Sweetheart Killer: Book 14 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  “You won’t believe me,” Joey’s breath came in hitches and gasps.

  “Try me.”

  **

  At the moment, Detective Chas Beckett couldn’t be bothered to charge Joey Gavlin with lesser

  crimes; he was on the trail of a murderer. His phone rang, and when he saw Spencer’s code, he

  punched the automatic pick up button in his car.

  “Talk to me,” he directed.

  “I’ve got a confession of sorts, that you’re not going to believe,” the Marine replied, having grilled

  Putu for quite some time.

  “Seems to be the day for that,” Chas sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “What do you

  have?”

  When Spencer gave him the gist of his conversation with Putu, he knew that he was on the right

  track. Joey Gavlin, while being somewhat cowardly in demeanor, had told the truth. An incoming

  call beeped on the Bluetooth system, and Chas recognized the number.

  “Thanks for the report, Spence. The coroner is calling me, so I’ve gotta run.”

  “I’ll check in when I get back,” the Marine promised, and hung up.

  “I hope your investigation is going well, Detective,” Timothy Eckels said when Chas answered

  the second call.

  “It is, thanks,” was the short reply. “Any results from the autopsy?”

  “Oh, yes. Definitely,” Tim assured him. Chas could almost picture him nodding vehemently. “Yes,

  Detective, if you have a suspect, I have the murder weapon.”

  “Really? Tell me more.”

  “There’s a plant that grows in the Caribbean, called the Manchineel. Locals call it the Caribbean

  Death Apple. The entire tree is toxic. Its leaves will cause second degree burns on the skin, and

  the apples themselves, which are pleasantly sweet to the taste, will burn and rip their way through

  a digestive tract within forty-five minutes, without swift medical intervention. Tissue samples

  tested positive for that particular toxin, and other physiological symptoms confirm it as well.”

  “Brilliant work, Eckels, thanks for the heads up.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll have my assistant drop off a copy of my full report this evening.”

  “Perfect, thanks.” Chas hung up and looked down at his speedometer, pressing a bit more firmly

  on the gas.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  * * *

  “Missy, don’t touch that!” Chas cried out after being let into the Fiskin home.

  Blanche Fiskin had served tea and tarts to his unsuspecting wife.

  “Chas, what are you talking about? What’s going on?” she drew back her hand in alarm.

  Blanche, who had led him into the room, turned around, startled.

  “Good heavens, Detective! Whatever is the matter?” she asked.

  “Are those apple tarts, by any chance?” Chas asked his wife, who nodded, shocked at her

  husband’s behavior.

  He swiftly handcuffed the sweet, grandmotherly woman in front of him.

  “Blanche Fiskin, you’re under arrest for the murder of your husband, Stewart Fiskin, and the

  attempted murder of my wife, Melissa Gladstone-Beckett,” he said through his teeth, jaw muscles

  flexing.

  “Murder?” Missy whispered, horrified.

  **

  “Were the tarts made out of those things?” Echo asked, aghast.

  Missy nodded.

  “She used some real apples and some death apples. Her tarts didn’t have any death apple in them,

  but mine did. If Chas hadn’t come in when he did, I’d be…” her lip trembled.

  “Don’t even say it,” Echo held up her hand. “I can’t even think about that. So how did she kill her

  husband? And how did Chas find out about it?”

  Missy took a deep breath and a long swig of coffee before responding. When she finally spoke her

  voice was much steadier.

  “Spencer went on the same cruise that we did, and stayed in the same room that the Fiskins had.

  When he went on the Eco Tour in St. Thomas, he learned, like we had, about different native

  plants, including the Caribbean Death Apple. There was a tree on the island that we explored,” she

  shuddered.

  “What made him think of that in reference to the murder though?” Echo frowned.

  “When he first checked out the room, he saw something wedged in between the drawer and the

  shelf in his onboard refrigerator, but didn’t think too much of it. Then, when he returned from St.

  Thomas, the cabin attendant, Putu, was found reaching into his refrigerator, wearing heavy duty

  rubber gloves, not the thin nitrile kind that they usually use for cleaning.”

  “What was he doing?” Echo’s eyes grew round at the thought that Spencer might have been in

  danger.

  “He was trying to dislodge the small apple that had gotten stuck, because he knew where it had

  come from.”

  “Where had it come from?” Echo shivered, running her hands up and down her upper arms to pat

  down the goosebumps.

  “Blanche had brought them onboard after her tour, that’s how she got the second degree burns on

  her hands. When she figured out that even touching the apples was dangerous, she had Putu bag

  them up for her. He tried to refuse, but she insisted that she’d tell her husband horrible things about

  him if he didn’t help her. He bagged them up, never dreaming that she’d use them for something

  awful. She told him she was going to take them to her local community college for their seed

  collection,” Missy frowned. “What she actually did, before she left town to go visit her sister, was

  to make a Waldorf salad for Stewart to eat while she was gone, providing her with an alibi. She

  was out of town when he ingested the poisoned salad. Chas found the rest of the salad and a few

  apples still in her refrigerator.”

  “Oh, poor Putu. He was an accidental accessory to a murder,” Echo shook her head.

  “Yes, but he won’t be charged with anything other than a customs violation, and I think the cruise

  line is helping him out with that, since he’s an exemplary employee.”

  “Well, that’s good at least, but why did the janitor try to kill Chas?”

  “Because Blanche paid him to cause an accident. She somehow heard that Paul Sanchez, the

  warehouse supervisor, was in jail and she was afraid that Paul would talk, pointing the finger at

  her,” Missy explained.

  “Wait, so Paul knew about the apples?” Echo was confused.

  “No. Paul supplied Blanche with drugs. He was her connection, and she was afraid he’d tell Chas

  about it, making her look untrustworthy.”

  “That sweet old woman took drugs?”

  “Apparently, that’s how she put up with her emotionally abusive husband for so long. There are

  medical records which indicate that he may have been more than emotionally abusive. Blanche

  may have started taking drugs to deal with physical pain.”

  “What a mess,” Echo shook her head in disbelief.

  “I’m just glad it’s over,” Missy nodded.

  “Me too,” Echo reached across the table and squeezed her best friend’s hand.

  “See what happens when I go on vacation?” Missy teased.

  “Next time I’m going with you, young lady. I can’t let you out of my sight for a second or you get

  into a mess,” Echo shot back, bringing a much needed round of laughter.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Izzy took a deep breath and seriously contemplated getting out of the car. She’d volunteered to

  come play
with some of the animals at the rescue shelter, but now that the reality of having

  to learn something new and interact with strangers was setting in, she considered going home and

  crawling under the covers.

  “You can do this. Be an adult,” the introverted author tried to give herself a pep talk and failed

  miserably.

  When the text tone on her phone went off, the small chime shattering the silence of the car startled

  her, and she pulled the phone out with a frown. It was from Missy.

  You’ve got this. Get out of the car and go pet some animals.

  “I swear, it’s like she’s omniscient or something,” Izzy muttered, then sighed. “Okay, this is stupid.

  There’s no reason for me to be afraid. The place is full of lonely animals. I love animals and I’m

  lonely, too. I’m doing this,” she vowed, and after texting Missy back, she got out of the car, willing

  her feet to move toward the building. She punched in the code that the volunteer coordinator had

  given her, and went inside, immediately charmed by the series of barks and meows that greeted

  her.

  A young woman sat at the front desk, with her head bent over a stack of reports. When she heard

  Izzy enter, and looked up with a smile, the author had to concentrate to keep from gasping in

  horror. The last time she’d seen Joyce Rutledge was when the beautiful mocha-skinned young

  woman had dragged Spencer out onto the dance floor. As far as she knew, they might even be

  dating.

  “Hey, you’re Missy and Echo’s friend, right?” Joyce stood up and offered her hand, which Izzy

  shook, wincing at the cool clamminess that the other woman had to endure.

  “Izzy, yeah,” she attempted a smile, wondering how to gracefully exit. She could always say that

  she was suddenly nauseated…that was true enough.

  “That’s right, the writer,” Joyce nodded. “Hey, great to see you again. I’m Joyce Rutledge, I

  manage the bookstore and babysit the candle shop when Echo is busy.”

  Izzy emitted a nervous giggle that she hoped didn’t sound psychotic.

  “Is this your first time volunteering here?” Joyce asked, grabbing a paper from the desk and sliding

  it over for Izzy to sign.

  “Yeah, I needed to get out of the house,” the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could

  stop them, and she mentally berated herself, biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Oh girl, I hear ya. That’s why I’m here, too. I’m an overeducated bookworm who would never

  see the light of day if I didn’t have my job and volunteer work,” Joyce chuckled.

  Izzy found herself warming to the young woman and tried to forget that she might be dating the

  love of her life.

  “Our focus tonight is going to be in the nursery,” Joyce said, taking a couple of squirts of hand

  sanitizer and passing the bottle to Izzy.

  “Nursery?” the word struck terror into her heart. “Not to be rude or anything, but I came here to

  volunteer with animals. I don’t have any experience with babies, and I don’t think I’d be good

  at…” she began to protest.

  Joyce laughed and grabbed Izzy by the wrist.

  “Let me show you something,” she grinned, dragging the rather reluctant author behind her.

  She stopped about halfway down a hallway, in front of a huge window.

  “Look,” she pointed.

  Izzy peered in and caught her breath. A grey, fluffy terrier was nursing three tiny pups in a nest of

  blankets that had been fashioned as a den inside a small plastic wading pool.

  “Oh my gosh,” she clasped her hands together in delight. “Look at them. They’re so tiny and

  adorable.”

  “Think you can handle this type of nursery?” Joyce teased.

  “Oh my, yes,” Izzy nodded. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “Okay, when we go in, we’re going to first pay attention to mama dog, her name is Rosie. She

  needs to feel special and loved, too, so we’ll massage her a bit, give her some treats, and make her

  smile. Once she’s comfortable with us, we’ll take the puppies one at a time, when they’re done

  nursing, and hold them, stroke them, and help them to get comfortable around humans. Are you

  ready?”

  “More than,” Izzy nodded, her heart speeding up a bit.

  Rosie was a lovebug, who drank in the special attention. After about fifteen minutes, the first

  puppy stopping nursing, and began to move slowly and awkwardly around in the sea of blankets.

  “Go ahead and pick up that one,” Joyce inclined her head toward the struggling pup. “That’s

  Bubba.”

  “Well, hello, Bubba,” Izzy cooed at the fat little pup, who had yet to open his eyes. She snuggled

  him up to her shoulder, just like she had with Echo’s baby, and he burrowed his fluffy little face

  right into her neck, melting her heart, and making her forget all about Spencer, Joyce and the

  awkwardness.

  “He’s so tiny,” she held the little ball of fluff up to inspect him with a delighted smile.

  “He’s the runt,” Joyce picked up one of Bubba’s sisters, Lulu, and started cuddling her.

  “Aww…I was a small baby, too,” Izzy giggled slipping a tiny velvety ear between her thumb and

  forefinger. “That just means he’s extra special,” she kissed the top of his fuzzy head.

  “Then you should adopt him after he’s weaned,” Joyce now held both of Bubba’s sisters in her

  arms, and they snuggled together for warmth.

  “Oh, that’s just what I need,” Izzy chuckled.

  “Maybe it is,” Joyce challenged. “I’m thinking about taking Rosie home after all the pups have

  been adopted.”

  “That’s so sweet. She seems like a great dog,” Izzy leaned over to scratch Rosie’s ears and was

  rewarded with a flick of the tongue on the back of her hand when she pulled it away.

  “I think you and Bubba are going to have a very special friendship,” Joyce grinned, as the pup

  tried to suckle on Izzy’s fingertip.

  “And I think he’s hungry,” Izzy giggled, placing him gently next to his mother to feed again.

  “Okay,” Joyce stood up after setting the sisters down with their mama. “There are a couple more

  things that we need to do before we call it a night.”

  Izzy followed her down the hall after patting Rosie one last time, Bubba’s sweet little face staying

  in her mind and heart.

  “We need to make sure everybody has fresh water. Cats, dogs, bunnies, guinea pigs, iguanas…

  everybody. Then there are a couple of high energy, larger dogs who would like a walk before bed,

  if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Sure, I’m game,” Izzy agreed.

  She was in pretty good shape, getting up to take long walks on the beach nearly every morning, so

  she figured she’d be able to keep up with even high energy dogs.

  They refilled water dishes in the dog wing last, and were greeted by a cacophonous chorus of

  barking.

  “See these two?” Joyce called out, raising her voice to be heard, and pointing to the last two kennel

  areas, one of which held a tail wagging German Shepherd with a floppy left ear, and the other

  which held a huge, shaggy beast of an animal that reminded her of a long-haired bear.

  “Oh my,” Izzy’s mouth dropped open, as the giant dog, who was the only one in the entire dog

  room that wasn’t barking, and whose head came up to her hip, wandered over to the front of his

  enclosure to peer at her with a friendly look
on his furry face. “What is that?” she asked, her eyes

  wide. The dog was quite possible the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “He’s a Leonberger; isn’t he a beauty?” Joyce grinned.

  “How could anyone give this boy up?” Izzy shook her head in disbelief.

  “They didn’t,” the smile disappeared from Joyce’s face. “His owner was killed in a car accident.

  When we first got Hercules in, he cried for weeks. We’ve finally gotten him to cheer up a bit,

  just in the last week or so.”

  “He’s been here for weeks?” Izzy held her hand up to the chain link enclosure, and Hercules sniffed

  it.

  “We wanted him to get on an even keel before we tried to rehome him.”

  “He doesn’t look high energy,” Izzy mused, as the giant dog continued to eye her curiously.

  “He’s not. This guy,” Joyce pointed to the German Shepherd who was bouncing up and down in

  anticipation of his walk. “He’s the energetic one.”

  “I can see that,” Izzy giggled at the comical antics of the excited canine. “Can I take Hercules

  when we walk?”

  Joyce’s well-groomed eyebrows shot skyward.

  “You do realize that he’s bigger than you, right? Hercules weighs just over a hundred and fifty

  pounds,” she put her hands on her hips.

  “There’s something awesome about him,” Izzy held her hand to the cage again and Hercules licked

  it.

  Joyce’s faced softened. “Well, that’s a first,” she said, watching the interaction. “Okay, I’ve got

  Booboo, and you can have Hercules, but if he pulls away from you, just let go of the leash. We’ll

  be in an enclosure, so he’ll be safe and you won’t get dragged behind him.”

  “It won’t be an issue,” the author just stared at the dog.

  “Okay,” Joyce sounded uncertain. “Do you want me to go in there and hook him up to his lead, or

  do you feel comfortable doing it?”

  “You grab Booboo, I’ve got this,” Izzy still didn’t take her eyes off of Hercules.

  “You sure?”

  “Yup.”

  Izzy bent down a tiny bit so that she was eye to eye with the magnificent dog.

  “I’m coming in there, Hercules. Don’t be scared. We’re going to be friends,” Izzy spoke softly,