Ravenwood Cove Cozy Mysteries Books 1-3

by Carolyn L. Dean

  By the time Amanda had walked back to Roy’s front porch and had a seat on the edge, George Ortiz had arrived. Parking nearly in front of Roy’s house, he couldn’t help but notice the two people observing the whole scenario, and he walked up the brick walkway.

  “Hey, Roy, Amanda. You both all right?”

  Roy tilted his hat so he could look up at George’s face. “Right as rain. Hid in the cellar when the action started. Any sign of him? I mean, the bad guy?”

  “Not yet, but we’re going to send down divers.” George glanced at Amanda. “I’ll let the sheriff’s department know you’re both up here.”

  That statement surprised Amanda, but it was apparent that once James was told he made a beeline for Roy’s front porch.

  “I thought I told you to stay put.”

  As soon as he said that, Amanda gritted her teeth. She’d just been through the unwanted adventure of hiding in a damp cellar, watching someone possibly drown, and now she was getting chewed out?

  Nope. She was not going to take that.

  “I am right where I was when you texted me, Detective. I was here on business with Mr. Greeley. Now, is there anything else that we can do for you?”

  “You were here already?”

  She looked at him calmly, letting him realize the truth of her words.

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, that’s different. Sorry, Amanda. I thought you came out to be part of the action.” He gestured vaguely at the lake. “How much did you two see?”

  “Everything from the top of the hill to him going in the water.” She sighed, tired of being irritated. “What’s the next step for your crew?”

  “We see what evidence we can recover, and we get the body out. I’ll send someone up to take your statements.”

  He turned to go, and then paused, turning back. “You know, Amanda, I think I’ve had more statements from you lately than most of Ravenwood.” He grinned. “I hate to say it, but I think you’re becoming my best customer.”

  Chapter 21

  Within two hours, news of the police chase was the talk of Ravenwood Cove. After giving her statement, Amanda had headed straight back to the Inn, grateful to be away from the crowded scene by the lake. She thought she’d left just in time when the first media van pulled in and the police divers had started looking for Loomis’ body, but her trip home took much longer than normal. The single road was clogged with sudden traffic, all seeming to want to head to the place where Loomis had died, and she did her best to hide her irritation of dodging cars swinging into her lane or blocking the road entirely. She’d definitely had enough adventure for a while.

  Jennifer greeted her happily at the door, then fussed over her in concern when she saw how haggard Amanda’s face was. After filling Jennifer in on the high points of the police chase near Likely, her friend nearly ordered her upstairs to relax, and then offered to start a fire in the main fireplace so Amanda could lounge downstairs afterward. Seeing the concern in Jennifer’s face was truly touching, and when Jennifer hugged her tightly Amanda hugged her back. She was grateful that someone cared for her when she’d had a rough day, and promised Jennifer that she’d take a break after she’d checked the reservation schedule. She was happy to see that no guests were expected to arrive at the Inn for the next two days, and although normally having no guests would make her nervous about losing money, this time she was relieved. After everything she’d been through lately she just needed some peace and quiet. She dragged herself upstairs and ran a hot bath, slipping underneath the silky bubbles with a grateful sigh. The heat and the soft scent eased her stiff muscles and she nearly fell asleep in the huge cast iron tub.

  Her mind was drifting and relaxed when she suddenly heard a tremendous crash downstairs and frenzied yelling. Jerking upright, Amanda lurched out of the full tub, sloshing water and soapsuds everywhere as she grabbed her robe from the hook by the door and ran out to see what the commotion was. Another crash and a high-pitched scream and her feet couldn’t move fast enough.

  Jennifer had been downstairs alone.

  She flung the robe around her wet body and stopped, teetering, at the top of the stairs. She could just see Jennifer in the large front parlor to her right, and standing in front of her was a familiar man.

  Richard Loomis.

  He was partially bent over, his face contorted in pain and Jennifer’s wildly-colored keychain gripped in his right hand.

  Jennifer pulled back the pointed fireplace poker she had and swung it with both hands at Richard Loomis. If she’d been playing baseball that swing would’ve been a home run. It cracked resoundingly against Loomis’ hand and then against the side of his skull, dropping him nearly instantly onto the oriental carpet.

  Jennifer’s keychain spun in a high, hard arc from Loomis’ broken hand, finally crashing into the bricks at the back of the blazing hot fireplace. There was a brief flare up as the flames consumed the little fob on her keys, the different chemicals in the plastic making varied colors before they returned to normal hues.

  Amanda’s hand was trembling as she dialed 911. “Are you okay?” she asked Jennifer. The question came out way too loud, the adrenaline affecting everything, even her voice. Jennifer was breathing hard and standing over the prone body of her attacker, the fireplace poker still gripped tightly in her hand.

  “Oh, I’m just swell. Are they on their way?”

  Amanda was on the phone with the dispatcher already and gave an answering nod. “Is he dead?”

  “No, still breathing.”

  This was a side of Jennifer, usually so meek, that Amanda had never seen before. “Well, hit him again.”

  Jennifer scoffed, her eyes never leaving Loomis. “Don’t tempt me. I’d really like to kick him in the head a few times. With a boot.”

  As soon as Amanda was through giving the information to the dispatcher she stayed on hold, but put a comforting hand on Jennifer’s shoulder.

  “What happened?”

  “He must’ve come in through the back kitchen door while you were upstairs. He was dripping wet and I heard that. I just turned around to see what the sound was and there he stood.”

  Amanda shuddered, imagining how frightening that must’ve been for Jennifer.

  “He asked me where my purse was and I pointed to it. He said all the cops were busy elsewhere so if I knew what was good for me I’d keep my mouth shut. When he dug into the purse and pulled out my keys I kicked him.”

  “I heard you screaming. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  Jennifer smiled grimly. “That wasn’t me screaming. That was him.”

  “That high-pitched scream?”

  “I snap kicked him in the groin. That’ll make a guy scream like that, if you hit him hard enough.”

  “You did what?” Amanda couldn’t even picture Jennifer, usually so calm and mousy, furiously hitting some guy where it counts.

  “And then I whacked him with the fireplace poker.”

  Amanda’s mouth dropped open, admiration on her face. “You’re awesome.”

  Jennifer’s voice was a bit shaky. “I took two years of tae kwon do, and I’ve got a brown belt. We did a lot of practice on self-defense skills.” She took a shuddering breath. “After Evelyn was attacked on a date and I saw what it did to her life, I realized that I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. I had to learn how to protect myself.”

  A faint prickling began at the back of Amanda’s skull. “Evelyn? You know a young woman named Evelyn? Was she from around here?”

  Jennifer plopped down on the nearby chair, the adrenaline from her encounter apparently overwhelming her. “Um, yeah, she’s Mrs. Bitterman’s granddaughter. We went to school together.”

  Mrs. Bitterman’s granddaughter. It all started to make perfect, horrible sense. “Jennifer, listen. This is important. Was she attacked while she went to university?”

  Jennifer had been keeping an eye on the unconscious Loomis, but she looked up in surprise. “Yes, how did you know?�
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  Amanda could feel the headache gathering behind her eyes as she started to put the puzzle pieces together. “Do you know who assaulted her?” she asked, trying to keep her breathing calm and even.

  “I don’t know his name, but he was some guy training to be a pharmacist. A real creep, I guess.”

  Evelyn. Amanda knew now that she would never forget that name. Mrs. Bitterman’s granddaughter was a victim of Anderson Bowles, and she was also the woman that Truman had dated a couple of times.

  Truman must’ve been enough of a threat that Anderson did anything he could, including accusing him of cheating in college, so that he could pursue Evelyn without interference.

  She’d found a connection to Truman, but she’d also discovered that Mrs. Bitterman, who talked of her granddaughter was such love in her voice, had a motive to kill the man who had done her such harm.

  “Do you know what he was trying to find?”

  Jennifer grimaced. “Might’ve been the keychain from Disneyland that my Dad gave me a few years back. Loomis seemed really happy when he found it in my purse, and there’s nothing exotic about the keys, so I figure there must’ve been something important about the keychain itself.”

  Amanda glanced at the fireplace, the flames starting to die down a bit. “Well, if there was something in the keychain it won’t be any use to anyone after it’s been burned like that, but I guess we’ll have to tell the authorities.”

  When the police arrived they found the women sitting side-by-side on the sofa, calmly watching the still prone Richard Loomis.

  Chapter 22

  The fallout from Richard Loomis showing up at the Ravenwood Inn was swift and satisfying, with a string of events that answered some questions about the mysterious Mr. Loomis.

  The Inn had been crawling with cops, from the moment the first one burst in the front door. Amanda had seen a lot of the same faces investigating the lakeside crime scene, where Loomis had jumped his sedan off the embankment and into the dark water. Apparently it had been his backup escape plan, as a scuba tank was found abandoned near the edge of the lake, and tire marks that matched a car parked down the street from the Inn were discovered. A .38 revolver was found in the car at the bottom of the lake, an unexpected loss for Loomis when he’d hit the water.

  After he was taken to the hospital, James had made sure that the police officer in charge took a set of fingerprints from the groggy Loomis. Within two hours, James was back, standing on the welcome mat of the bustling Ravenwood Inn.

  “Well, well, well. Come on in, Detective,” Amanda said wryly. “Join the party. We’re going to send out for pizza, so you’re just in time.”

  Of all the reactions James had anticipated, Amanda’s calm greeting and her dark sense of humor weren’t on the list.

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or shake you.” He had waited until they were in the parlor alone, away from the two remaining investigators, before he had said what was on his mind.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “How do you keep getting in these sort of situations? Lady, you are a walking hazard!” She could hear the tone of frustration in his voice.

  “No, I’m not, and I’ll tell you why.”

  He looked at her suspiciously. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Um, maybe just a bit of wine.”

  “Right.”

  “Or a lot of wine. Good for my nerves, and after today I deserve it, doncha think?”

  He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously frustrated. “Maybe you do, but I think you’ve had enough, okay?”

  “I’m not a walking hazard.” She grinned at him.

  “Oh, you’re not, huh?”

  She poked him in the chest with a jabbing finger. “You know what I am? I’m a woman who’s been attacked by a mob guy who pretended to be dead and who wasn’t dead and now he’s in the hospital and he’s going to jail, so it’s all good.”

  James tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work.

  “You know what else?”

  “What?” He was dying to know.

  “My only employee is actually a super-secret warrior ninja. Don’t mess with her.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And if she ever says she’s gonna kick ya, I suggest you run.”

  At that sober pronouncement he cracked up, giving in to the laugh that he’d been trying to suppress.

  “I’ll do my best to remember that. Let’s see what we can do about getting some food in you, okay? I don’t think you can wait for the pizza delivery.” With that bit of insistence, James escorted her to the kitchen to see what he sort of dinner he could make for his very relaxed friend.

  ***

  She couldn’t believe it. They didn’t match.

  James had called Amanda first thing in the morning and let her know the results of the lab tests run on the gun they’d found in Loomis’ car. After firing a test bullet and comparing it to the bullets found in Anderson Bowles’ boat, they definitely did not match.

  It was discovered, however, that the gun had been used in two other homicides; one in Vegas two years earlier, and a second in Seattle just three weeks ago. Once the fingerprints were compared against the national database, Richard Loomis’ fate was sealed.

  Except that he wasn’t actually Richard Loomis. It turned out he was a well-known hit man in a West Coast organization of criminals, mostly trafficking in drugs and gambling. His name was Wes Baden, and he had felony warrants that made sure he was going to be in jail for a very long time. Combined with the new arrests for assault and attempted murder, James had been happy to let Amanda know that she’d never need to worry about him being out on the streets again.

  James had also made clear to Loomis, now Baden, that the thumb drive that had been hidden in Jennifer’s keychain had been completely destroyed when Baden had accidentally thrown it into the fire. With no data, there was no reason to pursue Jennifer or come back to Ravenwood Cove.

  Maybe she should’ve been happy about all this, but there was one problem. If Loomis didn’t kill Anderson Bowles, then who did?

  A couple of days later Amanda was down at Cuppa, sitting with Meg and James and talking over everything that had happened. A lot of the information was now public knowledge, so Amanda was able to speak more freely about what she knew, and it was definitely less stressful to be able to kick around ideas with her friends.

  She’d had to tell James about Evelyn, and her connection to Mrs. Bitterman and Truman, but she’d made sure to do that when they were alone so that no one else would know. He’d grimaced when she told him, as though her words actually hurt, and she knew that now he’d have to consider Mrs. Bitterman as part of the puzzle of Anderson Bowles’ death.

  They were enjoying their coffee and talking about everything and anything when Meg suddenly added a piece of information they hadn’t heard before.

  “Did I tell you that my grandmother’s gun is missing?”

  Amanda’s eyebrows went up. “Mrs. Granger’s .38?”

  That caught James’ attention. “Someone stole it from her purse?” Apparently, he knew Mrs. Granger’s habit of carrying the snub-nosed gun in the black bag she had hanging from her walker.

  “No, she lent is to Owen Winters and he said someone stole it off his fruit stand while his back was turned.”

  “How long ago?” James was leaning forward, intent on the answer.

  “Um, I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

  “Meg, do you know if your grandmother ever fired that gun?”

  Meg looked surprised and shrugged. “Sure. After Grampa Hubert died she started going out to that fallen tree by her compost pile and using it for target practice. Says it helps her be ready if there’s ever a burglar.” She turned to Amanda. “Says she’d never let them outta her place alive. Can you believe it?”

  Amanda definitely could believe it. “Meg, how long ago did she use that tree for target practice?”

  “This summer, I think. Why?”


  James smiled and put a hand on Meg’s shoulder. “Because I’m trying to match a bullet from an outboard motor and a murder investigation. If someone stole that gun and it matches the bullets from the boat, then it takes us in a whole new direction.”

  Chapter 23

  Mrs. Granger was only too happy to let her favorite police detective dig several bullets out of the fallen tree in her backyard. She’d kept up a running stream of conversation while he dug around in the rotting wood with a knife, carefully prying out the bits of metal and sealing them in separate evidence bags. After extracting a promise from James that he’d be able to come by on Saturday for lunch, which would probably be pickle and bologna sandwiches, he’d kissed her on the cheek and promised to let her know the results of the ballistics tests that were going to be run. If her gun was the one that had fired the bullets in Anderson Bowles’ rented boat, she’d be one of the first ones to know, and that thrilled her no end.

  When the woman at the ballistics lab hand-delivered the results to James, he scanned the paper quickly and gave a deep sigh. It was time to go visit Owen Winters.

  Ignoring the ‘keep out’ warning signs on his fence, James calmly rapped on Owen’s front door, then knocked louder, remembering that sometimes his hearing wasn’t very good.

  Owen popped his head out the door and looked at the tall detective with unbridled suspicion.

  “What do you want?”

  “I came to talk to you about Mrs. Granger’s missing gun. Do you have some time, Mr. Winters?”

  He could almost see the old man flinch, but Owen finally stepped out onto his front porch and gestured to one of the sagging plastic chairs. “Have a seat and ask your questions. We might as well get this over with.”

  That wasn’t the reaction James had expected. It didn’t seem to be belligerent at all, but sounded almost apologetic. He sat down carefully in the rickety chair and turned toward Owen, who was sitting and staring blankly out at his fruit stand.