Kate had a bit of friction with Celia years back when Celia’s husband Ken Johnson had turned up dead. He had worked as a detective and was very close with Scott, and though Scott never suspected Celia of foul play, Kate certainly had. In the end, Celia had appreciated Kate’s passion and tenacity to find Ken’s killer, but it also strained their relationship for a good number of weeks. Now that the heat was no longer on her, Celia seemed eager to learn all that Kate might be intending to do with whatever information she would fork over.
“Why’s that?” Kate echoed, as if she might stall the woman into no longer pressing her for her reason she was once again meddling. “I think what matters most to everyone is that Cookie’s killer is caught, and while Scott pursues his own suspects, I’ll be checking out others who might not be suspicious enough to warrant Scott’s time.”
“I knew it,” said Celia, pointing her finger at her.
“Oh, please.” Kate wanted to laugh it off, but they both knew Celia’s intuition was right. “Tell me what you know.”
Celia glanced at the group Kate was meant to lead into the woods. They looked impatient, even by Kate’s estimation, when she glanced over her shoulder at them, but they could wait. They would have to.
“Years ago,” she began, “way back when Greg was with us, which is probably why you don’t remember Cookie and Clifford—that’s his name, her old boyfriend is Clifford.”
“Yes, I figured that out,” she said, impatiently.
“Well,” she went on, leaning in and happy to hold court—even though it was a small one with only Kate as her audience. “Cookie and Clifford were the most popular couple in the high school. You and Carly had long since graduated, but Ken and I would still go over to the high school every fall to watch the football games and partake in a little school spirit. Granted it was more to Ken’s liking than mine.”
“Celia,” she said, implying that her best friend’s mother really ought to get to the point.
Celia frowned at the interruption then went on. “They were the couple everyone loved. Clifford was the football quarterback, and Cookie, well back then Cookie was a size two and one of the most nimble cheerleaders on the squad.”
Kate wondered where this was going.
“Then, I’m not sure you recall—”
“It’s safe to assume I don’t, Celia,” she said dryly.
“Right, well one day about five of the scales went missing from the science department. It was a big hullabaloo at the school, because the faculty knew almost instantly why someone would want to steal the scales.”
Kate hadn’t the foggiest, so she asked, and Celia’s eyes widened as if to say, “It’s a good thing you’re getting this information from me.”
“High schoolers? Missing scales? Why, how else would a young drug dealer weigh his product?”
“What?”
“That’s right. Are you kidding me? Those high tech scales are hundreds of dollars each at least. Well, that was the beginning of the end for Cookie and Clifford. Clifford had fallen in with the wrong crowd, bad influencers if you know what I mean. He was an innocent kid, but the fact of the matter was that when one of his out of town friends put him up to it, stealing the scales, he went right along with it. He was caught, of course, and he wasn’t kicked out of school though he got suspended and then spent the rest of the year on academic probation, but he really didn’t learn his lesson. Cookie dumped him of course, but that only sent Clifford deeper into his new world of friends. Long story short, he ended up leaving Rock Ridge, and the last I heard, he wound up in prison.”
“On drug charges?”
“On something bad,” she offered though she didn’t know the exact crime he had committed. “Then he gets out and comes running home to Cookie as though they might pick up where they left off. And bless her heart, the poor girl must have really loved him, because she got sucked right back in.”
An older gentleman in the group sighed impatiently, and Celia shot him a curt smile.
“You better get going,” she said, handing Kate a map. “Just cut through the woods there and head straight. If you see anything,” she went on, handing Kate a walkie-talkie radio, “just press the side button and give me a holler. The police are otherwise occupied on their own search, but Scott promised that if we saw anything he’d send a squad car over right away. You know Becky well, so if you see a piece of jewelry, or a scrap of clothing, don’t hesitate. Even if you think it might not have to do with her, we’d rather rule it out than overlook it.”
“Right,” said Kate. “No problem.”
Kate’s group, which included Jason and Jared, was inching up behind her, so she crossed into the woods and her group fanned out, forming a wide line beside her.
The sun gradually rose in the sky, and as the woods thickened around them, they slowed to a snail’s pace.
“This is a waste of time,” she heard Jason mutter to Jared.
“How do you know?” he countered. “You didn’t say you heard a car. The kidnapper could’ve taken her through here on foot.”
“When she was drugged?” he asked. “He carried her? I don’t think so.”
“If you know so much about it, why haven’t you told Scott?”
Jason had nothing to say to that, but Kate could tell he was holding his tongue rather than indicating he didn’t have an answer.
When it seemed their brief confrontation had concluded, Kate veered over to Jason.
“How were you and Becky doing during the past few weeks?”
“Fine,” he said curtly.
“Her behavior was normal? Nothing out of the ordinary?”
“Yeah, totally normal,” he said impatiently. “Why are you asking me this?”
“She was targeted for a reason,” said Kate, echoing her other son’s sentiment. “It’s possible you don’t know everything there is to know about Becky.”
Jason stopped and gaped at her, his mouth parting then hanging open, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I’ve known her for years, Mom. We were practically inseparable in college, and then we moved in together after graduating.”
“But you spent many summers apart. I’m just saying it’s possible she had secrets. And sometimes when a person can’t manage their secrets, they get irritable. Their mood changes. You didn’t notice anything like that?”
To avoid the question, Jason started off again, this time walking briskly and weaving through tree trunks that jutted up in his path. Kate kept up to assert she wouldn’t let the topic go so easily.
“I know you think that because you found Dad and because you nosed your way into all those murders and solved them that you’re some kind of expert, but you’re not. And you should really stay out of it.”
Kate slowed up, giving Jason his space to trek ahead, and when she met Jared’s eye, he gave her a sympathetic shrug.
Checking her cell phone after pulling it from her pocket, she noted the time. It was barely eight in the morning, and as well as Celia had organized the search party, Kate could’ve really used a cup of coffee. But edging deeper and deeper into the woods, she knew her next cup would be hours from now if she were lucky. She had a few fix-it jobs lined up in the late morning, and then she would have to drive over to Meredith Joste’s to continue working on her patio. All told, Kate was looking at a very long day.
Suddenly, Jared, who was a good five yards to her right, called out, “Hey, Jason!” And her other son stalked over to where Jared was pointing then kneeling on the ground. “Isn’t this Becky’s?”
Making her way over, Kate saw Jason’s eyes widen before she saw what Jared had found on the ground. But Jason’s expression didn’t strike her as shocked or even confused, but agitated, as though he would’ve preferred his brother had found nothing at all.
When Kate was finally standing over them and peering down at Jared’s hand, she saw a thin, gold chain dangling from his finger. It appeared to have snapped, and if it was Becky’s necklac
e, it was now missing the heart pendant that usually hung at its center.
“I think this is Becky’s,” said Jared, looking up at her when Jason refused to confirm it.
“It could be anyone’s,” he pointed out.
“Why are you being so negative,” Jared demanded. “I think this is Becky’s.”
“Here,” said Kate, taking a Ziploc bag from her pocket. “Let’s get this to Celia.”
Obstinately, Jason quipped, “I’m not walking back through the woods.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I will. Jared can you lead the group onwards? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Sure, Mom,” he said, dropping the necklace into the bag as she held it open.
When she tucked it into her overalls, she pulled Jared in close. “Keep an eye on him. I’m worried.”
“I will.”
Turning, Kate started out through the woods, heading back towards the dog park where Celia was holding down the fort, offering water and Gatorade to whoever drifted back and waiting to call in to the police any items the various search groups might find.
The temperature was rising, and by the time she spilled out through the tree line that separated the woods from the dog park, Kate felt slick with sweat. Today was shaping up to be a hot one.
“Celia!” she called out when she spotted the woman lifting a jug of water from beneath the refreshment table to set it on top. “We found something!”
Celia met her half way, and Kate caught her breath as she neared a sandy run where smaller dogs often wrestled with one another. As she pulled the plastic bag from her pocket, she noticed Hazel Millhouse setting down her yippy little dog, Mitsy—for her to run and play on the far side of the park.
“Jared’s convinced this was Becky’s necklace,” she explained. “But Jason doesn’t agree.”
“That’s okay,” said Celia. “Everything helps. Do you remember the exact location?”
“Ah, yeah I think so.”
“The police will need to know.”
Quickly, Kate dialed Jared on her cell and when he picked up, she said urgently, “Hey, can you stay put in the exact location where you found the necklace?”
“I’ll have to double back, but yeah.”
“Great. Jason can keep going with the group, but if you could stay put where the necklace was then Celia can get a police officer out to look around that area.”
“They’ll bring a dog!” Celia shouted. “Hopefully Becky’s scent is still strong around there!”
Celia wasted no time to do just that, dialing her cell and pressing it to her ear. As she did, Kate felt her own cell vibrating in her pocket and expecting it might be Jared, she answered it quickly, but Amelia came through the line.
“Kate?” She asked.
“Yes, hi, Amelia.”
“Sorry for the delayed response. I’m at the inn now, in the office. What was the name of the individual you think might be staying here?”
“Clifford Green,” she said quietly, as she turned her back to Celia and paced away.
Kate heard Amelia typing away on a keyboard then the woman said, “In fact, he is staying here.”
“Really?” Kate asked, excitedly.
“He checked in, let’s see, three weeks ago.”
Kate wondered how much money Clifford had. Over the Moon was not a cheap motel, quite the opposite.
“Oh, that’s strange,” said Amelia.
“What?”
“Someone’s been discounting him on the room. I’m scrolling through his customer account now, and it looks like every morning one of my employees has credited his account with the full amount of the night prior, as though he’s been paying per night. He has a zero balance. But when I click into the payment field, there’s no information.”
“Who would do that?”
“I have no idea. And I don’t know Clifford Green. But I can ask around.”
Kate wanted to handle this delicately, and if Amelia began inquiring, it could tip Clifford off, or his accomplice, and he could disappear, so she said, “Actually, why don’t you sit tight. I’d like to head over. Do you happen to know if he’s still there?”
“I can call up to his room and see?”
Again, Kate feared that if Amelia did such a thing, it could tip the guy off. “That’s okay. I’ll wing it and hope for the best. I should be there in about ten minutes.”
After Amelia agreed, Kate hung up, returned her cell to her pocket, and asked Celia if her search group could spare her for the rest of the morning.
Celia didn’t look pleased, but in the next second a police cruiser pulled into the sandy parking lot at the edge of the dog park, and she lost all focus on Kate as she rushed to the officer, Gunther, who was stepping out.
“Officer Gunther!” she shouted then patted the police dog that hopped out of the passenger’s seat. “We found Becky’s necklace.”
As Celia went on to explain Jared Flaherty was waiting in the woods where the necklace had been found, Kate started off for her truck and then climbed in.
Over the Moon was a three-story, Victorian house set at the foothills on the south side of Rock Ridge, where a creek rushed through. Likely the most picturesque area of her beloved town, Over the Moon had a storybook feel to it that reminded her of Thomas Kinkade paintings.
She pulled to a stop out front then looked up and down the row of parked cars, scanning for a Delaware license plate, but she didn’t find one. It was possible Clifford had taken a rental, but if he had, he wouldn’t have done it in Rock Ridge, since to Kate’s knowledge there wasn’t a car rental service in town. However, none of the vehicles out front looked like a rental car.
Then Kate remembered that if Cookie had been killed when she was in her car, after swerving onto the shoulder of the road, it was possible Clifford didn’t have a car. Maybe she saw him walking alone and pulled over. She tried not to let her imagination run wild, but rather ducked into the inn and met Amelia at the reception desk.
Using a discrete tone, Amelia said, “He’s on the second floor, room #5.”
Kate thought about how she might handle this. Was she going to simply knock on his door and demand answers? Why would he tell her anything?
“His room has a window, I assume?” she asked, thinking out loud.
“Yes,” said Amelia, cocking her head with curiosity for a moment before she grasped where Kate was going with this idea. “If you round the right side of the inn, his window is on the second floor to the far left.”
“Okay,” said Kate. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Leaving the inn, she walked around the right side of the inn as Amelia had indicated. The grass was soft under her feet, and the sun was beating down. It had to be at least ninety degrees already, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
When she glanced up at Clifford’s window, she realized the angle was too steep to see into his room, so she backed up by about ten yards until she could see inside.
Not only were the curtains drawn to the side, but his window was open, and she noticed a woman standing inside. The woman was facing away, but there was something oddly familiar about her. It was her hair. Kate noticed streaks of funky colors and then saw a flower tattoo on the woman’s arms.
A man stepped into view, who had to be Clifford. He looked just like the driver’s license Kate had seen. He turned the woman and immediately kissed her.
That’s when Kate realized who she was looking at.
It was Clara.
Chapter Eight
Shocked, Kate rushed around the inn to get to her truck as quickly as possible. Why would Clara meet with Cookie’s old boyfriend as soon as she got released on bail? Why would she kiss him? Cookie had been her best friend, what was the real story behind all of this?
Complicating matters were the facts as Scott York saw them: Clara’s fingerprints had been found on the gun, she was the last person seen with Cookie alive, and according to Scott, she had been arrested for a reason.
>
As fiercely as Kate had defended Clara, she had to wonder if her instincts had been completely wrong.
What was the real reason Cookie and Clara had gotten into a fight in Cookie’s car that night? Had it really been because Clara was confronting her about the fact that Cookie had become withdrawn, on edge, and secretive? Or had their argument gone much differently? Had it been Cookie who had confronted Clara about her relationship with Clifford? Had Cookie not feared for her own life but feared for Clara’s, and that’s why she allowed Clara into her car that night?
And how could someone Kate had known for years and years manage to keep such a colossal secret from her when Kate was the only one willing to help Clara clear her name?
Kate was so long in thought, hovering along the front bumper of her truck, that she didn’t realize Clara was stepping out of the entrance door of the inn until Clara exclaimed, “Kate!” as though she was excited to see the handy woman and not at all concerned she might have been caught.
“You made bail,” she said, trying to sound upbeat so as not to give away all that she had spied through the window. “What are you doing here at the inn?”
“Avoiding my house, you could say,” she said grimly.
It amazed Kate how Clara could lie so easily. Her performance seemed flawless.
“They found Cookie’s gun with my prints on it,” she stated as though she might cry.
“At your house?”
“In the trash bins outside my house,” she clarified. “As if I would be stupid enough to stash a murder weapon at my own house. Clearly I’m being framed.”
“By who?”
“I really don’t know,” she said.
Kate neared her and tried to keep her tone even.
“Is it possible Cookie’s old boyfriend did this and is framing you?”
Clara’s eyes shifted, and as they did, Kate thought she saw the light dimming out behind her pupils, and it chilled her.
“I don’t see why he would,” she said in a dead voice that Kate didn’t trust.
“I don’t know how well you think you know him,” said Kate, keeping her tone sympathetic to instill she was on Clara’s side now more than ever, even though it was far from the truth. Everything had changed the second she saw Clara kissing Clifford. “But I heard some rumors about Clifford, that he fell in with the wrong crowd in high school, that it strained his relationship with Cookie, and that Clifford wound up in prison.”
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries, Season 2 (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection) Page 7