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

by Belle Knudson

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not going to let Sandra rot in a jail cell, for one. But really I think you need to see how things operate from the inside.”

  Getting to her feet as well, she lifted Josie, and as Scott folded their picnic blanket she asked, “What does that mean?”

  “It means our vacation is going to be much different than I expected.”

  Kate carried Josie while Scott handled the blanket and picnic basket, and they made their way back to his truck. They drove straight to the precinct where Scott harnessed Josie to his back using the baby carrier, and as soon as they were inside, he led Kate down into the jail cells.

  Sandra Conway was pacing exhaustively and Scott informed the guard to call up to the forensic office and ask them to bring down the DNA reports.

  “What’s going on?” Sandra asked, perking up and rushing to the bars at the sight of the police chief in her midst.

  “There’s new DNA evidence,” said Kate excitedly. “They can’t hold you any longer.”

  “You’re kidding, whose?”

  “At this point, we only know that it isn’t yours and that you couldn’t have killed Nathan,” she explained.

  Moments later Officer Chesterfield brought the reports down to Scott and waited near him, as Scott read them over.

  “Let her out,” he concluded, looking up from the reports to Sandra.

  As the guard unlocked the jail cell and Sandra stepped out, Scott apologized, but warned, “You might not be safe at home. I’ll bring you up to the precinct where they’ll make arrangements to keep you guarded in a motel.”

  “No,” said Sandra. “No, that’s just like jail. I don’t want to be cooped up and guarded.”

  Kate tried to reason with her, saying, “It’s only temporary until Scott catches the real killer.”

  Sandra clearly didn’t like the sound of it, but gradually came around.

  As Scott led them all up the stairs and into the precinct, Sandra asked, “Can I go to Nathan’s funeral?”

  “When in it?” asked Scott, as he held the precinct door open for her.

  “Tomorrow, I really owe him that much.”

  “I can permit it,” said Scott, but before she could get too excited, he added, “but with police protection.”

  Kate waited patiently as Scott disappeared into his office to make arrangements. On his way, several officers and detectives complimented and also teased his flashy Hawaiian shirt, but he took it in stride.

  “Sandra,” said Kate, as the writer smiled at how Josie was on her father’s back. “I need to know if for any reason Kiernan Kirkland would have access to your house?”

  “God, no,” she said. “I avoid Kiernan like the plague. He’s the ring leader of that drag racing club and was a terrible influence on Nathan.”

  Kate sighed and reminded herself that just because Kiernan hadn’t been let into the house, it didn’t mean he might not have had a crafty way of breaking in undetected.

  Scott returned moments later with Officer Chesterfield and explained, “We’ll get you set up over at the Super-8 on the south side of town.”

  “That dump?” She groaned.

  “It’s the best we can do considering the short notice and the fact that Over the Moon is now a rose garden,” he explained. “As soon as there’s vacancy at a nicer place, we’ll move you.”

  “Can I at least go home to get my things?”

  He allowed it, instructing Chesterfield to take her.

  Before she left, Sandra threw her arms around Kate, thanking her and getting a little teary eyed. When she released her she said, “I don’t hold it against you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But please find the son of a bitch so I don’t have to live like a prisoner in a cheap motel. I’ve lost several writing days and I can’t afford it!”

  Kate smiled and told her she’d do her best, and then Chesterfield walked her out.

  She turned to Scott, asking, “So, the zoo?”

  His laugh sounded more like a jab. “Hardly, now the real fun begins.”

  “Oh God,” she said under her breath, as he led her by the arm into his office.

  “You want to be a detective,” he stated, “Now’s your chance, except you aren’t going to do it the rogue way. You’re going to do it the right way.”

  Scott eased into the chair at the business side of his desk and as soon as Kate had settled into the chair across from him, he asked, “Who would be so close to Nathan that they could take his car and his ski mask?”

  “And also get into Sandra’s house,” she added.

  “Maybe his car wasn’t stolen from Rory,” he proposed.

  “Scott, honey, you can’t lean back in your chair.”

  He startled, remembering their daughter was on his back.

  Quickly, Kate got to her feet and pulled Josie out of the carrier, which Scott then took off and set on the ground.

  “You think the car wasn’t stolen?” she asked, getting him back on track, as she set Josie on her lap and gave her a little bounce.

  “All cars come with a spare key,” he said.

  “This is circular logic, Scott. The only people that could’ve had a spare key were his friends.”

  “That’s an assumption, not a fact,” he pointed out.

  She thought hard for a long minute then asked, “Why did Nathan agree to meet the killer at his parents’ house and not his own place?”

  “I’m wondering the same thing,” said Scott.

  They gave each other a knowing glance, and knew where they need to go next.

  Chapter Eleven

  After a quick pit stop home—Kate had argued that having her tool kit in hand might prove useful, even though Scott complained that being sneaky didn’t qualify as doing things the right way, and they’d both agreed hiring Maxwell to babysit Josie was necessary. They drove through Rock Ridge and came to the suburban area of town.

  Scott parked his truck along the curb and when they climbed out, Kate grabbed her tool kit from the truck bed.

  “Oh don’t give me that look,” she grumbled. “You’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt for God’s sake.”

  He frowned and they made their way up the walk toward the Robillards’ house.

  “No one questioned the parents?” she asked, as he knocked on the door.

  “We didn’t have a reason to,” he told her quietly. “We didn’t suspect either of them.”

  The faintest footsteps could be heard from inside the house and Kate guessed it was the little boy approaching the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the driveway and saw a vehicle, so at least one of his parents was home.

  The door creaked open and there was the boy, gripping his teddy bear and staring up at them.

  “Hey, Kiddo,” she said, crouching so that she could look him in the eye. “Remember me? I’m Kate and this is my husband, Scott.”

  The child glanced at Scott then returned his eyes to her.

  “Are your parents around?”

  Kate heard something shatter deep within the house and then a man swearing, which caused the boy to flinch.

  Scott called out, “Hello? Mr. Robillard?”

  But Mr. Robillard didn’t appear. They heard the sound of stomping up the stairs, and soon the child’s mother approached through the foyer.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, which she flung over her shoulder.

  She was dressed in a long, matronly skirt and a modest blouse that Kate noticed was covered in flour.

  Scott asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh,” she smiled, embarrassed. “I’m making cookies and dropped the bowl.”

  That wasn’t what it had sounded like as far as Kate was concerned. It had sounded like the bowl had been thrown.

  “You’re the police chief,” she said, pointing at Scott. She smiled down at her son and smoothed his hair in a manner that reminded Kate of how she tended to Josie.

  “That’s r
ight, and I have a couple questions,” he said, but Kate quickly interrupted him.

  “I know the roofs around here haven’t been holding up.”

  “Lord, no,” said Mrs. Robillard. “We’ve had leaks all spring. Nathan was supposed to get up there with his father, but...” she trailed off as grief overcame her expression.

  It was an interesting detail, and Kate sensed that Scott’s curiosity had been piqued as well, so she asked, “You guys were going to fix it yourselves?”

  The woman shrugged, explaining, “My husband doesn’t like strangers in the house. And he’s stubborn. He thinks he can do everything himself, but to his credit, the fact that he’d asked Nate to help out showed some semblance of growth.”

  “I just repaired the roof on one of the houses up the way,” she mentioned, lifting her tool kit demonstratively. “I could have a look.”

  “Oh, no,” she said quickly. “No thank you. My husband would never allow it.”

  Mr. Robillard screamed from the second floor, “Nancy, get back inside!”

  “Just a second, Dear!” she called out over her shoulder.

  “Don’t make me come down there!”

  Concerned, Scott asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Nancy looked nervous and began rattling off excuses for her husband’s behavior. “He’s mourning. He’s been very angry. The funeral arrangements are proving to be much more expensive than we could’ve ever imagined. Even though...” she trailed off again, shaking her head. “The life insurance policy should cover most of it. Well, Bob doesn’t exactly let me see those kinds of things, policies and paperwork.” She smiled but it was brittle. “Man of the house and all.”

  Kate glanced at Scott and knew right away that he was thinking the same thing she was. Bob had taken out a life insurance policy on Nathan, and now he was dead. She shuddered to imagine how a man could kill his own son for money, but it could’ve been for a bigger reason than just that. At the very least, they had something. Nathan had been on that roof for a reason. He was going to help his father repair it. But had Bob stolen the Thunderbird? Had he somehow gotten inside Sandra Conway’s house to cut the string from her piano?

  “The real reason we’re here, Mrs. Robillard,” said Scott, “is because I never questioned you or your husband properly at the time of Nathan’s death.”

  “Oh?”

  “Would it be possible for us to come in for a few minutes?” he asked.

  She cringed, sneaking a glance over her shoulder that Kate was sure was meant for her husband. The little boy looked up at his mother, and when Kate glanced down at him, she noted he too looked worried.

  “Well, what would we need to talk about? Sandra Conway killed my son, probably because of their inappropriate affair. You know she’s much older than Nathan.”

  Scott pressed her, saying, “Please, Mrs. Robillard.”

  When she still seemed reluctant, Kate added, “New evidence has been discovered that proves Sandra didn’t do it.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened with abject horror. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” she said kindly.

  Nancy told her son to run along to his room, and then she widened the door, inviting them inside.

  The living room was immaculate, almost to the point of seeming sterile, and Kate had a hard time picturing a little boy living here. Kids tended to be messy. They left their toys scattered around. As far as she could tell from assessing these minute details, Kate was starting to believe that Mr. Robillard was some kind of abuser. His son was clearly afraid of him and Nancy seemed to be in the same boat.

  “Bob, Honey,” she called out, standing at the foot of the stairs. “The police need to talk to us about Nathan.”

  Stomping ensued and soon Bob rounded the foot of the stairs. He was wearing a sweater and corduroy pants, which made very little sense considering the weather. But the house felt cool enough. Two AC units were blasting in the living room and the entire house seemed to hum with even more units.

  “Mr. Robillard,” said Scott, shaking the man’s hand.

  Kate greeted him next, and then they all sat on the couch and chairs.

  Nancy asked, “Can I get you both something to drink?”

  “You know,” said Kate. “We’ll have water, but I can get it. That way you can answer Scott’s questions without delay and we’ll be out of here sooner.”

  Nancy seemed apprehensive, but Kate was already making her way toward the kitchen around the corner.

  Just as her flip-flops hit the tiles, she noticed a few sets of car keys hanging from a small rack near the light switch. She set her tool kit down and eyed them. Nancy drove a Toyota and Bob had a Chrysler. Their keys were easy to identify. Beside them was a single key attached to a bright blue rabbit’s foot keychain. Kate examined it closely and saw the Ford logo right on the key fob—the spare to the Thunderbird.

  That confirmed it. Bob had taken the Thunderbird from Rory, but why? To muddy the waters of who might have killed his son?

  She startled at the sound of pattering feet approaching the kitchen and turned. The little boy was staring up at her, so she whispered, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he whispered back, finally having warmed to her.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

  He shrugged and told her, “I’m hungry.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”

  She returned the spare key to the rack then found two glasses in the cabinet above the sink. She ran the faucet, letting the water get cold, as she hunted through the other cabinets for snacks. There were granola bars and fruit roll-ups and pudding. She snapped a pudding cup off its twin and grabbed a granola bar, and after finding a spoon in one of the drawers, she got the kid settled at the kitchen table.

  Once she had filled two glasses with water, she joined him, asking, “I don’t think you ever told me your name?”

  “Charlie,” he said, pulling the lid off the pudding and scooping his spoon in the little cup.

  Kate watched him take a few bites then asked, “Does your dad like to ski?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you know if he has a black ski mask?”

  “Not anymore,” he said easily and shoveled another heaping scoop of pudding into his mouth.

  “Not anymore? Did he lose it?”

  “No, he left it at a store.”

  She stared at him. “At Vape Mods?”

  He shrugged as if he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of the place.

  “Was a guy working there who wore a red baseball cap?”

  Charlie thought about it for a moment then shook his head.

  “Did the guy working there have a beard?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a smile. “And tight pants.”

  “Charlie,” she went on, leaning in and speaking quietly, “was Nathan up on the roof because he was waiting for your dad?”

  Charlie flinched when Mr. Robillard boomed from the doorway, “What are you doing?”

  Kate turned, but his eyes were locked on his son.

  “Get in your room!”

  Scurrying, Charlie raced out of the kitchen, leaving behind his granola bar and empty pudding cup.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you guys,” said Kate, rising out of the chair. “Charlie mentioned he was hungry so I didn’t think it would be a problem to help him get a snack.”

  “It’ll spoil his dinner,” he barked. “Anything else you need?”

  Kate plucked the glasses of water off the counter and followed Bob back into the living room. As soon as she set the glasses down on the coffee table, she interrupted Scott, whispering, “Just got to use the bathroom.”

  Scott locked eyes with her and winked in such a way that the Robillard’s didn’t notice, though Bob looked anything but pleased that Kate was once again wandering off in his house.

  She found the bathroom on the first floor and shut the door, scanning the sink area. It looked as sterile as the living room. S
he cursed. She really needed to be in the upstairs bathroom, because clearly no one used this one. She opened the medicine cabinet anyway, hoping for a comb or toothbrush or anything they might be able to test for DNA.

  There was a bottle of Aspirin, a tube of toothpaste but it was brand new, and a container of dental floss. Nothing that would prove useful.

  She checked the shower stall, but it was bare except for a bar of soap.

  She heard the sound of soft footsteps just outside the bathroom door, so she cracked it open. Charlie was staring at her, so she widened the door and crouched.

  “Charlie,” she whispered. “Can you do me a big favor?”

  He nodded, excited to have a mission.

  “Does your dad keep his toothbrush upstairs?” The question seemed to confuse him so she explained, “I need it. I need something that he puts in his mouth.”

  Charlie understood and thrust his teddy bear against her chest—to free his hands she presumed—and then he rushed off.

  She eased the door closed and ran the faucet to make it seem like she was actually doing something in there and hoped like hell Bob wouldn’t barrel down the hallway.

  Moments later, the little boy returned, but he didn’t have a toothbrush in his hands but a small plastic case instead.

  She didn’t immediately identify what it was until he handed it to her and she popped the top.

  A mouth guard.

  “Great,” she whispered, ruffling his hair and returning his teddy bear. “Thank you.”

  She tucked the plastic container into the small pocket of her yellow sundress and returned to the living room where Scott was on his feet, thanking the Robillards’ for their time.

  Kate grabbed her tool kit, which she had left in the kitchen, and as they gathered in the foyer, Scott mentioned, “Sandra Conway will be at the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Excuse me?” said Bob, irate.

  “Now, we know she wasn’t responsible.”

  “The funeral is a private family affair,” yelled Bob. “By invitation only. Under no circumstances is that woman going.”

  “It’s actually public,” said Scott, “the burial at the cemetery anyway. She won’t be at the church.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he demanded. “It doesn’t, and I don’t want her there.”