Rosarita was in the process of boxing up all of Clara’s things.
“Wow, I’m impressed,” her sarcasm was acidic. “Did they teach those brilliant powers of deduction at the police academy? Rosarita, stop standing there with your mouth open and get back to work,” she snapped.
“Don’t move,” Chas held up a hand to the maid, who froze in place. “Mrs. Wilkins, you have entered a crime scene that is still being processed. Technically, I could arrest you for that, but I’d rather just take you down to the station of your own accord so that we can have a little chat. Which is it going to be?”
“I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with here, but I own this house and will come and go as I please. I have no intention of going anywhere with you, and if you don’t leave this house this instant, you’ll be hearing from my attorney,” Sharlene replied imperiously.
“So, I’m going to have to arrest you then?” Chas stood his ground, unflinching in the face of her verbal assault.
The unpleasant woman faltered a moment, not accustomed to having no effect on someone whom she was berating.
“Rosarita, go home. I’ll text you when I need you,” she ordered.
The frightened maid scurried from the room.
“We can sit in the living room for a moment so that you can ask your stupid questions,” Sharlene growled, avoiding the detective’s eyes.
Chas had had enough.
“I am not conducting an interview in a compromised crime scene. Either you come to the station with me of your own free will, or I’ll place you under arrest and take you there,” he directed mildly, his stunning blue eyes chips of pure ice.
Sharlene’s face flushed red in her fury, and her jaw clenched, but she agreed to go with the detective.
***
“Madge, over at the Berkshire, said that Sharlene checked in the day before her mother was murdered. She’s in town alone, and as far as anyone at the hotel could tell, she didn’t leave her room until the night of the murder,” Kel confided as he, Missy, and Echo indulged in cupcakes and coffee at Missy’s shop.
“How do they know that?” Echo asked.
“Because they have a keyless entry that tracks whenever a guest comes in or goes out. There’s a list for every room.”
“Wow… a daughter killing her own mother? How could anyone do that?” Missy shook her head, horrified.
“Well, we don’t know that she did, but it’s no secret around town that Sharlene and Clara weren’t exactly the best of friends,” the artist replied, sipping his coffee.
“Really, why?” Missy leaned forward, her curiosity piqued.
“Well, for one thing, Sharlene made a big stink when Clara had paperwork drawn up—a few years ago, when Walter first started showing signs of dementia—giving Clara controlling interest in the company if he couldn’t function. Apparently the young woman had grand ambitions without the intellect or talent to follow through. Her mother and father recognized that, and Walter signed off on Clara’s plan, leaving Sharlene with a nice inheritance eventually, but nothing more than a token interest in the business,” Kel explained.
“How did you find all that out?” Echo asked, impressed with her fiancé.
“Warren Metzler and I go to the same gym. We were walking on treadmills side by side yesterday, and somehow… it just came up,” the artist grinned like the fabled canary-eating cat.
“You’re a wily one,” Missy commented. “I’m glad you use your powers for good,” she chuckled. “I still can’t get past the thought of a daughter killing her mother though, that’s beyond awful. Do you think that maybe Warren just told you that to throw the focus off of himself?”
“It’s certainly a possibility, and frankly, I’m baffled at this point. There are three people who would each stand to benefit from the death of Clara Schenkman, and I have no gut feeling as to which one did it. Sharlene has been harassing the board with her attorney, attempting a hostile takeover of the business; Warren received controlling interest when Clara died, and had expressed great concern over the way that she was mishandling the business; and Mel Chandler had plenty of motivation to remove her from the situation. All three have motives for murder,” he sighed, selecting a strawberry cream cupcake from the tray in the middle of the table.
“Then maybe we should look at who had access,” Echo murmured. Kel and Missy looked at her. “I mean, think about it… she was killed in her own bed. The only person who would have logically been in Clara Schenkman’s home after she was already in her nightie and in bed, would be her daughter. The newspaper said that there was no sign of forced entry, which means that Clara opened her door to her killer, which she wouldn’t do at night unless it was someone she knew and trusted. That kind of points to Sharlene,” she shrugged.
“Good thinking,” Kel nodded.
“Should I text Chas?” Missy asked.
“My dear, from what I know of your clever husband, he’s probably building a solid case against her as we speak.”
***
Chas Beckett was thoroughly frustrated with Sharlene Schenkman-Wilkins. She’d come to the station with him, oozing contempt; when they’d arrived, she refused to answer any questions, stating that she’d say nothing without an attorney present. Her attorney, unfortunately, was tied up in court and couldn’t be reached. The detective finally ended up letting her leave, with a stern warning that she should plan on remaining in town until the investigation into her mother’s death was complete. He also ordered her to stay away from her parents’ house, but he doubted she would listen.
CHAPTER 14
When Dayne Baker approached the nurse’s station on Walter’s floor, the woman at the desk finally recognized her, after having seen her every day since Walter Schenkman moved in.
“He’s in his room,” she drawled, before Dayne could ask.
“Thank you,” was the cheerful reply, as she headed toward the tight confines of room 242.
Walter’s new room was a far cry from his suite at Havenwood, where he’d had his own living area, dining space, kitchenette, and private bath. This room looked like a converted hospital room. There was a bed along one wall, facing a suspended television, two chairs for guests, a bathroom, and a built-in cabinet which housed a dorm-sized refrigerator and a small microwave. Instead of plush carpet, there was vinyl underfoot, and the drapes at the window looked as though they’d come from a hotel in the 1980s.
The dignified man was sitting in one of the teal upholstered chairs, holding a book in his lap, staring at the pages, but seeing nothing. Dayne’s arrival startled him out of his reverie, and he closed the book, looked up and smiled, extending his hand toward his dear friend.
“Good morning, Walt,” she beamed at him. “How are you feeling today?”
She took his hand, hugged him around the neck and sat in the other teal chair.
“As good as can be expected, I suppose,” he said quietly, fully coherent.
“So, I guess you’ve heard by now,” Dayne’s heart went out to her friend.
“Yes, Nurse Lynette stopped by to visit and told me the news,” he nodded sadly.
Dayne blinked for a moment.
“Lynette? From Havenwood?” she asked, puzzled.
“Yep, that gal has been checking on me every day, from what she said. Of course, I only remember seeing her last night, when she told me about Clara.”
“Well… how sweet. I didn’t realize that you two were that close,” Dayne frowned.
“She took good care of me over there. Said she hated seeing me here. I get the impression that she thought Clara’s passing was a form of poetic justice,” Walter sighed.
“Really? Did she say something like that?”
“No, she never actually said anything, she was very respectful, but she and Clara had words every now and again—about what I was eating, or whether I needed a sweater, or how much exercise I was getting. Lynette was a real mama bear about such things,” he chuckled softly.
Dayne nodded
. “Yes, I had some of those conversations with Clara too,” she said quietly.
“I know, dear girl, and don’t think that I didn’t appreciate it. Some of the times when I seemed to be out of touch with reality, I was just powering down because I didn’t want to deal with what was going on around me,” Walt confessed, looking sad.
“I’ve always been here for you, sweetie, you know that,” Dayne patted his hand and let her hand linger on his.
“I do know that, and I’m thankful,” he turned his thin hand over and grasped hers, their eyes locking for a moment.
“Walter, I…” Dayne’s sentence was interrupted by the untimely arrival of Sharlene, who breezed in without knocking.
“Wow, Dayne, are you ever not around my father? I swear, every time I come to visit, you’re here. Can I have a moment, please?” she crossed her arms and tapped her foot, looking pointedly at the door.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Dayne, Precious. She’s family,” Walter rasped, sounding weaker than he had when Dayne had arrived.
Sharlene looked utterly offended.
“She’s not my family, but whatever. So, here’s the deal… Mother really screwed up your business while you’ve been on your little mental vacations or whatever…”
Dayne gasped in horror, staring at Sharlene as though she’d suddenly grown horns. Sharlene gave her father’s friend a cross-eyed look filled with contempt, then continued to ignore her.
“…and my attorney has drawn up the paperwork so that we can fix things up the right way and save your business,” she reached into her knockoff designer bag and pulled out a legal document, tossing it on her father’s lap.
“All you need to do is sign down at the bottom, and everything will be back on track,” she promised with a fake smile, trying to hand him a faux Montblanc pen.
Walter gazed at the pen, then up at his daughter.
“I’ll review it when I can,” he replied, steady as a rock.
“Daddy, this is not something that you want to be stubborn about,” Sharlene warned, as though talking to a child. “Every day that goes by, with the company in the state that Mother left it in, you stand a good chance of losing everything.”
“I don’t know what precisely you think I have left to lose at this point, but I don’t make decisions hastily. I said that I’ll review the papers, and I will… at my leisure,” he said firmly, in the voice of the CEO that he once was.
“Oh, right, at your leisure,” Sharlene mocked him. “For all we know, you could check out of reality five minutes from now and not come back for days. Just sign it, it’s not a big deal,” she ordered, thrusting the pen at him again.
“If it’s not a big deal, then it won’t be a problem letting it wait for a few days,” Walter returned mildly.
“Oh, come on!” Sharlene shouted, stomping her foot in frustration. “Look, Mother had documentation saying that you weren’t fit to make decisions. I’m sure it won’t be too hard for me to find and use that if I have to,” she threatened, her nostrils flaring.
“I think you’d better leave and go cool down, young lady,” Dayne stood, placing herself protectively between Walter and his daughter.
“You can’t tell me what to do, you bitter old hag. Just because you always wanted what my mother had, doesn’t mean that you get it now that she’s gone,” Sharlene’s eyes blazed.
“That’s enough, Sharlene Elizabeth,” Walter interrupted before the situation could escalate any further. “Leave the paperwork with me, and go settle yourself down. I’ll call you when I’ve looked it over and made my decision.”
“I don’t think so, Father. You’ve had your chance and you turned it down. I’m sorry that it has to go this way, but you won’t be hearing from me anymore, you’ll be hearing from my attorney.
Sharlene snatched the legal papers out of her father’s blue-veined hand and whirled toward the door with such force that she nearly collided with Warren Metzler, who had come to visit.
“And you…” she seethed at her father’s partner. “Don’t even get me started,” she snarled, flouncing from the room.
“Sharlene,” Warren nodded at the irate young woman. He looked at Walter, bemused.
“Is this a bad time?”
Walt held out his hand to his partner and friend.
“It’s never a bad time to see you, Warren.”
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone to chat,” Dayne squeezed Walter’s shoulder affectionately, and patted Warren on the arm on her way out.
“Quite a gal,” Metzler commented, staring after her.
“Indeed,” Walter nodded, looking wistful.
CHAPTER 15
Spencer was visibly on edge as he strolled down the beach beside Izzy, distracted and scanning the area around him as though he had lost something.
“Are you okay?” Izzy asked. “You’re acting weird, and since you’re one of the most stable people I know, that kind of freaks me out a bit,” she punched his bicep playfully.
“My life is… complicated…” he began.
“Oh geez, you’re married,” she stopped short and stared at him accusingly. “I should have known you were too good to be true. A guy like you… there’s no way that you’d be available, and even if you were, I wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in…”
Spencer stopped the flow of her nervous chatter by placing a gentle finger on her lips.
“I’m not married. I’ve never even been close to being married,” he assured her. “But I haven’t always been a handyman, either.”
Izzy regarded him quizzically, her head tilted to gaze up at him.
“Well, everyone has a past, even straight-arrow Marines,” she teased. “Nobody’s perfect, Spencer, and we’ve all done things that we’re not proud of, but… so what? Who you are is this sweet, sensitive, amazing person who makes me feel more comfortable than I’ve been around any other human,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, then let it go again.
“But, with me, it’s different,” he protested quietly. “My past…”
His sentence was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Seeing that it was Chas, he answered it, had a quick conversation, and hung up, stuffing the phone in his pocket.
“Bad news?” Izzy asked, seeing the intense look on Spencer’s face.
“There’s been an accident. I have to go,” he replied, searching her face as though he were trying to memorize it.
“Oh gosh, okay,” the author replied, slipping out of her flip-flops, grabbing him by the hand and running full-tilt toward the inn.
***
Spencer scanned the parking lot for the red Italian sports car before jogging out to the inn’s sedan. He plugged the coordinates that Chas had given him into his GPS and sped toward the location of the accident. The Marine’s heart sped up when he arrived at the scene and recognized Kel’s luxury sedan on the side of the road, the side of it crushed like a tin can.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he swerved onto the shoulder, turned off the engine, and sprinted toward the vehicle. Once he was within a few feet of the accident, he saw Echo and Kel standing on the other side of their car, looking down the embankment beyond them. It wasn’t a large drop, maybe four feet, but apparently the SUV that had hit them had gone over it and rolled with the momentum of the impact.
After embracing Echo in a fierce hug, and squeezing Kel’s shoulder, Spencer took a penlight from his back pocket and flashed it in their eyes, asking the couple questions as a quick neurological analysis. They patiently endured it, knowing that he meant well, but let him know that, although shaken up a bit, they were fine.
Once he’d determined that his friends had sustained no significant injuries, the Marine trotted down the short slope toward where the SUV had landed, some twenty feet away.
“Ambulance is on its way,” Chas called out as Spencer neared the vehicle.
The detective was crouched by the driver’s side.
“Occupants?” Spence
r asked.
“One. She had a seat belt on, so she didn’t get ejected, but I don’t want to move her until the EMT’s get here with the proper equipment. Looks like we may end up cutting out the metal around her to do an extraction.”
“Conscious?”
“No, but breathing. From what Kel said, she was following them way too closely, then a third car came up behind her and bumped into her vehicle. She crashed into Kel, who skidded, swerved and pulled over, and her SUV went over the embankment, flipped and rolled.”
Spencer gazed around in all directions. “Where’s the third car?” he asked.
“Good question. It was either a hit and run, or a deliberate act.”
“Any reason to think that it may have been deliberate?”
Chas nodded. “The identity of the passenger.”
“Who is she?”
“A woman who was being questioned in connection with the murder of her mother. Her name is Sharlene Schenkman. This accident seems a bit too coincidental to me,” the detective said grimly.
“Any idea who might have wanted to take out the mother and the daughter?”
As Chas opened his mouth to answer, the area was suddenly bathed in red, white, and blue revolving light. He waved the EMTs, firemen, and uniformed officers down to assess the situation, his conversation with Spencer tabled for the moment.
“Get Echo and Kel home, okay?” he asked, after directing the first responders to the vehicle.
“You got it,” Spencer nodded, and took off up the small hill.
***
Noting that the little red sports car still wasn’t in the parking lot when he returned to the inn, Spencer followed Echo and Kel inside, where Missy was waiting with Maggie to engulf them in hugs, tears, and cupcakes.
“Maggie, what happened to the guest who checked in?” he asked, taking the innkeeper aside.
“He said he was going out to play some golf this morning, and never came back, just texted and thanked me for the hospitality and said that he’d decided to explore the coast further south,” she shrugged.
That could mean one of two things. Either Steve had looked for Spencer and/or Janssen, and when he didn’t see them, had decided that they weren’t in the area, or, more likely… he wanted them to think that he had gone, when what he really was doing was lying in wait for them to drop their guard. The thought also crossed the Marine’s mind that Steve might have found Janssen and, satisfied with his work, left again.
Caramel Creme Killer: Book 3 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 5