“Hi Steve,” she greeted the man wearily, before she saw his wild-eyed state. “Oh my…is something wrong?” she asked, a bit frightened about his seeming lack of mental stability.
“The little weasel outran me,” he huffed, bending over and putting his hands on his knees, wheezing in an alarming manner.
“You were chasing someone, Steve? What’s going on here?”
He raised a finger to indicate that he might recover in a minute, and concentrated on his breathing.
“Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?” Echo worried.
“I heard some bangin’ around, and stuff breakin’ and I came out on my porch to have a look. I saw the little bugger comin’ out the house, and I tried to chase him down,” the neighbor huffed, sweat trickling down his puffy, reddened face in rivulets.
“A burglar? Was there someone in your house? Should I call the police?” she asked, alarmed.
Steve shook his head. “Not my house…your house,” he wheezed.
The color drained from Echo’s face. “There was someone in my house?” she whispered, terrified.
“Yeah,” he made a choking sound, clutched his chest and fell to the ground, unconscious.
**
“Roberts, what exactly is going on here? My desk phone is lit up like a Christmas tree and I asked not to be disturbed,” Detective Chas Beckett spoke sternly to the desk sergeant.
“Sorry, Detective. Thought you’d want to know that there’s been a rash of vandalism and home invasion today,” Roberts shrugged.
“Why would I want to know that?” Chas raised an eyebrow.
“Every victim of the vandalism is connected to you in some way, Beckett.”
**
Spencer Bengal was replacing an outdoor faucet that was attached to the side of the pool house, when his cat, Moose, bounded over and began twining through his legs, purring. The Marine stood up straight, looking toward the Inn, knowing that if Moose was out, it could only mean one thing…someone had tried to enter his apartment. He jogged to the back of the Inn, every fiber of his being on high alert. He listened for any telltale sounds, and the banging that he expected was soon detected.
With his back to the rear wall of the Inn, he crept closer to the corner and slipped around to the side of the building, where his apartment was located. As he inched closer, he could hear the muffled sound of the intruder trying to free himself. He lifted the pant leg of his khakis and pulled his knife from its sheath, never taking his eyes off of the apartment door. Now that he was closer, he could hear the frantic breaths being taken by the intruder as he tried to escape, he could smell the fear in his sweat.
Being trapped like an animal in a cage evoked a fear response so profound and so primitive in humans that it could actually prevent coherent thought. The more effectively a human being was restrained, the more panicked they became. Unless of course they had been trained to stifle and dismiss their fear response. Spencer’s talent and training came back as easily as if he’d never made the return to civilian life. He moved without sound, he saw, heard and smelled without distraction, and he operated with perfect clarity and no fear.
Placing his knife between his teeth so that he would have the use of both hands, should he need them, the Marine moved like a panther toward its prey, dark and menacing. The unfortunate intruder who had dared to enter his realm, was about to experience a reality unlike anything he’d ever known.
Chapter 15
“Where are you?” Chas asked urgently, when his wife picked up the phone.
“I’m with Maggie at the Inn, frosting cupcakes…why?” she asked, alarmed at her husband’s tone.
“You need to lock every door and window and stay put. Have you seen Spencer?”
“Not since this afternoon. He was going to take care of some outdoor plumbing and maintenance today. Why?” Missy was beginning to feel fear curling up and down her spine.
“See if you can get him to respond via phone or text. I’ve been trying to reach him and he’s not answering.”
“You don’t think something happened to him, do you?”
“Definitely not. I don’t think there’s a situation that could come along that he wouldn’t be able to handle,” Chas replied confidently.
“Chas, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m working on finding out, and when I do, we’ll have the killer,” he promised grimly.
“Be careful my darling,” Missy pleaded, worried.
“You too, sweetie. Keep your phone close, I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I can.”
After going through the house with Maggie and making certain that all of the doors and windows in the main Inn were locked, Missy headed for the owner’s wing. All of the guests were planning on staying in for the evening, and in the deepening twilight, the silence in Missy and Chas’s part of the Inn was deafening. Toffee and Bitsy followed her into the private quarters and waited patiently by her side while she locked the door separating the main Inn from the owner’s wing. She then went methodically through the downstairs checking every window and door, then repeated the process upstairs.
When the last latch had been securely fastened, she leaned against the wall next to the window, looking out at the deepening shadows before shutting the blinds. Something blinded her temporarily, and after she blinked rapidly to clear her vision, she saw a large shadow moving shakily on the grass outside the window, as if someone were standing there in the dark. A soft scream escaped her and she hit the floor, knowing that she was safe, but frightened anyway. The dogs whimpered and cuddled up to her while she lay on the floor, heart in her throat.
**
Spencer carefully extricated the fly from the spider’s web, first taping his mouth shut with duct tape, to keep the powerless man from screaming for help…or mercy. His movements were smooth, effortless. He didn’t have to think, his actions came naturally as he went about securing the man and rendering him harmless. The trap had done its job, detaining the prey until the predator could return and exact what he needed from the helpless creature contained in it. Whether the extraction would involve information, partial or total destruction depended largely upon the subject’s pliability, and Spencer Bengal was terribly good at making his subjects…pliable.
**
Detective Chas Beckett looked at the list of addresses on his computer screen. Every one of them was tied to him in some way, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a result of his conversation with Cal Cramer. He hadn’t taken the executive for a man who would exact that particular sort of revenge, but he’d often found that when dealing with ruthless people, nothing was out of bounds or off of the table. Grabbing his keys, he decided to head to Echo’s bungalow first, simply because her house had been the only location at which the intruder had actually been seen.
**
Kel had wandered through the shattered remains of his once beautiful gallery and determined that every room and every piece had been destroyed. Even the file and desk drawers in the gallery office had been pulled out and dumped, the leather office chair shredded, with tufts of stuffing scattered about. The intruder had gotten in by disabling the security cameras in the rear of the building and cutting a hole in one of the windows. Feeling as though he literally no longer had anything to lose, the artist walked out the front door in a daze, leaving it unlocked.
**
Carla Mayhew was scared. Someone had violated her home, and she couldn’t stop shivering. Sitting in her car outside an upscale bar called Tiki Town, she wrestled with the desire to go in and drink herself into oblivion. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. She’d come so far. She was just getting to the point where she’d started feeling healthy again, like a fully functional human being. Her creativity was flowing, and her energy had increased. And now, the wind had been taken from her sails. She saw the long, dark hallway in front of her, and sat in the parking lot, debating whether or not to walk down it.
&nb
sp; The decorator raised her head and saw a couple come out of the bar. They were a bit younger than she, and the woman was staggering a bit, being held up by her partner. She had no idea that part of her dress was tucked up into her waist band, and that the lacy edging of her undergarment was visible to whoever might be passing by.
Carla shook her head slowly back and forth. “No. Not me. Never again,” she vowed, her eyes on the inebriated pair. She put her car into gear and drove two blocks down to a 24 hour restaurant that had an abundance of comfort food and a never-ending supply of decaf. She pulled into a spot, stepped out of her car, and walked toward the best decision of her new life.
**
In the company of a uniformed police officer, Echo trembled outside her home while his partner secured the house and searched for clues. Her neighbor Steve had been taken away by ambulance, looking grey, but still breathing, and she worried about him, despite the fact that their relationship thus far had been a bit contentious.
“Do you have any idea who might have broken in?” the young patrol officer asked the distraught homeowner.
“No clue. I don’t even have anything worth stealing. There are much nicer and bigger houses in this neighborhood if they were looking to find something of value.”
Chas arrived and took over the questioning after a brief walk-through of the property.
“What’s it like in there?” Echo asked fearfully, not sure if she actually wanted to know.
“Pretty torn up. Lots of destruction. That seems to be a theme recently,” the detective grimaced.
“What do you mean?”
“First, Missy’s shop, then, your house, Carla’s house and Kel’s gallery,” Chas shook his head in disgust. “This wasn’t a simple break-in and robbery. Something else is going on here.”
All color drained from Echo’s face. “The gallery?” she whispered. “What happened at the gallery? Is Kel okay?”
“As far as I know. I have guys on the scene out there now. Kel is nowhere to be found, but he called the incident in himself, so I’m assuming that he’s okay.”
“The gallery is his life,” she murmured. “He worked so hard…well, at least he’ll have his inventory. We can always clean up the building,” Echo tried hard to be optimistic.
“From what I understand, every piece that was in the gallery was destroyed,” Chas informed her quietly.
The heartbroken woman put her hands to her face and closed her eyes.
“Poor Kel. That poor, poor man…when will this madness end? What is going on Chas?” she opened her eyes and stared hard at the detective. “How do we stop this?”
“We find out who did it,” was the determined reply. “Why don’t you go sit in my car while we work on the scene. Once we’re through here, you can pack an overnight bag and I’ll take you to the Inn.”
Echo nodded numbly. “Is Missy okay? Has anything strange happened at the Inn?” she worried.
“I spoke with Missy a little while ago and everything was fine. I have to believe that Spencer has things under control.”
Chapter 16
Spencer stood in front of the wide-eyed and trembling man, muscular arms crossed casually over his chest.
“I’m going to remove the tape and you’re going to talk to me. You’re going to talk and not scream, because if you do, you’ll lose the ability to ever scream again…even though you’ll desperately want to,” he explained calmly. “Are you clear as to my expectations?”
The man nodded vigorously.
“Do you understand that the consequences for misbehavior on your part will be…substantial?”
He nodded again, the whites of his eyes indicating the profundity of his panic. Spencer peeled the tape back slowly, taking a significant amount of skin from the unfortunate man’s lips with it.
“Please,” the raggedy man gasped when the tape was off.
“Stop,” Spencer ordered. “Pleading will get you nowhere and only wastes my time. Your work is sloppy, so I know you’re not a pro,” he observed. “Your twitches, shakes and sketchy behavior rat you out. You’re a junkie, and junkies don’t have the proper motivation to do the sort of things that you’ve been up to, which means you’re working for someone. Who?” he demanded, his jaw set.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I just…” the man’s words were cut off as the Marine applied a certain type of pressure which rendered him unable to speak. He eased off and the man gasped.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you who I’m working for. He’ll kill me.”
Spencer brought his face quite close to that of his subject. “If you don’t give me some answers, and I mean now, death will be the least of your worries. Death will seem like sweet relief and a good option. Am I being fairly clear?”
The man mewled and jerked his head up and down. He resisted for a bit longer, but after exposure to just the surface of Spencer’s many talents, he caved and revealed everything.
“Give me his name,” the Marine directed, as his captive writhed in front of him, the smell of fear emanating from his pores so profoundly that it seemed to seep into the walls. When he complied, Spencer nodded, not surprised in the least.
“And what’s your name, junkie?” That answer was actually a surprise, but made a sick sort of sense. Spencer nodded slowly, twirling one of the tools of his trade between his fingers.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began, setting down the thin metal instrument.
“I’m going to call the nice detective who lives here, and he’s going to arrest you, but before he does, you’re going to tell him everything that you’ve told me, because if you don’t, you and I are going to have another little visit. Don’t make the mistake of believing that you’ll be safe behind bars. Those kinds of limitations aren’t even a challenge. I’ll find you, and what you’ve experienced here today is a walk in the park compared to the things I’ll share with you, got it?”
“Got it,” the man whispered pitifully, broken.
“You’re also going to explain to the nice detective why you were so desperately looking for this,” he shoved the torn-apart remains of Emi Anderson’s teddy bear in his face. It was the bedraggled man’s undoing, and the tears that he had held at bay throughout the terrifying ordeal flowed freely.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he blubbered, his torn lips stinging from the salt in his tears.
“You should be,” Spencer gave him a warning glance and pulled out his phone.
**
Chas answered his phone when he saw that it was Spencer calling, knowing that the Marine wouldn’t be on the line unless something of significance had happened.
“Beckett,” the detective answered. “What have you got, Bengal?”
“I have the answer to just about every question that you have regarding the murders, the vandalism and the break-ins. He’s sitting in my apartment – a bit tied up at the moment, but ready to give you his statement when you get here,” Spencer replied.
“On my way,” Chas was headed to his car when he hit the End button on his phone.
“We’re going to the Inn,” he informed Echo when he slid into the sedan. “You can keep Missy company while I talk with Spencer.”
“Did something happen?”
“Something did,” the detective’s response was vague, and Echo didn’t ask anything more.
Chapter 17
Cal Cramer had indulged one of his favorite mistresses, Melany Anderson, by allowing her to take home his prescription narcotics in the interest of taking the edge off of things and enabling her to cope with the grim realities of suburban life with her lackluster husband. Unbeknownst to him, his sweet little recreational girlfriend was selling the pills on the side. He should have put two and two together, when she offered him presents that he knew she couldn’t afford.
Her skinflint husband made certain that the poor girl didn’t have two dimes to rub together, yet she bought her multi-millionaire boyfriend a Rolex for his birthday. T
he fact that his preferred minx happened to be his wife’s best friend, bothered him not in the least. He knew that Marcia had married him for money and status, and as long as she left him to his own devices and proclivities, it was cheaper to keep her rather than to divorce.
Chas Beckett knew that Melany Anderson had bought the Rolex, after tracing the receipt that had been found outside of her house back to the store where she’d purchased it. Security camera footage made it easy to identify the housewife, who had brought her lovely toddler Emi with her to the jewelry store to make the purchase. The detective had known that Cal had received the watch as a gift, before he ever set foot in the Club to speak with him, and found it interesting indeed that he hadn’t admitted that simple fact.
Even odder was the fact that one of Melany’s most regular customers was her brother Brian, who was addicted to the pills and couldn’t function without them. His habit was to come over in the mornings, after Garret had gone to work, to purchase the pills from his sister and, if he was lucky, get a free meal as part of the deal. He felt guilty conducting such transactions in front of his niece, but rationalized that she was too young to know what was happening anyway.
The more addicted that Brian became, the worse his judgment got. When he wandered over to Garret and Melany’s house on that fateful night, in a haze born of withdrawal and desperation, he had no idea what day or time it was, and was entirely thrown off to see other people in the house with Melany and Emi. He had demanded drugs the moment he was in the door, not taking the hint when Melany said that she didn’t know what he was talking about. He was too far gone for subtlety, and became belligerent when his sister continued to deny his need.
Melany placed a hand on her brother’s arm, pleading with her eyes, and he shoved her down on the floor, drawing a gun that he had in his pocket and waving it about with reckless abandon. Little Emi, who had been watching wide-eyed from the kitchen, ran and climbed inside of one of the kitchen cabinets, clutching her favorite bear for dear life. Shots rang out, and the gun that had been borrowed by a small-time drug dealer, with whom Brian sometimes stayed in a gritty apartment two towns away, took the lives of his sister, her husband, and her best friend Marcia.
Peppermint Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 22 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 5