Marshmallow Creme Killer: Book 7 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series
Page 3
“Hmm?” he said, still rather dazed.
“We’ll be leaving for Monaco in the morning. You’ll want to let Mrs. Beckett know that you won’t be returning to Florida anytime soon,” he advised.
“Missy…is she…?” Chas sat bolt upright in the chair.
Spencer raised a placating hand. “She’s perfectly safe. We have operatives in place, but there’s been no need for concern there.”
Chas visibly relaxed, but concern furrowed his brow.
“Why are we going to Monaco? Just to find Reggie and bring him back?” the detective asked.
“No, Sir. We’re going to be using your brother to lead us to whomever is behind the attempt on Chalmers’ life,” the Marine replied gravely.
A knock sounded on the door of the study, and Janssen reflexively put a hand on the weapon that was nearly invisible under his suit jacket.
“Enter,” Spencer barked, his eyes on the door.
A massive young man in cargo pants and a tight t-shirt, armed to the teeth, entered the room, saw Chas, and nodded respectfully before addressing Spencer.
“He’s awake, sir,” was the announcement.
The three men immediately headed for the door.
CHAPTER 6
“I brought vegan lasagna for girl’s night,” Echo sang out, coming up the stairs in the Owner’s Quarters at the inn, where she and Missy would be watching movies in their pajamas, feasting on delicious food, and sharing a bottle of wine.
Toffee and Bitsy greeted Daimler and Benz with joyful snuffles and excited whimpers as the canine friends frolicked behind Echo while she made her way up the stairs, carrying her warming tent, the lasagna tucked safely inside. She also had an overnight bag slung over one shoulder.
“You guys be careful back there. I don’t want to take a tumble down the stairs with my masterpiece lasagna,” she called over her shoulder to the dogs, who ignored her completely, interested only in each other.
“Hey, darlin,” Missy greeted her best friend, looking a little glum.
“What’s wrong?” Echo asked immediately, setting the lasagna on the counter and putting her overnight bag on one of the barstools in the kitchen.
“Chas is going to be in New York a bit longer than we expected. Chalmers is doing a bit better now, thank goodness, but there is apparently some family business that needs to be attended to, so Chas will be getting together with his brother and Chalmers and taking care of things,” she shrugged.
“Are you going up there?”
Missy shook her head. “No. From the way Chas sounded, I think he needs this time to be with his family. He’s been away for so long, I’m just going to encourage him to make the most of his visit,” she said bravely.
“No matter how much you miss him,” Echo teased, giving her friend a hug. “Well, you’ve got me,” she grinned. “And I brought food and wine.”
“What more could I ask for?” Missy chuckled, feeling a bit better.
The two friends fixed platefuls of the healthy and delicious lasagna, poured glasses of wine, and took the plates and bottle with them to the living room, sitting on the couch to eat.
“Oh my goodness, Echo, this is amazing,” Missy marveled, appreciating the explosion of flavor when she took her first bite of the sumptuous dish. “What is in here?”
“Sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, fresh basil, zucchini…and I made the sauce from scratch,” she announced proudly.
“It’s delicious – savory and spicy. I had no idea that vegan lasagna would actually taste good,” Missy teased, digging in.
“Plant-eaters rule,” Echo pumped a fist in the air, making her friend giggle, which had been the goal. “So, have you heard back from Carla yet? I can’t wait to hear her ideas for my bookstore,” she asked, taking a large bite of her creation.
Missy told her the embarrassing story of her interaction with Carla’s house-sitter, and Echo frowned.
“I wonder where she went,” she mused. “Does she often have out of town clients?”
Missy thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, she usually doesn’t travel far enough to even have to stay overnight. She hates hotels. Maybe she’s on vacation,” she shrugged.
“But, I thought that I read something in the paper the other day about her being on the planning committee for the downtown revival project,” Echo said. “That’s part of why I’m so excited to have her input – she’s been working on the interiors of all of the major remodels that are going on in the downtown renewal phase.”
“Hmm…I guess it is a little weird that she’d leave for a vacation just when all of that is kicking into high gear,” Missy nodded.
“Did the house-sitter give you any idea of where she went or how long she’d be gone?”
“No, not a clue. Now that you mentioned her work on the committee, I’m starting to worry again. She’s always conscious of her public image…which makes it seem strange that she’d leave town right now,” Missy pursed her lips.
“Well, you could always call someone on the committee to see if they know anything. You are pretty darn good at ferreting out clues,” Echo pointed out.
“That’s a great idea,” she nodded. “I’ll do that, and I’m sure I’ll find out that I was worried about nothing.”
“Hopefully,” Echo agreed.
**
Missy and Echo finished off the bottle of Pinot Noir that Echo had brought, then fell asleep watching a romantic comedy, at opposite ends of the couch, sharing the same blanket. Both woke up a bit fuzzy-headed the next morning when the doorbell rang.
“Wha…?” Echo mumbled, reaching for her cell phone to see what time it was. “Did you hear something?”
Missy blinked blearily. “I must have heard something…it woke me up,” she yawned.
The doorbell rang again.
“Oh, that’s what it was,” Missy chuckled, rising from the couch and stretching. She still had on her yoga pants and t-shirt from the night before – they hadn’t had a chance to change into pajamas before they fell asleep, so she trotted down the stairs to answer the door, her hair mussed.
She opened the door to find a startlingly attractive young man with a crewcut smiling politely.
“Oh, hello,” Missy blinked at the young man, her sleep-clouded brain unable to come up with anything to say.
“Hello, Mrs. Beckett. I’m sorry if I woke you,” he replied easily.
“No worries, my dogs will be appreciative, I’m sure,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Patrick Wellsley,” he stuck out his hand and she shook it. “Spencer asked me to fill in for him here while he tends to some family matters, so I wanted to introduce myself.”
“Spencer? Is he okay? Is his family okay?” Missy’s concern snapped her out of her morning fog.
“Yes Ma’am, he’s fine. He just needs a bit of time and didn’t want to leave you without backup here at the inn and at your cupcake shop,” Patrick assured her.
“How thoughtful,” she smiled fondly, thinking that it was so typical of Spencer to always be thinking of others. “Thank you, Patrick.”
“Just call me Paddy,” he grinned. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am. I’m going to head over and help Maggie get breakfast ready for the guests.”
“You’ve met Maggie?”
“Yes, Ma’am, she briefed me on Spencer’s tasks when I came in this morning.”
Missy blinked at him again for a moment. “Oh. Well…that’s great,” she smiled, impressed. “Have a good day, and don’t hesitate to text me if you need anything.”
“I will, Ma’am, thank you.”
Missy shut the door and turned to go back up the stairs, only to find Echo standing close behind her.
“Who was that hunk of an Irishman?” she grinned.
“Spencer’s stand-in apparently,” Missy chuckled. “Even when he’s not here, he gets the job done. That man is unbelievable.”
“Yes, he is, but can Mr. Paddy dip candles?�
� she joked.
“I bet he’d learn if you asked him nicely,” Missy shot back. “Let’s go get the furries and take them for a walk on the beach. We’re up early, so we can take our time getting back.”
CHAPTER 7
The limousine driver wore dark sunglasses and spoke little as he chauffeured Chas and Spencer to the airport, bypassing the general parking lot and swinging the classic Rolls Royce onto the tarmac, where the Beckett jet awaited. Chas generally eschewed all symbols of his family’s wealth, but it was faster and far more comfortable and discreet to use the airplane, rather than taking a commercial flight. The pilot had been hand-selected by Chalmers years ago, and was a loyal staff member, as was the flight attendant.
Spencer gestured for Chas to board the plane, while he supervised the luggage being loaded, and the detective was settled into his recliner, bottle of water in hand, when the Marine boarded. Glad for the long hours that they’d spend getting to Monaco, because it would give them a chance to talk, Chas waited until they were at cruising altitude before asking the questions that had been nagging at him since he’d arrived in New York and saw his handyman at his family’s home.
“Alright, Spencer, out with it. I’ve always known that there’s something different about you, but I figured if you wanted me to know about it, you’d say something. Now you have some explaining to do,” Chas said mildly, accepting the cocktail that the attendant offered on a silver tray.
Spencer declined the other Manhattan that was on the tray, asking for a tomato juice instead.
“It’s a rather long story, Sir, and we were hoping that you’d never have to know,” the Marine began.
“We,” Chas interrupted. “Let’s start there...when you say, ‘we,’ who are you talking about, precisely? All this time I thought you were working for me - that you were a random veteran whom Maggie hired, who just happened to be skilled in all kinds of things – but, you’re not just working for me, and you’re not even close to being just a handyman, are you?” the detective asked, sipping more lightly at the cocktail than he wanted to.
“No, Sir,” Spencer met his gaze evenly.
“Elaborate, please,” Chas settled back in his chair, feet up, and placed his drink next to the bottle of water, on the built-in table, beside the recliner.
He was here for the long haul, so he figured that he might as well get comfortable. Spencer remained sitting upright, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, the posture revealing a glimpse of his silk socks, which cost more than a week’s worth of groceries.
“Chalmers has worked for your family for a very long time…” he began.
“Of course he has, he was my father’s manservant since before I was born,” the detective nodded.
“No one other than your father and a handful of people knew it, but Chalmers was much more than a manservant, Sir.”
“Stop calling me sir. I’m Chas back in Florida, and I’m Chas here. I know my family stands on formality and protocol, but I’ve always thought of you as an equal, so I expect you to treat me like one,” he said lightly.
“Sorry, I revert back into familiar patterns in certain situations, Sir – er, Chas,” Spencer smiled briefly.
“So, tell me more about Chalmers.”
“As you might be aware, his mother was Native American,” the Marine raised his eyebrows, and Chas nodded to indicate that, yes, he had known.
“Well, what most people don’t know is that Chalmers’ father, Cambridge, was from a very wealthy family. He was disowned when he married Chalmers’ mother.”
Chas was surprised. “I had no idea.”
“Good. That’s something that should be kept quiet. Cambridge discarded the family name when he was disowned, and took on a new name. Since he’d been raised in privilege, he had connections with some very…influential people. People who thought that his father was an idiot for disowning his very clever and capable son. In a wonderfully ironic twist of fate, Cambridge wound up having far more access to the halls of power than his elitist father did, and raised his son, Chalmers, in the manner in which he’d been brought up. Chalmers learned impeccable etiquette and protocol, and went to the finest schools. His wealthy and bigoted grandfather never knew it, which made it much easier to rub elbows with the rich and powerful.”
“I’m astounded,” Chas shook his head. “I thought the aristocratic bearing that he has came from being the son of a servant whose employers were upper echelon.”
“That’s exactly what you and everyone else was supposed to think,” Spencer nodded.
“But…why?”
“Because there are things that you don’t know about your father that made it necessary for him to have extremely tight security around him.”
“And Chalmers…?”
“Was also more than he seemed,” the Marine finished for him. “When he was young, he was placed in a very…special program,” he explained carefully. “He received specialized training in all manner of things, in preparation for the day that he’d be called into service.”
“As my father’s manservant?” the detective blinked, the surreal feeling returning.
“In a manner of speaking. When your grandfather passed, and your father became the head of all things Beckett, a tremendous amount of responsibility was laid at his feet. Responsibility that carried with it a degree of…risk.”
Chas sighed, took a larger than normal sip of his Manhattan, and stared at the young man in front of him. “I don’t get it, Spence. Were my father and grandfather involved in government intrigue or something?”
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Sir,” the Marine answered earnestly.
Chas felt a chill raise the hairs on the back of his neck, in the face of Spencer’s quiet assertion.
“Chalmers wasn’t the only one protecting your father, he was merely in charge of the others. No matter where your father went, no matter what he was doing, there were eyes on him at all times. His safety was important for so many reasons, as is yours.”
“Do you mean to tell me that there is a network of people keeping an eye on me?” Chas raised an eyebrow.
“There has been your entire life,” Spencer nodded.
“That’s mildly insulting,” the detective mused. “And this network, you’re a part of it? I thought you were a Marine?”
“I was in a special program in the Marines. That’s where Chalmers found me.”
Chas lowered the foot rest on his recliner, sat up straight and buried his head in his hands, laughing in disbelief.
“Mild-mannered, dependable Chalmers, a man of international intrigue and leader of a cadre of bodyguards,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“I don’t know that you’re understanding the gravity of…” Spencer began, puzzled by the detective’s odd reaction.
“No, Spencer, I do not understand. Why don’t you explain it to me?” he snapped. “Is your name even Spencer?”
The Marine just looked at him, not saying a word.
“That’s what I thought,” Chas sighed. “Alright, start from the beginning, whoever you are.”
“Your father’s business interests have a global reach, and, as appointed overseer, you are a valuable asset that must be protected. The same is true for your brother and sister, though to a much lesser degree.”
“I left my father’s business behind a long time ago. He was more than disappointed in me for having done so,” the detective said quietly.
Spencer nodded. “But he knew that you’d be a target, whether you were actively working in Beckett ventures or not, so he made provisions for your safety.”
“So what’s going on with Reginald in Monaco?”
“We’re not sure yet. When we get there, we have to find your brother and then determine who he’s been talking to and what he’s been saying. He either ticked off the wrong person, or made promises that he couldn’t possibly keep, from a business standpoint.”
“How much control does he have over the businesses?”
“And all this time, I had no idea,” the detective shook his head in wonder. “Who do you think has it out for Reggie?”
The Marine took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There are a few possibilities. We’re focusing for now on an organization in Brazil, and one in Dubai.”
“Brazil and Dubai?” Chas’s eyebrows rose. “I’m going to want more details, Spence.”
“As soon as I know, you’ll know,” the Marine promised.
CHAPTER 8
“Good morning, Deborah,” Missy greeted the Mayor’s secretary cheerfully over the phone. “It’s Melissa Gladstone Beckett, how are you today?”
“I’m just fine, Mrs. Beckett, how are you?”
“Doing just great, darlin, thanks. I hate to be a bother, but is Mr. Mayor in today? I just need to ask him a quick question,” Missy held her breath, hoping that he’d be available. The Mayor kept his finger firmly on the pulse of the community. He knew everyone, and since Carla was on one of his committees, particularly the downtown revitalization one – that was a pet project of his - he’d certainly know whether or not she’d gone on vacation.
“Oh sure, hold on just a second. I’ll check and see if he’s free,” Deborah replied.
Missy waited, tapping the eraser of her pencil on the notebook in front of her.
“Missy? What can I do for you, my dear?” the Mayor’s voice came over the line a few seconds later.
“Hey – thanks for taking my call. I don’t want to bug you, but I just have a quick question if you don’t mind.”
“I always have a moment for the lovely wife of Calgon’s finest detective. What is it that you’re wondering about?” he asked pleasantly.
“My friend, Carla Mayhew, is on your committee for the downtown revitalization project, and I…” she began.
“Oh, yes of course, and you want to volunteer to be on the committee?” the Mayor interrupted.