The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse: Books 1-3 (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Box Sets)

by Nic Saint

  “Why did you want to wake him?”

  “Because I thought he would get cold, lying out here in the middle of the night. Freeze his nuts off, if you catch my drift.”

  Virgil caught the man’s drift, all right. What he didn’t catch was why a guest of the hotel would wake up in the middle of the night and go for a smoke. Highly suspicious, he felt. “Do you always go for a smoke in the middle of the night?” he asked, putting some bite into his tone.

  “Yes. Yes, I do, gov,” the man said. “Though I don’t usually have the leisure to breathe this pure ocean air. See, where I come from—”

  “And where might that be?”

  “Manchester, England. Like I said, back home all I can breathe is the stinkin’ factory fumes, see. And I usually do my smoking indoors.”

  Virgil wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t keen on smoking to begin with and looked askance at people who smoked indoors, thereby rendering the air unbreathable to non-smokers. He decided to let it go. There were more important matters to deal with at the moment.

  They were holed up in the small conference room next to the dining room, and this Sully Parker was the first guest of the inn he’d interviewed who seemed to have some information to impart. The others had all proved useless. He scribbled down a note and returned to his line of questioning.

  “So you tried to wake up Rob Long and then what happened?”

  “Well, I didn’t know his name was Rob Long, innit?”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  Young Mr. Parker nodded, satisfied that this copper he was talking to was jotting down his exact words and not concocting some sort of mockery of his statement. “Well, I shook him, innit? And he didn’t stir, innit? So I shook him harder, innit? And then finally he woke up and told me to bugger off and so I did, innit?”

  Virgil, who had trouble grasping the exact meaning of the word ‘innit’, nevertheless felt he had heard enough. “And this was at what time exactly?”

  “Oneish.”

  Virgil cocked an eyebrow. “Can you be more specific, Mr. Parker?”

  “One fifteen,” the man specified. “I remember because I was thinking about having a second ciggy and when I took out my pack to see how many I got left, my phone fell out and I happened to see the time.”

  Virgil jotted down this last piece of information with a flourish, dotting the Is and crossing the Ts. This was one fine way of conducting an investigation. Two suspects could be scratched off his list. “Thank you, Mr. Parker,” he said. “That’ll be all.”

  “Thank you, mate. I’m free to go now, eh?”

  What part of ‘that will be all’ the man didn’t understand, Virgil didn’t know, but he obliged the Englishman. “Yes, you may go now, sir.”

  The man tapped an imaginary cap and pottered off.

  With a sigh, Virgil looked around the small conference room and called out, “Next!”

  After finding Mrs. Long unresponsive the medical examiner who’d been summoned to the scene had declared her dead from a blow to the head with what appeared to be some sort of blunt instrument. Chief Whitehouse, not too well pleased with this second homicide on his turf, had immediately ordered Virgil to cordon off the room and gather everyone present in the downstairs dining room for questioning.

  This had proved rather difficult, for most of the guests of the inn had been asleep in their respective beds. Nevertheless, with the help of the receptionist, young Jack Barnes, they had managed to rouse the inn and herd the guests into the dining room.

  He checked his list. Five down, three more to go. So far no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary, except of course the Thomsons. He praised Mrs. Thomson’s tenacity in following through on her initial suspicion and had already personally commended her for being so quick to respond.

  A tall man with white hair stumbled in, and he recognized him as Mr. Alan Shaw, one of the inn regulars. He usually stayed here once or twice a year and spent the entire vacation fishing. Judging from his red-rimmed eyes the man hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. But then no one had.

  “Mr. Shaw? Please take a seat, sir. This won’t take long and then you can go right back to bed.”

  The old man, face haggard, shuffled toward him and took a seat on the opposing chair. He leaned forward. “Is it true? Is it really true?”

  Virgil closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Poor woman. That poor, poor woman.”

  Virgil expelled a sigh, indicating he shared the man’s sentiments. “Did you notice anything suspicious, Mr. Shaw? A noise perhaps? Some altercation? I see that your room is directly adjacent to Mrs. Long’s?”

  “It is.” The man stared at him, wide-eyed. “What will happen to the inn now that the Longs are both gone?”

  “I assume the family will take ownership. Mr. and Mrs. Long have—had two children.”

  “I know. I’ve seen them around.”

  “Of course you have.” He tapped his notebook. “But let’s not get distracted from the main issue. Did you or did you not hear any suspicious noises, or anything that could shed light on our investigation into the murder of Mrs. Long?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “So she was murdered, was she?”

  “I’m afraid she was. Cold-blooded murder.”

  “I thought perhaps—when I saw the ambulance arrive—perhaps a heart attack. What with the husband and all…” His voice trailed off and he blinked. “What were you saying, officer?”

  “Mh? Oh. Ah. Yes.” He tapped his notebook again, his way of forcing a wandering mind back to the issue. “Any suspicious noises?”

  Mr. Shaw creased his brow into a deep frown. “Well, I did hear a loud banging noise just before the ambulance arrived. I think it’s what woke me up in the first place.”

  “Mh. Yes. That was me, I’m afraid. I was trying to rouse Mrs. Long. And before that?”

  The man shook his head. “I was asleep.” He clasped his hands nervously. “Can you imagine? To be sound asleep with a murderer only a few feet away from your bed? Terrible!”

  “Yes, well, it’s better not to dwell too much on that, Mr. Shaw. You will only drive yourself crazy if you do.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “How did she die? Not too painfully I should hope?”

  “She was bludgeoned to death with a blunt object,” Virgil said pointedly, briefly forgetting his own advice not to dwell too much on the gruesomeness of having a murderer in the next room going about his business.

  The man stared at him, visibly aghast. “That’s horrible!”

  “Yes, it is not a very nice way to go,” Virgil agreed. He nodded thoughtfully, putting a tick next to Mr. Shaw’s name. “Will you be all right, Mr. Shaw? Or do you wish to change rooms, perhaps? Our people will be up there for quite a bit, ferreting out clues and whatnot.”

  “No, I’m fine,” the old man said with a weak smile. “I will pop in my earplugs. Always sleep like a baby with my earplugs.”

  Virgil smiled. “Thank you for talking to me, Mr. Shaw, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “No inconvenience. We must do what we can to catch the maniac.”

  “Yes, we must. Well, that’ll be all, then, sir. Have a good night.”

  “Yes, yes…” Mr. Shaw said vaguely and started for the door. Then, before he left, he turned around. “I hope the Longs keep this place. I’ve been coming here for forty years. Never missed a trip. Would be a shame to see the place close down.”

  “Yes, it would,” agreed Virgil. He didn’t know what would happen to the Happy Bays Inn, but it would definitely be a pity if it were to be sold. He glanced at his list. Only two more guests. And if they didn’t yield any new information things weren’t looking very good. As Chief Whitehouse had indicated it was almost as if whoever was committing these murders was a professional. But why would a professional killer target the Longs of all people?

  He shook his head and called out, “Next!”

  He was surprised to find Alice Whitehouse en
ter and not the Potters as was indicated on his list. He frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too, Virgil,” Alice said amiably, and took a seat.

  He gazed at her, surprised at her audacity. “Please vacate that chair, Miss Whitehouse. You know very well I’m in the middle of a police investigation and won’t be disturbed by civilians butting in.”

  “I’m not butting in,” she said. “I’m just offering my help solving this case.” She gestured to the notebook. “Any suspects? Leads? Anything?”

  His face was gradually reddening, as it always did when he encountered this meddling girl. “Please leave now. I still have two more people to interview.”

  “They can wait,” she said quite infuriatingly. “What do you have, Virgil?”

  “For you? Nothing.”

  “Come on. You know you can trust me. I’m an old hand at this.”

  “Police work?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “I did go to the academy, same way you did.”

  “And you managed to fail three times. Which, in my book, makes you a civilian and not a police officer.” He gestured with his hand. “Out, Alice. Please leave.”

  “Or what? You’ll run to my dad and sob into his chest?”

  The thought had crossed Virgil’s mind that Chief Whitehouse should be informed that his daughter was trying to insert herself into a police investigation again. “No, of course not,” he said instead. “I don’t need your father to tell you that what you’re doing is wrong.”

  She shrugged and got up. “Suit yourself. If you don’t want my help, you won’t get it. But don’t come begging when you can’t catch a break in this case.”

  “I don’t need a break in this case. Fine police work will get the job done.”

  As she didn’t seem inclined to heed his warning and leave of her own accord, he rose as well. And since he was a full head taller than she was, he easily towered over her. “Bye bye, Alice. Time to go.”

  Alice raised her eyes and made to leave. Then, as she was shoving the chair back in place, she accidentally hit the table which hit Virgil in the groin. “Oomph!” he exclaimed, and doubled over.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Alice cried as she saw what she’d done. She rounded the table and hovered over him as he tried to catch his breath.

  “It’s all right,” he wheezed, the pain slowly subsiding. With tear-filled eyes, he glared at her. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  Her sparkly green eyes were all innocence. “Me? How would you even think that, Virgil? We’ve been friends for such a long time.”

  He pointed to the door. “Out!” he managed. “Out, now!”

  She tripped away, a contrite smile on her face. “So sorry,” she murmured, and then, finally, she was gone.

  Gingerly, he took a seat and squeaked, “Next!”

  Then, as he looked down at his notebook, he saw to his surprise that it was no longer where he’d left it.

  “Alice!” he thundered, but of course Alice had already left the building. And so had his notebook. He gritted his teeth. The damn cheek of that woman! And he couldn’t even go to Chief Whitehouse. The chief would only laugh that he, a grown man, had allowed himself to be outsmarted by a girl. He reached into the pocket of his vest and brought out another notebook and opened it. Pristine, it would have to do for now. At least until he got his hands on that wretched Alice and wrung her wretched neck until she drew her last wretched breath.

  Chapter 43

  “I don’t think the investigation is going well,” whispered Alice as she slipped Felicity a small oblong object. She slammed the door of the van closed and sat back like a woman whose mission has just been accomplished to her complete and utter satisfaction.

  Felicity stared at the object for a moment. “Why do you say that?”

  Alice gave a soft giggle. “Because Virgil looks like he swallowed an egg. You know the look.”

  Felicity did know the look. Virgil often looked as if he swallowed an egg. In fact it was his default look, for the policeman rarely had a clue. “What is this?” she muttered, opening the notebook. She stared at the first page, where in a childish hand somebody had written ‘This notebook is the property of Officer Virgil Scattering.’ Her eyes widened. “No, you didn’t!”

  “Yes, I did,” Alice caroled jubilantly. “And what’s more, the dopey idiot can’t do a thing about it. If he goes crying to Dad, he’ll blame him for being careless with police property and if he comes after me—”

  “He’ll wring your neck.”

  Alice held up a finger. “Ah. But he can’t now can he? I’m still his superior officer’s daughter, so he can’t go around wringing my neck if he wants to keep his job.” She tapped her nose smartly. “I’ve got it all figured out, honey. Soup to nuts.”

  Felicity grinned. They hadn’t been at the inn five minutes and already Alice had pissed off the lead investigator. Nice. But then again, if Chief Whitehouse insisted on sabotaging their investigation he left them no choice but to fight dirty.

  When arriving at the inn Felicity had decided to wait until their back-up arrived before venturing into enemy territory. Either that, or they could simply wait until Chief Whitehouse had left. Only problem was that when the chief left all the guests would probably head straight to bed, the medical examiner’s people would cart off the body, and the receptionist would lock the place up. Not an appealing prospect.

  “I think we should go in now,” Alice said, as if she’d magically read her friend’s mind. “No sense in just sitting here.” She waved her hands. “I mean, we got out of bed, didn’t we? We should at least make up for lost sleep by putting in some detective work.”

  “Or we could wait for Mabel, Aunt Bettina, and Marjorie. Mabel could silence the chief, Marjorie could sit on Virgil’s head, and Bettina and we could interview the guests.”

  “And then there’s our secret weapon,” Alice said with glittering eyes.

  Felicity followed her gaze. A sleek silver Maserati GranTurismo had just swerved off the road and onto the small parking lot. “I didn’t think he’d show up,” said Felicity, amazed. She’d recognized Reece’s car.

  “I think when Reece Hudson shows up, doors open, don’t you think?” And without waiting for a reply, she opened her own door and scooted from the van to welcome the new arrival.

  Reece was curious. In fact he was more than curious. His next movie, Crunch Time 4, would see him team up with Jackie Chan. As always, Reece played Chuck MacLachlan, only this time things got personal for the tough cop. His partner, played by Kirt Stur in the previous installment of the hit franchise, was brutally murdered in the opening sequence, and it was up to Reece and Jackie to bring the killer to justice.

  The casting director had told him to read up on police jargon, and even, if possible, talk to some real detectives. And now, as luck would have it, he would be doing some actual detecting. Reece Hudson was going to solve a real murder!

  Then he remembered that a woman had been murdered here—a woman he’d known, and his jubilant mood dimmed. When he told his dad what had happened the old man had been shocked and dismayed.

  He stepped from the car and was gratified to find Alice Whitehouse walking up to him with a spring in her step. Gone was the trepidation and the flustered look in that young woman’s eyes. She looked as fresh-faced as ever, only now her eyes were sparkling, and if possible she was even more gorgeous than before.

  “Hey, there,” she said by way of greeting. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

  “I’m a man of my word, Alice. So what have we got here?”

  Alice’s smile dimmed. “All we know is that Mary Long’s been murdered. But police won’t let us near the place, as usual.”

  “Your dad, huh?”

  “I love my dad, but sometimes he drives me crazy.”

  “Well, it’s probably his job to protect the confidentiality of the police investigation,” he said, remembering something he read in a screenplay.
/>   Alice pursed her lips in an expression of admiration. “Nice. Where did you pick that up?”

  He grinned. “I’m prepping for a part. Crunch Time 4.”

  Immediately that deference was back. Dang. He just had to go and remind her that he was a movie star, huh? He decided to gloss over it. “And my dad is a police nut, of course. But you knew that already.”

  “Ex-cop. Must be in his blood.”

  Felicity had joined them and they extended greetings. “Nice to have you on board, Reece.”

  “Nice to be on board. And on my first case, no less.”

  “Yeah, and it’s a big one.” Felicity turned as there was a commotion near the entrance to the inn. Two EMTs carted out a stretcher carrying a body bag.

  “Mary Long,” Alice murmured.

  Only now did the horrible truth come home to Reece. A person had actually been murdered here and he was treating it with a levity that seemed ill-advised.

  For a moment, no one spoke, then Reece cleared his throat. “So what’s our next move?”

  “We need to talk to the witnesses,” said Felicity. “Collect as much information as possible.” She gave Reece the once-over. “Which is where you come in. Do you think you could be our point man? Chief Whitehouse knows our faces, and the minute he sees either me or Alice he will kick us out. He doesn’t know you, though.”

  “Come on, Fee. Everybody knows Reece Hudson.”

  Reece cocked an eyebrow. “Not when I put on my acting cap. A good actor can be anyone he likes. And tonight I’m not Reece Hudson, but…” He lowered his head and gave the two women the scowl that had graced movie posters all over the nation. “…Chuck MacLachlan.”

  And with these words, spoken in a gravelly voice, he started for the inn, leaving the two women swooning. As he walked, his gait changed into the easy swagger associated with Detective MacLachlan, and his lips twitched into Chuck’s lopsided irreverent grin.

  Hot potato! Chuck was here, and he was ready to kick some butt.

  Chapter 44