Gingerbread Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 21 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

Home > Mystery > Gingerbread Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 21 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) > Page 5
Gingerbread Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 21 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 5

by Summer Prescott


  The shadow startled her at first, then angered her. She was not happy that someone was either trying to be a peeping Tom or, even worse, trying to scare her. She pulled on the ring to raise the shade, unconcerned when it flew up, flipping around its roller. Unlocking the window and throwing the sash up, open wide, she saw the grasses rustle as though someone had just left, and fury rose within her. The wind wasn’t blowing at all. If the grasses had scraped against her window, it was because someone had been standing in them.

  “And don’t come back!” she hollered into the blackness of the night, her heart pounding with a potent mix of anger and fear.

  Closing the window with a slam, and locking it securely, she pulled down the shade and wrapped her arms around her middle, knowing that, for the moment at least, the possibility of a good night’s sleep was shot. She hated to be a bother, but she picked up her phone and dialed.

  **

  As a detective’s wife, Missy was accustomed to being awakened in the middle of the night by the ringing of Chas’s work phone, but she was more than surprised when his personal phone went off shortly after 1:30. He answered it, made a few brief comments, and got out of bed, pulling his clothes on.

  “Whassamatter?” she mumbled, still half-asleep. “Everything okay?”

  “Echo had a bit of a scare and she wants me to come over to check things out. She said it might have just been the wind, but she wants to make sure,” he replied, tying his shoes.

  “But…it’s not windy,” Missy yawned and blinked sleepily.

  “It shouldn’t take too long,” her husband promised. “I’ll take a look around with the flashlight, see if I find anything suspicious, and hopefully be able to ease her fears a bit.” Chas came around to her side of the bed and kissed her before he left.

  “Be careful, sweetie,” she called after him.

  “Always,” was his unconcerned reply as he headed for the stairs.

  Missy tried and tried to get back to sleep, but kept tossing and turning until she eventually gave up and decided to have a glass of wine while she waited for Chas to get home. She went down to the kitchen and poured her wine, returning to her room moments later. Toffee and Bitsy snoozed peacefully on their beds in the corner, and Missy opened a long-neglected mystery novel with the intention of trying to read herself to sleep.

  A small thud at the window across the room made her jump. Glad she had set her wine glass down, she lowered her book and stared, listening. Toffee had raised her head and had an ear cocked toward the window. Bitsy had jumped out of bed and was on her feet, hackles raised. “Thunk,” she heard again, her heart pounding. Switching off her lamp, she slowly pushed the covers away from her legs, and swung them over the side of the bed.

  Crouched low, she made her way to the side of the window, peering out of the tiny space between the blinds and the glass. Her heart leapt with fear when she saw a black shadow that looked like a man, standing in front of the window at a distance, and was glad that the bedroom was on the second floor. Why on earth did Chas have to be gone at a time like this??? She needn’t have worried, as she continued to peer out of the blinds at the motionless figure, another dark figure streaked in with the speed of a rocket and took the first man to the ground.

  **

  “Hey Chas,” Echo greeted the detective at the door. “I’m really sorry to bring you out at this time of night, I just want to make sure that I’m not in danger or anything,” she wrapped her sweater around her more tightly as she led him into the house and told him what had happened.

  “No problem, I’ll check it out,” he replied, switching on his flashlight and heading for the door.

  Rather than going directly to the grassy area by Echo’s bedroom window, he moved to the side of the house, playing his flashlight back and forth in front of him. The abandoned yellow house next door was dark, and there were no sounds, nor footprints coming from it. The detective scanned the side yard, determined that there was nothing to be found there, and continued on into the backyard, moving toward the clump of grasses by the window.

  The side and back of the large stand of grass had been squashed down as though someone had stood on it, but for all he knew, it could’ve been from when Beau had done yard work a couple of days before. He spotted something small on the ground, bent down, picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. It didn’t seem important, but you never know. He moved toward the left side of the house, and when he rounded the back corner, smelled cigarette smoke. Glancing around the side yard, he spotted the glowing orange end of a lit cigarette and headed toward the tiny light.

  Bringing his flashlight up as he approached, he shone it fully in the face of Echo’s neighbor, who was sitting in a lawn chair on a cement patio outside his side entrance.

  The man threw his hands up in front of his eyes, angered. “Get that thing outta my face,” he rasped. “Who the heck do you think you are shining a flashlight in my eyes this time of night?”

  “Detective Chas Beckett, Calgon PD,” Chas identified himself, lowering the light so that it didn’t blind the man, but keeping it high enough so that he could still keep an eye on him. “And you are?”

  “There ain’t no need for you to be askin’ me any questions,” the neighbor blustered. “I’m sittin’ here on my own property and I don’t need to answer to the likes of you,” he crossed his arms defiantly, cigarette hanging from his lips.

  “That’s fine,” Chas nodded, taking a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket pocket. “I’d be more comfortable discussing this down at the station after I take you in for impeding my investigation anyway,” he replied casually, opening the cuff bracelets.

  “What investigation? I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no investigation,” the man backpedaled.

  “I’m asking the questions, not you,” the detective reminded him. “Are we going to do this here or at the station?” the handcuffs dangled from his hand.

  “My name is Steve Stoughton, US disabled vet. What else you wanna know?” he muttered.

  “How long have you been sitting out here Steve?” Chas shone the flashlight around the patio.

  “Bout an hour or so. I dunno,” he shrugged. “I don’t generally check the clock before I come out to have a cigarette,” his voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “That’s a pretty long lasting cigarette if you’ve been out here an hour and you’re still smoking it,” the detective remarked coolly.

  “It ain’t my first,” Steve’s eyes narrowed.

  “Really? Then where are the butts from the others?”

  “I took ‘em in and threw ‘em away, what’s it to ya?”

  Chas ignored the man’s insolence. “You see anybody come through this yard while you were sitting back here?” he asked, gesturing to Echo’s backyard.

  “Nope, ain’t seen nuthin,” Steve muttered.

  “And you’ve been out here about an hour,” the detective confirmed.

  “I believe I answered that already, and I’m not inclined to repeat myself. We done yet?”

  Again, Chas ignored his rudeness. “Is there anyone in your house right now?”

  “Ain’t none of your dang bizness.”

  “No problem, I can come back with a warrant and a couple of uniformed guys and go through everything you own in about an hour,” the detective glanced at his watch and reached for his phone.

  “No! There ain’t nobody in the house,” Steve stated loudly, as Chas put his phone away.

  Echo wandered around the corner of the house, approaching slowly. “You were taking quite a while, so I didn’t know if something bad had happened…” she said as a means of explaining her presence. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Pffft…shoulda known it was the new granola girl who called the police. A man can’t even have a smoke in his own backyard without somebody callin’ the law,” he groused, giving Echo a dirty look.

  Chas stepped closer. “Her calling me had nothing to do with you smoking a cigarette, let’s just be clear about that.
Don’t give me a reason to come back out here,” he said quietly, looming over the man.

  “Ain’t plannin’ on it, Detective,” Steve shrugged.

  “You have a nice evening,” Chas said, stepping back.

  **

  Missy hurriedly pulled on her clothes and ran down the stairs to see what was happening in front of the house. She pulled the front door open just in time to see Spencer pushing Beau toward the front porch, with both of his wrists secured in one of the Marine’s strong hands behind his back. The homeless young man had grass stains on the front of his shapeless grey sweatshirt, and one of his knees was bleeding slightly.

  “Is Mr. Beckett here?” Spencer asked, through his teeth, glaring at Beau.

  “No, but he just texted to say that he’d be here shortly. What happened, Spencer?” she asked, teeth chattering slightly, more from nerves than the cool night air.

  “I caught him tossing pebbles up at your window. I didn’t know it was Beau, I thought it was an intruder, so I took him down,” the Marine explained.

  “Why on earth would you do such a thing, Beau?” Missy frowned.

  “I was lonely,” he shrugged, making Spencer tighten his grip. The Marine was cutting him no slack. “I was out walking around because I couldn’t sleep, and I saw Mr. Beckett leave, and I thought that you might like some company,” he finished lamely.

  “Aside from how entirely inappropriate that was, did you ever stop to think that you might’ve scared me to death? There was a murder just two houses down from the cupcake shop not even three days ago, and you throw rocks at my window and stand in the yard like a ghost in the middle of the night? What were you thinking?” Missy demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Beckett. I didn’t mean to scare you, honestly I didn’t. It’s just…I’ve really missed my mom since she died, and you kinda remind me of her sometimes,” Beau explained, staring at the ground, too embarrassed to look Missy in the eye.

  “What’s going on here?” Chas asked mildly, jogging up the sidewalk toward the porch.

  Missy’s eyes met Spencer’s, and a moment of unspoken communication passed between them.

  “Nothing, sir,” Spencer replied, letting Beau’s arms go. “Boys will be boys kinda thing,” he explained as the homeless youth rubbed his arms. “We thought that we’d come over and check on Mrs. Beckett when we heard your car leave the parking lot.”

  Chas raised an eyebrow and looked at the three of them, not quite able to put his finger on what was actually going on, but deciding to let it go. “Well, thank you. Hopefully we can all get some rest now,” the detective replied, placing an arm around his wife and steering her back into the house. “Goodnight Spencer, Beau.”

  “Goodnight, sir,” the Marine responded automatically.

  “Night,” Beau echoed.

  The two young men watched the door close behind the owners.

  “Guess I’ll pick up my stuff from your place and be on my way,” Beau mumbled, looking at the ground.

  “Negative,” Spencer replied abruptly, jaw muscles flexing. “You’re not getting out of my sight. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 15

  “That’s just creepy,” Echo shuddered the next morning when Missy told her of the encounter with Beau and Spencer. “Do you really think he wanted to get your attention, or do you think that he’s the thief and that he was just seeing how easy it would be to wake you up?”

  Missy shook her head and sipped her coffee. “I don’t know. I mean, what if it was Beau who terrorized both of us last night? He could’ve gotten over here in the time that it took Chas to get ready and go to your house. I think he actually robbed and killed that poor woman, and that if we don’t prove that he did it pretty quickly, we’re in danger too.”

  Echo nodded, unable to eat the vegan lemon curd cupcake in front of her. “He knows what we have in our homes, he knows how to get in, and the fact that neither of us has a security system, and we don’t know anything about him.”

  “I wonder what Kel has found out,” Missy murmured, chin in hand.

  “Me too. I’m surprised he isn’t here yet.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Kel opened the door, newspaper tucked under his arm, and took his place at the table.

  “Wow, you conjured him,” Missy teased.

  “Whatever works,” Echo shrugged. “So, what did you find out about Beau Garrity?” she asked the artist, without preamble. He opened his mouth to speak and Chas walked in, prompting an immediate change of subject.

  “Hey beautiful,” he approached his wife giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Kel, Echo,” he nodded.

  “What a wonderful surprise,” Missy recovered. “Are you joining us this morning?”

  “No. I came over to tell you that I’m heading out of town for a bit. I’ve notified Spencer, so he’ll be keeping an eye on things.”

  “Interesting…” Kel mused. “I thought the boy was a suspect.”

  Chas raised an eyebrow and smirked.

  “Thank you for your concern, Kel, but at the moment, Spencer is merely a person of interest,” he replied, and turned back to his wife for a kiss. “I shouldn’t be gone longer than a day or two. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Call me tonight?” Missy asked.

  “Of course,” Chas smiled fondly at his wife.

  “Wonder where he’s going,” Kel mused.

  “Maybe to check out Beau’s orphan story,” Echo guessed.

  “About that…” Kel paused dramatically.

  “What? What did you find out?” Missy demanded.

  “Well, as it turns out, things with that young man are not quite as they seem. His mother did die, apparently, but he had run away long before she did. His sister took care of her, and there was a small inheritance that was split between the two of them. Beau took his portion and disappeared, leaving his sister to sell their mother’s house and handle all of the other legal aspects of her death.”

  “How on earth did you learn all of that?” Echo asked, impressed.

  “I go to the Thai Hut for lunch at least once a week, and the proprietor there a couple of weeks ago was grumbling that her dishwasher had quit. I didn’t think much about it until I learned about the stray that Echo had found on the beach and brought back to the Inn. When I went for lunch a couple of days ago, I suggested that I might know a young man who might be able to help out with their dishwasher dilemma, and when I told the owner the young man’s name, he briefly considered hurling a pan at my head.”

  “What? Why?” Missy leaned forward.

  “Because our Mr. Sean Garrity was the unreliable dishwasher who had quit and left them hanging, taking whatever was in the cash register when he left,” Kel raised his eyebrows.

  “I knew he was a thief!” Echo exclaimed.

  “And yet you left him in your home…”

  “Well, I didn’t know he was a thief at that point,” she retorted, making a face at her boss.

  “So he lied to us. We took him in, we fed him and gave him jobs to do, and he lied to us,” Missy said softly, shaking her head.

  “Well, you did what would have been the right thing if he actually had been in the situation that he said he was in,” Kel replied, trying to make her feel better.

  Spencer came in the door just then, looking angry. “Has anyone seen Beau?”

  “Not since last night,” Missy said. “Why?”

  “He’s gone, and he took some of my clothes, shoes and money with him.”

  “We have to tell Chas what you found out,” Missy told Kel.

  The artist slowly shook his head. “There’s something else that I need to check on first. Report the theft if you must, but let’s keep the other information close to the vest at the moment, if you would.”

  Chapter 16

  Kel waited in the swanky little French restaurant for his lunch date, Mrs. Frieda Klinkman, a rotund gal who worked in the records department at the county courthouse. He didn’t have to wait long. Mrs. Klinkman was never late when p
romised a free meal in exchange for information.

  “I memorized the file, so I can tell you whatever you need to know,” she wheezed, settling into her chair and reaching immediately for a menu.

  “Well, it’s lovely to see you too, dear Frieda,” the artist said lightly, not wanting her to take offense.

  “Look, Picasso,” she leaned forward, giving him full view of the hair growing out of the mole on her chin. “I only have an hour for lunch. I’m going to order, I’m going to eat, and I’m going to give you info. If you want to waste any of that time on pleasantries, that’s up to you, but let me assure you, the time will not be deducted from my ordering or eating,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  “Right. Okay then,” Kel was taken aback, but actually appreciated her straightforward approach. “Did Cassie have any living relatives?”

  “Yes, a nephew who lives in Ohio,” Frieda replied, signaling the server. She placed her order and gave the artist her full attention.

  “And what is his name?” Kel had pulled up the notepad on his phone and was taking notes.

  “Alan. Alan Newman.”

  “Why does that sound familiar?” he wondered, but then resumed his questioning. “How old?”

  “Forty-something, I don’t quite remember.”

  “Do we know anything about him?”

  “He sells insurance. Never married, no kids, no pets. Lives in a small house that he has a mortgage on,” Frieda looked bored.

  Something in Kel’s mind clicked, and his eyes widened. “Dear Mrs. Klinkman…Frieda, would you mind terribly much if I didn’t stay for the meal? I’ll still pay, of course, but I’m afraid that something has come up.”

  “I don’t come for the company, Mr. Kellerman,” she replied with an arsenic-laced smile. “Go do your thing – just make sure you prepay on the way out. And I’ll be having dessert as well, so plan accordingly, and leave a good tip,” she waved him off.

 

‹ Prev