by Peg Cochran
“Let’s hide in here.”
She pulled open the door, praying it wouldn’t squeak, and pushed Gina inside.
Cobwebs clung to their faces, and Monica stifled a scream and brushed frantically at them.
Gina grabbed Monica, her fingers digging into Monica’s arm. “What was that noise?”
“What noise?” Monica was having trouble hearing anything over the pounding of her own heart.
“It sounded like something scurrying along the floor.” Gina let out a squeal. “It ran over my foot.”
“It’s probably a mouse.”
“Or a rat. I hope I don’t get rabies.”
“It didn’t bite you, did it?”
“No.” Gina shivered. “Thank goodness.”
“Then I don’t think you can get rabies.”
Monica tried to still her breathing as she put her ear to the door.
“I don’t hear Eddie. Maybe he’s given up?”
“I hope so. I can’t stand it in here much longer. I keep picturing bugs crawling up the walls.”
Monica tried to erase that image from her mind as she wondered what to do next. Should they risk leaving the closet? Maybe they should try to call for help?
“Do you have your cell phone with you?” Monica turned to Gina.
“I think so.”
Gina began rummaging in her handbag.
“Did you find it?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep looking. I don’t hear Eddie anymore but that doesn’t mean he isn’t out there. I don’t want to open the door until I know the police are on the way.”
Something hit the floor and there was the sound of breaking glass. The heavy scent of gardenias filled the small space.
“What on earth was that?” Monica said. She began coughing and covered her nose with her hand.
“That was a very expensive bottle of Pour Femme perfume I picked up the last time I was in Chicago.”
“Let’s pray Eddie doesn’t smell it and guess where we are. Did you find your phone yet?”
“No. I think it must have fallen out of my purse in the car. I knew I should have done up the clasp on my bag.”
Monica turned her head and a cobweb tickled her nose. She held her breath, praying she wouldn’t sneeze. Eddie might have left the building or he might be right outside the door.
“How much longer do we have to stay in here?” Gina’s voice was taking on an anxious tone.
“I don’t hear anything. Perhaps we can chance it.”
But before Monica could reach for the doorknob, it turned. The door banged open and Eddie stood there with a smirk on his face.
Chapter 18
Monica was almost too surprised to gasp. She blinked in the sudden light. But she didn’t need her eyes to adjust to see that Eddie was pointing the business end of a gun at them. “No.” The word burst out of her before she could stop it.
Eddie sneered and waved the gun. “Thought you’d fooled me, didn’t you?” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that awful smell?”
“That’s a very expensive perfume, I’ll have you know.” Gina crossed her arms over her chest.
“You shouldn’t have been so nosy,” Eddie sneered. “What’s it to you if I killed that scum Laszlo? He was trying to cheat me—he got what he deserved.” He gave a smile that sent chills through Monica. “And now you’re going to get what you deserve.” He moved his finger to the trigger of the gun.
Monica heard a noise that sounded like Gina was rustling through her handbag again.
Suddenly Eddie screamed, dropped the gun and began furiously rubbing his eyes.
“What did you do?” Monica said.
“Later. Let’s get out of here.”
Monica didn’t argue but pushed past Eddie, who was still rubbing his eyes.
“What did you spray Eddie with?” Monica sniffed. “Was that hairspray?”
“Yes. I always carry a can with me. You never know when you’ll need it. This natural look takes a lot of upkeep.” She patted her expensively highlighted hair.
“Let’s get out of here before Eddie recovers.”
They retraced their steps, threading their way through the maze of machinery until they reached the stairs. Monica winced at the noise they made clattering back down the metal steps.
They were almost to the door when there was a noise behind them. Monica glanced over her shoulder to see Eddie galloping down the steps. The gun was in his hand once again.
Monica knew she had to do something. If only they’d been a little quicker, they’d be on their way to her car by now. She looked around frantically.
An iron bar about the size of a fireplace poker was leaning against the wall. It looked like something that might have been used to secure the door from the inside. If she could grab it . . . perhaps if she kept Eddie talking he wouldn’t notice her inching in that direction.
“I guess you saw us hiding behind those rocks on the beach,” Monica said, one eye on Eddie and one on the iron bar.
“Yeah. But I already knew about you. Mattie said you’d been around the inn asking a bunch of questions that weren’t any of your business.”
“So Laszlo cheated you?” Monica had inched closer to the bar but it was still tantalizingly out of reach.
“He thought he was smarter than me, but he was wrong. I went to pick up my shipment of cigarettes and the guy told me someone had already taken them—said I’d told him to pick them up for me.” Eddie snorted. “I knew where his slip was at the yacht club so I waited for him there. I gave him a chance to come clean but he only laughed at me. What could I do? I had no choice.”
“So you killed him?” Monica’s fingertips brushed the bar.
“Sure. What would you do? He was poaching on my territory.”
Monica inched another step to the right. The bar was now within her grasp, but she needed something to distract Eddie.
Gina glanced at Monica and her eyes widened. She looked from Monica’s face to the bar and back again. Monica noticed her twisting the large topaz ring she wore, slowly sliding it off her finger.
While Eddie was looking at Monica, Gina tossed the ring onto the steps in back of him. It made a loud ping as it hit the metal and bounced.
“What the—” Eddie whirled around.
Monica grabbed the iron bar and lifted it in the air. She couldn’t bring herself to hit Eddie on the head, so she swung at his knees instead. He yelped loudly as his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. He rolled back and forth groaning and clutching his knees.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Monica grabbed Gina’s arm.
“But my ring—”
“We’ll come back for it later. We have to get to the car and call the police before Eddie recovers.”
“How hard did you hit him?”
“Hard enough.”
Monica felt as if she was exhaling for the first time in ages when her hand touched the car door handle. She opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat gratefully.
She dialed 911 and the dispatcher answered immediately, assuring her that help would be on the way.
Monica kept her eyes trained on the door of the abandoned factory. She didn’t know how long it would take Eddie to recover from the blow she’d delivered, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d locked the doors and longed to put the car in gear and drive as far away as fast as possible, but she’d assured the dispatcher that she would remain on the scene.
Monica thought she heard sirens in the distance when the door to the factory opened and Eddie limped out, wincing with every step.
“I guess you didn’t hit him hard enough,” Gina said.
“Your door is locked, right?”
Monica watched Eddie limp closer. He reached the car and began yanking on the door handle.
“Does the idiot really think we wouldn’t lock the doors?” Gina said with a snort.
Eddie gave up on the doors and began pounding on the front window—seemingly in frustration—w
hen the first police car rolled up in back of them.
The officers were cuffing Eddie when Detective Stevens arrived. She pulled to a stop in back of Monica’s Taurus. Monica heard the sound of an engine and was surprised to see another car coming down the road at a fast pace, kicking up dust and gravel. It was Greg’s Volvo. It screeched to a halt behind Stevens.
Monica was already out of the car when Greg reached her. He hugged her to him fiercely and she let herself sink into the safety of his arms. She stayed that way for several minutes before pulling away slightly and looking up at him.
“How did you know where to find me?”
Greg burst out laughing, and Monica looked at him curiously.
“You won’t believe it.”
“What won’t I believe?”
“The VanVelsen sisters have invested in a police scanner. They heard the call come in and Hennie came running over to the shop to tell me.”
“Actually,” Monica said, shaking a finger at Greg, “I don’t find that hard to believe at all.”
• • •
Greg insisted they go out to dinner at the Cranberry Cove Inn to celebrate Monica’s friend Andrea being off the hook for her husband’s murder. In the end, Gina, Jeff and Lauren joined them as well.
“This is delicious,” Monica said, digging into the coq au vin the waiter had placed in front of her. She looked over at Greg. “How’s yours?”
Greg had ordered the chicken tetrazzini. “Excellent.”
“They both look good,” Gina said, patting her lips with her napkin. “Better than my salmon and green salad.”
“Why didn’t you order something else?” Jeff said, cutting into his piece of prime rib.
“I have to keep my figure for your wedding.”
Jeff and Greg exchanged a glance and Greg raised his eyebrows.
“It’s not easy being a woman, you know.” Gina slapped Jeff on the arm. “Right, Lauren?”
“I’ll say.” Lauren was picking the bones out of her sole meunière.
“You still haven’t told us what happened this afternoon,” Jeff said.
Andrea looked up from her meal. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. I was terrified the police weren’t going to look any further for the killer. And I was afraid you would abandon me as well. I know you saw me and Tony in the Nook at the Cranberry Cove Inn that night we went for a drink. Tony’s been a friend for a long time, but I’ve kept him at arm’s length. But now with Bruce gone . . .”
“You have every right to begin living your life again,” Monica said, patting Andrea on the arm. Andrea looked relieved.
“What exactly were you doing out at that abandoned factory today?” Jeff said, turning to Monica. He pointed at Gina. “My mother has been rather vague about it.”
Gina glared back at him.
Monica took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure where to begin. “It would have been easy enough for Eddie to steal the knife that was used to kill Laszlo from the inn’s kitchen, and at one point I overheard his wife, Mattie, say something about how he never should have gotten involved with Laszlo. Then I heard him say something on the phone about a shipment. I thought the shipment might have had something to do with Laszlo’s murder. I decided to find out just what it was. Unfortunately he saw us and chased us to that factory where he nearly killed us.”
Greg reached over and squeezed Monica’s hand. “So there was a falling-out between the two of them?”
“I did hear Bruce arguing on the phone one day,” Andrea said. “Something about his share not being enough considering how much work he was doing. I assumed it had to do with his investment business, but maybe not. Maybe it was related to this smuggling business he’d gotten involved in.”
“That must have been so scary,” Lauren said.
Gina shrugged. “We kept our cool and captured him in the end.”
“I wouldn’t say we captured him exactly . . .” Monica said.
There was an awkward silence, which Lauren broke.
“I’ve come to a decision,” she announced suddenly.
Everyone looked startled. Greg and Monica exchanged glances and Monica shrugged her shoulders.
“Instead of pink for the wedding, I’ve decided to go with lilac after all.” She looked around the table and beamed.
Greg reached under the table and took Monica’s hand in his. He gave it a squeeze.
“I’m so glad you took wedding planning in your stride.”
Monica smiled back at him and squeezed his hand in return. “The important thing is that we’re together,” she whispered back.
Recipes
Cranberry Apple Cake
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 cup applesauce (sweetened)
1-1/2 cups sifted flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup oatmeal (quick-cooking)
3/4 cup whole-berry cranberry sauce
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
Add eggs and continue to beat until well combined. Add applesauce and mix well.
In another bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. Add to sugar, butter, egg and applesauce mixture and blend well.
Stir in oatmeal and cranberry sauce.
Pour into 9-inch square prepared pan and bake for 45 minutes.
Erwtensoep (Split Pea Soup)
1 onion, chopped
3 carrots peeled and chopped or thinly sliced
1 15-ounce can of chicken broth
3 cups water
2 or 3 turkey sausages, squeezed out of the casing and broken into small bits
1 16-ounce bag of split peas, picked over and rinsed
Add all ingredients to slow cooker. Cover and cook on low for eight hours.
Serve topped with croutons or grated Parmesan cheese if desired.
(If soup is too thick, add more water.)
Books by Peg Cochran
See all of Peg Cochran’s books at Kobo!
The Cranberry Cove Mysteries
Berried Secrets
Berry the Hatchet
Dead and Berried
Berried at Sea
The Lucille Mysteries
Confession Is Murder
Unholy Matrimony
Hit and Nun
A Room with a Pew
Cannoli to Die For
Farmer’s Daughter Mysteries
No Farm, No Foul
Sowed to Death
Bought the Farm
The Gourmet De-Lite Mysteries
Allergic to Death
Steamed to Death
Iced to Death
Young Adult Books
Oh, Brother!
Truth or Dare
Writing as Meg London
Murder Unmentionable
Laced with Poison
A Fatal Slip
About the Author
Peg grew up in a New Jersey suburb about twenty-five miles outside of New York City. After college, she moved to the City, where she managed an art gallery owned by the son of the artist Henri Matisse.
After her husband died, Peg remarried and her new husband took a job in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where they now live (on exile from New Jersey, as she likes to joke). Somehow Peg managed to segue from the art world to marketing and is now the manager of marketing communications for a company that provides services to seniors.
She is the author of the Cranberry Cove Mysteries, the Lucille Mysteries, the Farmer’s Daughter Mysteries, the Gourmet De-Lite Mysteries, and, writing as Meg London, the Sweet Nothings Vintage Lingerie series.
Peg has two daughters, a stepdaughter and stepson, a beautiful granddaughter, and a Westhighland white terrier named Reggie. You can read more at www.p
egcochran.com and www.meglondon.com.