Spiced Latte Killer: Book 10 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  Fiona’s eyes brightened. “Oh, duh! Of course, yeah, I see it now,” she nodded.

  “Beckett probably already picked up on that, but go give him a call, just in case.”

  Fiona scurried off to call the detective, and Tim continued to scan the photos before beginning the autopsy. He’d taken scrapings from beneath the young woman’s nails, and had sent her clothing in for analysis of tiny blood spatters that he’d detected. There were also hair samples on her clothing which clearly didn’t belong to her, and he’d bagged those as well.

  ***

  The young victim’s mother and stepfather had already given Detective Chas Beckett permission to search her room for possible clues, and he was standing in the very pink and feminine bedroom when he received the call from Fiona McCammish. He thanked her for the call, and hung up quickly, focusing on the victim’s room. It was in perfect condition… too perfect. Everything was neat, tidy, and in its place, which seemed a bit unusual for someone who was still young enough to be living at home while going to college. There wasn’t even a speck of dust anywhere, and the bed was perfectly made. Chas went into the living room for a moment, where the young woman’s mother and stepfather huddled together on the couch, hands wrapped around mugs of tea.

  “Mrs. Lee, do you have a housekeeper?” he asked the petite woman, whose brow seemed to be permanently creased with grief.

  “No, I clean my own home,” she replied softly.

  “Do you clean your daughter’s room?” Chas continued, sitting across from the couple in an easy chair.

  She shook her head.

  “No, I usually just tell her to shut her door so that I don’t have to see the room,” was the sad, fond reply.

  “She tended to be a bit messy?”

  “Oh yes, she’s young and has her mind on other things,” the grieving mother gave a crooked half-smile.

  “I’d like to bring a team in here to look around and see if we can come up with any clues that she may have left in her room. Would that be okay with you?” the detective asked gently, his eyes warm.

  Mrs. Lee looked at her husband, who nodded slowly.

  “Of course,” Mr. Lee replied, taking his wife’s hand. “What would you be looking for? We’d like to preserve her room just the way that she left it, if you don’t mind.”

  “We’d make sure to leave it as we found it, as much as possible,” Chas assured them. “Sometimes young women leave clues to what’s going on in their lives without even realizing it. Did your daughter have a boyfriend?”

  Mr. Lee’s face tightened into a scowl.

  “She had an ex-boyfriend that we did not approve of in the least.”

  “Oh? Can you tell me more about him?”

  Mrs. Lee set her mug of tea down on the glass-topped coffee table and shook her head.

  “Logan ran with a bad crowd. His father is well respected, so he managed to avoid getting into any serious trouble, but he was just… wild. They’d had a fight recently, so we don’t know if they were still together or not.”

  “What’s Logan’s last name?”

  “Greitzer. Logan Greitzer,” Mr. Lee supplied, sounding bitter.

  “Councilman Greitzer’s son?” the detective guessed.

  “Yes, his father pulled strings to keep him out of trouble.”

  “I’ll talk to him. Do you know if your daughter had any enemies?”

  Mrs. Lee’s eyes filled with tears and she clutched at her husband’s hand before replying.

  “I don’t know how she could’ve had any enemies… everyone loved her. She was sweet and kind and beautiful. She’d help anyone who needed it… this is so senseless,” she exclaimed, bursting into tears and burying her face in her husband’s shoulder.

  Chas gazed at the couple with compassion, then spoke to Mr. Lee as he comforted his distraught wife.

  “We’re going to have a team working in the house for quite a while. We’ll be in and out, and I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but if you’d like to go stay with friends or family for a day or two while we check things out, that’s completely understandable.”

  “We were thinking of going away for a few days before all of this happened, maybe we should just do that, so that you have room to work without us being in the way,” Mr. Lee murmured, stroking his wife’s hair.

  “That would be fine. I can take your contact information and notify you if we come up with any leads in the case,” Chas reassured them.

  “Okay. Bring in your team, we’ll be gone in an hour.”

  ***

  Logan Greitzer lounged indolently on a leather sectional, popping pizza rolls into his mouth while watching TV and flipping through social media sites on his phone. He didn’t even look up when his mother, Leasa, came into the room, followed by Detective Chas Beckett.

  “Logan, can you turn that off please?” she asked, her face tight.

  Still not looking up from his phone, Logan reached over to the remote and hit the power button with his thumb, leaving a greasy print.

  Seeming embarrassed, his mother addressed him again.

  “Logan, Detective Beckett is here to see you,” she cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

  The young man fished another pizza roll out of the fine china bowl and tossed it in his mouth, finally looking up from his phone.

  “Whazzup?” he drawled, clearly disinterested.

  “Where were you yesterday between the hours of one and four this morning?” Chas asked, noting that Logan was clearly not intimidated by his presence.

  “Why?” was the bored response, as the young man chewed his food.

  “Well, he was here of course,” Leasa broke in. “That’s the middle of the night… where else would he have been. I’m sure he’d been asleep for hours by then, right Logan?”

  “Sure,” he shrugged, going back to social media.

  “Is that true? Were you here during those hours?” Chas persisted.

  “Just like the lady said,” Logan smirked, glancing up briefly from his phone.

  “Can you prove that?”

  “Prove what? That I was asleep?” the young man scoffed, rolling his eyes.

  “When is the last time that you saw Nari Lee?”

  Logan tossed his phone down and sighed in annoyance.

  “A few days ago… I don’t know, why?”

  “She was murdered this morning, and I’m hoping you might have some insight into who might want to kill an innocent young woman,” the detective moved closer. “Do you have any insight that you can lend to the investigation, Logan?” he asked, staring him down.

  “Murdered? That’s crazy. She could be a high-maintenance pain, but I can’t think of anyone who’d want to kill her,” he shrugged, seemingly unaffected.

  “I heard that the two of you had a disagreement recently…” Chas began, and Logan expelled a breath, clearly offended.

  “Dude, don’t even go there. That’s just dumb. Yeah, we had an argument, we argued all the time… she thrived on it.”

  “What was the nature of the argument, and when did you have it?”

  “No idea, it’s not like I kept track of that stuff.”

  Logan stuffed the last three pizza rolls into his mouth, picked up his bowl and headed for the kitchen.

  “Logan?” his mother called after him, blushing and looking worried.

  “We’re done here,” he replied without turning around, the pizza rolls making his words hard to distinguish. “Have a nice day, Detective.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Petaluma held her hands out to both sides, steadying herself and trying to figure out why the room always seemed to move when she stood up. She and Steve had been having a grand old time in his living room, talking like they’d known each other forever, and somehow, without either of them really noticing it, the twelve pack of beer that they’d started at breakfast had disappeared. She’d tell Steve to take a look at his floors this afternoon, maybe after they napped a bit, something clearly had to be done about the unst
eadiness in the house, but for now, food was on her mind, and while Steve stared at the television, she headed to the kitchen in search of leftovers in the nearly empty fridge.

  She frowned when the doorbell rang, because the awful sound made her head throb. And when her head throbbed, her stomach swam, again reminding her of the urgent need for food.

  “Get it,” Steve hollered from the couch.

  “You get it, it ain’t my house,” Petaluma replied crossly.

  “Earn your keep, woman,” he cackled, only half-kidding.

  “I’ll toss one of them beer cans at your head, fool,” she replied, maintaining her course toward the fridge.

  “Fine, you ornery girl,” Steve sighed, still smiling.

  He lurched up from the threadbare couch and lumbered toward the door just as the bell rang again.

  “I’m comin, I’m comin,” he grumbled, just as whoever was on the other side started rapping loudly, using the rusted gargoyle door knocker. “Dang, hold your horses, I said I’m comin,” he hollered, pressing his hands to his temples when the action shot daggers through his muddled brain.

  “What?” he demanded, flinging the door open.

  “I’m here to see Petaluma Myers,” Jeong Lee demanded, nostrils flaring.

  “Pet, did you order take-out?” Steve called back into the house. He turned back to Mr. Lee. “Hang on, man, I’ll go get her, I ain’t got no money.”

  Closing the door on the seething Mr. Lee, he went back into the house and found Petaluma sitting on the kitchen floor, eating months-old ice cream from a carton with a serving spoon.

  “Don’t eat that nasty stuff, Beautiful, the dude from the take-out place is at the door,” he smiled, helping her to her feet as best he could. They both swayed a bit and she planted a gooey, ice cream kiss on his cheek.

  “You ordered take-out for me?” she cooed, twining her fingers in his beard.

  “Nope, you ordered it, he asked for you.”

  “I didn’t order it,” Petaluma frowned.

  “You probably just forgot,” Steve grinned down at her. “Go get some money and get our food. I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he instructed, just as Jeong Lee knocked again, loudly. “Hold your water, dude, she’s comin, jeez!” he yelled before plopping back down on the couch, making sure to avoid the spring that had come up between the cushions.

  Petaluma pawed through her purse, coming up with a few bills and a handful of change.

  “I hope this’ll cover it,” she slurred, holding the money out to Nari’s irate stepfather. “It’s all I got.”

  Mr. Lee glanced down at the money with contempt.

  “You killed my daughter,” he snarled.

  Petaluma stared at him open-mouthed. “Huh?” was all she could come up with in response to his accusation.

  “I saw the video. You screamed at my daughter, you acted violently toward her, and I know it was you who killed her,” he growled.

  “Now just what in the Sam Heck is going on out here? Where’s the food?” Steve blustered, confused when he came to investigate the raised voices.

  “I’m taking you to the police,” Jeong threatened Petaluma, ignoring Steve.

  “Oh no, you ain’t,” she found her voice. “I’m out of here,” the still-drunk woman raised the palm of her hand inches from Lee’s nose and turned on her heel.

  Jeong Lee grabbed her by the shoulder, accidentally catching her hair as she pulled away and ran down the hall.

  “Ow, that hurt, you dirtbag!” she yelled, patting her head. “You just better get on outta here before my boyfriend makes mincemeat outta you,” Petaluma threatened, as Steve stood blocking Lee from entering the house.

  “This isn’t over,” Lee’s voice was shaking. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  “Hit the road, buddy. I’m a trained veteran and I’d hate to have to take you down,” Steve stepped toward the furious stepfather, not quite certain what was happening, but feeling like his girlfriend’s knight in shining armor nonetheless.

  “You’re going to jail,” Jeong pointed a shaking finger at Petaluma before slowly backing away from the door.

  Steve slammed it shut and turned to Petaluma. “So what about the dang food?”

  ***

  Echo rushed in to Cupcakes in Paradise, as pale as a ghost.

  “Hey darlin,” Missy greeted her, heading behind the counter for vegan cupcakes. “Oh no, what’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the look on her best friend’s face.

  “A girl was murdered early this morning,” Echo sank into a bistro chair, seeming dazed.

  “Yeah, I heard. Chas got called early,” Missy sat down across from her, concerned. “Did you know her?”

  “We both knew her… it was Nari, from the floral shop.”

  “What?” Missy was astounded. “Why on earth would someone want to murder a sweet young girl like Nari? Was it a robbery?”

  Echo shook her head. “It couldn’t have been, her body was found in a public bathroom at one of the beaches.”

  “Oh how awful! How did you find out?”

  “It was on the news at noon. They don’t have any suspects yet… it’s just terrible.”

  “That poor girl, I feel so bad. She was so helpful and full of life,” Missy murmured.

  “I know, it was like she really cared about Grayson’s wedding.”

  Missy’s phone rang just then, and she pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans.

  “Speaking of Grayson,” she commented, showing Echo the caller ID before taking the call. “Maybe he’s heard some good news about Sarah, maybe she’s home.”

  “Hey sugar,” she answered, trying to sound positive after the dreadful news that she’d just heard.

  Missy talked to Grayson for a few minutes, learning that he’d found a few of his fiancée’s personal items missing from her apartment. They were not things that anyone would typically steal, but things that made it seem as though perhaps she’d gone away for a few days.

  “Grayson, honey, listen… I think I know where Sarah might be. Let me give you a call back in a little while, okay?”

  Missy hung up and looked over at Echo.

  “I have a feeling that today is going to be a long day,” she sighed.

  “Can we at least have cupcakes before we dive in?”

  “Absolutely,” Missy chuckled, heading for the display cases.

  ***

  Missy stopped at the coffee shop where Grayson’s fiancée Sarah used to work when she lived with her parents in Calgon. Poor Sarah had endured more tragedy in her young life than anyone should ever have to. Her mother had been psychotically controlling, never allowing Sarah to have friends or wear fashionable clothing, or even participate in school activities that she deemed inappropriate. The bitter woman had emotionally—and on occasion—physically abused her husband and daughter until one fateful day, Sarah’s father snapped, killing her mother and burning the family home down in an attempt to hide the evidence.

  He’d been in prison ever since, and when Grayson came down to visit Missy and Chas last Thanksgiving, Sarah had chosen to make a brand new start and gone to Louisiana with the shy young man when he returned. He’d offered her a job in the cupcake shop that Missy had given him when she left LaChance, and the two had fallen in love. Now the sweet young woman was missing, and Missy thought that she might just know where she’d disappeared to.

  “Hi, may I help you?” the friendly young man behind the counter at the Mean Bean coffee shop asked.

  Missy ordered a caramel latte, and while he prepared it, she peered around the espresso machine to talk with him.

  “Have you worked here long?” she asked, watching him expertly froth the milk.

  “Couple of years,” he replied pleasantly.

  “Did you know Sarah? She worked here last year around this time.”

  “Of course, yeah. She was really nice, we were sad to see her go, but I totally understood after what happened.”

  “Yeah, poor thing. Have
you seen her lately?”

  “I haven’t, but my co-worker Ashley said that she came in a couple of days ago. Is she a friend of yours?”

  “Oh yes, and she’s marrying a very dear friend of mine,” Missy smiled, relieved. Her hunch had been correct.

  “Nice! Tell her congrats from Jeremy,” the young man handed her the latte.

  “I definitely will. Have a good day Jeremy.”

  “You too, ma’am, thanks.”

  ***

  It was a short ride from the Mean Bean to the empty lot where Sarah’s family home once stood. Because her father had gone to prison, the home had never been rebuilt, and as Missy got out of the car, she saw the forlorn figure of Sarah sitting on what remained of the steps. Stepping delicately across the weed-choked former lawn, Missy made her way over to the young woman. Sarah’s hair was haphazardly tossed into a messy bun, she wore no makeup, her clothing was dark and rumpled, and the poor thing looked terribly thin and pale. When she raised her head from her knees, seeing Missy, tears ran down her face and she didn’t bother wiping them away.

  “Oh honey,” Missy went to her, arms outstretched and embraced the waif, who began sobbing and apologizing.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare everyone… I just didn’t know what to do, and I felt so bad and worthless… and couldn’t figure out how someone as awesome as Grayson would want to marry a motherless misfit like me, whose dad is rotting away in prison,” she cried, her frail shoulders shaking.

  “Shhhh… it’s going to be alright,” Missy whispered, holding the miserable young woman tight and stroking her hair. When her sobs subsided a bit, several minutes later, Missy placed both her hands on Sarah’s shoulders to make certain that she had her full attention.

  “Now you listen to me, young lady,” she said with a sad smile, her eyes moist. “You don’t need to apologize. Most young brides get cold feet and they don’t have nearly as good a reason as you do, okay?”

  Sarah nodded, her lower lip trembling.

  “And let me tell you something else, darlin… as long as I am on this earth drawing breath, you will never be motherless, do you understand me?”

  Missy’s own tears started flowing, which opened up Sarah’s floodgates once again, so back into Missy’s arms she went, crying until it was all out of her system, while Missy dug into her purse, pulling out tissue after tissue.