“Heart attack apparently. He was only a few years older than me, and in great shape,” Kel mused, staring into space.
“How terribly sad. Did he have a family?”
The artist nodded. “He left behind a wife and three grown children.”
“That’s awful.”
“Indeed,” Kel nodded, then looked at Echo. “In other news…I heard from Bernetta Stiles that she sold her store to an exciting new candle maker who will be moving in.” He raised his coffee mug, never taking his eyes off of Echo. “Cheers.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “I…uh…I’ve gotta run. Thanks for coffee, Missy,” she called over her shoulder as she bolted for the door.
“You’re welcome,” her friend replied, but she was already gone.
Missy gazed at her dear friend for a long time. His head had dropped into his hands and she thought that he may have been crying.
“You have to tell her, darlin,” she said, her southern accent heavy with emotion. “And soon.”
“I know,” he whispered, nodding. “I know.”
Chapter 7
Spencer Bengal arrived at Echo’s house earlier than she did, and saw a pasty man with heavy glasses lingering suspiciously in the yard between his new house and Echo’s.
He strode over to the man, unsmiling, his military bearing evident. “Hey big guy, can I help you with something?” he offered, hands on hips.
“No, I’m fine,” the man replied, blinking behind his coke-bottle glasses.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I’m looking for my cat,” the pallid, middle-aged man said, pushing his glasses up with his forefinger.
“Your cat’s not here,” the Marine stepped toward him grimly.
“Oh, Spencer, I see you’ve met my new neighbor, Tim. He’s the one who made that fabulous Key Lime pie,” Echo came up behind the young man, blissfully unaware of the interaction that had just taken place.
“Tim, this is Spencer. He’s a dear friend who helps me make my candles.”
“My grandmother taught me how to make the pies. She made the best ones.”
“Aww…that’s so sweet. Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to put this Marine to work and get some candles made,” Echo replied brightly, taking Spencer by the arm. “Did you find Jingles yet?”
Tim looked at her blankly, cocking his head to the side.
“Your cat. Did you find him?”
“No. Not yet,” he shook his head and turned toward home.
“That guy creeps me out,” Spencer muttered.
“Shhh…he’ll hear you!” Echo whispered. “Just because someone is a little bit different doesn’t mean that they’re not kind and decent human beings,” she admonished.
“I’ve met a lot of different types of people ma’am, and this one gives me the creeps,” the Marine glanced back over his shoulder before entering the house, fully expecting to see Tim lurking among the palmettos.
“I save my shudders for Loud Steve,” Echo commented wryly.
“I think a lot of people would agree with you on that one,” Spencer chuckled, lightening up now that Tim was out of sight.
The two of them went into the bedroom/studio and turned on the wax warming burners. Echo selected the scents and colors that they’d be using, and they went to work with a single-minded focus. After they’d been dipping and sculpting for a few hours, Spencer asked her a simple question that nearly made her cry, but she tried to hide it from him.
“So, how did Kel take the news that you wouldn’t be working at the Gallery anymore?” he asked, innocently enough.
Echo took a deep breath in before responding. “I don’t know…we haven’t really talked about it.”
“Really? That’s unusual. I thought you two were able to talk about most everything. It seems strange that you haven’t talked about something so important,” he observed, never taking his eyes from the candle that he was working on.
Echo swiped at her eyes. “He’s been really busy lately. We just haven’t had the chance.”
“Hard to believe. Seems to me that you’re always that man’s first priority. Sounds strange that he hasn’t made time to talk to you.”
“I think that he…that is…he might be…” she trailed off miserably.
“What?” Spencer prompted, still entirely engrossed in his work.
“I think he’s seeing someone,” she blurted finally. “He’s very preoccupied, and he’s been out of touch and hard to reach and quiet, and…” she bit off the rest of her sentence when she realized that she was on the verge of ranting.
“Don’t you think that if he was seeing someone, you’d be the first person he’d tell?” the Marine asked reasonably. “It seems to me that when two people are as close as you and he have been, they should at least give each other the benefit of the doubt. He could be going through something rough that he can’t tell you about right now, and you’d never know it because you haven’t talked to him.”
Echo was silent for a moment, letting the wise young man’s words sink in. Spencer watched her out of the corner of his eye while constantly cutting and molding his peaches and cream candle.
“He won’t talk to me,” she replied, her words sounding hollow, even in her own ears.
“Have you tried to listen to him?” he asked softly, his hands finally dropping from his candle, his eyes locking on hers.
“I…I’m scared,” she whispered, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek.
“Maybe he is too,” Spencer suggested softly, wiping away the tear with the back of his fingers.
“Oh Spence, I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed, his tender touch her undoing.
The young man took her in his arms, realizing that he’d have to remake the candle he’d been working on, but knowing that this was more important. She drew back after a bit, wiping her eyes and sniffling.
“I pride myself on keeping control of my feelings, keeping my personal life nice and tidy, and I’ve been just a mess lately.”
The floodgates had opened in the face of Spencer’s kindness and everything she’d been going through came tumbling out.
“I finally figured out that I had feelings for him, and he starts acting weird before I can even tell him.”
“Well, it took you long enough,” Spencer teased. “The rest of us knew a long time ago.”
“Am I that transparent?”
“Paper thin,” he grinned. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Kel’s a great guy, if you feel for him, just throw it out there and see how he responds. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
“Easy for you to say,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Where are all of the young ladies that should be hanging all over a man like you?”
His smile dimmed a bit and he shrugged. “Guess they haven’t found me yet. I’ve always found it kind of difficult to relate to women my own age for some reason.”
“Really? A hot guy like you? How can that be?”
Spencer actually blushed. “Hot, huh? I don’t see myself that way, but thanks…I guess.”
“Oh puhleeze! All the ladies think of you that way. You’re smart, capable, strong, and more than blessed in the looks department.”
“Did Chas pay you to say this stuff?” he joked, then sobered. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. I’m different, I suppose. My mom used to say that I was an “old soul,” whatever that means. I write poems and like to think about things. I got some flak for that in the Marine Corps, but most of the guys actually thought it was kinda cool, I think. It’s just been hard to find a girl who can deal with my…intensity, I guess.”
“How do you think going to war affected that?” Echo asked softly.
Spencer sighed. “I suppose it made it worse. I’ve always been pretty self-reliant, but having to gear up mentally for…the things that I experienced, made that even more profound. When I love, I love completely, but it’s a long road to get there,” he admitted.
>
“You lost somebody, didn’t you?”
Their eyes locked, and she could swear that she saw the briefest glint of tears.
“Yeah, I did,” he reached for her hand, and she grasped his in both of hers.
“If you have feelings for Kel…tell him. You can’t know what he’ll do until you try, but you’ve got to put it out there. Love doesn’t come along every day,” his deep blue eyes touched her soul.
“Your mom was right,” Echo replied, her voice shaking.
“How’s that?”
“You are and old soul,” she smiled, hugging him.
Chapter 8
Chas was surprised to receive a call from Stanley Nichimura, alerting him to the fact that all was not as it seemed in the death of Doctor Winstead Burrows. Initial findings had missed an injection site on the doctor’s neck, and samples had now been sent to the lab to determine what substance had been injected and whether or not it had played a part in his death. The detective sighed. He would have to now reopen the case, and begin a new round of interviews and investigation, with the goal of finding a murderer this time around. As tragic as an early death from cardiac arrest would have been, an untimely death at someone else’s hand was even more so. Family members would have to be told, and high profile members of the community would undoubtedly be on the list of people to question, which would have to be handled very delicately.
Pulling out the case files, which had not yet left his office, Chas started reviewing the timeline and making a list. He needed to find the doctor’s appointment book and see if he could determine who might be the last person who had seen Burrows alive. His first visit would be to Charice Faraday, Dr. Burrows’ receptionist. Charice had been helping out one of the other doctors in Burrows’ office, Dr. Madelyne Wellston, while she searched for a full-time job after her boss died. Dr. Wellston had sympathized with the hard-working receptionist and single mom, and had agreed to keep her working until she found another position, which made her easy to find for questioning.
“Ms. Faraday, do you have access to the list of appointments that Doctor Burrows had on the day that he passed?”
“Yes, sir,” the young woman replied, wide-eyed. “But I can’t share it with you because of privacy laws.”
“I understand that you can’t share with me the information about patients contained in your computer files…” Chas began carefully. “But…is there a hard-copy book that might have some notes about the doctor’s schedule that might be left lying around in his office, that my team might have accidentally not picked up when we gathered evidence from his office?” he smiled pleasantly.
Charice was a smart cookie, and immediately picked up on his point.
“I could certainly go look,” she nodded. “Detective, Doctor Burrows was a good, kind man, who gave me a chance when no one else in this town would. If someone did something bad to him, I want to do anything I can to help.”
“Understandable, Ms. Faraday. Perhaps you might want to go take a look around his office to see if you might discover something that my men may have missed?”
“Yes, Detective. I’ll be right back.” Charice turned to the file cabinet behind her, dug through some files and grabbed a black, leather-bound book, then headed for the doctor’s office, keys in hand.
In a matter of minutes she returned with a black leather appointment book in hand.
“I found this behind a file cabinet,” she said, handing Chas the book. “I don’t know if it’ll be helpful…I didn’t open it to see what was in it, so I’m just going to assume that it’s something personal,” she met the detective’s eyes without shame.
“Thank you, Ms. Faraday. I’m sure it was an oversight on my team’s part,” he shook her hand and headed for the door.
The book that Charice had “found” was actually a hard copy of every patient and personal appointment that the doctor had for the year. She was an efficient young woman who wrote down essentially every detail of the doctor’s day so that she could schedule his appointments without conflict.
When Chas got back to the office, he flipped the book open to the date of the doctor’s death and ran his finger down the column of morning appointments, astonished when he read the name of the last person to see Winstead Burrows alive. He sat back in his leather executive chair, stunned, not knowing what to think or how to feel. He tented his fingers under his chin, lost in thought for a few minutes, then he leaned forward and picked up the phone.
“Missy, I need to ask you a question,” he sighed heavily.
Chapter 9
Echo had given Spencer a key to her cottage, so that he could come over and work whenever he had time, whether she was home or not, so the Marine had no qualms about letting himself in while she was out grocery shopping. He turned on the wax melting burners, opening the scented oils that were scheduled for today’s batches, and readied his tools and supplies. He had just set his sculpting tools in front of his work station when the doorbell rang. Thinking that it might be Echo, needing help carrying her groceries in, he hurried to the front door, irritated when he found her new neighbor, Tim, on the other side.
“What’s up?” he asked, trying hard to sound vaguely polite, despite his annoyance at having been interrupted.
“She’s not here,” Tim stated the obvious.
“Nope,” Spencer agreed, staring at the neighbor and waiting for him to make a point, or ask a question, or give some sort of indication that there was normal brain activity going on behind those thick glasses.
“Okay,” was the expressionless reply, and Tim moved toward the porch steps.
“Did you need something?”
At the bottom of the steps, Tim turned around and stared at the massive Marine filling Echo’s doorway.
“No,” he shook his head and continued on his way.
“Find your cat?” Spence called after him, trying to be neighborly. The pallid, bespectacled man gave no indication of even having heard him.
He went back to the bedroom/studio, and had just begun to prepare a wick, when the doorbell rang again.
“That guy,” he exclaimed in frustration, shaking his head. He yanked the door open faster than usual, startling a grocery-laden Echo.
“Hi! I have some bags here that are kind of heavy, would you mind?” she asked with her usual sunny smile.
“Not at all.” He relieved her of all of her bags, lifting them as though they weighed nothing, while she massaged the red lines that they’d embedded on her hands and wrists.
“Thanks, Spence, you’re a lifesaver, as usual,” she said, following him back into the house and trying not to notice the strong lines of his shoulders straining against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
“I bought some non-vegan items to keep around for you to munch on while you’re over here working. It’ll be the first time ever that I’ve had animal products in my house. Kinda weirds me out a little bit,” she confessed.
“Aww…you didn’t have to do that ma’am. I should’ve been bringing my own supplies over.”
“Absolutely not. Think of it as an employee benefit,” she grinned. “Besides, we’re friends and I want to thank you for helping me by showing you at least a little bit of hospitality.”
“Well, I appreciate it ma’am,” he called over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen.
“And for goodness’ sake, stop calling me ma’am, it makes me feel ancient,” she laughed.
“You’re definitely not ancient, ma’am, er, Echo.”
“Glad we got that straight. How far are you in your candle prep?”
“The wax is heating, and I just started on the wicks. The scents are set out, so we should be ready to go as soon as the groceries get put away.”
“Perfect. What would I do without you, Spence?” she asked, opening the fridge and putting away the veggies that he handed her.
“Put away your own groceries?” he teased.
The two of them put away the food, then headed back to the studio to get start
ed. They had both just started dipping when the doorbell rang yet again. Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes. Obviously Tim had seen Echo come in and was now on the doorstep yet again.
“I’ll get it,” he offered. “Your neighbor came over earlier looking for you.”
“Oh, don’t bother then. I’ll go talk to him,” she said, laying her candle-start carefully on a piece of aluminum foil and wiping her hands on a towel.
She went to the front door and swung it open, surprised to see Kel standing on her porch.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her heart dropping to her knees. “Kel. What a surprise, I thought it was my neighbor, Tim, at the door. What brings you here?” she smiled tightly, trying to control the trembling that threatened to ripple through her.
Without any of his usual flair or theatrical presence, Kel answered tiredly. “I just wanted to talk with you about something. Can I come in?”
Knowing that Spencer was inside, she suggested that they sit on the porch instead, and led her former boss to the porch swing.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“No, thanks, but you might want one,” he looked at her intently.
“I think you’re right about that,” she agreed shakily. “I’ll be right back.”
When she came back, the artist was on the phone, a grave look on his face.
“Bad news?” she asked, clutching her wine.
“No. Just yet another thing that I have to attend to,” Kel sighed, rising to his feet as though it required a great deal of effort.
“Kel, I…” she began.
“Wait, dear one. This conversation has to be uninterrupted. We’ll get together soon,” he grasped her hand and brought it to his paper-dry lips briefly.
“I’d like that,” she said softly, watching him go, then downed her wine in three giant gulps.
“You okay?” Spencer’s voice startled her from the doorway, moments later as she stood motionless on the porch.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Chapter 10
Kel arrived at the Calgon Police Department and gave his name to the desk sergeant. Chas came out and escorted him back to his office.
Cranberry Orange Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 29 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 3