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

by Nic Saint

  “And I knew as well,” said Mabel. “The poor man’s been coming back here every year, commemorating the tragic loss of his wife.”

  Virgil’s face had reddened and he threw up his arms. “You could have told me!” he cried. “Now we’ve wasted precious time.”

  “You never asked,” said Aunt Bettina prissily. “Honestly, Virgil, what kind of a cop are you if you can’t even ask a simple question?”

  “Shouldn’t we go in?” asked Reece, who seemed poised for action. Even though he was now venturing into the artsy-fartsy stuff, there was still something of the action hero lingering in him. “I mean, for all we know Alan Shaw could be drowning in a pool of his own blood, slaughtered by the same person who murdered every other member of his family.”

  “We’re staying put,” said Virgil. “The detective from the NYPD will be here any minute. Chief Whitehouse told me so himself.”

  “Dad’s coming too?” asked Alice. It was obvious what she was thinking. If her father got involved, the role of the HBNWC would be at an end. He would never allow them to come near the inn. Or Alan Shaw.

  “I think Reece is right. We should go in,” said Mabel. “By the time the police get here it might be too late for Mr. Shaw.”

  Against Virgil’s protestations a quick vote decided them: all in favor of going in: six to one. They went in. Or at least they would have gone in if the front door had been unlocked. As it was, the lobby was dark, and of the night receptionist there was no trace.

  “Place looks spooky,” said Mabel as she stared through the glass doors, cupping her hands. “As if no one is even in there.” She turned to Virgil. “Are you sure they haven’t evacuated the place?”

  “Chief Whitehouse said most guests wanted to leave, but the NYPD detective didn’t allow them, so they must still be in there.” He frowned. “Odd that they didn’t leave a guard behind, or a patrol car.”

  Felicity rattled the door. It was locked all right. Then a shout came from the back. It was Alice. “Over here! There’s a window open!”

  The small troupe trotted over to where she stood and Reece volunteered to play the hero once more. The stalwart thespian quickly slipped in through the open window, and there was a soft thud as he landed on the other side.

  Alice craned her neck anxiously. “Are you hurt? Reece?”

  Reece’s smiling face appeared and he gave them two thumbs up. “I’ll go and open the front door,” he said, and disappeared from sight.

  They trotted back to the front of the building and patiently waited. Mere seconds later they were gathering in the lobby, and Marjorie was checking the registry to ascertain which room Mr. Shaw was in.

  “Fifteen!” she hissed, and as a body they all started ascending the stairs in search of Mary Long’s elusive brother.

  “I hope he’s all right,” huffed Felicity a little breathlessly as she jogged alongside her mother.

  “I hope we will be all right,” Mom came back. “Why you had to drag me into this mess I will never know.”

  “Drag you into this? You volunteered to come!”

  “Only because I was worried about you!”

  “I’m fine. I’ve got a police escort,” she said as she pointed to Virgil.

  “Great escort,” Mom muttered, then held up her hands in apology as Marjorie threw her a look that could kill.

  They all gathered in front of room fifteen and it seemed no one knew exactly what the procedure was for saving a person from being murdered. They all looked at Virgil, the only policeman in their company, and he drew himself up, stepped to the fore, and knocked on the door. “Mr. Shaw?” he hollered in what sounded like his official police voice. “This is the police. May we have a word?”

  “Why don’t you just knock down the door?!” hissed his mother.

  “For all we know the killer is still in there!” countered Mabel.

  At these words they all looked at the door, as if expecting a barrage of bullets to come tearing through, and stepped aside, leaving Virgil exposed. The latter knocked again, putting a little more swing into his effort this time. “Mr. Shaw! Police! Open up, sir!”

  “Kick it down!” hissed Mabel. “Kick it, Virgil! Kick it!”

  Then, feeling the situation called for some kick-ass tactics, Reece unleashed his inner Chuck MacLachlan, placed a sizable foot against the door, and kicked. The door, not used to being assaulted by a movie star, creaked in protest and promptly yielded to the pressure.

  Finding themselves staring into a darkened room, the small band of watch committee members and sympathizers exchanged anxious looks, then Felicity gathered all her courage…and stepped into the room.

  Chapter 68

  The room was dark and smelly and Felicity had the distinct impression she was doing the most stupid thing possible. Her mother seemed to agree, for she hissed, “Fee! Come back here! Fee!”

  But since she’d already taken the first step she wasn’t about to back down now. She did, however, duck out of the line of sight of any possible shooter, realizing she was the perfect target as she stood framed in the doorway and lit from behind.

  She searched around, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then she saw the figure. Just a silhouette, seated on the bed.

  “I was expecting you,” the voice came, and she had no trouble recognizing it as old Mr. Shaw’s.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” she called out, and quickly added, “has anyone been in here? Are you alone?”

  “I’m quite alone,” the man said slowly, and then a light was flicked on and the rest of the company filed in. Felicity blinked and saw that the old man was smiling amiably, dressed in pink pajamas and looking squarely at her.

  “He’s fine,” said Aunt Bettina, relieved, and hollered, for the benefit of the hearing-impaired, “He’s fine!”

  Mr. Shaw didn’t seem the least bit surprised by this midnight party suddenly gathering in his room, for his smile encompassed them all. “So nice to see you,” he said in his reedy voice. “So nice of you to come visit me.”

  “We were worried about you, Mr. Shaw,” said Mabel.

  “We just found out you’re related to the Longs,” explained Felicity.

  “Well, I knew, of course, but no one bothered to ask me,” huffed Bettina.

  “Nor me,” muttered Mabel.

  “I think it’s great,” opined Reece, who had, Felicity now saw, his arm slung casually around Alice’s shoulder. That was quick work, she thought. So she was going to have to do the spring cleaning all by herself, huh? Alice gave her a sheepish look.

  “This isn’t over, people,” said Virgil, his voice serious. “Remember, there’s still a killer at large and for all we know he could be close by.”

  “Oh, he’s very close by,” agreed old Mr. Shaw, producing a hunting rifle from behind him on the bed. He racked it once and fired off a shot that would have knocked out Mom if she hadn’t at that exact moment bent down to pick up a piece of fluff from the carpet.

  “Duck!” Reece yelled and followed his own advice by jumping behind a couch, dragging a surprised Alice along with him.

  Felicity, rooted to the spot, stared at Mr. Shaw as he took a small pistol from his nightstand, took careful aim and started to squeeze off another shot. In the last second her frozen limbs finally thought better of it, unfroze, and allowed her to drop to the floor as a bullet tore into the wall behind her and took out a nice picture frame of Montauk whalers.

  “Drop it!” suddenly thundered a voice. Felicity looked up in surprise, to find Virgil aiming his own service weapon at the old man. Shaw hesitated for a moment, then seemed to shrug off the threat, fired at Virgil, and missed.

  The policeman, not expecting this, stood there for a brief moment, uncertain how to proceed, then shouted, a little more feebly, “Drop it!”

  Far from impressed, Shaw simply drew another bead on him and would have fired again if Felicity hadn’t tired of this show and decided to end it. From where she’d ducked to the floor she had pe
rfect access to a potted plant placed on a low table. She picked it up with both hands and hurled it at the old man, aiming for his gun hand.

  The potted plant, which was quite heavy, cannoned into his chest instead, knocked him back against the bed and sent the gun flying from his hand. The moment the aged killer was thrown off balance, the HBNWC, as one woman, jumped on top of him to pin him down.

  While Virgil, with shaking hands, took out the pair of handcuffs that seemed to be part of his personal costume, Felicity, Aunt Bettina, Mom, Mabel and Marjorie incapacitated the murderer. It took Virgil a few brief moments to outfit the man with the cuffs and when he read the killer his rights he did so with a noticeable quiver in his voice.

  Being shot at in the line of duty was clearly a novel experience for the police officer.

  Only now did Felicity realize that Alice wasn’t amongst those present, and when she went in search of her found her still behind the couch, only now engrossed in a deep embrace with Reece Hudson, the two apparently having had complete confidence that things would work themselves out. When finally they disentangled, Alice blinked, a happy glow on her face and sparkle in her eye. “Did you get the bad guy?” she asked breathlessly.

  “We did,” confirmed Felicity.

  “That’s great,” said Reece. “I would have helped you guys out, but I had…um…more pressing matters to attend to.”

  And with a wide grin the two went under again, leaving Felicity to roll her eyes and return to the scene of the crime.

  “Why?” she asked the man whom she’d figured an innocent victim and not a brutal killer.

  “That’s what I would like to know,” echoed Mom, still clutching a hand to her heart. Being shot at was a new experience for her as well.

  Alan Shaw stared at them, a strange glint in his eyes. “Are they all gone now?” he asked. “Did I make it right?”

  He seemed to be talking to someone behind Felicity, but when she turned to see who he was addressing, she found no one.

  “You killed your own family!” cried Aunt Bettina, aghast. Though that formidable woman sometimes harbored similar aspirations, she would never actually carry out those whimsical fantasies.

  He blinked, and seemed to snap out of whatever it was that had a hold on him. “A promise is a promise,” he said slowly, now focusing on his handcuffs, as if wondering what was going on. “When—when Sophia died and Mary and Alistair took over the inn, they promised me—they promised me they would never sell. And then—then they did.”

  He looked up at her, a crazed look in his eyes. The banker had been right. Alan Shaw was mentally unbalanced. But apparently not unbalanced enough not to be able to hatch a murderous scheme.

  “They promised to keep the inn,” he repeated, “in memory of Sophia. But then they sold it anyway. Someone had to stop them. For Sophia’s sake, someone had to stop them…”

  “But what about Jack and Jules Rafter? Why kill them too?”

  “They were going to inherit. If anything happened to Mary and Alistair, they would inherit the inn. And sell it, of course. They would have desecrated Sophia’s memory. They had to die…”

  The sound of sirens grew louder, and Felicity knew that the real police were on their way. There was still one thing she needed to know.

  “And Malcolm Samovar and Nathan Cox?”

  The aged killer was rocking back and forth now, his eyes unfocused and a tight smile on his lips. “They had to die—they all had to die…”

  Virgil shook his head. “I think he’s out of it, Fee.”

  “So it seems.”

  Police lights streaked across the ceiling, and she allowed herself to be led from the room by her mother.

  “It’s over, Fee,” Mom murmured. “It’s finally over.”

  She was right. The Happy Bays Inn murderer was finally caught.

  Chapter 69

  It wasn’t long after the stirring events at the inn that Bell’s Bakery was the scene of a peaceful morning. Felicity and Alice were seated at their usual table near the window, devouring a hearty breakfast before they both had to start work, Alice at the gun store and Felicity doing her morning bread run.

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that a tragedy like this could happen and no one had an inkling?” Alice asked suddenly.

  Felicity agreed wholeheartedly. As it turned out, Alan Shaw had killed before, though not in Happy Bays. It had happened years ago when he came back from the war in Vietnam. This was shortly after he’d accidentally shot and killed his own wife. Alan had gotten into a bar fight in Vermont, had taken out a knife and killed his opponent. He spent a couple of years in a psychiatric institution upstate before being released.

  “It’s pretty obvious the man was a walking time bomb, so why didn’t anybody know about this?”

  Felicity had wondered the same thing herself. People in town had known about him, but it appeared as if no one knew exactly what he was capable of. “Mary must have known. He was her brother. She probably didn’t want anyone else to know. After all, it happened such a long time ago.”

  “I still think it’s strange,” murmured Alice, then shrugged it off. “Ah, well, it’s over and done with. He’s behind bars now and probably won’t be out ever again.”

  “I shouldn’t think so. Not after nine murders.”

  “Did he confess to all of them?”

  “He did. Virgil said he seemed oddly pleased. Said he’d listened to the voice and she was happy with his work.”

  “What voice?”

  “Supposedly his wife. He said she’d been instructing him all this time. Telling him to get even and ‘kill them all.’”

  “Crazy stuff,” opined Alice. “Really crazy stuff.”

  “In other news, how is Reece?”

  Alice grinned. “He’s fine. Prepping his movie. He’s out in Los Angeles, but should be back real soon.”

  “You guys make a great couple.”

  “Thanks. I just wish the press would leave us alone. The first time I saw my picture on TMZ I nearly freaked.”

  Felicity chuckled. She’d been there when the freaking happened and her eardrums were still recovering. “For someone who loves the tabloids as much as you do you seem to hate being in them.”

  “It’s different on this side of the fence,” Alice admitted. “Though it comes with the territory Reece says. He also says that now that he’s resigned to making smaller budget movies the paparazzi will lay off. They’ll lose interest.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Felicity, who really did. She’d had her Notting Hill moment the week before when the doorbell went and she opened the door, dressed in her rattiest dressing gown, her hair up in curlers and her face a mess, to find a bevy of photogs on her doorstep snapping pictures. Then, when they realized she wasn’t their intended target, they’d even hurled abuse at her. A very disconcerting experience.

  She munched down the last of her bagel, finished her coffee, and rose. “We better be off. Deliveries wait for no one.”

  After a wave to Mom the two friends went out the front door to the waiting van, already loaded up with bakery goods for Bell’s customers.

  “Drop you off?” she suggested after a quick peek at the sky. It looked like it might rain.

  “Nah, that’s fine. I need the walk,” said Alice. Then, as she saw a small posse of paparazzi approaching from due west, she changed her mind. “On second thought…”

  They both hopped in, and before the troupe could snap their first picture of Reece Hudson’s new girlfriend, Felicity had peeled away from the curb, and they were racing away at a healthy clip.

  “I have to talk to Virgil about this,” said Alice, not too well pleased. “Can’t he arrest them or something?”

  “Oh, look. It’s Neil Domino,” said Felicity as she watched the elderly man cross the street. She waved at him, but he ignored them and went on his way.

  “Odd,” remarked Alice.

  “What’s odd?”

  “Well, that he knew about Alan Shaw
and never told the police.”

  “Aunt Bettina knew about him and so did Mom and Mabel. They just didn’t think it was important. Or perhaps they figured the police already knew about Shaw’s relationship with the Longs.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Felicity watched the banker disappear into the post office, and decided to put the whole business of Alan Shaw and the murders out of her mind. Her article had been written, the killer apprehended, and the story was closed. Happy Bays was finally a peaceful place again.

  “What’s going to happen to the inn?” Alice asked, settling back.

  “Mh? Oh, Stephen told me it’s finally been sold. To Jason Donovan.”

  “The one who wanted it in the first place? How much did it go for?”

  “Twenty million smackeroos.”

  Alice whistled. “Not bad. So who gets the money?”

  “I don’t know. Alan Shaw, I guess.”

  “Much good it will do him.”

  She dropped Alice off at the gun store and then went on her usual round, offering fresh bread and pastry to Bell’s grateful customers. And as she was driving back to town she found the thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind refusing to go away. So she parked the van in front of Town Hall, on Loy Street, and headed inside, in search of Mabel Stokely.

  The mayoral secretary was already hard at work at her desk, down the hall from the mayor’s office, for when Felicity knocked on the doorjamb she found Mabel on the phone. The energetic woman held up a finger, then finished her call while Felicity patiently waited.

  She hung up the phone with a sigh and fluffed her pink hairdo. “Trouble in Happy Bays!” she cried. “The new lawn chairs for the mayor’s annual ball won’t be arriving on time, so I have to find a new supplier at the last minute. But I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here.”

  “Do you happen to know who’s handling the Long estate now that the inn has been sold?” she asked without preamble.

  Mabel blinked, but then briskly said, “Of course. Neil Domino is still the executor. Nothing has changed as far as I know.”