“We did the best we could, tried to raise our little girl properly, with good values. You just never know what kind of influences are going to come into your child’s life. We’re having a family day this weekend with some other folks, I don’t even know if she’ll attend.”
“Family day?”
“Yeah. A bunch of us get together and cook out, we teach the kids outdoor skills, first aid. For the older ones, they can learn hunting safety, or how to clean a fish, that kind of thing.”
“Sounds like when I went to scout camp,” Kel chuckled.
“Yup, that’s pretty much what it is, a bunch of overgrown scouts teaching the next generation respect for nature and each other,” Brett agreed.
“I’m glad somebody’s taking care of that. Seems like a lost art these days,” the artist mused. “Well, I don’t want to keep you, can you have the wood delivered to my studio?”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” he promised, extending his hand. “Good to see ya, Kel.”
“You too Brett, take care.”
**
“Dad, I know it’s family day tomorrow, but I have other plans,” Megan/Ginny sighed.
“Can’t you just come out for a bit? It would mean so much to your mother,” Brett pleaded quietly.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t. Maybe next time. I have to go – thanks for lunch,” she replied, dashing out the door.
“It’s always next time,” he said, his eyes moist. Somehow he felt that he’d just lost his little girl.
**
Simon was waiting for Ginny when she came out of her parent’s home.
“What took you so long? You know we have a meeting tonight,” he scolded in a low voice. He felt responsible for her behavior since he had introduced her to the group. If they were late, he knew that Grant would blame him.
“I had stuff to do, give it a rest,” she glared at him in the semi-dark.
“Your uptight, goody two-shoes parents hassling you again? What was it about this time? Rifle safety? Environmental awareness? Were you not being a good enough citizen?” he sneered.
“Shut up, Simon. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and since when are any of those things bad?” Ginny challenged.
“If your dad doesn’t leave you alone, he could get hurt,” her companion sounded sinister.
“Don’t you dare threaten my parents,” she hissed. “I swear to you, if anything happens to them, I will take you down.”
Chapter 10
“Honey, you’ve been working so hard…are you okay?” Missy ran her fingers through Chas’s thick black hair.
“I’m fine,” he took her hand and kissed it. “Just trying to figure out what’s going on. The crime spike to me looks like someone is trying way too hard to make the incidents look random, when they’re actually all connected. It seems like a well-orchestrated effort that’s been escalating, and I don’t want to know what the grand finale will be,” he sighed.
“You’ll figure it out, sweetie. You always do.”
“Enough gloom and doom, tell me what you’ve been up to. Are you all ready for Christmas?” he thoughtfully changed the subject.
“Just about. I hope you’ll be able to enjoy it with me,” she murmured.
“I will. It’ll take something really big happening to drag me away,” the detective promised. “Hey, have you seen Spencer? I need to ask him about something.”
“No, come to think of it, I haven’t seen much of him at all for the past few days, but I’ll let him know that you’re looking for him if I run into him.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just shoot him a text. I need to get to the office. You should have Echo come over and keep you company,” Chas suggested.
“I’ll be fine, I have presents to wrap, and some of them are for Echo, so that won’t work, but I’ve got my furry babies, my hot cocoa and Netflix to keep me company, so I’m in good hands,” Missy assured her husband.
“Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, kissing her on his way out.
Spencer Bengal saw Chas leave and settled into his dark corner of the yard, where he had full view of his boss’s living room window. It was going to be a long night. With the detective gone, he had to be on high alert, making sure that nothing happened to Missy.
**
Scott Janssen settled against the basement wall of the cabin, listening to the men upstairs talking about their latest plans. Men like this disgusted him. They thought too highly of themselves and precious little about anyone else. Greed and bloodthirst emanated from them like the stench of decay on a rotting corpse. The lackeys who were doing the low level things, stealing money and causing diversions, had no idea that they were all being played by one man who planned to eliminate them after he filled his bank account sufficiently enough to escape and retire.
The ringleader, Grant, they called him, was the worst of the lot, and the one who would ultimately betray them all without a second thought or a backward glance.
“Those of you in this room are the only people that I can trust with our most important mission. The score from this one will put us in a position of financial freedom that…” Grant began another of his long-winded “motivational” speeches, but was interrupted by a too-eager junior member.
“Does that mean that you’re going to split the money between all of us?” the simpleton drawled.
Grant turned slowly to the young man, eyes ablaze.
“You need to get two things straight, boy,” he snarled. “One…you don’t interrupt me, ever. Two…anybody that’s so selfish and greedy that the first thing they think of is getting a cut of the group’s funds, doesn’t belong in this group.”
“Why is it that you’re the only person with access to the group’s funds? Ain’t nobody else got no say-so. Seems to me like you’re the greedy one,” the young man accused.
Janssen sighed inwardly, knowing what would inevitably come next, and sure enough, he heard the sound of a pistol being cocked, and a kill shot fired before the young man even had the presence of mind to scream for mercy.
“Carter, drag that traitor outside so he quits bleeding on the floor,” Grant ordered, then looked at each of the two remaining men in turn.
“Anybody else got a problem with the leader of the group using the funds that we acquire to build our organization? If so, there’s the door,” he gestured with his pistol, as droplets of blood seeped between the floorboards, one striking Janssen on the cheek.
“I’m sorry, Grant,” said a thin, middle aged man with sideburns that would’ve made Elvis proud. “I think you’re doing a good thing here, but I just don’t think I’m gonna ride along anymore,” he rose to his feet, shook the leader’s hand and turned toward the door, where Carter, who had dragged the first body out, was just coming back in.
“Sorry you feel that way, Ernie,” Grant replied, and shot him in the back.
“Aww…geez, Meecham, that one spattered everywhere,” Carter complained. “That just made my clean up ten times worse.”
“Best get started on it and quit mouthin’ off then,” was the calm reply. Grant stared down the only remaining member of the group, who was literally trembling in his camp chair.
“What about you boy? You thinkin’ bout leavin?”
“No sir,” the man said quietly, holding his gaze, despite the adrenalin coursing through him.
“Good, cuz I got a special job for you. You’re gonna go to a pub in town and pretend to get drunk to cause a distraction. You’re gonna take somebody hostage, so that the fancy pants detective has to come down and deal with you, and then Simon, Carter and me are gonna go get his wife. Got it?”
“Yes sir,” the man nodded. Inside, he knew that he had to break from the group, but he wasn’t going to say anything to this psycho that would get him killed. “When is this going down?”
“You be ready to go tomorrow night. Start the distraction around 11:00, we want it to be nice and dark, with everyone all tucked in for t
he night.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of it,” the trembling man clenched his jaw and nodded, hoping against hope that the maniac in front of him was falling for it. “Y’all gonna be able to bail me out when they arrest me?”
“Son, we’ll have so much money, we’ll be able to bail you out and make you disappear,” Grant was cocky.
“I’ll be grateful.”
“Go on and get outta here, now. Get some rest, you’ll be up late tomorrow,” the leader snickered, jerking his head toward the door as Carter came in, followed by a pale and shaken Simon.
Chapter 11
“What manner of sweet goodness is this?” Kel asked with delight upon seeing Missy’s latest creations.
“They’re actually regular white cupcakes with vanilla bean frosting. I just jazzed them up a bit for the holidays,” Missy replied, filling his coffee cup and topping off hers and Echo’s.
“Is that glitter? What’ll happen if I eat that?” he asked, picking one of the dazzling cakes up and turning it from side to side to see the sparkle.
“All of your wishes will come true,” Echo teased. “Seriously, though, it’s edible glitter, it won’t hurt you.”
“That’s fortunate, because I’m about to devour several of them.”
“I saw that you had a new shipment of wood delivered at the gallery. Are you planning out a new piece?”
“Yes and no,” the artist replied, savoring the fluffy goodness that he’d just bitten into. “I went to the lumber yard, using a new project as an excuse so that I could talk to Brett Sweeney about his daughter, Megan, but the wood was so beautiful that it inspired plenty of ideas for new projects.”
“Is Megan the pioneer girl that we were talking about?” Missy asked, sipping her coffee.
“Yes, but it appears that she’s gone astray. Her parents are sweet, sensible people who care about their family and community, and the things that they do are designed to help people take care of themselves and each other. Apparently the group that Megan became involved with is a collection of small-time criminals and bullies who are hoping to cause some sort of civil unrest so that they can capitalize on it.”
“Really? She struck me as such a nice person.”
“Deep down, she is. She was raised in a loving household and has just made some life choices that aren’t in keeping with who she really is. Her dad is worried about her.”
“That’s so sad. Well, I hope everything works out for them.”
“I hope so too. They’re good people.”
The front door of the shop opened and Chas walked in, looking grim.
“Hey darlin,” Missy greeted him with a kiss. “Everything okay?”
“Unfortunately, no. I won’t be able to have lunch with you like we planned, I just got a call on a homicide. I’m headed down to the lumberyard now,”
“The lumberyard?” Kel looked alarmed. “Who was…?” he couldn’t bring himself to finish, his heart sinking.
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that yet, Kel. The family hasn’t been notified,” the detective replied.
“I understand,” the artist nodded, trying hard to squash the feeling in his gut.
“Well, be careful, sweetie. Echo will just have to be your stand-in for lunch,” Missy said, kissing him again.
“Challenge accepted,” Echo raised her coffee mug.
After the detective left, Kel left the remainder of his cupcake on the plate in front of him and the two women stared, not knowing what to say.
“Do you think…?” Missy began.
The artist nodded. “Yes. I don’t know why, but I have a horrible feeling that something awful has happened to Brett Sweeney.
**
“What have we got?” Detective Chas Beckett asked the first police officer that he encountered at the scene.
“Blatant homicide. The victim didn’t stand a chance. Whoever did this, shot him from behind. He never knew what hit him.”
“Robbery?”
“Nope. Nothing missing as far as we can tell.”
“So, it was either random, or personal, and I’d bet on the latter,” Chas sighed.
“Looks like it so far. No signs of forced entry, no evidence left behind, other than a shell casing that rolled under a stack of boards.”
**
A fierce anger burned within Ginny Pascal when her mother knocked softly on her bedroom door, crying, and told her that her father had been killed with a single shot to the head. She knew who had done it, knew the petty reasons why he had done it, and knew that he would pay for it with his life.
Chapter 12
Missy wrapped her hands around a hot cup of tea, tired after a long day, and looking forward to the love and laughter that her Christmas celebration would bring in just two short days. She had just settled into a comfy corner of her couch with a good book, when she heard and incessant barking outside that sounded like Toffee, her beloved golden retriever, who should’ve been curled up somewhere in the house. Bitsy, her spunky little malti-poo, heard the barking too and came barking and yapping, hackles raised, into the living room, looking at her owner expectantly.
Frowning, she put down her book and slipped on a pair of well-worn tennis shoes and a hooded sweatshirt, charging toward the stairs. She wondered how Toffee could’ve possibly gotten out. No one had been in or out of the owner’s wing since just after dinner. When she heard the barking cut off by what sounded like a pained shriek, she sprinted for the back door that would take her down the path to the beach.
Out of breath when she reached the sand, Missy stopped to listen, and heard a soft whimper that sounded like it was coming from a clump of sea grasses that was several yards away. It was difficult to see in the dark, and she’d run out of the house so quickly that she hadn’t thought to stop for a flashlight, but the thought of her beloved golden girl lying in the bushes, hurting, propelled her forward, letting her ears guide her.
“Toffee?” she called out, completely unaware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. Hearing nothing, she called out again and heard another pained shriek from the dog. Zeroing in on the sound, she ran toward the bushes, getting close enough to hear the grasses shifting under the weight of the dog.
“Toffee?” she said, moving toward the bushes. Before she could reach her hand out to part the grasses, she was grabbed from behind, one leather-gloved hand clamping firmly over her mouth, the other securing her wrists behind her.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” a rough voice ordered, just before the world went black.
**
“Where’s Simon?” Grant growled at Ginny, not appreciating the fact that the female had come on her own. Up until now, he’d assumed that she didn’t know where the meeting spots were, that Simon had blindfolded her to maintain security until she’d proven herself.
“Said he was leaving town. I don’t know, not my problem,” her green eyes blazed with what Grant mistook for fervor for the cause.
“Well, it’s your problem now, sugar pie, cuz that means it’s just you and me securing the target. Carter is back at the compound, waiting for word from me, and we got a guy headed to the bar to cause a distraction who’ll take turns with you, watching our rich little prisoner, but you’re going to have to go in and lure her out so that I can get the job done,” Grant gave a sinister smile, which Ginny returned.
“Let’s go,” she said in a low voice.
**
The dark duo snuck up to the side of the Beach House where Missy and Chas lived in the owner’s quarters, with Grant hiding behind a group of tall palmettos, and Ginny slipping a long, flowing skirt on over her BDU pants and boots. With the skirt on, she could leave her gun in its thigh holster, rather than stashing it with Grant, which she refused to do. She’d also look more like the sweet, innocent girl that Melissa Beckett thought that she was, giving her a strategic advantage.
Heart pounding, she mounted the steps to the Inn, finding the door to the main foyer unlocked. Grant rustl
ed behind the palmettos and she sighed inwardly, shaking her head at his incompetence. She still didn’t know whether she was going to take Missy out the back way and save her, or lure her out front for Grant to do with as he pleased. Ginny wasn’t stupid, she knew from the new pickup truck that the leader drove, along with his private arsenal and ridiculous collection of technology, that no one but him stood to benefit from this venture, but she was afraid that if she didn’t help him, and he got caught, she’d be implicated when he sang like a canary under interrogation.
Bile at the back of her throat, the former Marine wished that she’d never met Simon, never run into his group of lunatic friends, and that she’d killed Grant when she had the chance. Now, to save her own skin, she had to follow through. What she’d do when Missy came to the door, she hadn’t yet decided.
She moved swiftly through the lobby and knocked softly on the door that separated the owner’s quarters from the main Inn. There was no answer, so, taking a chance, she rang the bell, knowing that it would be heard, even if the knock hadn’t been. The smaller of the woman’s two dogs was losing her mind inside the residence, but still no one answered the door. The detective was out, and would be for several hours while he responded to the distraction that was about to go down at the bar, and worked on the details surrounding her father’s murder, a thought which caused her stomach to lurch, so she tried the doorknob, surprised when it turned easily, and opened the door.
She knew how to secure a building, but didn’t want to scare Missy by barging in with a loaded gun, so she walked like she assumed a timid, shy woman would, checking out every room along her way, and occasionally kicking her booted foot toward the little dog nipping at her heels. She cleared the entire first floor and headed upstairs. There was soft music playing, and a lamp glowed warmly from the master bedroom, so she assumed that would be her best bet.
Peanut Brittle Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 25 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 3