Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series

by Belle Knudson

  Being cautious no one would take notice, Kate and Bradley rounded up through the woods towards the parking area where she’d left her truck. They crossed the clearing quickly then climbed in and Kate was quick yet quiet while backing out, pulling a U-turn, and driving beyond the development gate undetected.

  When they got to the main road, she pulled over briefly to send Jessica a text message to make sure she’d be at her apartment.

  Yes, why? Jessica quickly responded.

  In response, Kate sent a brief text telling her not to go anywhere and that she’d be there soon.

  As they drove back to town, Kate said, “After your dad was killed, your mom ended up remarrying.”

  Bradley tensed up but nodded. It made sense that he’d feel awkward about that.

  “I know her husband well. His name is Dean Wentworth. He’s a contractor, but interestingly he just got voted in as mayor.”

  “Just like my dad,” he said, perking up.

  “That’s right. Dean cares a lot about Rock Ridge, and he’s going to do a lot of good in office.” Considering that Bradley had been struggling with perhaps a bit of an identity crisis where he’d gotten hyper-focused on his father, wanting to be as much like him as possible, Kate wondered if highlighting Dudley’s life before anarchy, she might be able to inspire Bradley to go the wiser path of his father instead of the worse one. “There are a lot of ways to make positive changes in Rock Ridge. Your father knew that as mayor. He tried to bring about the right kind of change when he was in office. Does working in that arena interest you at all?”

  “Eche,” said Bradley.

  “Maybe you could learn more about it and see the possibilities for yourself. I’m sure Dean would show you the inner workings of his position, if you wanted.”

  “I see what you’re trying to do,” he said. “And you can save it.”

  Though he sounded like a stubborn teenager, there was a hint in his tone that told her he was curious. She’d leave it alone for now and let him come around to his own ideas in his own time.

  When they reached Jessica and Dean’s apartment, Kate pulled up to the curb.

  “Your mom started a fashion business. It’s in the early stages, but she sells online. She has many talents.”

  “The only fashion I’m into is Lily van der Tramp’s. Her clothing is made for anarchists.”

  “Right,” said Kate, as they walked into the building and took the elevator to the top floor.

  As soon as Kate knocked on the door, Jessica pulled it open and smiled. Then her smile fell when she saw Bradley, initially confused by the teenager and why he was with Kate.

  Just as Kate was about to explain who he was, Jessica’s eyes went wide. She stared at Bradley, studying him, and Kate imagined her maternal instincts were taking hold. A mother always knew their own child, no matter how many years had passed.

  “Bradley?” she said in disbelief. “It can’t be.”

  “I go by Toby now,” he said, trying to keep an edge in his voice, but it faltered. Soon there were tears in his eyes, and Jessica was exclaiming how she couldn’t believe it, wrapping him into a huge hug.

  Then, without taking her eyes off him, Jessica pulled him into the living room and Kate followed.

  “You’re alive,” she said, astonished.

  She sat him down on the couch, holding his hands and marveling.

  “I need to know everything,” she said then turned to Kate. “Where did you find him?”

  “At the development,” she said. “Let me put on some coffee. Toby, are you hungry?”

  “You can call me Bradley,” he said, which Kate took as a very good sign. Maybe being reunited with his mother would make him reconsider his involvement with the anarchists.

  Kate made coffee and set out some muffins she found in a plastic container on the counter, as Bradley explained everything that had happened to him. At times, Jessica got choked up and gasped. Other times she nodded in understanding and her eyes rounded with sympathy.

  After nearly an hour, they’d drank the coffee, eaten the muffins, and Jessica was up to speed.

  “I should really get going,” Kate said, remembering she needed to put another coat of blue on Dean’s office walls. “Bradley, I can take you back to the campsite, if you like.”

  “I’d rather stay here,” he said then glanced at Jessica to see if that would be all right.

  “Of course,” said Jessica. “Kate, thank you so much.”

  Kate smiled. “It really is a miracle.”

  As she left them, she felt really happy, and then a wave of determination washed over her. She had to find a way to shut the anarchists down.

  Chapter Ten

  At Dean’s office, Kate walked through the door with her paint rollers and fresh paint tin, and discovered Dean had gotten a brand new receptionist. Kate recognized her from Bean There. Mary-Anne had been one of Clara’s part-time baristas, and Kate was glad to see the young woman had found a position where she would be putting her degree to good work.

  “Mary-Anne, congratulations,” she said. “This is a good fit for you.”

  “Thanks,” said Mary-Anne, who smiled but also seemed a bit overwhelmed by the stacks of folders on her desk. “It’s a lot to get used to.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

  So glad was she to receive the encouraging words that Mary-Anne didn’t mention if Dean was in his office or if Kate could go on in.

  “I just need to paint on a second coat,” said Kate.

  “Oh! Of course! I’m so sorry. Go on in. He’s working, but we were expecting you.”

  “Thanks,” said Kate and she crossed through to Dean’s office door. She gave it a quick knock then pushed it open since it was already ajar.

  “Come on in,” said Dean, who was again puzzling over something on his computer. “Don’t mind me. Feel free to do your thing.”

  Kate wasted no time going into the closet to get the cans of blue paint. She laid out the painting cloth, covering the carpet, and then poured one can into the paint tin and stroked her roller through, getting a good amount of blue paint on it.

  As she painted, Dean was in and out of the office, passing files to Mary-Anne to organize. They seemed like a good team. Mary-Anne was quick-witted and took to her duties with a sense of urgency. It was the perfect complement to Dean’s steadfast nature. Soon Kate had painted the entire office, and in the light of day that poured through the window, the color looked really great.

  She began packing up her materials then opened the window so the office could air out. The paint fumes were strong and she was about to recommend to Dean that he should go out for lunch to give the room a chance to dry for a bit, when she realized Mike Waters and Lily van der Tramp had come into the anteroom.

  Kate hovered in the doorway, but they didn’t take notice.

  “I’m sorry, you don’t have an appointment,” said Mary-Anne.

  “But he had to see this meeting coming,” said Mike. “We all have to get along, and I think if Lily and I can sit down with Dean and explain the good nature of the development, Dean will be more apt to support our cause.”

  “That could be,” said Mary-Anne. “And if you would please have a seat, I can see if Dean would be willing to take the meeting.”

  Mike was pushy, and Kate could see Mary-Anne’s frustration.

  “We’ve been getting organized,” Mary-Anne explained, getting up from her chair. “He’s in the storage room. If you’d just give me a few minutes.”

  Though Mike and Lily didn’t sit as they’d been asked, they at least piped down.

  Then Mike and Lily realized Kate was standing there. Kate didn’t like how they were looking at her, and when her gaze fell she saw Lily had with her a crisp shopping bag that said Killer Klothing.

  Dean barreled down the hall with Mary-Anne in tow.

  “Mr. Waters,” he said, “Mrs. Van der Tramp.”

  Dean shook their hands then saw Kate.

  “Kate, le
t me write you a check,” he said. Then, to Mike, he added, “Excuse me one moment.”

  Kate followed him back into his office where she handed him her invoice and he quickly made out a check.

  He said quietly, “Whatever they’re here to convince me of, don’t worry, they won’t.”

  Kate smirked then made her way through the anteroom and down to her truck.

  She’d been meaning to call Scott to tell him about Bradley and the very real possibility that Greg could be planning on coming back to Rock Ridge to find him, if he wasn’t already here. She set her materials in the bed of her truck and climbed in the driver’s seat, ready to dial him up when her cell began vibrating.

  She smiled when she saw it was Scott calling. They did that sometimes.

  “Hey,” she said, starting up her truck. “You’ll never believe what happened to me.”

  “Trust me, I will,” he said. “The FBI got back to me.”

  “They did?” She was impressed Scott had gotten through. “And they told you about Bradley?”

  “Not in so many words, but I figured it out. I was able to use the fact that Bradley was here as a bargaining chip of sorts.”

  “Wait, how did you know he was here?”

  “The accident report from your fender bender. I told the department to bust these anarchists on everything, no matter how small. When I was looking at his driver’s license I got a funny feeling. Then I ran it through face recognition on a composite of what Bradley would look like, you know, using the photo of him with Walter when he was seven. Anyway, when I told the FBI that Bradley Stuart was in Rock Ridge with the anarchists, the FBI let it slip that Greg was still on his mission and headed back to Rock Ridge with a government team to take down the development.”

  “Take it down?” she asked fearfully. “How?”

  Scott sighed. “They didn’t say, but I’m thinking SWAT, RAID, a full-blown ambush.”

  “Scott, we can’t let that happen.”

  “How can we stop it?”

  “I don’t know, but they’re just a bunch of kids, for Christ’s sake.”

  “The FBI has reason to believe they’re armed.”

  “They could be, but they don’t have the skill to defend themselves. It could turn into an all-out war.”

  “I’m with you, but my precinct isn’t bigger than the FBI. I can’t stop them.”

  “If you arrest Mike Waters and hand him over, then the organization will collapse and no one has to get hurt.”

  “Theoretically, but what can I arrest him on? He hasn’t done anything I can prove.”

  Kate knew he was right, but refused to accept it. There had to be a way. Mike would have to slip up, or maybe he already had and it was just a matter of finding out in what way.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed when she noted the time on her dashboard. “My court date!”

  “That’s today?”

  Arthur had e-mailed her that morning with the time she needed to meet him at the courthouse to file the divorce.

  “Shoot, I have to go.”

  “Let’s talk after,” he said.

  “Dinner at my place?”

  Scott hesitated, and she imagined he was looking at his calendar.

  “Sure, let’s make it an early one, say six?”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  Refraining from speeding wasn’t easy as Kate drove through town to the courthouse on Liberty Way. It was a stately building with white pillars and a dome roof. As she pulled into a parking spot and jumped out of her truck, she thought about how lucky she was that she’d never set foot inside the courthouse. She had an excellent relationship with all of her customers. She’d never had to take anyone to small claims to collect on an unpaid invoice, and no one had ever been dissatisfied with her work to take her to court. Scott, on the other hand, had seen the inside of a courtroom many times. He’d testified in numerous trials, and had been divorced, as well, though that was back in Philadelphia. Hopefully this would be Kate’s first and last time here.

  She wished she’d changed her clothes. She was in her overalls and who knew if she had blue paint in her hair. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to standing in front of a judge looking like this, but with all the commotion surrounding the anarchists, finding Bradley, thinking that Greg might come back to town, she hadn’t thought twice about her hearing. In fact, it had completely flown from her mind.

  Arthur Joseph was waiting patiently inside the courthouse. He was dressed in a modest suit and tie, respectable looking but not at all flashy. He frowned when he realized her choice of dress.

  “I know, I know, I’m embarrassed,” she said.

  “No worries,” said Arthur. “Judge Pollard isn’t one to judge.” He chuckled at his joke. It was nice of him to make light of her attire, but she still felt like crawling into a hole. “Come now, they’re ready for us.”

  Kate followed Arthur into the courtroom where Judge Pollard, a handsome woman in her early fifties with a tight perm and round spectacles, was seated at the bench, gavel in hand. Other than the bailiff, the room was empty, which made the courtroom especially echoing.

  “Your Honor,” began Arthur when he reached his podium on the right side of the courtroom, Kate beside him. “We’re submitting for the court Kate Flaherty’s due diligence at locating her estranged husband, Greg Flaherty.”

  “Yes, I understand,” said Judge Pollard, cutting him off. “I’ve read through the documents.”

  Kate swallowed hard, as the judge perused the submitted documents.

  Then Judge Pollard raised her gavel and said, “I see no reason not to grant you this divorce.” She hit the gavel, stating Kate was hereby divorced.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” she blurted out.

  Judge Pollard barely cracked a smile then set off for her chambers.

  Kate couldn’t believe she was divorced. It was over. She was no longer married to Greg. She was free, and she felt an incredible weight lifted off her shoulders. She thanked Arthur, throwing her arms around him, which surprised him, but he chuckled, saying he was happy for her.

  By the time she left the courthouse the sun was lowering in the sky and the wind was picking up. She had a smile on her face, and as she drove back to her house, she kept the radio on full blast, singing along to every song that came on.

  Because Judge Pollard had been far more efficient than Kate could’ve ever anticipated, it was well before six when she parked her truck outside her house. She’d have plenty of time to shower and put on a nice outfit. She was in full celebration mode and couldn’t wait for Scott to show up.

  As she ran a bath and poured in heaps of lavender-scented bubbles, her cell vibrated on the sink counter. It was Scott.

  Wine and Italian? I’m at Luciano’s.

  She texted back right away, YES! Then she settled into the warm, bubbly water. When she breathed in the lavender scent and sighed it was like all the pent-up stress and worry that had accumulated in her body over the past five and a half years eased out of her, and she was finally at peace.

  Then she remembered that Greg might come back.

  What would she do?

  What would she say if she saw him?

  Would she break down or would she explode with anger?

  What would she tell her boys?

  Kate pushed those thoughts from her mind, got out of the bath and drained the tub, then toweled off and dressed in a nice pair of black jeans and a festive orange sweater that complimented her red hair.

  As she put on a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, Scott rang the doorbell. Darn, she’d forgotten the alarm again. She never could remember to set it, but she reasoned that soon enough, once the anarchists were driven out of Rock Ridge, she’d no longer need it.

  “Hey!” she said excitedly, as she opened the door.

  Scott had a Luciano’s bag in his hand, a bottle of wine, and a giant bouquet of flowers.

  “Awe, these are beautiful,” she said, accepting the bouquet and closing the d
oor behind him.

  They went into the kitchen where he popped the cork out of the wine bottle. “Congratulations,” he told her. “I couldn’t be happier.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  Together they set out the pasta on the dining room table and got settled with their wine. As they ate and drank, they discussed their day, the strange coincidence that Kate had gotten into a fender bender with Bradley, the vague information Scott had received from the FBI regarding Greg’s whereabouts, and what might happen if Greg and his FBI team got to Mike Waters before they did.

  All the while, Kate kept glancing at the Luciano’s bag, which was resting on the kitchen islet within view. There was something about it that was nagging at her, its white paper-bag shape, its round handles, but she couldn’t put her finger on why she was getting preoccupied.

  “Any new suspects?” she asked, though her gaze was on the bag.

  “You seem distracted, Kate. What’s wrong?” Scott studied her for a moment. “Why do you keep looking at the Luciano’s bag?”

  Kate thought about it before replying, “Someone got into Ken’s house and left that gift for Celia, the shawl and ingredients that were poisonous.”

  Thinking about it, she suddenly realized why the Luciano’s bag seemed significant. It was the shape of the bag. It looked exactly like the bag she’d seen Lily holding when she showed up with Mike Waters at Dean’s office.

  Killer Klothing.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “Killer Klothing!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Lily’s clothing company.” Kate smiled and shook her head. “Killer Klothing, how literal!”

  “Kate, tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.

  “The Luciano’s bag reminded me,” she explained. “Celia told me she’d found a gift in the house. A black shawl and the poisonous ingredients.”

  “Right, I talked to Lily. There was no proof.”

  “Well there is now! Lily came to Dean’s office today with Mike Waters. She was holding a Killer Klothing bag.”

  “It’s her company,” he said, playing devil’s advocate.