by Carol Durand
Beckett’s mind was reeling. Why hadn’t Missy told him about her sister and Darryl Davis? She’d had the perfect opportunity at dinner, and had changed the subject instead. And how did Sherilyn die? Unfortunately, he’d have to table these new questions until his interview with Darryl’s sister was complete. He grilled her further, but received no information of any value, and finally sent her on her way, spraying a disinfectant room freshener after her departure.
Chapter 8
Missy quickly got out of her car, looking furtively about her to make certain that she wasn’t followed, and trotted quickly up the cement steps to the LaChance police department to fill Chas Beckett in on her encounter with Giacomo Andretti. She checked in with the clerk and made her way to Beckett’s desk. When he glanced up and saw her, instead of the welcoming smile that she expected, she was greeted with an icy glare.
“Chas?” she approached hesitantly.
“What can I do for you Ms. Gladstone?” he responded curtly, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
Missy was taken aback, they had parted on such good terms, and now it seemed that their lovely evening together had never happened. She had come to him today hoping for support and reassurance and was apparently going to receive neither.
“Umm…I really need to talk to you, it’s important,” she said quietly, puzzled at his behavior toward her.
“Well, isn’t that a coincidence,” he retorted sarcastically. “I have some things that I need to speak with you about as well, have a seat,” he indicated to the worn leather chair across from him.
“Is something wrong?” Missy asked, worried.
“You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with me in regard to your relationship to Darryl Davis have you?” Beckett got straight to the point.
“Of course I have,” Missy sputtered, confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve told you everything I know!”
“Everything?” the detective queried. “You want to rethink that?” he looked at her pointedly.
“Rethink what? I’m sorry Detective, I don’t understand what’s going on here, do you want to tell me what this is about, or are you just going to continue to vaguely accuse me of something and leave me in the dark?” she challenged.
Beckett sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head, never taking his eyes from hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Sherilyn?” he asked quietly.
Missy dropped her gaze, shoulders slumping. “I did tell you about her, there was nothing more to say,” she offered lamely. Her words sounded hollow even in her own ears.
“Really?” he threw out sardonically. “You didn’t think the fact that Darryl Davis essentially stalked your sister might turn out to be somewhat relevant to this case?”
“How could it be? My sister has been deceased for years,” her eyes filled with tears as the wounds that she’d tried so hard to keep closed reopened, the pain as fresh as if it happened yesterday. Her sister was all she had left in the world and one day she was just…gone. Forever.
“And that was another detail that you neglected to mention. Your sister died under suspicious circumstances, a suspect was never named and I’m supposed to believe that it never crossed your mind that Darryl Davis should have been named as at least a person of interest in the case?”
Missy shook her head vehemently. “You know very well that there was no love lost between me and Darryl Davis, but as much as I disliked him as a business rival, he was never anything but sweet to Sherilyn. I don’t believe for a second that he had anything to do with her death. The police eventually reported that it was accidental, and I’ve lived every day since believing that. No, Darryl may have been unscrupulous in business, but he didn’t kill my little Sheri.” She twisted her hands in her lap, biting down on her lip to keep from breaking down in front of the man whom she had come to admire, who was now looking at her as though her words were not to be trusted.
Beckett ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Once again, his gut told him that Missy was innocent of any wrongdoing, despite what seemed to be a pretty damning omission in her statement, but he had no other prime suspects and the case was growing colder by the day. He’d be putting in some late hours this week, but then, that was the norm for him. His pleasant interlude with Missy at the steakhouse had been a mistake. For a moment he had allowed his personal feelings to cloud his judgment – that wouldn’t be the case from now on. He would be strictly businesslike with this beautiful blonde person of interest.
“You said that you had something important to talk about,” he said somewhat wearily, picking up his pen.
Chapter 9
Missy drove home in a daze, her thoughts far away. She hadn’t thought about the details of Sheri’s death in years. The reality of it was just too painful. Her sister had died of head injuries that appeared as though they were deliberate, but in the end were ruled as being accidental because no good explanation could be found as to how she suffered them. Her sister Sherilyn was a quiet, bookish girl who laughed easily and was a friend to everyone. The only reason that Darryl Davis thought he had a chance with her was because she was as kind to him as she was to everyone else and he read more meaning into her polite smiles and conversation than he should have. That he was bewitched by her lovely face and pleasant manner was no surprise, she had more than her share of wanna-be suitors, but preferred to spend most of her time alone with her music and her books, lost in world of her own where parents don’t die prematurely, sisters don’t take on the role of parenting, and life is simple and beautiful. The thought of hurting anyone caused Sheri great distress and she grieved for young Darryl Davis, knowing that her refusals were causing him pain, but unable to become involved in a close relationship with anyone aside from her beloved older sis.
Missy’s melancholy clung to her like a dark cloud, and she trudged to the mailbox in front of her house not even noticing that the letter flap had been left open. Finding it empty, she made her way up the front steps, eager to bury her face in the silky fur of her loyal friend. When she stepped into the foyer, she immediately knew that something was wrong, her senses becoming instantly aware of several things simultaneously.
Toffee had an accident in the front hall, as evidenced by a large pool of urine, and the happy animal who typically greeted her at the door, was nowhere to be seen. There was a faint smell in the air that she recognized…fear. Animals put out a definitive odor when they are in a state of fear or distress and Toffee was no exception.
Heart in her throat, Missy called out softly, “Toffee? Where are you, girl? Toffee?” She was just beginning to panic when she heard a soft whine from the kitchen, and ran to see what had happened. Toffee was huddled in the corner, under a table, peering out warily, trembling. Her tail thumped twice when Missy held out her hand to the frightened animal, beckoning her to come out. The terrified retriever belly-crawled out to Missy, laying her tawny head in her lap.
“What is it, girl? Why are you so scared?” Missy cooed to her faithful friend, frightened herself.
The dog sat up and looked at her owner, then at the back door, then at her owner and back at the door again. Missy followed the dog’s gaze and her breath caught in her throat – the door was ajar. She never left the house without locking both the front and back doors, particularly now that there was potentially a madman on the loose. She was rooted in place, not knowing whether or not to move quickly to lock the back door, or whether there might still be someone in the house. Fearing for her safety and Toffee’s, Missy sprang into action, tiptoeing across the kitchen to grab Toffee’s leash, then snapping it on the still-trembling animal’s collar and practically sprinting out the front door with her. Locking herself and the traumatized animal safely in her car, she dialed Chas’ number with shaking fingers.
Missy stayed in the car attempting to soothe Toffee, while keeping a lid on her own rising panic and waited for Chas and two more patrol cars to show up. She had kept her eyes glued on
the house, and from her vantage point, had seen no one leave through either the front or the back door, which meant that either they were long gone before she arrived, or they were still inside the house. Chas and the four patrol officers approached the house, hands on their weapons, but not drawing any attention to the residence from curious neighbors, per Missy’s request. Two officers stayed outside to secure a perimeter around the house, while Chas and the other two went inside, where they stayed for what seemed to Missy to be forever.
Chas approached her car to give her an update. “We dusted the doorknob for prints, but whoever touched it last wiped it clean.” Immediately Missy thought of how Giacomo Andretti had grabbed a kitchen towel before exiting out the back door of the cupcake shop after their encounter, and mentioned the parallel to the detective. He responded that they would check it out, and that after exploring every nook and cranny of her sizable residence, they had found no evidence of an intruder, aside from some potato chip crumbs on the table in the kitchen. Missy had given up eating potato chips several decades ago and told him so. Nodding thoughtfully, Chas let her know that they had taken the crumbs as evidence and that he would let her know what they found out. Missy made the spontaneous decision that she would be traveling to another city this evening to stay in a hotel and Chas accompanied her into the house while she cleaned up the evidence of Toffee’s accident, packed a light bag and some basic supplies for her beloved pet. Beckett was stationing a patrol car in the area, where they could observe the residence without being detected, and assured her that he would call if anything happened, counseling her to relax and get a good night’s sleep. At this rate, she didn’t know if she’d ever sleep again.
Chapter 10
Ben looked at his boss with consternation. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she clung to her coffee mug as though her life depended upon it, staring vacantly into space.
“Hey Ms. G.,” the concerned young man began. “If you want to take a few hours to go home and sleep or something, I can handle things here,” he offered, somewhat alarmed when she didn’t respond.
“Ms. G.?” he prompted, a bit louder this time, causing Missy to come out of her reverie a bit.
“I’m sorry Ben,” she ran a weary hand over her forehead. “Did you say something?”
He had never seen her so exhausted. His boss was a woman of action, when something was bothering her, she figured out a way to solve the problem, that’s just who she was. Seeing her like this was making him gravely concerned for her health and well-being.
“I just…I said that I think you should go home and sleep and I’ll take care of things here,” he urged. Missy smiled at her kind-hearted assistant.
“Thanks for the offer Ben, but I’m not having much luck sleeping at home lately. Ever since I found out that someone had been in there, I’ve felt…I don’t know…watched…violated. My personal space was invaded. They scared my baby girl,” her voice broke a bit when she thought about how scared Toffee had been.
“Well, I understand how that could happen, but…isn’t there someone who would let you crash on their couch for a bit or something?” he tried desperately to think of solutions that would help this poor, suffering woman.
“It’s okay, Ben, really. It doesn’t matter where I am or who I’m with these days, I’m not going to be able to rest until I get some answers. Someone is trying to send me a message and eventually we’ll find out what it all means,” she sighed, dropping her head down on her arms in exhaustion. “I really feel safest when I’m here,” she mumbled. Ben awkwardly patted her on the arm in his innocent attempt to comfort her, and heard her snore softly.
“Well, at least she’ll finally be getting some sleep,” he remarked to himself, going back to his tasks.
Chapter 11
“What do you mean Andretti is in the clear?” Missy demanded, sitting in the uncomfortable leather chair across from Chas Beckett.
“He has airtight alibis for both events. There’s no way he could have been at Darryl’s on the night of his murder or at your house on the night of the break-in,” Chas asserted gently. “He provided video evidence.”
“But…how? Was it authenticated? If it wasn’t Andretti, who on earth was in my house, and who killed Darryl? It just doesn’t make sense,” Missy shook her head in dismay.
“Yes, the videos were authenticated, it’s a dead end, we need to find someone else with the motive to do what they did, assuming that the two events are even related,” he mused.
“Of course they’re related,” she insisted. “There’s no way that Darryl’s death and someone suddenly stalking me could be a coincidence. Oh Chas, what am I going to do?” Missy lowered her face into her hands, finally giving in to the tears that had been threatening since the whole horrible mess had begun.
Beckett observed her, torn. One part of him thought that it would be all too easy for her to try to throw him off her trail by distracting him with supposed break-ins, but the other part of him, the way-down-deep-inside part of him that was rarely (if ever) wrong, felt that she was as much of a victim as Darryl was, although not quite as finally…yet. But he was frustrated by the lack of leads and evidence in the case. He vowed to leave no stone unturned until it was solved, and if that meant having to convict the sweet, lovely woman who sat sobbing in front of him, so be it.
Missy was frustrated, with herself for breaking down in front of anyone, but particularly Chas Beckett, and with her situation. She couldn’t understand why it was taking so long for the police to find Darryl Davis’ killer, and she had an eerie feeling that she just might be the next victim. She hated going home these days, there was a pervasive chill in the stately house that had nothing to do with the thermostat setting. Toffee seemed to have recovered entirely from her strange encounter with an intruder, but Missy noted that the animal seemed more vigilant than usual, pacing up and down in front of the windows and sometimes fixating on particular spots in the darkness beyond. As a precaution, she had disposed of the dog’s food and replaced it with new – she couldn’t bear the thought that someone just might be evil enough to try to poison her furry friend. She changed the locks on all of her doors, had expensive deadbolts installed, and put guard bars in her windows.
Yet, even with all of the precautions, she still jumped at every sound, investigated every shadow, and hardly slept at all. Her fears were taking a toll on her health. Her face was pale, with deep shadows under her eyes that no amount of concealer could hide, so she didn’t even bother to try, and she hadn’t been able to force herself to eat an entire meal since the incident. She nibbled delicately and scraped the majority of her meals into the garbage disposal. Weight loss made her look a bit gaunt, and her clothes were starting to hang loosely.
She could have taken the sleeping pills that dear Doc Wiley had provided when she complained about her insomnia, but the nagging fear that something would happen that would require her to have her wits about her, prevented her from seeking pharmaceutical relief.
Knowing that she desperately needed some rest, she made herself a cup of chamomile tea, just like her grandmother used to make, while she ran a bath with lavender crystals that the woman at the health food store assured her were supposed to induce sleep. At this point she was willing to try anything to get some rest. Her teakettle whistled merrily, and the happy sound took her back to simpler days. Pouring the steaming water into her cup to brew, she wished that life had taken a different path. She missed her parents and her sister still. Time had eased the pain, but certainly hadn’t eliminated it. She wondered if staying single all these years so that she could focus on keeping the family business alive had been a mistake. Going through recent events would have been much easier with someone strong, capable and loving by her side.
Chas Beckett’s handsome face popped into her mind and she forcibly dismissed the thought of him. She thought they had shared a special time together, and had enjoyed seeing the softer, more personable side of the taciturn detective, but now he look
ed at her as a possible murderer. How on earth could he believe something like that after spending time getting to know her? Well, it’s not like it mattered anyway, he wasn’t looking for a relationship and neither was she. Going solo might be lonely, but the intricacies and difficulties of relationships could be more painful than the pangs of loneliness, so she had probably been right to avoid the whole emotional mess – it was safer, in a manner of speaking.
Shaking herself from her reverie, she dunked her teabag up and down several times, squeezed it out and headed for the bathroom with Toffee at her heels. She waited until the adoring canine settled herself on the bathmat in front of the sink, then locked the two of them in. She wasn’t letting the dog out of her sight whenever she was home, just as a precaution.
She sank back into the delicately scented warmth of the bath and drew in a deep breath. The water felt wonderful, and she felt some of her stress melting away. Missy sipped her tea, savoring the familiar taste of home and family, then tipped her head back and closed her eyes, relaxing a bit. She was luxuriating in the feeling of finally being warm and somewhat sleepy when her cell phone buzzed from its spot on the countertop. Sighing, Missy decided not to jump up from her watery retreat to run across the cold porcelain floor to answer it. Whatever it was could wait, she reasoned, and if it was important, the caller could leave a message. She was exhausted and refused to deal with anything (or anyone) else for the rest of the day. Lingering in her bath for nearly half an hour (and adding hot water periodically to keep it soothing and warm), Missy noted that the chamomile tea and lavender crystals seemed to be having their intended effect, as her eyes drooped heavily. Rising slowly out of the healing waters, she padded over to the towel bar and wrapped the large, fluffy bath blanket around herself. She glanced at her phone and saw that Ben was the mystery caller, and that he had indeed left a message. She yawned hugely and decided to listen to his voicemail tomorrow. Sleep was fast approaching and she was going to take full advantage of the opportunity.