Spencer frowned, confused. He knew that Chas wanted to fool Steve into thinking that he was a suspect so that he’d lay low and stay out of the way, but he never thought that the detective would go to this length. Steve’s apartment was trashed, as though someone had been searching for something, and instinctively, the Marine knew that Chas hadn’t done this.
“Wait here,” he said quietly, pulling Steve outside. “Let me make sure that whoever did this isn’t still in the house.”
For once, Steve did what he was told and stayed on the porch. Spencer moved through the house soundlessly, checking nooks, crannies, closet and other hiding places, and when he found nothing, he stood in Steve’s kitchen and texted Chas. When he received a quick response, he let Steve inside, and informed him that he’d be spending the night on his couch. Steve wouldn’t be going anywhere until Chas finished what he needed to do.
Chapter 17
Chas had just finished his breakfast when the lab tech that he’d given Paulette McCamish’s samples to called to let him know that the results were in.
“I’m on my way,” the detective replied, slipping his plate into the dishwasher and kissing his beautiful blonde wife on top of the head on his way out.
The envelope with Paulette’s results was waiting on his desk for Chas when he came in, and he flipped through the multi-page report quickly, the results confirming his suspicions. The detective headed to his car and exceeded the speed limit, on his way to arrest the suspect.
**
Spencer was on his feet and looking out the peephole the next morning, well before whoever stood on the other side of the door rang the bell. He recognized the man, so he opened the door, catching the look of surprise on Paul McCamish’s face.
“Hi. Uh…I’m Paul and I’m here to see Steve. Is he here?”
“What business do you have with him?” Spencer asked mildly.
Before Paulette’s brother could answer, Steve appeared behind the Marine.
“Whaddya want?” he bellowed, glaring at his ex-wife’s mild-mannered brother.
“Look,” he said quietly. “I’m not proud of my behavior at Paulette’s funeral, so I came over to apologize, and I was hoping that we might be able to talk a bit.”
Steve looked from Paul to Spencer, and when Spencer shrugged, he growled, “Fine, come in.”
“Thanks,” Paul replied with a hesitant smile. “I brought a peace offering,” he said, holding up a platter of decadent-looking chocolate chip cookies.
“My favorite,” Spencer took the platter before Steve could even reach for a cookie. “I’ll put these in the kitchen while I make breakfast, and we can have them afterwards.”
“What are you, my mother?” Steve grumbled, but flopped down on the couch when the Marine headed for the kitchen.
“They’re great with coffee,” Paul called after him.
Spencer reached the kitchen and sprang into action. He quickly texted Chas, then rattled some pots and pans to make it sound like he was preparing breakfast. Heading out to the living room, he heard Paul telling Steve about how much he missed his sister and how worried he was about his younger sibling, Fiona.
“I think she stole the ring, you know,” he confided to his former brother-in-law, who nodded knowingly.
“I thought that from the beginning,” Steve agreed. “She’s probably the one who trashed my place last night too.”
“Someone trashed your place?” Paul asked, looking around.
“Yeah, they did! I mean, it ain’t a palace or nothin, but it usually looks better than this,” the grungy homeowner was miffed.
Paulette’s brother nodded. “I thought so, I just didn’t want to say anything. Thought maybe you’d been upset and tore things up yourself.”
“Nope, wasn’t me. Was probably that Fiona,” Steve grumbled.
“Well, if it was, I’m sorry that you got mixed up in my family’s drama.”
“Thought I left that behind when I got divorced,” he barked a bitter laugh.
They both looked up when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Spencer offered.
“If you’re going to have company, I should probably get going,” Paul stood, heading for the back door.
“Don’t even try it,” Spencer warned, charging after him as Chas burst through the front door.
“What the heck is going on here?” Steve demanded.
“Paul is the one who killed Paulette,” the Marine replied, easily subduing the fleeing man. “And don’t even think about eating those cookies.”
Chapter 18
“My brother killed my sister,” Fiona announced, plopping down into the chair across the desk from Tim Eckels at the funeral home.
“Why?” the mortician asked, curious, but not surprised. It was always the quiet, unassuming ones who seemed to hide the darkest secrets.
“Because that’s what he does. The day she died, he was acting really strange when he came over for lunch. I thought that he was up to something, so after my shift was done, I picked the lock at the office that he has in a trailer on one of his job sites and found his journal.”
Tim stared at her, playing with the cap of a pen, waiting for her to continue.
“Turns out that she’s not the only one he killed.”
Now she had the mortician’s full attention.
“Oh?”
It said in his journal that he cut the brake lines in my mom’s car. That’s how she got into the accident that killed her. Everyone thought that she’d just fallen asleep or something, so they never investigated it. My dad missed her so much that he couldn’t take it and killed himself, so I guess his death is Paul’s fault too.”
“That’s a lot of death for one family,” Tim mused.
“That’s not even the worst of it,” Fiona replied woodenly, her dark eyes filling with tears. Tim was surprised at the show of emotion from the formidable lass across the desk, but he remained silent, hoping the moment would pass. It did.
“What’s the worst?” he asked finally, envisioning all sorts of gory scenarios that would give nightmares to even the staunchest among us.
“I was a twin too, and he drowned my brother Filip when we were five,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because Filip walked in on him when he was torturing the neighbor’s dog. He was afraid Filip would tell. He did tell. He told me. We told each other everything, and he knew he could tell me and that I wouldn’t go running to Mom and Dad. I kept his secret safe, but Paul didn’t want to take any chances, so he drowned him right in front of Paulette.”
“And he killed her because she knew about Filip,” Tim deduced.
Fiona nodded.
“She’d been getting money from him for years, and he wanted to cut her off, but when he told her that, she threatened to go to the police. It’s all in the journal.”
“Poison?”
“Yeah, his wife grows all kinds of plants and some of them are poisonous. She knew about everything, and gave Paulette a monkshood plant as a gift.”
“The purple plant in the corner of the dining room.”
“Yep. After I left for work, he asked Paulette to go grab his checkbook out of his car, and while she was gone, he tore up some of the plant and put it in her sandwich. The sick freak sat there and finished his sandwich after she died, then went to his office and wrote about it in his journal.”
“So, your brother is a serial killer.”
“Yeah, apparently he didn’t confine it just to our family. There are victims that he buried in the foundations of buildings and stuff,” she murmured.
“And you?”
“That’s not how I roll Timothy,” she met his gaze directly. “I may have stolen a few things now and then, but I’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t want me to.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” the mortician asked.
“One, because you’re probably the only person on the planet who can talk about death and poison and stuff without
freaking out and getting all weird about it, and two; because you need me.”
“I beg your pardon?” he blinked rapidly at the dark creature in front of him.
“You don’t have any more use for normal people than I do, but because of your work, you have to deal with them, and it’s awkward for you. I’ve watched you, you can’t tell me it’s not true,” she challenged.
“So?”
“So…I’m going to be your assistant. The nursing home is great and all, but they don’t pay me nearly enough to stay up all night long. I’m going to come to work for you, you’re going to pay me a salary, and you won’t have to deal with people anymore. You’ll be freed up to investigate bodies and take samples and make corpses beautiful. That’s what floats your boat and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Fiona replied matter-of-factly.
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Tim shook his head.
“Why?” she demanded. “You know that I’m more than capable of dealing with all of this grief and death stuff.”
“Because…I’m different, but you are too,” he blinked at her.
“Don’t you think that someone who’d be interested in a job like this would have to be a bit…different?” she raised her eyebrows.
“You scare people.”
“Oh.” Fiona was silent for a moment. “Well, what if your girlie-girl neighbor gives me a makeover?”
“Why would you want to change who you are?”
Fiona leaned forward. “Let’s get one thing straight Timmy…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine. Then, let’s get one thing straight, Timothy Eckels…How I wear my hair or makeup or clothes isn’t who I am, it’s just who people see on the surface, and I can show them any picture that makes them comfortable, get it?”
“More than you know,” the mortician nodded.
She pushed a pad of sticky notes toward him and handed him a pen. “Give me the neighbor’s name and number,” she directed. He did as he was told and handed the information back to her.
“I start Monday,” she said, pushing her chair back and leaving the office.
“Okay.”
Chapter 19
“I got the strangest phone call this morning,” Echo said, sitting at their favorite table in the cupcake shop, sipping her coffee.
“Really? From whom?” Missy asked, bringing a plate of Coconut Fluff cupcakes out.
“Remember Paulette’s kind of scary looking little sister? Apparently, she’s going to be working with my neighbor Tim at the mortuary, and he told her that she had to have a makeover before she could work with the public. She asked for my help, so we’re going to go shopping and to the hair salon. She managed to negotiate a wardrobe budget out of him.”
“Wow, that’s rather brutally honest, but I can see his point,” Missy admitted. “So when are you two going to do that?”
“In about an hour. I was hoping you’d join us.”
“I was hoping you’d ask me to,” she laughed. “Something tells me that this could be quite an experience.”
“I would imagine that this poor girl could use a couple of friends right about now,” Echo said, sobering. “I can’t even fathom what it must be like to be in her shoes.”
“I know, it’s so sad,” Missy agreed. “We’ll make it our mission to cheer her up.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Missy texted Spencer, so that he could cover her at Cupcakes in Paradise while she and Echo went shopping with Fiona, who arrived right on time, an hour later, dressed in a tattered t-shirt, jean shorts and Converse hi-tops. Missy and Echo exchanged a glance and squared their shoulders with determination. Not only would they shop, they’d make it fun. The three women headed for the nearest mall, on a quest to find clothing, shoes, accessories, new makeup and a more conservative hairstyle for the young woman.
Clothing was first on the agenda, and they found a good supply of elegant and feminine dresses, skirts, blouses and suits. Shoes were next, and the only issue was narrowing down the number of pairs that worked. Missy threw a number of accessories into Fiona’s basket, and then it was time for lunch.
“How do you do this? I’m exhausted,” Fiona complained, sipping her cola through a straw.
“It’ll be worth it when you put it all together. You’re going to look amazing,” Missy promised her.
“Looking good really does help you feel better,” Echo added.
“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, ladies, but I feel great looking this way. I’m only doing the makeover thing because Tim required it for the job,” the young woman shrugged.
“You do have a really creative look,” Echo smiled and nodded. “We can use that creativity in a more mainstream way so that you don’t yawn every time you look in the mirror.”
“Absolutely. You should feel pretty and comfortable,” Missy agreed.
“I’m all for that,” Fiona actually cracked a smile for a moment.
After lunch, the gals went to the makeup counter at a pricey department store, and let a technician work her magic. Fiona had removed all piercings, with the exception of two very traditional holes for earrings on her lobes. When the heavy eyeliner, mascara and black lipstick came off, it revealed a softly pretty young woman with large, expressive eyes and a delicate mouth. The tech applied a natural-looking makeup that only served to enhance the young woman’s inherent beauty, and Missy and Echo gasped at the reveal.
“Oh, honey, you look amazing!” Missy exclaimed, giving her a hug.
“Breathtaking,” Echo nodded her approval.
Fiona stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time, and when at last she lifted her gaze, there were tears in her eyes.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Missy asked.
“Nothing’s wrong, it’s completely right…I look like my mom.”
There wasn’t a dry eye near the makeup counter after that, and once tissues were handed out and eyes carefully dabbed, it was on to the salon for a haircut and color.
The slim stylist with a French accent ran his fingers through Fiona’s hair, clucking, shaking his head and talking to himself for at least five minutes.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Here’s what we gonna do…we gonna take away the black,” he seemed to suppress a shudder. “And we gonna make the most of thees a nice golden brown, and den we gonna put in dee blonde highlights,” he nodded, not asking permission, but merely stating fact.
“That’s basically the color I was born with,” Fiona shrugged.
“And den…we gonna make long bangs across here,” he drew an imaginary line over the top of her brows. “So we can see thee bootiful eyes. And we gonna cut dee layers around dee face…nice and soft, like so,” he caressed her cheeks with the back of both hands, making her laugh. “And we make you so bootiful,” he finished, hands on hips. “Yes?”
“Yes,” Fiona nodded, amused.
The skinny Frenchman was an absolute artist, and by the time he was done with Fiona, she looked like she had stepped directly out of the pages of a fashion magazine. He showed her the new look in the mirror, and tears sprung to her eyes once more.
“That settles it,” she said, smiling through her tears. “I’m officially my mom’s twin.”
“You’re beautiful,” Echo hugged her, with Missy next in line. “Let’s go get a cupcake.”
The three women walked into Cupcakes in Paradise just as Spencer was finishing up with a customer.
“Oh, hey Mrs. B, Echo,” he greeted them, then he caught sight of Fiona and stared, speechless.
“You’re the tough guy from the funeral, right?” she asked, walking over to where he stood behind the counter.
“I…uh…yeah, I mean…” the poor young man stammered, seemingly having lost the ability to form sentences. Missy and Echo exchanged a knowing look.
“I’m Fiona,” she said, holding out a slim, freshly manicured hand.
“Spencer,” he finally managed, shaking her
hand lightly.
“Well, Spencer, do you think you could give me a ride home with all of my stuff? It’d be a nightmare to have to take it on the bus, and my car is in the shop.”
“Uh, I just…I mean, umm…” he faltered again.
“Of course he can,” Missy rescued him, amused. “I’ll take over here, and you two can be on your way, but take some cupcakes for the road.
Fiona turned to Spencer again, thoroughly enjoying his reaction to her. “Mmmm…that sounds delicious. What’s your favorite kind, Spencer?” she asked, gazing down at the cupcakes in the display case.
“Chocolate,” he said, staring at her.
“Mine too,” she grinned at him, and he blushed to the roots of his hair.
Trying to recover, and nearly dropping the cupcakes in the process, he put four of them in a box and led Fiona out to his car, taking Missy’s keys so that he could get the bags and boxes from the shopping trip out of her trunk.
“I’ve never seen him act like that,” Missy mused with a grin.
“This is going to be interesting,” Echo crossed her arms, watching the two of them leave.
“Indeed.”
The two friends looked at each other and burst into delighted laughter.
Copyright 2016 Summer Prescott Books
All Rights Reserved.
A letter from the Author
To each and every one of my Amazing readers: I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think by leaving a review!
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Stay Curious,
Summer Prescott
White Chocolate Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 31 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 6