“One moment, please,” said the receptionist, who was just green enough not to ask her what the call was in regard to.
When Gunther came through the line, stating his name, Kate wasted no time to set her trap.
“Hi, Gunther, it’s Kate Flaherty. I couldn’t get ahold of Scott, but I just received important information regarding Cookie’s murder.”
“Yes?” he said urgently.
“Well, I can’t say for sure whether this is total gossip or worth your time, but I feel compelled to pass it along.”
“That’s fine, Kate. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay, I don’t want to name names—”
“It’s fine,” he snapped. “Please go on.”
Fashioning a quick lie based on all she knew about cars, she dove into the most believable trap she could formulate on such short notice.
“I heard Cookie had gotten so paranoid that she installed an audio recorder in her VW. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but if it is, wouldn’t it have recorded the killer taking her life? Maybe she and the killer exchanged words. You would know in an instant who it was.”
Officer Gunther fell silent on the other end of the line. Then all he said was a single word. “Where?”
“It was rumored to be inside the car alarm, you know the little box underneath the steering console?”
Rushing to get off the phone, Gunther said, “I’ll tell Scott right away,” and then hung up.
She stared at the precinct and held her breath. Not one minute later, she saw Gunther barreling through the front doors. He walked briskly to his cruiser in the lot, and then jumped in behind the wheel. Needless to say, he did not have his partner with him. And she was willing to bet money, he would hightail it to the impound lot where Cookie’s car was being held.
She watched his cruiser pull out into traffic, and then Kate pulled into the lane, two cars behind his. It crossed her mind to call Scott on the way, but she didn’t want to be accused of spouting fiction. Instead, she cued up the audio recorder app on her cell phone, being careful not to take her eyes off the road for too long. And by the time Gunther was arching into the impound lot, she was ready.
She tucked her cell phone, which was already recording, into the front pocket of her overalls then made a cautious left hand turn into the lot, as Gunther’s cruiser disappeared into one of the garages.
Kate pulled to a stop then hopped out of her truck and quickly jogged over to the garage, being sure to stay tucked around the corner to stay out of sight.
She listened, as Gunther got out of his cruiser and then she peaked around the corner, watching him approach Cookie’s red VW bug and then throw the driver’s side door open.
When he kneeled, placing himself in a better position to yank out the car alarm box, Kate tiptoed deeper into the garage.
Soon Gunther was grunting and swearing and wrestling the little black box off the console, and the second he freed it, wires twisting and snapping off, he slammed it onto the concrete and stomped on it with his boot.
If that wasn’t a guilty action, Kate didn’t know what was, but until she had a confession, none of this would hold up in a court of law.
“I should’ve mentioned on the phone,” she said, stealing his attention. “I listened to it.”
“You what?” he asked turning white.
“It was Clara who told me about the recording. Cookie had it hooked up to record into the cloud, and I listened to it.”
His eyes widened.
“So I know why you didn’t call Scott about it.”
Suddenly, Gunther was breathing heavily.
“How could you do it?” she pressed. “How could you do something like that when it’s your job to protect and serve?”
“You don’t know what she was like,” he snapped.
“I have an idea. No one knew about you two, so I imagine she was ashamed of you,” she said, hoping to instigate his confession. “She thought you weren’t good enough.”
“How could I not be good enough? I gave her thousands for her website. And the next thing I knew she got back together with her old boyfriend, a convict of all things?”
“Is that why you killed her?”
“No!” he yelled, and suddenly tears sprang to his eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill her!”
Kate held her breath. Was that enough? Was that a confession?
“I was only trying to get the gun out of her hands so she wouldn’t hurt herself! So she wouldn’t hurt me! But she wouldn’t let go, and I had to twist it out of her grasp. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t realize it was pointing at her chest all of a sudden!”
“And you killed her.”
Gunther dropped to his knees, hanging his head and wailing, “It was an accident!”
It was all she needed. And Gunther had balled himself on the concrete, which gave her just the opportunity to get Scott on the phone. Easing backwards, tiptoeing away, she pulled her cell from her overalls, stopped and saved the recording, and then dialed Scott.
As soon as she heard his voice on the line, she said urgently, “You need to get to the car impound now. Gunther is here. He confessed.”
“What?”
“To Cookie’s murder.”
Then she hung up and kept her gaze on Gunther, praying like hell that Scott and the police would show up before the killer could lift his head.
Not two minutes later, Scott pulled his truck into the parking lot, followed by two cruisers with sirens blaring. As soon as Gunther heard the sirens, he jumped to his feet and motioned for the gun at his hip, but Scott was too quick, running from his truck into the garage and drawing his weapon on his long-time friend.
“Freeze, Gunther!”
Gunther’s eyes went dead, and in a cool voice he said, “What’s going on?”
“Oh save it,” said Kate, annoyed he thought he could play this off. She lifted her cell and let the recording play, and as Gunther listened, he turned white all over again.
That night, after Scott arrested Gunther, after she showered and Scott finally came around to thanking her for bringing down the killer in their midst, and after Jared twisted Jason’s arm into meeting them at Daisy’s Luncheonette, which had started serving dinner months back, Kate sat between her twins and Scott and glanced around the restaurant.
She hadn’t lost her touch at all. She knew exactly how to fix this town, and she was determined to fix this family, bring Becky home, and show Scott that when it came to keeping Rock Ridge safe, the best man for the job just might be a handywoman.
As everyone perused their menus, Kate glanced through the window at the sleepy night and a woman in the parking lot caught her eye.
Was that Becky Langley?
~~~
PAINT IT DEAD
Chapter One
Kate Flaherty made her way up the sidewalk, carrying her toolbox and wishing she hadn’t worn these overalls. She was in a hurry to get to Meredith Joste’s art deco house where she would spend the next six hours laying down patio tiles out back. The sun was beating down. It was only a quarter to eight in the morning, but already the temperature was climbing into the mid-nineties. Today would be a hot one, and Kate hadn’t done herself any favors when she threw on her long overalls. She had reasoned she would be doing a fair amount of kneeling so shorts wouldn’t be the best choice in terms of protecting her knees. But now that she was sweating her way up Meredith’s walkway, she thought scraped knees might be a fair compromise for staying cool.
Expecting her, Meredith pulled the door inward and greeted her good morning. She was still in her bathrobe and had curlers in her hair. Kate smelled fresh coffee then noted the steaming mug in Meredith’s hand, as she entered the house.
“Help yourself to coffee, as always,” said Meredith, who was quickly rounding through to the sliding glass door at the back of the living room, which led to the patio Kate had been working on. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “It’s looking good out there.”
“Thanks, it’s coming along,” said Kate, as she grabbed a mug from the kitchen cabinet and then poured coffee from the carafe, filling it to the brim. “I should be done by the end of this week.”
“How are you doing on materials?”
“Fine. I’ll need to stop by Grayson’s to get more putty tomorrow, but I have enough for today, I’m sure.”
From where she was now standing in the living room, Kate drank a long sip of coffee. It tasted like Colombian dark roast, her favorite.
“I’m planning on giving Justina a call,” said Meredith before blowing on her own mug of coffee then taking a sip.
Justina, the head agent at Carnegie Real Estate, had made an honest effort of trying to sell Meredith’s house a few years prior, but to no avail. Back then, with the sudden crop of murders—even though the housing market had been on a seller’s upswing—no one wanted to buy in Rock Ridge. It had been a few years since then, and there had been no significant crimes, so Kate figured if Meredith wanted to try again she would have better luck.
But only if word about Cookie Halpert’s murder hadn’t spread beyond this cozy town. It didn’t bode well that one of Rock Ridge’s finest, Officer Gunther, had killed her in a jealous rage. Certainly no prospective buyer would want to move to a town where the people expected to protect and serve were, in fact, murdering their own.
Not wanting to dash Meredith’s hopes by mentioning any of this—Meredith was already well aware of Cookie and Gunther—Kate simply said, “I’m sure I’ll be done by the end of the week, and even if Justina has an open house, I can keep the patio looking tidy until I’m finished.”
“That would be a huge help,” said Meredith, as she began pulling curlers from her hair and tossing them to the coffee table in front of the couch. “I might like your help staging the area, or perhaps Justina will hire you for that?”
Kate had expanded her business to include staging houses that were for sale—renting furniture and decorating, setting out vases of flowers, and making the houses look like homes.
“I’ll certainly make myself available,” said Kate, glancing around the living room. “But your furniture and decorations look great.”
Meredith rolled her eyes, smirking, as if to say, You’re too kind, and then made her way to the staircase at the back of the living room.
“Give a holler if you need anything,” she said airily, as she started up the stairs.
Kate refreshed her coffee, grabbed her toolbox from where she had set it down on the living room floor, and let herself out the sliding glass door.
The patio tiles looked good, and she had covered more than half of the area. It was safe to estimate she had three more days of work left, but if she concentrated and spent a few extra hours today and tomorrow, she had a decent shot of finishing in just two days. Kate liked the idea of that. Fixing up houses and doing little repairs for the residents gave her such a deep sense of calm that it was often easy to get through long hours. And she had noticed over the years that the more stress she felt in her personal life, the more of a workaholic she would become.
It was no secret that Kate was battling a fresh bout of stress. Her entire family was. Though life with Scott had been wonderful these past few years, and having her twin boys back in Rock Ridge now that they had graduated college brought her joy on a daily basis, the recent disappearance of Jason’s fiancée, Becky, had tipped their world off its axis.
According to Jason, Becky had been abducted when they suffered a home invasion last week. Kate had believed her son outright. How could she not? But Scott had developed his own theories. Though the Rock Ridge Police Department had organized a county wide search for Becky and though Celia had been at the helm of a separate search with many of the residents who felt a sense of urgency that they wanted to do something to help find Becky, it seemed that the more Scott learned about Becky’s kidnapping, the less he believed it. And he made no secret of this, which put him and Jason at odds.
From where Kate was standing, the best way to fix their relationship would be to find Becky and bring her home safe and sound. But if the Rock Ridge police hadn’t made much headway in that effort, how would she?
Complicating matters was the fact that when she, Scott, Jason, and Jared had all gone out to dinner at Daisy’s Luncheonette—which now served dinner, too—last night, Kate could’ve sworn she had seen Becky in the parking lot when she glanced out the window.
Fitting a square tile down on a fresh layer of putty, Kate told herself that her eyes had been playing tricks on her. It couldn’t have been Becky in the parking lot; it had been dark; and Becky wasn’t the most unusual looking young woman. Kate had to have been mistaken.
But if it hadn’t been Becky, then who was it?
Kate had lived in Rock Ridge long enough to know every single resident by face if not by name. The town wasn’t that big, and it might as well be the gossip capital of the country. If someone new had floated into town and they looked like Becky, she would’ve heard about it.
She decided she could either keep driving herself nuts over this, or she could concentrate on her work and enjoy the fresh air. So she chose the latter, drinking her coffee and setting her measuring level between two tiles to make sure they were perfectly straight.
As the morning unfolded and the sun angled above the treetops in the distance, hitting Kate with direct sunlight, she grabbed a tube of sunblock from her toolbox and lathered up her arms and face. As a natural redhead, her skin was fair and she tended to burn rather than tan. The last thing she needed was a sunburn.
When Kate set the tube of sunblock into her toolbox, she heard her cell phone rattling against the top compartment where she had left it. Picking it up, she noted the caller’s name flashing across the LCD screen. It was Carly, her best friend.
Carly probably needed a little help fixing a shelf or a chair. Her shop, Sunshine Florist, was constantly falling apart, and she was only able to spring for new items every so often, but not more than about four times a year.
Kate swiped the screen, answering the call with a friendly, “What’s up, Carly?”
“Kate!” She sounded panicked and out of breath, and for some reason her voice seemed muffled, as though she wasn’t holding her cell to her mouth. “Where are you?”
“I’m working,” she said then quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Can you get to Daisy’s Luncheonette?” she demanded.
“I’m at Meredith Joste’s house, so it would take me a few minutes, but I just got here—”
“This is an emergency, please come!”
“Did you call the police?”
“I need you, Kate! Someone’s dead! I know how things work around here when you’re the last person seen with someone who was killed or the first person to find them, and I need you here!”
“Who was killed?” she asked urgently, but Carly had already hung up.
Kate tidied up her tools, dropping them in her toolbox, and then stacked the loose tiles she had yet to lay down. Inside the house, she found Meredith vacuuming on the second floor now that she was dressed and her hair was styled.
“I have to go out for a bit,” she said when Meredith turned off the vacuum to hear her. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Well, I’m heading out, so I’ll leave a key in the flower pot outside, the one to the left.”
Kate nodded then padded down the stairs. After collecting her toolbox, she locked the sliding glass door, deposited her empty mug in the kitchen sink, and started for her truck that was parked halfway up the block.
The drive to Daisy’s Luncheonette was a blur, as Kate’s anxiety ratcheted up. She didn’t want Carly to worry. Kate, herself, had stumbled upon countless bodies two years ago and she had never once been suspected, but she also knew Carly would argue that had been the case because Kate was becoming involved with Scott, the police chief. Even still, Kate was sure Carly had nothing to worry about.
Or did she?
; Though she trusted Scott’s police work, it hadn’t been sitting right with her that he was keeping his eye on Jason following Becky’s disappearance. If Scott could misjudge her very own son and believe him capable of lying about a matter as serious as Becky Langley’s abduction, then it was possible he could misinterpret how Carly discovered a body at Daisy’s Luncheonette.
She feared to imagine.
And what was eating her most was wondering who had been killed.
Kate pulled into the parking lot, driving slowly by the diner so that she could spy through the windows, but it looked as calm and cozy as ever. When she pulled her truck into a parking spot, however, she noticed Carly pacing with her arms folded at the far end of the lot. Daisy, the owner of the diner, was there as well—though standing with a drawn grimace on her face.
Hopping out of her truck, Kate waved at Carly, who began rushing towards her, while Daisy hung back, glaring at Carly in a way that Kate found strange and out of character.
“Thank God you’re here,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Kate.
After a brief hug during which Carly seemed to be hanging on for dear life, Kate urged her back and studied her face. “What on earth happened?” she asked. Carly looked pale and ill.
But Carly didn’t answer her, not in a way that made a shred of sense. “Daisy thinks I did it!”
“Did what? Killed someone?”
“She called the police!”
“Okay, try to stay calm. If someone was killed, the police should come and investigate.”
“Please,” said Carly, pulling her arm to get her moving towards the back of the parking lot. “Please take a look before they get here.”
Obliging by following along, Kate stated, “I’m not an investigator, Carly. There’s nothing I’ll be able to do.”
As Carly dragged Kate onward, Kate realized there was no body on the asphalt. Rather, Carly was leading her towards a vehicle where Daisy was standing off to the side.
“Look,” said Carly, indicating the driver’s side door that was open.
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries, Season 2 (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection) Page 10