“Light,” he instructed softly, knowing that Fiona would know what to do. When she shone the bright photography light down into the hole, there was a collective intake of breath from the spectators up above, and Chas Beckett uttered a single syllable, “Wow.”
Tim was under the house for nearly two hours before he’d finally consent to have the body moved above ground. He carefully wrapped the corpse in plastic, and secured it as best he could in a fireman’s stretcher that had been lowered into the hole, while Carl and what was left of his crew (most had gone home, sick), tore up enough of the kitchen floor so that the body could be brought up more easily.
Once the body had been brought up, Tim informed Chas that he’d made an inventory of the internal organs that he’d found, either floating in jars, or lying on the ground because their jars had been broken, and had placed them in evidence bags that came up with the body.
“This is going to be a weird one,” the detective commented to the M. E. while the body was being brought up.
“It does have its peculiarities,” Tim nodded, his mind already trying to dissect what he had discovered beneath the house.
“Ever seen one of these? Or anything like it?” Chas asked.
“Only in a museum,” the M.E. replied, and his assistant’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
**
The body, including various organs that had been housed separately but were assumed, at this point, to be part of the body, were being transported to the county morgue by a pensive Timothy and a morbidly fascinated Fiona. She’d gotten past the smell of putrefaction after seeing the intriguing corpse up close, and couldn’t wait until she and Tim were able to start digging into the case…literally.
“Why would the killer have removed the organs?” she asked, thinking aloud. “That’s so weird…I mean, you know, some killers eat the organs, but these were just hanging out there…”
“There’s no need to speculate regarding motive when we haven’t even given the remains a chance to reveal their secrets yet,” Tim interrupted absently.
His assistant’s enthusiastic guessing game was distracting him from focusing on the body itself, rather than the circumstances surrounding its demise. He first needed to determine gender, identity, age, cause of death and approximate time of death, which in this particular case would mean narrowing it down to a year, rather than an hour. The decomposition that had taken place, despite the killer’s efforts to preserve the remains, would seem to indicate that whatever deed stole the life from this victim, had been perpetrated at least several years ago.
CHAPTER 7
“Rough day, honey?” Missy asked, as Chas groaned and sank into the couch beside her.
“Strange day,” he sighed. “And if I tell you about it right now, I’m afraid that neither of us will want dinner.”
“That bad, huh?” she rubbed the nape of his neck, making him close his eyes in gratitude.
“Mmm…it always gets better when I get home,” he murmured, caressing his wife’s knee affectionately, eyes still closed.
The ringing of the doorbell shattered the beginning of a peaceful moment between the couple, and Chas sighed, not bothering to open his eyes.
“You just stay right here, darlin. I’ll go see who it is,” Missy instructed.
Exhausted, Chas just mumbled, “Mmkay.”
Missy trotted down the stairs that led to the Owner’s Quarters door that opened into the main foyer of the Inn. She could tell that someone was at that door, rather than at their private entrance, because the tones of the two doorbells were distinctly different.
“Tom,” she exclaimed, surprised to see the man who, by all accounts, would be the next Governor of Florida, on her doorstep. “How lovely to see you. Won’t you come in?”
“I appreciate it greatly, Melissa, thank you,” he inclined his head, his silver, well-coiffed hair gleaming beneath the lights. “I was hoping for a private moment with your husband.”
“Oh, of course. Please, come in. Chas is in the sitting room,” she replied, closing the door behind the candidate, and leading him up the stairs to the living room. She’d seen a contingent of men who looked like bodyguards or secret agents in the foyer, behind Tom, and wondered what was going on.
“Chas, sweetie, Tom Chase is here to see you,” she said brightly, coming into the room.
Her husband’s eyes flew open and he stood, blinking away his exhaustion.
“Tom,” he extended his hand and smiled. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”
“Never better,” he replied automatically.
Chas glanced over at Missy, not missing the look in the candidate’s eyes.
“Let’s go to my study,” he suggested, heading down the hall. “Can I pour you a drink?”
“A Manhattan would be most welcome right about now, Chas old boy,” Missy heard faintly, as the men disappeared into the study.
These types of conversations usually seemed to take a while, so Missy decided to snuggle into the overstuffed chaise longue in their bedroom with a good book, while she waited for her husband to become an available dinner companion. It would be rude to start cooking with the future Governor visiting, so it looked like they’d be going out to eat, which suited her just fine after her busy day.
**
“Chas, I’m going to be frank with you,” Tom began, settling into a leather club chair in the study. “This town does not need to leave any stone unturned when it comes to solving the murder that I heard about on the news this evening. I want the people of the great state of Florida to know that, here in Calgon, we bring justice and we bring it swiftly,” he gestured with his Manhattan.
“I agree,” the detective nodded. “I don’t mind taking on a cold case, because it gives me the time that I need in order to follow the trail of evidence and figure out what happened. Usually the perp ends up already in jail on another charge, dead, or having left the country. At any rate, they’re no longer a danger to the public in most cases.”
“Not to put too fine of a point on it, my good man, but I can’t afford to have the safety and integrity of this town questioned while I’m running for Governor, so I’ve done you the favor of speaking with the Mayor. Now, we put our heads together to figure out how we can get this thing solved, so that Calgon can go back to being known for its beaches and sunshine, not its killers, and we’ve brought in a Special Investigator to help you out. This guy and I go way back, and I gotta tell you, Chas, he’s the best in the biz, bar none,” Tom explained, savoring a sip of his drink.
Chas gave him a blank look.
“I have plenty of resources available to me here in Calgon,” the detective was puzzled. “I’m confident that I can get this taken care of without resorting to bringing in outside help. The new Medical Examiner is top-notch, and I…” he began.
Chase held up a hand, interrupting him.
“Here’s the thing, Beckett,” he leaned forward, frowning slightly. “I have no doubt in your abilities as an investigator. I’m fully aware that you are more than competent. You’re one of the best – I get that, but right now, this is a crucial time in my campaign, and I don’t need the shadow of murder hovering over Calgon for any longer than it has to. You’re good, my guy is good, together you’ll be an unbeatable team,” he raised his glass, then drained it of its contents. After he swallowed, he dabbed at the corners of his lips with a forefinger, and stood to go.
Tom Chase held out his hand to the bemused detective, and they shook. “I have a couple of uniforms making copies of the case file, so my guy will be completely briefed by the time that he gets in tomorrow morning. He’ll be taking point on gathering evidence and processing leads, so the Mayor said that you could have a much-deserved day off tomorrow, if you’d like. I think one of my staffers could use a fourth out on the golf course, if you’re so inclined,” he offered, heading for the door.
“Uh, no. I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on,” Chas replied, frustrated that his years of successful
results in investigation been trumped by a politician’s clout.
Chas Beckett wasn’t naïve. He knew that Tom Chase wanted to be able to claim responsibility for having marshalled the troops who swooped in to save the day in this cold case, and he couldn’t help but smile. These things rarely went smoothly, and his (undoubtedly) high-priced Special Investigator might just find himself tied up in endless computer searches, chasing dead-end leads that wound up going nowhere. Right now, honestly, he was too tired to care. After he showed Tom out, he was going to take his lovely wife to dinner, come home and sit in the hot tub to relax his tired muscles, and head for bed. He’d make some decisions about whether or not to call the Mayor tomorrow, after he’d had a good night’s sleep.
CHAPTER 8
Marilyn Hayes was sleeping peacefully in the insanely comfortable feather bed that was featured in her lovely lavender-themed guest suite. She’d had a ball helping Missy and Maggie with all of the day’s festivities, and had even gotten to shake the hand of the future Governor of Florida, who was quite handsome and charming, in her opinion. Of course she knew that politicians were coached as to how to be utterly charming, but she enjoyed basking in the glow of his kind attention anyway.
The vacationing pie maker had run into Missy and Chas at the hot tub, before bed, and felt a little twinge of jealousy at how close they were, as a couple. It seemed as though the two of them could communicate without the need for words, and it was evident that in each other’s company was their favorite place to be. Who knew – maybe she and Cort would get to that stage someday, but truthfully, the thought of together forever still scared her to death. She’d gone down that road once, and discovered that the man she thought was Prince Charming had actually been worse than a frog, he’d been a snake.
After the hot tub, she’d taken a refreshing shower and slipped into comfortable cotton pajamas, heading directly to bed and watching a bit of TV before giving into the delicious fatigue that gripped her. She loved staying busy, and nothing felt better after a long day of hard work than letting sleep claim her. She was in the middle of a dream involving horses, cupcakes and a handyman when all of a sudden she woke with a scream of shock.
The Inn’s fire prevention sprinklers had been set off! An alarm was wailing, and ice cold water was soaking Marilyn to the skin. She grabbed one of the plush terry-cloth robes that Missy had stocked in each room, and throwing it hastily around herself, she burst into the hallway, soaked and shivering. The hallway sprinklers had gone off too, and she made her way as quickly as she could down the stairs, mingling with a crowd of Tom Chase’s staffers who were sopping wet as well.
“Don’t slip on the marble,” Maggie called out above the din, cautioning the guests from the bottom of the stairs before they stepped onto the now-slick flooring.
Spencer stood at the door, handing out towels that he’d grabbed from the pool cabana to sodden guests as they scurried from the Inn. Since Marilyn’s room was furthest from the stairway, she was the last one out, trailing after some very disgruntled staffers, who looked like they wanted to give someone a good talking-to, but stopped short when they saw the hunky and hulking Marine at the front door. Marilyn, however, after accepting the blue and white striped towel, stopped to ask questions.
“What happened?” she asked, dazed, blotting at her face with the towel, thankful that even in the middle of the night, the air was warm.
“We don’t know,” Spencer shook his head, his face uncharacteristically grim. “I checked the entire Inn, but there’s not even a trace of smoke anywhere. Apparently the system just malfunctioned.”
Missy and Chas showed up just then, and Chas took Spencer aside, while Missy focused on Marilyn.
“Oh you poor dear, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this,” Missy grabbed another towel from the stack that Spencer had left on the porch swing and wrapped it around Marilyn’s shoulders.
“Wait,” her guest was puzzled. “Why aren’t you and Chas all wet?”
“The Owner’s Quarters have been updated more recently, so it’s on a different system,” she explained. “Here, you come with me. We can get you into some dry clothes and make some tea to get you warmed up,” Missy insisted, leading Marilyn across the circular drive to the private entrance of the Owner’s Quarters.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” she replied, wrapping her arms around her middle for warmth. She was chilled, despite the balmy night.
“Don’t be silly, darlin’. Our malfunctioning fire alarms got you up and out of your nice warm bed in the middle of the night. Getting you warm and dry is the least I can do.”
Spencer came jogging up to the two women, just as they reached the entrance.
“We managed to secure rooms for the staffers at a hotel over in Stafford. They’re not happy about being forty-five minutes away, but it’ll at least give them somewhere to sleep for the night. I can take them over in the shuttle, and once we get things cleaned up, I can deliver their luggage,” the Marine outlined the plan. “They’re going to have to share rooms, because even hotels in Stafford are entirely booked because of the debate,” he glanced at Marilyn.
“Which means that I have nowhere to go,” she murmured, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“Oh honey, don’t you worry. You can stay at my house tonight,” Missy insisted. “And we’ll figure out what to do in the morning. Maybe we’ll be able to get this mess cleaned up and you’ll be able to go back to your original room,” she suggested brightly.
“Somehow I don’t think that my feather bed will have reacted too well to having a shower,” Marilyn replied wryly.
“Echo has an unoccupied guest room,” Spencer pointed out.
Missy brightened. “Yes, she does. I’ll call her in the morning. In the meantime, let’s get you warm and dry,” she ordered gently, steering Marilyn inside.
CHAPTER 9
“Oh my gosh, yes! I’d love to have you as a guest,” Echo agreed enthusiastically to Missy’s request when she joined her best friend and Marilyn for coffee the next morning. “Daimler and Benz will be so thrilled to have company,” she grinned.
“Daimler and Benz?” Marilyn asked with an amused smile.
“My babies. They’re two fat, wiggly, rambunctious dachshunds that I adopted when their owner went to jail – long story,” she waved dismissively.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had any doggie kisses,” Marilyn was delighted. “This morning, Missy let me tag along on her walk with Toffee and Bitsy and it was pure heaven.”
“Well, the boys will be as glad to see you as you are to see them,” Echo assured her. “And I’ll have someone to talk to now that Kel has gone to New York to oversee the installment of his work. This is perfect,” she raised her mug in a toast and the other ladies clinked theirs against hers.
“I have no idea how long it’s going to take the restoration company to clean things up around here,” Missy sighed. “There was so much water damage, that the Inn may be out of commission for a while.”
“Well, looks like Marilyn may be spending the rest of her vacation at my place then,” Echo said happily, squeezing Missy’s hand to comfort her stressed out friend.
“Sounds good to me,” the pie maker grinned.
Missy was having Marilyn’s belongings washed and dried, and Spencer would deliver them to Echo’s for her as soon as they were done, so the three women headed over to Echo’s cozy cottage to introduce her to her new canine friends and get her settled in. As they pulled in, Loud Steve, Echo’s neighbor who had a penchant for playing the music in his mini-pickup truck so loudly that the neighbors could hear him coming from blocks away, was sitting in a lawn chair on his side patio. When they got out of the car, he stood up, his beer belly showing a bit in the space between his t-shirt and basketball shorts, and came shuffling over, sporting his usual somewhat leering grin.
“Well now,” he sucked his teeth a bit, causing Echo to roll her eyes and sigh as he approached. “The scenery in this neig
hborhood just got a whole lot better. Blonde, brunette and redhead, it’s a hottie smorgasbord,” he drawled, fixing his gaze on Marilyn. “You’re new,” he observed.
“Nah, been around more than forty years,” she wisecracked.
“Perfection takes time, little lady,” he raised his eyebrows as he ran his gaze from head to toe, clearly liking what he saw, and making Marilyn chuckle.
“Well, aren’t you a silver-tongued devil,” she mocked him, barely suppressing a fit of the giggles. “Has that line ever worked for you?”
He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “I guess we’ll find out, but it’s lookin’ good from where I sit.”
“Then go sit,” Echo broke in impatiently. “We’ve got things to do.”
“I bet you do,” he smirked, not taking his eyes from Marilyn. “You gonna be around a while, beautiful?” he asked.
“Settle down, Steve, she’s my guest, not yours,” Echo replied, grabbing Marilyn by the hand and dragging her toward the house before she could reply. The poor woman obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with.
“I’m right next door if you need anything, pretty girl,” he called after them, making Marilyn crack up and causing Missy and Echo to roll their eyes.
“Sorry about that,” Echo said, once inside, with wiggling pups giving eager kisses. “Steve is a unique individual.”
“Oh, I’ve seen guys like him before. If you play your cards right, those blustering boys will become your most loyal friends. They just have to know their place,” Marilyn grinned wickedly.
“I mostly just try to avoid him,” Echo chuckled. “But if you feel the need to put him in his place, just please make sure that I’m around to witness it.”
“I’ll do my best,” the new houseguest replied, looking up as Benz pawed politely at the front door. “Uh-oh, looks like someone needs to go outside. Can I take him out?” she looked hopefully at her hostess.
“Be my guest,” Echo agreed. “The leash is hanging on the inside of the coat closet door.”
Peaches and Creme Killer: Book 6 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 3