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

by Nic Saint

  “Oh, no!”

  Dorothy Valour, the famous socialite, had been Reece’s girlfriend before Alice, and had turned the man’s life into a living hell.

  “She wrote that she wasn’t over him, and that she was willing to make certain sacrifices if he agreed to start seeing her again. And you know what he wrote in response? That he’d been thinking about her a lot as well.” Grim-faced, she added, “And that he missed her class. Can you believe that? After all he went through because of that barracuda?”

  Felicity’s jaw had dropped, and she now slowly reeled it in. “But how come you happened to see his private email?”

  Alice shrugged. “The idiot accidentally blind carbon copied me.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Felicity. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!”

  Alice nodded, then stared out the window, fighting back tears.

  “So Reece is…back with Dorothy?” asked Rick.

  Alice sniffled. “Looks like. In his email he mentioned dinner. And since they’re both in LA I’m sure they’ll be holding hands by now, celebrating the great reconciliation.” She sniffled some more. “And then…make-up sex….” She sighed. “Just goes to show that when something’s too good to be true, it usually is.”

  Rick was silent for a beat, then murmured comforting noises. Felicity studied her friend in the rearview mirror. For a woman with a broken heart, Alice was doing a great job composing herself. She gazed back at her, then stated bravely, “It was the socks that did it, Fee. You know I have a thing about socks. When I started finding his dirty socks everywhere, it was the straw that broke the camel’s…whatever.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said softly. The socks thing might have been a hindrance in the path of true love, but Reece doing the horizontal mambo with Dorothy Valour was what really broke that particular camel’s back. She shook her head. How one man could be so utterly stupid she didn’t understand.

  Chapter 11

  There was something in the air that night—the distinct hum of something to come. It was almost tangible, Alice thought, as if she could simply reach out and touch it. But of course she couldn’t. She knew what she wanted to touch—or rather who. Reece Hudson.

  She’d merely been infatuated with him, she now saw. All her life she’d had a crush on Reece the actor. The movie star. She’d never really known Reece the man. Now she did. The roseate dreams had been replaced by the harsh reality that Reece was essentially a flawed human being. He only cared about himself, and had no room in his life for a partner, or at least not for the kind of partnership Alice had envisioned.

  He wanted a maid, to clean up after him, to do his laundry, to iron his shirts, to cook for him and pamper him and boost his fragile ego whenever it needed boosting, which was often. He needed a secretary, a therapist, a mother, a maid, a cook, and, occasionally, a lover. Which left her out. She’d never signed up for that position, and figured he would be much better off finding the servants he needed, and leave her in peace.

  Enough was enough, especially now that she’d discovered how he really thought about her. She’d caught him with his digital pants down, whining about the glamour he missed, the ‘class’, the thrill of fame and fortune. Well, goodbye and good riddance. If he wanted glamour, he had only to reach out and touch Dorothy’s botoxed face, bleached hair, and liposuctioned buttocks to get exactly what he wanted.

  She sat back, staring out the van window with unseeing eyes while houses and streets blurred before her vision. She didn’t care about Reece—not one bit. The man had come, conquered, and lost. The moment she’d fired off that message breaking up with him her phone had rung off the hook, but she’d declared a blackout. Full media blackout. Reece Hudson was dead to her.

  “So where are we going?” she asked, emerging from her stupor.

  “Mabel and Mark Stokely,” Felicity said, throwing her a look of worry. “We need to know about this crack.”

  She blinked. “Crack? What crack?”

  She was out of it, she knew, but didn’t care. She’d get with the program. Now that a certain Hollywood hunk was out of her life, and soon out of her mind, Alice Whitehouse was back.

  “There’s a crack in the power plant, apparently.”

  “Bad news,” she murmured, though not as bad as the news of Reece hooking up with La Valour, of course. “Very bad news indeed.”

  “And then there’s the parrot,” said Rick with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Right. The parrot,” she muttered, not caring one bit about the mayor’s feathered little friend.

  Felicity sighed. “Alice, I’m worried about you. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine!” she assured her friend. “Never been better. Oh, and I found a DVD of Bad Boys 2 under the mattress this morning, Rick. One of yours?”

  Rick’s face fell, and he mumbled something under his breath that didn’t sound complimentary of their late housemate.

  Just then Felicity’s phone rang, and she checked the display with a frown. “It’s for you, honey. Reece.”

  Alice was shaking her head even before Felicity handed her the phone. She held up her hands. “No. I’m not talking to him.”

  “You have to talk to him sooner or later.”

  “Later,” she shot back. “Much, much later. As in never?”

  Felicity handed the phone to Rick. “Pick up,” she instructed him.

  Rick looked surprised. “What am I going to tell him?”

  “You’re a guy. He’s a guy. Just speak…guy.”

  Rick frowned as he put the phone to his ear. “Reece, buddy, how’s things in Tinseltown?” He nodded. “That bad, huh? Listen, Alice doesn’t want to talk to you right now. She’s…” He craned his neck to throw Alice a glance. “…underwhelmed by your insistence to get reacquainted with The Valour.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Is that right? Great, I’ll tell her.” He cleared his throat. “And listen, buddy. About my DVDs…”

  After he disconnected he turned to face Alice. “Reece says that this rumor about him and Dorothy Valour is absolutely false. He doesn’t know how TMZ got a hold of the story, or the pictures, but he insists it’s all doctored by La Valour herself, who seems to want him back something fierce.”

  TMZ? Now that was a first. So the trash mags had gotten hold of the story, huh? Of course. Dorothy would make sure of that. Alice shook her head. “I don’t believe him. I saw the email with my own two eyes, so I know for a fact they’re back together.” She sank a bit lower in her chair, slumping her shoulders, her face a thundercloud.

  “Yes, well…” Rick turned away again, handing the phone back to Felicity. “He apologizes for any inconvenience the news has caused you, and…” He hesitated. “He apologizes for the DVDs and he’s promised me he’ll take better care next time.”

  “That’s so nice of him,” snapped Felicity critically.

  “I thought so,” murmured Rick, who didn’t want to look as if he was taking sides on this one. “He also says he’s gifting me a lifetime subscription to a cloud service where I can catch any movie in high def.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. So the guy was buying her friends now. What else was new? No, whatever he said, she had his number. The Reece Hudson part of her life was over. And good riddance, too.

  Chapter 12

  Felicity eyed her friend with a worry wrinkle on her brow. She didn’t like the look of Alice. Usually so chipper and bright, her friend was looking forlorn and unhappy now. And all because of Reece. “What you need is a nice case. What do you know about nuclear disasters?”

  Alice merely shrugged. It was obvious she didn’t really give a hoot.

  “We’re here,” said Rick, and she parked the van in the designated spot, right between Mabel’s red Mini Cooper and Mark’s BMW. The job of nuclear plant spokesperson definitely came with some nice perks.

  The moment she rang the bell she knew they were in trouble, for her eye had darted across the street, and had suddenly detected Chief Whitehouse’s patrol c
ar. With a sinking feeling she heard footsteps approach inside the house, and then the door was opened a crack and Mabel peered out. “Fee?” she asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “We wanted a word with your husband if that’s all right with you,” she said, but then detected the stocky form of Chief Whitehouse appearing behind Mabel, his steely gray eyes loaded for bear.

  “Mark’s not talking tonight, Fee,” the chief said gruffly, raking a hand through his bristly hair. “In fact he’s not talking to you at all.”

  “But chief!” she cried, appalled. He was not doing this again!

  “Mabel and Mark have nothing to say at this moment,” repeated the chief, “and that’s the final word on the matter.” Then he detected Alice’s face in the trio crowding the doorstep. “And that goes for you, too, young lady. So please leave now.”

  And before Mabel could add her own two cents, the chief had slammed the door shut, leaving them staring at the closed door.

  “That man is the most insufferable fool I’ve ever met in my entire career,” cursed Rick. “No offense, Alice.”

  “None taken,” she grumbled. “I wonder what that was all about.”

  “That was about the chief taking charge of the situation and excluding us,” said Felicity. Just the way he always did.

  “Well, it does confirm that something’s seriously wrong here,” said Rick. “The chief would never act like this if all was fine and dandy.”

  “Do you think it’s about the parrot or the plant?” Felicity wanted to know.

  “Or both,” said Alice.

  They turned away from the door, and returned to the van. “What now?” asked Felicity. They’d promised the mayor they’d have his bird back by sunup and here they were already being railroaded by the police on the first witness they wanted to talk to.

  “Now we return to the scene of the crime,” suggested Alice. “See if we can’t find us some clues.”

  “Like what? The mayor said that all that was left was a single feather. And we’re not exactly equipped to check for fingerprints.” In fact they weren’t equipped for anything. She and Rick were reporters, and Alice worked at a funeral parlor. Not exactly the kind of people who solve crimes.

  “I think we need to bring in the big guns,” said Rick.

  “The committee?”

  “The committee. They’re the only ones who can crack this case.”

  “Cases. Don’t forget about the crack.”

  “As if I ever could. We need Marjorie on board, and Virgil—”

  “Virgil is not a member of the neighborhood watch committee.”

  “He wants to be. In fact I’ll bet he’s dying to join,” thought Rick.

  Felicity considered this. It would be great if Virgil were on board. The policeman would be invaluable, and he could tell them things Chief Whitehouse desperately wanted to withhold. “All right. Let’s see if we can get Virgil to sign up. What do you think, Alice?”

  Alice nodded slowly. She didn’t seem particularly keen on allowing Virgil Scattering a place on the team. He was, after all, still the same exasperatingly infuriating cop who’d once smeared his boogers on both Alice and Felicity in kindergarten, claiming they held mystical healing powers. “I doubt very much if he’ll join the team, but as it looks like we’re one person short—Mabel probably won’t be coming on board for this one—we could use the extra manpower.”

  “And then there’s Rick, of course,” Felicity pointed out, pointing to her boyfriend.

  “Me?” Rick asked, surprised.

  “Yes, you, silly. You’ve been bugging us forever about the HBNWC. Now’s your chance to see what goes on inside Happy Bays’s most elusively exclusive club.” And he would be a great asset.

  Rick raised a single eyebrow. “I thought the committee only dealt with jaywalkers and jaypoopers?” he inquired with a sly grin.

  “And murderers. Don’t forget murderers,” Felicity pointed out. “We did solve the Happy Bays Inn murder case, remember?”

  “That you did,” he agreed, then directed an inquisitive eye at Alice. As the leader of the committee, it was her prerogative to add or subtract members.

  “We’ll have to vote on this. Adding not one but two males to the roster seems like something not everyone will readily agree upon. But I promise we’ll take it under advisement.”

  “You do that,” he said, amused. “And I hope that in due course I’ll be able to earn the committee’s trust.”

  They all got into the van, and were just about to drive away, when an urgent knock on the passenger door alarmed them. It was Mabel, and there was a hunted look in her eyes. Alice quickly rolled down the window. “Mabel! Honey, what’s wrong?!”

  “Everything!” Mabel cried. “Simply everything.” And with these mysterious words she slipped a piece of paper into Alice’s hand, then quickly tripped back to the house and disappeared inside. Alice opened the missive, and read aloud, ‘Reed Park—midnight—bring the girls!!!’

  Chapter 13

  Adrian stared at the dials and knobs that made up the control panel for the power plant’s nuclear core. God, he hated his job. Very soon now, though, it would all be over. He’d retire and live the rest of his life in a tropical paradise, catch tropical fish, drink tropical cocktails, chase tropical beauties, and laze about in his own tropical hammock on his own tropical beach. It wasn’t just Captain Jack Sparrow who preferred his Caribbean beaches white and his lapping waves azure.

  This little shindig would buy him enough cold hard cash to spend the rest of his life on easy street. And he was just wondering whether to change his appearance before departing for further shores when his boss trotted in and he did a mental eyeroll. The man was an idiot.

  “What are you doing?” Toby Newly asked in his customary whiny tone. The man was short, balding, and wore the kind of bottle-bottom glasses you rarely saw these days.

  “The usual. Checking the dials and twisting the knobs,” he said without irony, for that was just about all his job entailed.

  “Well, mind that you look slippy,” Toby snapped. “We’ve got an inspection coming through, and I want everyone to look busy.”

  Adrian froze, a sudden sense of panic hitting his gut. “An inspection? Now? But why?”

  “Beats me. The higher-ups never tell me anything. I just know that they’re doing a snap inspection—”

  “When?” He did his best to keep the rising panic out of his voice. No need to raise suspicion. “When are they coming?”

  Toby checked the clock over the panel. “In about an hour I should think. So look alive, Calamus, and don’t let them catch you sleeping on the job.” And with these words the visibly harried man hurried away, leaving Adrian to ponder the ramifications of this piece of news.

  He tried to still his beating heart, thinking about the last time they had a snap inspection. Had they also inspected the cooling towers? Checked for concrete rot? Cracks and fissures? He didn’t think so. But if they inspected the towers now they might discover his little set-up.

  He stared before him. It wasn’t too late. He could still pull this off. He could change the timers. He could blow this place right now. But first he needed to get out of here. Needed to put some distance between himself and the shitstorm he was about to unleash.

  He needed to know for sure. He took out his phone, and dialed the number. After the second ring his partner picked up.

  “Yeah, there’s been a change of plan.” He quickly explained about the inspection, and was surprised to hear that the man already knew all about it. “So why didn’t you tell me?” he lashed out.

  “Don’t worry, Adrian,” the man said with a chuckle. “I’ve got this covered.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because. Trust me, Adrian. It’s all been taken care of. Relax, will you?”

  “Easier said than done,” he muttered, not mollified.

  “Just stick to the plan, all right? Easy does it.”

  “Yeah, yeah
, yeah.”

  He snapped his phone shut, and tapped his teeth. Good thing he called the guy. He gave a nervous chuckle. He’d almost started the countdown.

  Chapter 14

  “We need to meet.” That was the message Alice had delivered to the members of her neighborhood watch committee, most of whom were quite eager to heed her call. A bit of excitement, they felt, was exactly what the doctor ordered. The only one who’d balked was Virgil. But then Alice knew that his mother would simply have a long talk and convince him otherwise.

  The committee consisted of Mabel Stokely, Virgil’s mom Marjorie, and Felicity’s Aunt Bettina. Occasional members were Felicity’s mother and Reece Hudson, who’d now been expelled, due to his recent transgressions.

  Alice ran the committee, which usually only dealt with jaywalkers, dangerous drivers, graffiti-spraying kids, and dog owners not willing to clean up after their mutts. Last spring, however, the committee had actually solved a murder, to their own great surprise, and had provoked the ire of Alice’s father, Happy Bays’s chief of police.

  Chief Curtis Whitehouse had always felt that the committee was nothing but a bunch of nosy parkers, and since the Happy Bays Inn affair his animosity had only increased. They had, after all, caught a killer he himself and his department had been unable to nab.

  And now they were going to do it all over again, Alice felt. They were going to save that parrot, get to the bottom of this nuclear thing, and do it all behind Dad’s back. Served him right. Instead of leaning on the public to keep crime at bay he insisted on doing it all on his own.

  “Virgil doesn’t want to join us,” she informed the others when she finally disconnected. “He says that as a sworn police officer he can’t be a party to this kind of vigilante justice.”

  “Vigilante justice? Is that what this is?” asked Rick.

  “Not really,” soothed Felicity. “We’re concerned citizens keeping an eye out.”