Bourbon Creme Killer: Book 9 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  “Champaign County Sheriff’s Department, open up!” a stern voice commanded, only to be met with silence.

  Missy covered her mouth with her hands, heart pounding. The voice tried a couple more times before instructing the hotel manager to open the door with a room key. She was thankful that the maid had cleaned the room shortly after Kel left, so hopefully there would be no traces of him left in the cool, sophisticated space. She held her breath, hoping against hope that no one had yet made the connection between her and Kel, and sagged into a chair when the police finally left, after inspecting the room.

  “Yeah, he’s long gone,” she heard one of the officers remark, and hoped that Kel wasn’t now a suspect of some sort.

  Missy knew that she had to make progress and quickly. Every day that passed was another chance for something awful to happen to Jeanette Hammond, and she couldn’t stomach the thought of a nice young man like Scott losing his mother. She’d go see Stanton Vincenzo in the morning, and in the meantime, she’d search property records trying to locate his cabin. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but it was better than doing nothing. She would also run more searches on Tommy Mancino, who seemed like a potentially dangerous man.

  Missy’s eyes were blurred with lack of sleep, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand, suddenly feeling very much awake after a few hours of searching for Vincenzo’s cabin. She’d come across a picture of Stanton and four of his friends, standing in front of a gorgeous log-cabin type home. The caption on the photo said “Kaufman Lake, 2014.” After finding the photo, she’d done a search for property records in Kaufman Lake, Illinois, using Stanton’s name, and had stumbled across the deed to the property. It turned out that the “cabin” was a luxury lakefront home with its own dock. She jotted down the address, and considered the possibility of checking out the home after speaking with Stanton in the morning.

  ***

  Missy took one last look in the mirror before heading out to Stanton Vincenzo’s office. She’d elected to wear comfortable capris and an age-appropriate sleeveless sweater, with white patent leather kitten-heeled mules, and modest pearl earrings, capping off her look with a simple messy bun, leaving stray tendrils of hair trailing along her face and neck. She was glad that the morning cool hadn’t yet given way to the hot and humid day that the weatherman on the news last night had predicted. She took a deep breath, started the car, and headed toward Vincenzo’s office.

  Telling the receptionist that she was there to see Mr. Vincenzo on a personal matter, Missy sat in the waiting room, playing a word game on her phone to calm her nerves.

  “Mindy Baker?” the accountant asked, emerging from the inner sanctum. “Come with me please, young lady,” he gestured for her to enter ahead of him, then instructed her where to turn for his office. Once they were seated, he in his leather executive chair, she in a simple club chair across from him, he folded his hands on the desk and smiled at her expectantly.

  “How may I assist you today?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Actually, I came here today because I’m worried about a friend of mine, and I’m hoping that you might be able to help.”

  “Is your friend in need of an accountant?” the smile didn’t falter.

  “No, Mr. Vincenzo, my friend is Jeanette Hammond. Do you happen to know where she might be? I haven’t seen or heard from her in over two weeks, and I’m worried about her. It’s just not like her to disappear like that, without a word to anyone.”

  Stanton Vincenzo’s face drooped, and he shook his head.

  “I’ll tell you what, Mindy, I’m worried about her too. You’re not the only one who’s asking around about her. Seems like she just disappeared, but then on the other hand, if you know her well, you know that sometimes she just likes to get away from it all and not talk to nobody, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Sure, yes,” Missy nodded, hoping that was the case. “But if she didn’t even tell you where she was going… isn’t that a little strange?”

  “Well, it ain’t like we was married or something,” Stanton chuckled, his Chicago accent profound, then he sobered. “In fact, I wonder if any of this has to do with the fact that she got mixed up with that ex-con mechanic, Mancino,” he said in a low voice, giving her a knowing look.

  “Were they dating?” Missy asked, trying to sound sympathetic rather than nosy.

  Vincenzo shrugged. “Call it what you will… word has it that he spent some nights at her place. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Is he… dangerous?” she gulped, not faking. She’d just spent time with that man.

  “Who knows?” he spread his hands, palms up in a gesture of frustrated ignorance. “All I know is that she starts seeing an ex-con, and then she up and disappears. You do the math, honey. I ain’t trying to scare you, I’m just being real, ya know?”

  “Could there maybe be other friends that she might have gone to stay with?” Missy thought aloud, realizing her mistake as the words left her mouth.

  Stanton’s eyes tightened just a fraction at the corners and he paused a moment, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head to one side to study her.

  “Well, as her friend, you’d know more about that than I would, am I right?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yes, of course. I just thought maybe… well, whatever. It doesn’t matter now. I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” Missy practically leapt from her chair and backed toward the door.

  “Oh, Miss Baker?” Vincenzo said slowly, with a smile that seemed almost smug.

  “Yes?” Missy answered breathlessly.

  “You’ll want to be careful about digging into other people’s private affairs… there are some nasty folks out there. Very nasty folks,” he warned, his eyes like daggers.

  Missy stared at him, tempted to make a cutting retort, but not wanting to make him entirely suspicious.

  “Yes, Mr. Vincenzo,” she finally replied, staring him down. “Apparently there are.”

  ***

  Missy drove away from the accounting firm more determined than ever to find the cabin and hopefully get to the bottom of Jeanette’s disappearance. She’d been terribly suspicious of Tommy Mancino, but now she was equally suspicious of Stanton Vincenzo. She’d found addresses for both men, and planned to drive by their houses just out of curiosity, while they were both safely at work.

  Tommy Mancino lived in a very middle-class condo complex on the south side of Champaign, which featured a small pond and an even smaller swimming pool that seemed to be the center of the social scene for the complex. He had a balcony overlooking the dumpsters and the pool, and there were pool towels hung up to dry on the backs of vinyl patio chairs. There were two women who looked to be in their thirties, sunning themselves in bikinis on loungers by the pool, so Missy walked over to have a friendly conversation and see what she could learn.

  “Hey ladies! Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she grinned, shading her eyes with her hand. She’d tucked her shiny blonde ponytail up inside a baseball cap, and had worn large sunglasses, so it was difficult to see what she looked like.

  “Mmhmm…” one of them agreed. Both of them looked at her curiously.

  “I’m a friend of Tommy’s. Have you seen him around?”

  “I wish,” one of them sighed dramatically, and they both chuckled. “Nahh… he doesn’t usually come to the pool until after his evening run… around seven.”

  “You his girlfriend or something?” the other suntanned resident asked.

  Missy laughed. “Definitely not. I’m married.”

  “That never stopped Tommy before,” the pair laughed again.

  “I just thought maybe he’d know where one of my friends might be. They were kind of seeing each other.”

  One of the ladies sat up, stretching. “Well, if you know anything about Tommy, you know that he never brings any of his ‘girls’ home. I haven’t seen a woman at his place since he moved in, and I live directly across from him, so I’d know. You
’re not going to find your friend here, honey,” she finished and lay back down, closing her eyes and basking in the sun.

  Missy was baffled. “Okay, thanks anyway,” she waved and went on her way.

  Her next stop was Stanton Vincenzo’s house, across town to the west. The accountant lived in the same golf course community as Jeanette, but in the much more expensive end of it, where buying a membership to the exclusive country club was a requirement for home ownership. One end of the desirable neighborhood was gated, and Missy hoped that Stanton’s house was in the end that wasn’t. Her GPS led her past the stately brick homes belonging to Champaign’s best and brightest, and she came to a stop in front of Vincenzo’s house, her mouth dropping open in amazement.

  From the white pillars out front, to the topiaries by the massive mahogany double doors, and the sparkling swimming pool out back, Stanton’s house was stunning. A circular drive and artfully placed landscaping graced the front of the palatial home, and Missy wondered just how on earth a middle-aged accountant in a small firm in central Illinois had managed to afford it. She’d have to see if perhaps Stanton came from a wealthy family. Had that been part of what had made him attractive to Jeanette? She quickly brushed such thoughts from her mind, determined not to try and second guess the thoughts and motives of a missing woman.

  An idea came to Missy on her way back to the hotel. One way to find out more about Tommy Mancino, who actually seemed to be the more suspicious of the two men that she was investigating, would be to follow him. There were nifty little cul-de-sacs in the condo complex that would allow her to find a vantage point where she could watch Mancino’s condo without being detected, then follow him whenever he left. Filled with a new sense of determination and purpose, Missy went back to her room, had some lunch, and planned her evening. She’d follow Tommy tonight, hoping that somehow he might lead her to Jeanette, and tomorrow, early, she’d go find Stanton’s cabin.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Detective Chas Beckett opened his email and found that the reports he’d requested from his friend at the lab had come in. There were roots on the hairs that he’d recovered from Kel’s house after it had been invaded, and there was enough DNA to have made a match to a known criminal in the database. There was also a partial print that was a match to the same person.

  His throat suddenly dry, Chas picked up the phone and called Kel.

  “How well do you now know Jeanette?” he asked without preamble when the artist answered.

  “Not very, why?” Kel was alarmed at the detective’s tone.

  “I was able to get a match for the hair and fingerprints that were found at your house. They belong to a small-time hood named Ricky ‘The Raccoon’ Raguso, who keeps very bad company,” Chas informed his friend.

  “How bad?”

  “He’s been linked to organized crime.”

  “The mob?” there was a chord of fear in Kel’s voice.

  “The mob. I’ve gotta get Missy out of there,” Chas’s jaw clenched.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Take Scott and Echo and get out of here. What happened at your house was meant to send a message of some sort. Until we know for sure what that message is, we can’t assume that you or any member of your family is safe. You’ll probably want to warn Jeanette’s parents to be extra cautious too, but whatever you do, get out of town as fast as you can. I’ll let you know when I have Missy back home, safe and sound.”

  Without giving Kel time to even reply, Chas hung up the phone and immediately dialed his wife’s number.

  ***

  Despite dealing with pregnancy-induced fatigue and the stress of wondering what was happening with Scott and his mother, Echo had resolved that she would work as hard as she could for as long as she could before the baby came. There were employees to hire and training to complete so that Joyce Rutledge, her ever-so-capable manager wouldn’t be overwhelmed with trying to run a bookstore and adjoining candle shop at the same time by herself. Joyce was a superwoman when it came to working hard and working smart, but even she had limits and Echo didn’t want to put her in a bad position; therefore, she planned to be at work as much as possible over the course of the next few months, to help her prepare.

  The two ladies had been accepting applications and conducting interviews, and would continue to do so until the perfect candidates were found.

  “You look tired, Miss Echo,” Joyce observed, stuffing bundles of bills into a bank bag to deposit on her way home.

  “I’m just dragging, Joyce. I’ve had plenty of vitamin B-12, and I’m making sure that I get enough protein, now that I can actually eat without throwing everything up an hour later, but I just get so tired by the end of the day,” Echo sighed, stirring a cup of tea.

  “That’s not unusual,” Joyce smiled. “I think every mama-to-be feels that way a good part of the time. You just have to know when your body is telling you to sit down and put your feet up,” she cautioned.

  “Right now I feel like lying down and going to sleep,” Echo smiled faintly.

  “I can finish up here if you want to go ahead and take off,” the big-hearted young woman offered.

  “No, Joyce, I can…” she began, only to be interrupted by Kel bursting into the shop, looking mussed and sweaty, something she’d never seen before, at least not during daylight hours.

  “Sweetheart, you need to come with me,” he said urgently.

  “I… uh…” Echo was baffled. She’d never seen her fiancé wild-eyed and stressed like this.

  “You go on, Miss Echo. I got this,” Joyce piped up, assessing Kel and recognizing a bad situation when she saw one.

  “Thank you, Joyce. Your pay will be double for the next few days,” Kel promised, dragging his fiancée from the store as fast as her feet would take her.

  “Goodness, Kel, what’s going on?” she demanded, getting into his car, where Scott was waiting.

  “I’ll tell you more later. For now, we’re headed to the airport,” he replied, gunning the engine and cutting his eyes toward where Scott sat wide-eyed in the back seat.

  ***

  Missy was in the shower when Chas’s call came in, so she never heard her phone ringing. When she turned the phone to silent and threw it in her purse, she was already on her way out the door to go keep watch at Tommy Mancino’s condo, so she didn’t notice that her husband had left a message. She didn’t want to take a chance that a text tone or game notification might sound, alerting the intense man to her presence. She slid the little powder-blue car into a parking spot where she could see Tommy’s condo without him seeing her, and wished that the rental company had given her a less conspicuously colored vehicle. Grey, white, and black vehicles were a dime a dozen, but her powder-blue, late-model compact stood out like a petunia among sunflowers.

  She waited patiently for the sun to set, watched Tommy arrive back from his run, go upstairs to his condo, ostensibly to shower, then come down and swim laps in the pool while a gaggle of mostly female residents sat back, enjoying the spectacle of the powerfully built man cutting his way through the water. After his swim, he said a few words to some of the spectators, toweled off, and went back inside, emerging a few minutes later fully dressed. Tommy got into his primer-grey, not completely restored GTO, and headed through the neighborhood, winding his way around roads that were clearly familiar to him and nearly losing Missy several times. She didn’t follow too closely, not wanting him to notice her, but she stayed with him until he pulled into a parking lot at a park.

  She found a spot on the street to park where she could still watch him but he probably wouldn’t see her. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she had to hold back a gasp when she saw him open his trunk and pull out a long black duffel bag. Guns? He was bringing guns to a public park?? Hands shaking, she reached for her phone, not taking her eyes off of Tommy Mancino as he headed directly toward a group of ragtag boys. There were only two other adults present, were they his target… or were the children? Glancing down at h
er phone, Missy realized that her hands were shaking too hard to dial 911, so she set the phone down on her leg and looked up just as Mancino unzipped the bag.

  “No, no… oh, no,” she murmured, her hand going to her throat in horror.

  He reached into the bag, locked eyes with one of the boys in front of him as he drew out… an aluminum baseball bat. There were several in the bag, and he handed them all out in preparation for batting practice. Missy nearly fainted with relief and willed her heart to stop pounding before it leapt from her chest. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to take deep breaths, only to be startled again by a light tapping on her window. Opening her eyes in a flash, she nearly jumped out of her seat when she saw Tommy Mancino crouched next to the car, grinning. He made a motion for her to roll down the window, and when she shook her head no, he made it again, rolling his eyes a bit.

  Missy lowered the window about halfway.

  “May I help you?” she said shakily.

  “I told you, lady, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Mancino said affably. “If you wanna find your friend, I’d be taking a hard look at the boyfriend. Might wanna find a different car first though, Sherlock. And just be advised… these people don’t mess around. Vincenzo would eat you for lunch without a second thought.”

  With that, he sauntered off, heading back to teach nine-year-olds how to hit a curve ball.

  ***

  Chas Beckett was worried sick. His wife wasn’t picking up her phone, and wasn’t returning his calls. If she didn’t answer him before bed tonight, he’d be on a plane to Illinois first thing in the morning.

  ***

  Missy was flat-out disgusted with how ineffective she’d been thus far. She kept arousing distrust in her suspects and hadn’t yet gotten any vital information as to where Jeanette Hammond might be and why. She felt as if she had failed poor Scott, and determined to do more. She went back to her hotel after sticking around to talk to the other coaches. Once Mancino had gone, she’d found out that Tommy spent every Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday coaching baseball, which made it very unlikely that he was involved with Jeanette’s disappearance, since she was last seen on a Friday.