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

by Nic Saint

  “I’m going to get Reece out of jail,” Alice said, removing the toothbrush from her mouth. She gave Felicity a pleading look. “It’s my fault he’s in there in the first place so it’s only right I get him out.”

  “I’ll bet he’s out already. He probably has about a thousand lawyers on retainer. They will have pounced on Chief Whitehouse and pried Reece from his cold, dead hands.” She grimaced. “Sorry, that’s not funny.”

  “He’s not out yet. I called the station and he spent the night in jail.”

  “So how are you going to convince your dad to let him walk?”

  “I’ll convince Virgil to let him walk. In exchange for his notebook.” She shrugged. “It’s not as if we need it anymore.”

  “You think he might go for it?”

  “I can try,” said Alice valiantly. “I have to spring the poor guy from prison.”

  “I’ll go with you. Bancroft can take the first shift and Busby can do the bread run.”

  Alice gave her a sad smile. “Thanks, Fee.”

  “Don’t mention it. I feel a little guilty myself. Even though he volunteered, I think Reece didn’t know what he signed up for.”

  Alice resumed the brushing of her teeth and Felicity took a seat on the laundry hamper. “I’ve been thinking. So far we’ve managed to clear all the suspects except Ruth Long.”

  “I hardly think Ruth Long would kill her own parents.”

  “Well, that’s just it. I don’t know her well enough. But my mom does. She used to work with her for years.”

  Alice frowned. “She did?”

  “She was her speaking coach, remember?” Mom volunteered at the local middle school as a speech therapist, which had been her profession before meeting Peter Bell and becoming a baker. Ruth Long had a slight lisp, and Mom had helped the young girl overcome it.

  “Oh, that’s right. Now I remember.” She shook her head. “I still think it’s hardly likely. Who would kill their own parents?” Then she paused, considering. “Though I’m about ready to kill my dad.”

  “Perhaps you can talk to your mother about him? Doesn’t she have some pull in the Whitehouse household?”

  Alice scoffed, “No way. She keeps out of this and she’s probably right. She never takes sides. Though if I tell her that Reece Hudson might be her next son-in-law, she might reconsider.”

  Felicity laughed. “Still thinking about the bet, huh? It’s fine, Alice. I told you already that you can have all the donuts you want, and I don’t mind cleaning the house by myself. Or I could ask Mom to help out.”

  “It’s not that.” Alice suddenly looked a little hesitant. “I—I like him, Fee. And not just as a movie star, but…”

  Felicity raised an eyebrow. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

  Alice nodded sheepishly. “Yep. Beneath all that tinsel he’s a great guy.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too.” She stood and gave her friend a hug. “Then go for it, hon. You have my blessing.”

  “Thanks,” Alice murmured. “I would go for it, if not for the fact that he’s engaged to be married.”

  “There is that.” Though Bancroft felt the engagement was a bust, Dorothy Valour was still very much in the picture last she heard.

  Alice shrugged, putting on a brave face. “Let’s get him out of prison first. And who knows, Dorothy might resent getting married to a jailbird and break off the engagement.”

  Chapter 48

  Rob stared before him, bleary-eyed and suffering from an excruciating headache. He didn’t remember much of what happened last night, but apparently his wife did. He’d never seen her this upset.

  “You shouldn’t have done it, Rob. You really shouldn’t.”

  He gave her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I am. I just figured I was doing you a favor.”

  Her eyes widened incredulously. “Doing me a favor? By deserting me? By making me a widow? Strange idea of favor you have.”

  “I know, I know. I just thought…” He lifted his hands feebly. “I just figured you were better off without me.”

  “That’s for me to decide, not you. Oh, Rob. Don’t you see that I love you? I’m your wife. We stick together through thick and thin. Till death do us part, remember? In good days and bad? For better or worse?”

  “This is definitely the worst day of my life,” he said, pressing his fingers against his pounding temples. “The absolute very worst.”

  “You’re a bit of a loser, Rob. But you’re my loser and I love you.”

  He looked up. She hadn’t said those words in ages and neither had he. “You’re serious? You still love me, in spite of everything?”

  “Of course, you big doofus.” She sat down on the bed next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “You thought you could just leave me, huh? Good thing I switched those pills of yours.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” he muttered.

  “They’re not good for you, honey. I told you from the start. And you never felt the difference, did you? Always slept like a baby, just by sucking those sugar pills.”

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted. He did sleep well, placebos or not. Though now that he knew they weren’t real they probably wouldn’t work anymore.

  “Horrible thing about your mother, though.”

  “What horrible thing?”

  Maggie sat bolt upright. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Alarmed, he gaped at her.

  “The police…they didn’t tell you?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “All they told me was that I should sleep it off. When they found me I was dead drunk. I could hardly walk.”

  “I know. You were a mess.” She took his hand and squeezed it tenderly. “Honey, you gotta be strong now, you hear? Your mother…” She closed her eyes, her face a mask of grief.

  “What, what? Tell me already, will you?”

  “She’s dead.”

  The words didn't register at first. “Dead? What do you mean dead?”

  “She passed away last night, Rob.”

  He gaped at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Would I ever kid about something terrible like that? She died, Rob. And what’s worse…”

  “Worse? What could be worse?” Then it hit him. “God, no. Don’t tell me that she…”

  Maggie nodded. “She was murdered, same as your daddy.”

  “Shot?”

  “Knocked over the head with a big club, from what I heard. The police talked to all of us last night. Except you, of course. You were sleeping off your hangover.”

  He shook his head. “What’s going on, honey? What’s happening?”

  “A murderer is on the loose, that’s what’s happening, and if we’re not careful, he’ll do us next.”

  “Christ, we gotta get out of this place.” He jerked his head up, which he probably shouldn’t have, for a lancing pain shot through his skull. “Dammit.”

  “Serves you right for trying to desert me,” she said primly, then relented and placed a cooling hand on his brow. “I’ll get you some aspirin.”

  As she walked over to the cupboard, he repeated, “We gotta go, honey. We’re not safe here. If this maniac is going after the Long family we might be next.”

  She handed him aspirin and a glass of water. “We can’t go.”

  He swallowed it down. “Why not? Do you wanna get killed next?”

  “It’s the cops. They told us to stay put. Besides, we now have two funerals to deal with, remember?”

  “Two funerals…” It dawned on him that he was an orphan now. Not that it made much difference, as he practically hadn’t been in touch with Mom and Dad for years, but still. The thought of his folks not being there anymore… It was hard to fathom. “This is a nightmare.”

  “You’re right about that,” she agreed. “And it ain’t over yet.”

  Chapter 49

  Nathan looked out the window to see if the coast was clear. No one. Fine. Great! Of course the police wouldn’t be p
atrolling the inn. They probably had five cops tops in this one-horse town. He grinned. Now was the time to make a run for it. He’d registered under one of his aliases, so the moment he was gone he would never have to think about Happy Bays again.

  He picked up his suitcase, checked around to see if he hadn’t missed a spot—no fingerprints, no DNA—and strode to the door.

  He still didn’t understand what happened to Malcolm. Had the old lady managed to get the upper hand? But then why was she reported dead herself? No, it seemed to him Malcolm had finished the job, then had run afoul of a third party. And something told him this third party would now be after him.

  Could it be the client?

  But why hire two assassins only to take them out?

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t professional. And it certainly wasn’t nice.

  He’d take the back exit, sneak out to his car and haul ass.

  And he was just about to open the door when a soft knock sounded.

  He opened it warily, expecting either a cop or the client.

  He was surprised to find it was neither.

  “Hello there,” he said. “Can I help you?”

  He only saw the knife when it was too late. But then it was already lodged firmly in his chest. He stared down at the hilt, not understanding what had just happened, then up at his visitor.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  The visitor stared at him, wide-eyed, and smiled. “Because she told me to, of course.”

  Nathan dropped down to the floor, the life quickly seeping out of him. Such a shame, he thought. Such a damn shame.

  When Felicity drove to the police station she was surprised to find three broadcasting vans parked outside, reporters milling about the place, setting up cameras and delivering live news reports.

  She and Alice shared a look. “Reece,” Alice muttered.

  Damn. The media had discovered the story.

  They stepped from the van and walked up to the station house.

  Alice eyed the media frenzy. “I hope this won’t damage his career.”

  “I’m sure it won’t. Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

  “Right,” said Alice, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  Felicity didn’t think Virgil would be so easy to placate. After all, the police officer might be a muppet but he was also a guy and as such equipped with an oversized ego. Boys hate to be bested by girls, and Alice had humiliated him by absconding with his notebook.

  They sidestepped the reporters, who kept a respectable distance from the police station entrance, and stepped inside. Louise Rhythm, the police officer manning the front desk, looked up and displayed a lovely smile. “Alice! Woman of the hour! Is it true you stole Virgil’s notebook?”

  Alice grinned. “If I did—and I’m not admitting anything—I had good reason to.”

  Louise, a petite woman with olive complexion and cornrows, held up her hand and Alice high-fived her. “Good for you.”

  “Do you know if Reece is still here?”

  Officer Rhythm’s eyes turned dreamy. “Oh, is he now? We never had so many visitors before. Didn’t you notice the media circus outside?”

  “Yes, we did. Poor guy,” said Felicity.

  “That’s what you get for impersonating a cop. Your idea, was it?”

  Felicity felt it was time to set the record straight. “In fact it was Reece’s idea. He volunteered to join the HBNWC and thought it would be a good idea to pump the witnesses for information. Why he felt he needed to pretend to be a cop, I don’t know.”

  “I do,” said Alice. “He probably thought it would be great research for his next movie.”

  “Research or not, Chief Whitehouse is not amused. He wants to press charges.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “The man is incorrigible.”

  “He is the chief,” Louise said with a shrug. “And also an overbearing, grumpy, annoying, nosy—”

  Just then, the man himself strode by and directed a look of censure at the three women before disappearing through the double doors that led to his office.

  “—grouch,” Louise finished on a whisper.

  Chief Whitehouse, regardless of his merits, wasn’t the most popular man on campus, that much was obvious.

  Chapter 50

  Reece had had a rough night, but he didn’t mind. Not one bit. This was what an actor’s life was all about. Not just winning the genetic lottery and playing one action flick after another but developing some real acting muscle. Becoming the Brando, De Niro, or Pacino of his generation. Getting inside a character’s head. Portraying torment. Heck, why not go on stage and do some Shakespeare, Pinter, or Beckett? Do the artsy-fartsy stuff for a while. If Ryan Gosling or Matthew McConaughey could do it, why not Reece Hudson?

  He stared at the other inmate, studying the man closely. Pity there was only one of him but what an interesting specimen he was.

  When Virgil had hauled his ass off to jail, he’d hoped the copper would beat him up some. Take his fists to his kidneys and go to town on him. He could use that experience for his next part. Crunch Time 4 started off with a nice torture scene where Chuck MacLachlan is wrongfully accused of a crime he didn’t commit, locked up in prison and knocked around by a couple of corrupt prison guards.

  But instead of police brutality Virgil had given him an apology and a sheepish request for his autograph. Not something he could work with.

  But then Chief Whitehouse himself had waddled up, thumbs in his waistband, and a vicious smile on his jowly face.

  Here it comes, he thought, bracing himself. Here come the wisecracks, the punches, and the pain.

  “I heard you’ve been talking to my daughter?”

  “That’s right,” he said defiantly. “What about it?”

  The chief smiled and leaned against the bars of his cell.

  “She’s a great fan of yours, you know.” A wistful look came into the big man’s eyes. “Yeah, she collects all of your articles in a scrapbook. Once told her mother she would marry you some day.”

  Reece eyed the man uncertainly. “So?”

  The chief shrugged. “So I’m just saying my daughter’s a big fan.”

  Reece sighed, and slumped a bit on his bench. He had the distinct impression no beatings would ensue. “I got that impression.”

  It explained why Alice had behaved so strangely when he’d met her at the pigsty. She’d been intimidated. Starstruck. He could relate to that. He himself had been intimidated the first time he met Kirt Stur, one of his all-time heroes.

  The chief cleared his throat. “So…go easy on her, will you? She’s a tough kid but underneath all that bravado she’s got a tender heart. A romantic soul.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, both disappointed he wasn’t going to get beaten up and elated that Alice liked him. But he felt he shouldn’t lead the father of the girl he liked on. “You do know I’m engaged to be married, right?”

  The chief seemed disappointed. “You are, huh? Of course you are. What’s her name again?” He snapped his fingers, trying to jog his memory.

  “Dorothy. Dorothy Valour.”

  “That’s it. The one who keeps posting stuff on the internet.”

  That was probably the most accurate description of Dorothy he’d ever heard. She posted stuff on the internet and that’s about all she did. His thoughts then turned to Alice’s smile, her easy way of being. He liked her, liked her very much, but knew it simply couldn’t be. His life was so far removed from hers it would never work. And then there was the fact that her father had just thrown him in jail.

  “You know I have to press charges, don’t you, son?”

  The police chief seemed to feel genuinely sorry for him, but not enough to let him walk.

  “I was simply preparing for a part,” he explained. “Getting into character for my next movie. I’m playing a cop.”

  “Oh, I know, I know. I love those Crunch Time movies. Chuck MacLachlan.” He cocked his finger the way Chuck always did. �
��Hot potato! I especially liked the way you stopped that rocket with your bare hands in Crunch Time 2. That was amazing.” He chuckled freely.

  Reece winced a little. It was not his finest hour, he felt, and one of the reasons he was contemplating taking on a smaller role in an independent production. Real-life cops didn’t stop rockets with their bare hands, he just knew they didn’t. “Glad you liked it,” he said nonetheless. Never let your fans know you secretly despise your own movies. One of the lessons his agent had taught him when he first signed him. And never talk smack about your director, producers, studio, or co-stars.

  “Yeah, I love your stuff, son.” The chief rapped the iron bars with his keys. “Pity I had to take you in, huh?”

  “So you’re not going to let me off with a slap on the wrist?”

  The chief sighed. “I wish I could. Lord knows I’m a great fan of you myself and Alice will probably give me a tongue-lashing for throwing your ass in the slammer in the first place. But we do have laws in this town, you know, and I for one am all about upholding them.”

  “I understand. So how long am I in here for?”

  “Not too long,” the chief said, some of his cheerfulness returning. “About a week should do it.”

  “A week?”

  “Something like that. Course it’s not up to me to decide. Even in Happy Bays we have a justice system. The judge will see you and take it from there. Knowing Judge Lockhart, I think a week is the minimum.”

  “No bail?”

  “Judge Lockhart doesn’t believe in bail. He believes in doing hard time for hard crime.”

  “Impersonating a police officer is considered a hard crime?”

  “It is in Happy Bays,” confirmed the chief. Then he slipped his hand between the bars and Reece saw that it contained a piece of paper and a pencil. “Could I have your autograph? It would mean a lot to…Alice.”

  “Sure thing,” Reece said and scribbled his name on the piece of paper before handing it back.

  “Thanks,” the chief said, beaming. “I’ll be sure to keep this tucked away safely in my, erm, I mean in Alice’s collection.”