Ravenwood Cove Cozy Mysteries Books 1-3

by Carolyn L. Dean

  “Well? Find out anything while you were out snooping around by yourself? You should’ve taken me with you, young lady. I know that depot like the back of my hand, I’ve been there so many times.”

  Amanda dropped the bag with the necklace into the cup holder between the front seats and pulled out her keys, frantically flipping through them until she found the car key. Jamming it into the ignition, the engine roared to life and she jerked the car into reverse, then forward as she accelerated out of the dark parking lot, the depot getting smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror.

  It wasn’t until they were around the second bend about a half mile later that Amanda took a deep breath and looked at Mrs. Granger. Her friend’s mouth was set in a thin, hard line of defiance and she had crossed both arms over her chest.

  “I can handle myself in a fight, you know. Never had any problems in the past and you’d be surprised at some of the stories I could tell. And why are you driving like a bat outta hell?” the old lady grumped.

  Amanda kept driving as she gestured to the little bag.

  “That’s why.”

  A look of surprise crossed Mrs. Granger’s face and she picked up the bag, weighing it in one hand. Opening the drawstring, she hooked a finger under the platinum chain and pulled the exquisite necklace free. Even in the darkness of the car, the trio of diamonds still sparkled with unholy light, and Mrs. Granger gasped.

  “Holy cats!”

  Amanda nodded, her eyes still on the road. “Yeah, you said it. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Her anger gone, Mrs. Granger turned the necklace a bit, peering at the large stones.

  “Moonlight.”

  Cutting a glance sideways, Amanda could just make out Mrs. Granger’s face, smug and satisfied.

  “What?”

  “I’d bet my bonnet that this is Mrs. Welch’s missing diamond necklace. Her husband, God rest his soul, gave it to her years ago and told her it was an old family heirloom. Said it actually had been named Moonlight because of the way it glowed.” She turned the necklace over again and, seemingly satisfied, carefully put it back in the velvet bag.

  The old lady’s eyebrows were knit together in concentration. “Where did you find it?”

  “Taped under an old desk drawer, in that bag. Someone was definitely trying to hide it, and they did a pretty good job.”

  Amanda had been around Mrs. Granger enough to be able to tell when she was mulling over something.

  “Why would someone bother to hide it? It’s been missing for months. Why wouldn’t they just sell it outright? Even if they pried the diamonds out and just sold those by themselves it would be worth thousands.”

  The old lady had a point. A random thief would’ve probably just hacked it up and sold off the pieces so they could get easy cash. She glanced at Mrs. Granger, seeing the look of puzzlement on her lined face.

  Amanda knew the answer. “They couldn’t sell it if they were already dead.”

  Mrs. Granger looked at Amanda, and her eyes lit up. “And they took the secret of its location with them to the next world.”

  Desmond Martin. A disguised key hidden in his shoe, and dead a couple of months.

  They rode in silence for several minutes before Mrs. Granger spoke up.

  “You are going to tell James about this, aren’t you?”

  Amanda paused. “Tell him about the necklace or the fact that I found it in a dark room in an abandoned depot?”

  Mrs. Granger’s silence hung between them, answering her question. Amanda sighed.

  “Don’t worry. I promise to tell him. As soon as we get into town I’ll stop and text him.”

  Mrs. Granger fished Amanda’s cell phone out of her purse. “I can do it. If I’m gonna have a smartphone I need to learn how to use it.” She squinted at the locked screen.

  “What number do I call to send James a text? Is it on the innerweb?”

  Chapter 10

  When Amanda contacted James to meet her outside of Ivy’s Cafe, she already knew she was probably going to get a lecture. She’d known he wasn’t going to be happy about her snooping around without him, so she’d already taken Mrs. Granger home. It took a bit of maneuvering to help the old lady out of her car and get her walker, but Amanda didn’t mind. She made sure Mrs. Granger got into her snug little cottage safely, much to the lady’s absolute disgust.

  “I’m part of this team and you’re sending me to the showers!”

  Amanda had set Mrs. Granger’s ancient black purse down on the kitchen table. “You know what he’s going to say. You really want to be there when he says it to me?”

  Mrs. Granger blinked at her, obviously considering. She’d known James for years, and had even been his after-school babysitter for a while. After all that time, she knew his personality well. It took a couple of seconds before she backtracked. “You’re right. I don’t want to be anywhere near that conversation. Best of luck to you, young lady,” she added, as she pushed her walker toward the stove to make tea.

  Summarily dismissed, Amanda had driven to Ivy’s and waited patiently outside, occasionally running the heater in her car. It was less than ten minutes from her text to the time her passenger door was being yanked open and all six foot plus of a concerned detective folded himself into the car seat next to her.

  “I thought we talked about you being careful.” His eyes were locked on hers, his face showing irritation.

  “We did, and I was.”

  “Going to an abandoned building to snoop through it isn’t being careful. It’s being reckless.” His voice changed, suddenly less official-sounding. “You know better, Amanda. It’s not your job to risk yourself. That’s my job.”

  Frustrated, she tried to explain. “Look, I checked to be sure there was no one else at the depot when I was there. I was careful. There was nowhere else they could’ve hidden a car.”

  “What if they had a partner who’d left them at the depot while they went to get supplies? What if they’d come by bike or walked there? What if they’d had someplace to hide a car that you didn’t know about?”

  She thought it over and grudgingly had to agree that he had a point.

  “You okay?” He wasn’t looking at Amanda, but she could hear the fatigue and worry in his voice.

  Of all the things he could’ve said, she hadn’t expected that.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “Make sure there isn’t a next time,” he said, obviously trying to be calm. “Okay, so what did you find out?

  She reached over and gently grabbed his wrist, turning the palm upward, and then set the velvet bag on his open hand. He frowned with concentration as he slowly opened the bag and peered inside, finally dumping the contents out. The delicate filigree and sparkling gemstones seemed out of place in his large hands.

  Amanda gestured toward the necklace. “I found a key like the one in the photocopied picture you gave me. When I went to the depot— “

  He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed as if in sudden pain. “Tell me everything, and don’t leave anything out.”

  “Headache?” Amanda asked, helpfully.

  Deep sigh. “No thanks, I already have one.” He sighed again and opened his eyes.

  “Okay, lady, start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

  Chapter 11

  It was a couple of days before James had time to swing by the Ravenwood Inn and update Amanda on what was new with the Desmond Martin case, and what was going to happen with the necklace. When he knocked on the front door and popped his head inside, the detective could hear Amanda’s voice. He followed the sound to the kitchen, but what he saw there made him burst into laughter. Amanda was elbows-deep in a big bowl of gingerbread dough, seeming to struggle with the thick, gooey mass. Her expression reflected her frustration.

  “Have a seat. I’d offer you coffee but I don’t think I can get my hands out of this.”

 
He tried to keep a straight face as he plopped onto a chair at the marble kitchen island. “First time making gingerbread cookies?”

  Amanda looked disgusted. “Practically my first time making any cookies. I followed the recipe, but I didn’t expect it to fight back.” She carefully pried her hands out of the dough and wiped them on a couple of paper towels. “There might still be one of my rings in there.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, somebody’ll probably find it later.”

  “So, what brings you by?” she asked, rinsing her hands under the running tap. “It can’t be my baking skills.”

  Reaching into his pocket, James extracted a very familiar-looking velvet bag. “The powers that be decided that the necklace didn’t need to be kept as evidence, since it wasn’t directly part of the murder, as far as we can tell.”

  “So, what happens to it now?” Amanda’s eyebrows went up.

  “I thought maybe you’d like to go with me to return it to Mrs. Welch. Technically, you’re the finder of the necklace, and I think she posted a reward for it.”

  Amanda grimaced. “I can’t just keep it?” She giggled when she saw James’ seemingly-shocked expression. “I’m just kidding. Well, maybe I’m kidding. It is kind of stunning.” She tried to keep a note of wistfulness out of her voice.

  “Don’t make me arrest you for theft, lady. Come on. You’ll feel better about this whole thing if you get to see Mrs. Welch’s face when we tell her we have her missing family heirloom.”

  “Okay, but give me a minute to get this goop off my hands first.”

  ***

  It turned out that Amanda had driven by Mrs. Welch’s large house many times, but had never known who lived there. The imposing Craftsman home was near the edge of town, and flanked by a pair of massive oak trees and a scruffy lawn. Amanda pulled into the cracked concrete driveway behind an older-model pickup with a large sign on the side that read SOLOMON CULPEPPER, Handyman At Large.

  As Amanda leaned over to open her car door, James put a hand on her arm and handed her the small velvet bag with the necklace inside. “You give it to her.”

  She could feel the stones shift in her hand and nodded. It was the right thing to give it back to the true owner.

  Apparently, someone could hear them walk up the sidewalk. A disembodied voice came from underneath the house.

  “Um, I’ll be right out, Mrs. Sandford. Just about got the little sucker. I can see his beady little eyes from here.”

  Amanda turned to James, her eyebrows raised. Mrs. Sandford? What would the former mayor be doing at Mrs. Welch’s house?

  There was a lot of thumping and scuffling sounds, a couple of muttered exclamations, and then silence. James and Amanda glanced at each other, and then saw a pair of boot-covered feet slowly backing out from underneath the old house. It took a couple of minutes for the dust-covered handyman to emerge completely. Clasped in his right hand was a large gray squirrel, who was twitching his tail and looking very put out.

  Struggling to his feet, the man seemed startled to see other people. He patted his coveralls ineffectively, trying to get off some of the dirt.

  “Oh, hello. Sorry, thought you were Mrs. Sandford waiting to talk to me. She was wanting me to do some work out back of her art gallery this week.”

  Amanda pointed at the squirrel, her face reflecting her concern. “You’re not going to kill it, are you?” Amanda loved watching the squirrels at the Inn. She knew some people considered them vermin, but the thought of the little creature, so frightened in the handyman’s grip, being killed just seemed wrong.

  Solomon snorted. “Not likely. Just need to put some new screens on the vents under Mrs. Welch’s house so this little guy doesn’t try to make it his winter hideaway again, that’s all. Plenty of other places he can make into a home. I scooped out most of the acorns he’d hidden down there, so he’s in good shape for the next few months.” He thrust the squirrel at Amanda. “Care to hold him while I install the screens? Otherwise, he’ll just go right back to where he was before.”

  Amanda jumped back a bit as Solomon waved the squirrel at her, the brushy tail swishing from side to side.

  James stepped in, trying not to laugh out loud at Amanda’s startled expression. “I’ve got a cardboard box in the back of my car and I can punch some air holes in it. I think that should hold the little guy until you’re done with the vents. That work for you?”

  At the handyman’s nod, James headed back to his car to get the box, leaving Amanda standing with Solomon. Feeling apologetic, she tried to explain. “It’s not that I don’t like squirrels. I just didn’t expect to have to hold one, that’s all. Sorry if I flinched a bit.”

  Solomon chuckled, a smile crinkling the middle-aged lines around his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Miss. I’m pretty careful around wild critters myself. Don’t want him to get the wrong idea and take a bite outta me.”

  With the squirrel safely stashed in James’ box and sent off with Solomon to be rehomed, they were finally able to go up the wooden steps to the front door.

  Looking around, Amanda realized that the beautiful old house hadn’t been painted for years. The borders were carefully weeded and trimmed and the steps were swept clean, but that was where the maintenance ended. There was a crack in the glass of one of the front door panels that had been temporarily repaired by a wide piece of packing tape, and the doorbell was hanging by a single screw and a couple of bare wires.

  Deciding not to mess with the dangerous-looking doorbell, Amanda knocked on the wood door. She stepped back politely and waited for someone to appear, but when no one opened the door she glanced at James, who shrugged. She knocked again, more forcefully, and within a minute or so they could hear the bolt in the lock being pushed back.

  A thin woman, probably in her mid-fifties, cracked open the door to the full extent of the door chain and peered out at them.

  Her eyes flicked between the two people on her porch. “Oh, I thought you were Hortense again. Be just a second,” she said, and after that odd remark she shut the door again with a bang. There were the sounds of scrabbling as she unlatched the chain, and then she opened the door just wide enough to squeeze her slender frame through and shut it behind her. Standing squarely in front of the shut door, she put a hand up to her graying hair nervously, then turned toward the tall detective.

  James, ever the gentleman, pulled off his hat. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Welch. I hope we didn’t disturb you too much by coming by today.”

  The lady looked up at James, and Amanda could see a bit of hesitation on her face. “No, not at all. What can I do for you, Detective?” she asked, glancing at Amanda.

  “This is my friend, Amanda Graham. She owns the Ravenwood Inn and she brought you something we thought you’d want to see.”

  Without a word, Amanda pulled the small velvet bag out of her coat pocket. The instant Mrs. Welch saw the little sack she went pale and she placed one hand on her heart.

  “Is that…is that what I think…?”

  Amanda loosened the strings and turned it over, spilling the brilliant treasure of the necklace into her cupped hand.

  Mrs. Welch’s fingers were trembling as she cautiously reached toward the necklace.

  “Oh, dear Moonlight.” There was a depth of sorrow in her simple exclamation, but the tremulous smile she gave Amanda showed her true feelings. Clasping the chain in both hands, she finally grinned, the emotion lighting up her whole face.

  “Where on earth did you find her?”

  Amanda quickly told the excited lady about how she’d discovered the missing necklace taped to the bottom of a drawer in the little train depot. The cold wind was whipping around the edge of the porch but Mrs. Welch made no move to invite the chilled couple inside, even though she was only wearing a thin cardigan over her t-shirt and jeans. She kept nodding her head as she listened to Amanda’s story, and then asked a couple of questions about who they thought might have hidden Moonlight, her hands still full of her lost treasure.
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  Amanda was careful to only reply in generalities, knowing that James needed to have the details kept private until the case was solved.

  There were tears at the corners of Mrs. Welch’s eyes. “I can’t thank you enough, Amanda. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  James put up one finger to interrupt the conversation, a hint of humor in his eyes. “I only have one question. Why is the Moonlight Necklace a ‘she’?”

  Mrs. Welch flexed her lips in the semblance of a smile. “My husband said that years ago it was named after a woman who was nicknamed Moonlight. You don’t think anything this beautiful and feminine would be named after a man, do you?”

  James shifted a bit, maybe trying to keep warm. “Definitely not,” he agreed. “Okay, I have just one more question. I looked through the police report you filed when the necklace first went missing, and it seems like you were never quite sure how it had disappeared. The report said that you remembered putting the necklace in the safe one night and when you checked the safe about a week later it was gone. Is that correct?”

  Mrs. Welch pulled her shapeless cardigan around herself more tightly. “It is. I’m absolutely sure that it was put away in that safe and then it just disappeared. There was no evidence of a burglary or anyone tampering with the safe or anything in the house. When I discovered Moonlight was gone I filed the police report right away and started running ads in the paper.” She smiled again, still clutching her necklace. “I never expected to see her again in a million years.”

  James stuck his hands in his deep pockets. “So, you never received an insurance payout for its loss?”

  Mrs. Welch’s face fell. “No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t. There wasn’t any insurance on it.”