Bourbon Creme Killer: Book 9 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  ***

  With the links that Kel had provided to her, Missy learned probably more than she had wanted to know about Tommy Mancino. Rhonda the realtor had been correct, he was extremely good-looking, movie-star good-looking in fact. The mechanic was tall and muscular, with curly black hair and soulful chocolate eyes. He’d tried to make a living as a musician, but had apparently supplemented his meager income by engaging in drug trafficking, theft, and various other dangerous-sounding crimes. He’d paid his debt to society, however, and was now a free man, working at Sal’s Garage. Well, at least if she had to go talk with the ex-criminal, she’d have something pretty to look at. Whether a hardened playboy like that would give her forty-something self the time of day was another story, and she figured she’d just have to dress the part.

  Instead of hitting one of the stylish boutiques downtown, Missy headed for the mall to buy clothing that might help her get some information out of Tommy Mancino. The heat and humidity in central Illinois was nothing compared to Calgon’s sultry clime, so, even though it was summer, she bought a snug pair of designer jeans and paired them with an off-the-shoulder turquoise top and matching jute wedges. There was no way in the world that she was going to a car repair shop in shorts or a skirt. She bought a tube of bright pink lipstick and a pair of dangly earrings to complete her ensemble, and when she put everything together in her hotel room, she had to giggle at her reflection, that of a middle-aged Barbie doll. Fortunately, Tommy was in his early fifties, so she hoped the disguise would do the trick.

  Putting the address to Sal’s Garage into her phone, she made her way toward a shabbier part of town and pulled into the parking lot. She got out of the car and locked it, looking around and trying her best to appear as a helpless female.

  “Hey sweetheart, what can I do for ya?” a grizzled mechanic, clearly not Tommy Mancino, popped his head out from under the hood of a well-worn piece of heavy American metal and gave her a lopsided leer after appraising her from head to toe.

  “Hi, are you Tommy?” Missy asked sweetly, tilting her head to one side.

  “Doll, I’m whoever you need me to be. You got car troubles?”

  Missy nodded, batting her kitten-grey eyes in what she hoped was a fetching manner. “I have a friend who knows Tommy and she said that maybe he’d come out and take a look at my car for me.”

  “Tell ya what, you pull it into that bay over there, and I’ll take a look myself,” the mechanic gestured with an oily hand.

  “Oh, well, it’s not this car… it’s a different one, and I…” Missy fidgeted, trying to figure out what to say next.

  “Hey, Sal! You making time with the lady by pretending to be me again?” Tommy Mancino teased, appearing in the doorway of the shop. There was no mistaking that this had to be the ruggedly handsome man whom Rhonda the realtor had told Kel about. He even had great teeth. He gave Missy a look that was more friendly than leering, which should have put her at ease, but there was something about his demeanor that gave her a slight chill.

  “Good afternoon, pretty lady,” he flirted. “What can I do to help a damsel in distress this afternoon?” he asked, standing in front of her, hands on hips that were clad in bad boy jeans.

  Missy giggled, hoping to make herself sound innocent and not terribly bright. “Well… it’s silly, really, but… is there someplace more private that we can talk?” she asked in a voice low enough to make him lean in to hear her.

  Sal shook his head and went back to work, accustomed to having women of all ages stop by to try and work their wiles on Tommy. What some women wouldn’t do to try and get a discount on getting their car fixed. Mancino studied her for a moment, those chocolate eyes seeming more shrewd than she’d expected, and Missy held her breath, hoping that he wasn’t on to her ruse.

  “Sure, honey, come on in here,” he directed, touching her lightly on the elbow to guide her into the office. “What’s your name?”

  “Uh… Mindy. Mindy… Baker,” Missy lied with a smile, trying not to flinch away from the casual touch on her arm.

  “So what can I do for you, Mindy Baker? Coffee?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of what looked like day-old sludge.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks. Coffee makes me jittery,” she giggled nervously.

  “Looks like you’ve already had some,” he observed, raising an eyebrow. Thick muscles flexed beneath tattoos as he stirred cream into his cup of sludge. “What’s on your mind?” Suddenly his smile seemed less friendly, his gaze more probing.

  Missy’s heart raced, and she fought hard to maintain what she hoped was a nonchalant smile.

  “Well, I’m a little envious, actually. My friend Jeanie Hammond has a bit of a crush on you, and she hasn’t called me for days, so I was kinda thinking that she maybe has… better things to do than talk to her buddy on the phone, but I miss her, and I was hoping maybe you could just tell her to call me?” she blushed, looking down at her hands, then back up at Tommy with her big grey eyes.

  His face was impassive and he stared at her for a moment before he spoke.

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. It ain’t like that with Jeanie and me. She’s got a boyfriend. You talk to him?” he challenged, the easygoing smile completely gone.

  Missy swallowed hard, but maintained her clueless smile.

  “I know she’s seeing someone, but she sure talked an awful lot about you,” she shrugged, feeling more uncomfortable by the second as Tommy’s eyes darkened and narrowed.

  “Seems to me like if one of your girlfriends goes missing, the first place you’d look would be with the boyfriend,” he said quietly. “The guy’s got a cabin down south a couple hours. I would bet that Jeanie’s hanging out there, just for a break or something, but who knows? I heard he’s got a mean streak. So, you got car problems or what?” he challenged, clearly done talking.

  Missy’s mind raced as she tried to figure out her next move, feeling like she was missing something.

  “Uh… no, I don’t have car problems, but I think I may have lost my necklace in Jeanie’s car when we went out a couple weeks ago, do you mind if I take a look and try to find it?” she smiled sweetly, somehow keeping her lips from trembling.

  “Sorry, I can’t let you into another customer’s car, that ain’t right,” Tommy shook his head and crossed his arms over his impressively large chest.

  “Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to let me in,” she smiled. “I have a key.”

  “You have a key,” he repeated, staring at her.

  “Yup,” she moved toward the door.

  “Knock yourself out then,” he muttered, opening the office door to let her out.

  Well, that certainly hadn’t gone as well as she’d expected, but at least now Missy had access to the car and hoped to find some sort of clue. She searched the interior high and low, under seats, in the glove compartment, in the side pockets of the doors, the center console, and the pocket on the back of the front seats, then popped the trunk to have a look back there. She was bent over at the waist, using her phone as a flashlight, when Tommy’s voice startled her, making her bolt upright, banging her head on the trunk. She winced and rubbed at the sore spot.

  “You thinking you lost your necklace back here?” he drawled, eyebrows raised.

  “It was a long shot, but I did help her unload groceries, so it was possible,” Missy turned on the charm. Apparently Tommy was no longer buying it.

  “You done here? Sal and I got work to do before we close up for the day.”

  “Oh! Sure, yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bother. Thanks for letting me take a look,” she smiled, turning and heading for her rental car, trying not to walk conspicuously fast.

  Tommy turned away and sneezed three times in rapid succession.

  “Bless you,” Missy said automatically, looking at him and noticing his red, bloodshot eyes for the first time. “Poor thing, do you have a cold?”

  “Nahhh… allergies. This time of year sucks for me because of the harvesti
ng starting.”

  “Aww… that’s too bad,” she sympathized, a red flag going up in her mind. Lost in thought, she turned again to go.

  “Nice accent. Where you from, Mindy?” he called after her.

  Kicking herself for not trying harder to conceal her Louisiana drawl, she turned back briefly.

  “Tennessee,” she replied, continuing on her way. “You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.”

  He nodded, eyeing her speculatively. “Tennessee, huh?” he muttered.

  She was too far away to hear him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kel rushed into Echo’s cozy cottage, found Scott, and hugged him tight.

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he said, searching the teenager’s eyes.

  “I’m okay,” the youth shrugged, trying to smile. “Echo is a pretty good rescuer.”

  The artist moved to his fiancée and took her gently into his arms.

  “My precious love, why on earth didn’t you call the police? I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you,” he closed his eyes and kissed her hair, while Scott occupied himself with checking the wax levels in the dipping vats.

  “I couldn’t call the police,” she whispered. “Remember? Involving them might mean that Jeanette could get hurt.”

  Kel held his bride-to-be at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes for a moment. He’d never known it was possible to love someone so much.

  “You put your life in danger in order to protect a woman you’ve never met. Your fiancé’s ex-girlfriend that you’ve never met,” his eyes were filled with admiration.

  “She’s the mother of your son, and your son is a part of you… I can’t turn my back on that. Never,” she shook her head, placing her palm on his cheek.

  “You’re an amazing woman.”

  They were both a bit startled when they heard Chas’s voice coming from the front hall.

  “Echo? You home?” the detective called out.

  Echo looked at Kel wide-eyed.

  “I’ll be out in a second,” she replied, then turned back to her fiancé. “Why is he here?” she whispered. “Did Missy tell him what’s going on?”

  The artist sighed. “I certainly hope not. She’s still in Illinois.”

  “Good afternoon, Kel,” Chas greeted the artist. “I wasn’t aware that you had returned to Calgon, but it looks like my lovely wife must have done an incredibly good job of convincing you not to get involved,” he commented dryly.

  The artist met his gaze, and simply stared for a moment, formulating a response.

  “Well, I’m obviously not a detective,” he said finally.

  “That never really stopped you before,” Chas observed. “Kel… you and I both know that my Missy sometimes gets herself involved with situations that might be hazardous to her health. I’d hate to think that you’d left her alone in another state under those kinds of circumstances,” the detective gave him a pointed look.

  “I care very deeply for your dear wife. If I had suspected that she might be putting herself in harm’s way, I would not have felt comfortable leaving her there.”

  “Just so we’re on the same page in that regard.”

  “Indeed,” Kel nodded.

  Chas leaned against the foyer wall, looking from Echo to Kel and back again.

  “We had a citizen’s report come in from one of your neighbors last night.”

  “Oh?” Kel said, as he and Echo exchanged a look.

  The detective nodded.

  “A sweet little old neighbor lady was awake and feeding her cats when she heard a lot of banging coming from your place. Said she saw a young man jump your fence and run shortly after, then saw Echo pull your car into the driveway. Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

  Echo blinked, then swallowed and spoke.

  “Kel’s son, Scott, was housesitting while Kel was in Illinois, and he was woken up by a bunch of strange sounds coming from the downstairs, so doing the smart thing, he ran into the bathroom, locked the door and texted me,” she explained.

  “That must have been scary,” Chas mused.

  “Terrifying,” Echo nodded.

  “Then why, when you got that text, did you not call 911, or me, for that matter?”

  Echo’s mouth gaped a bit as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

  “I… I don’t… I just… was so upset, that I… wasn’t thinking clearly. I just wanted to get to Scott and make sure that he was safe. I didn’t even think about who might be in the house or why,” she said shakily.

  “Understandable,” Chas looked at her carefully. “Was anything damaged or missing?”

  “No, not that I could tell,” Kel replied, so that Echo wouldn’t have to.

  “What was the condition of the house when you arrived?” the detective turned back to Echo.

  “All the doors on the lower level were open, all the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen were open, and Kel’s desk in the study had been gone through,” she answered, not mentioning the note that had been slipped under the bathroom door.

  “Sounds like whoever it was, was looking for something. Any idea what that might be?” Chas asked Kel.

  “Not a clue,” the artist shook his head.

  “What about the alarm system? Was it set and operational?”

  “I set it when I left after we watched a movie,” Echo nodded. “It seemed to work just fine.”

  Chas raised his eyebrows. “Mind if I drop by and take a look around? Might see something that you two missed in all the excitement.”

  “That’d be great,” Kel replied, shaking the detective’s hand.

  “I can meet you at Betty’s for lunch and we can swing by your place after,” Chas suggested.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Nice seeing you Echo,” the detective gave her a hug and went on his way.

  “You too,” she murmured.

  She and Kel exchanged a worried glance.

  “It can’t hurt to let him have a look, right?” she whispered.

  Kel shrugged. “If he finds something important, we’ll just have to explain what’s going on and try to get him to not do anything in an official capacity.”

  “Easier said than done,” Echo bit her lip.

  “Indeed.”

  ***

  Chas was nearly finished with his examination of Kel’s massive home, when something on top of a stack of papers caught his eye.

  “Kel, what does your housekeeper look like?” he asked, slipping a handful of plastic evidence bags out of his pocket.

  “Linda is about five feet tall, on the thin side, bright red hair, brown eyes… why?”

  “So it would be safe to assume that this didn’t come from her,” the detective observed, holding up a curly black hair with tweezers.

  “I’d say so,” Kel agreed, his stomach churning a bit.

  “And this pen is on top of everything, so I’m going to hope that the perpetrator picked it up at some point,” Chas continued, slipping the pen into another bag. “And it looks like this legal pad may have been used too.” He took the yellow pad of paper and put it into yet another evidence bag. “I recovered another black hair outside the bathroom door,” he patted his pocket, then turned to address his friend very frankly.

  “Look, Kel, you and I both know that this incident could be connected to your son’s missing mother. Let me slip some things through the lab. I have some techs who owe me favors. It can’t hurt to at least try to track down who did this, because there’s someone out there who may pose a danger to you, Echo, or Scott. Don’t you want to find out who it is?” the detective asked reasonably.

  “Of course,” Kel let out a breath, actually glad that Chas would be pitching in to help. “I’m sorry, I just haven’t even been able to think straight lately. With the baby, and Scott and Jeanette, and Echo not feeling well…” he shook his head.

  “I hear you my friend, and I’m here t
o help,” Chas snapped off his rubber gloves and gave the artist’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Missy tossed her giant earrings on the counter, squirmed out of the tight jeans and top and into gym shorts and a t-shirt, then wiped the hot pink lipstick from her mouth with a tissue. She hadn’t found any clues; she hadn’t really had a substantial conversation with Tommy Mancino, who, despite his good looks seemed rather scary; and she hadn’t learned anything new, other than Stanton Vincenzo had an alleged mean streak.

  Tommy Mancino had been to prison, but when they’d looked at his activities since his release, he’d seemed like a model citizen, not having even so much as a parking ticket. Stanton Vincenzo had seemed to Kel like a genuinely nice guy who was a little bit too smooth for comfort, and none of what either one of them had found out pointed to how or why Jeanette Hammond had disappeared. A couple of things were popping up in Missy’s brain as red flags though… she had seen allergy drugs in Jeanette’s drawer, and Kel had said that as far as he knew, Jeanette didn’t have allergies. When she talked to Tommy Mancino, he’d said that his allergies were driving him crazy, yet Tommy pretended that he didn’t have a relationship of any substance with Jeanie. Were the allergy meds Tommy’s? Was he trying to conceal the fact that he and Jeanette were more involved than he was admitting?

  Then there was the matter of the cabin belonging to Stanton Vincenzo that Tommy had mentioned. Maybe Missy should go see Stanton herself. Maybe she could get answers out of the smooth-talking man that Kel hadn’t. Maybe she’d have to wear the tight jeans and jute heels one more time. No, when she really thought about it, trying to act like someone else really hadn’t turned out that well, so when she went to visit Stanton Vincenzo, she vowed to be much more true to who she really was, but she’d try better to hide her southern accent.

  Wrung out after her encounter with Tommy Mancino, Missy flopped back on the bed and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a banging on the door across the hall that used to be Kel’s room.