a peanut skin. The way she acted either one would be a death knell.
Your ice cream cake will be ready by 2pm on Thursday,
I stated.
With that, Greta turned on her heel and walked towards the front door. Trixie smiled and waved at me as she gave her chocolate fudge a nice long lick. As they walked out the door, my friend Stormi walked in.
*****
Oh Lawdy, I’m glad I missed the calamity that is Miss Greta!
Stormi exclaimed as she tossed her purse in the back cabinet.
Yeah, she was her usual pleasant self,
I replied as I added her order to the others that needed filled that week. I’m use to her though, if that’s possible. And of course Trixie is a treat.
Trixie must have nerves of steel. I would’ve booted Greta to the curb a long time ago,
Stormi claimed as she slid on her pink The Frozen Scoop apron.
Maybe Trixie’s use to her as well. They’ve been friends since high school...at least that’s what I heard,
I said as I removed the empty barrel of vanilla from the ice cream case. As boring as vanilla was, it still outsold the rest of my flavors.
What I don’t understand is, how does Miss Greta have a man and Trixie doesn’t?
Stormi asked. That guy Greta is dating, Mr. Florez, he’d be much better suited with Trixie. I mean he’s tall, works out, sophisticated, nicely coiffed grey hair. What in the Sam hill is he doing with Miss Grumpy? Just irritates me to no end.
Stormi, you get worked up about the funniest things,
I laughed.
I know,
she giggled. "I just like everything to be in its proper