“Oh, it was early, like around nine, but, like I said, she wasn’t home. I hope I didn’t get the days mixed up. My brain seems to be so foggy lately.”
“That’s hormonal too,” Echo assured her. “So…what movie should we watch next?” she changed the subject abruptly.
“Comedy. That’s all I can watch lately. Any drama that I try to watch makes me bawl like a baby, even my favorite police shows,” Missy shook her head.
“Comedy it is,” Echo picked up the controller and started scrolling through options.
Just when she found a show that looked hilarious, she heard a noise and looked over at Missy. Her friend was sound asleep, head back, mouth open, snoring like a buzz saw, and entirely relaxed. Echo laughed quietly and turned down the volume on the television. Grabbing a comforter from the closet, she covered her most beloved friend up and headed upstairs to the guest room, after setting the alarm and making sure the doors were locked. Toffee was still curled at Missy’s feet, and when Echo got up, Bitsy hopped up beside her human on the couch. Taking in the peaceful scene, Echo smiled and turned down the lights. For now, they were all safe, warm and surrounded by love.
**
Chas listened carefully to Spencer’s account of the conversation he’d had with Kendra Henderson.
“Okay,” he sighed. “We’re definitely going to be looking for her husband, but not because he’s missing.”
“You think he skipped town after killing his own mother?” Spencer asked.
“I think it’s a possibility, given their history. I’m going to talk to Kendra too. She’s not above consideration either.”
Spencer nodded. “She’s definitely bitter when it comes to her mother-in-law,” he agreed. “Have you found the victim’s husband yet?”
“He was out of town on business. Left this morning and will be back in about an hour. I asked him to meet me at the station, but he doesn’t know why.”
“Think he’s a possible suspect?”
“The spouses always are,” Chas shrugged. “I want to get this one wrapped up, but I don’t think that the general public is in danger. This one looks personal to me. It wasn’t about the killing, it was about killing her specifically.”
“That should narrow it down some,” Spencer mused.
“Except for the fact that Allivia Dunham was fairly universally hated.”
“Does Missy know yet?”
“No, I haven’t had a chance to tell her. Echo is having a girls night with her tonight while I work the case, but I’ll tell her tomorrow. She’s going to be worried, and will probably pull Kaylee out of daycare.”
“Let me know how I can help,” Spencer offered.
“Will do. For now, I want you to work with Kendra Henderson as if you’re just a P.I. who is trying to find a missing person. I want Brantworth Henderson found, and he’ll be much easier to find if he and his wife don’t think that the cops are looking for him.”
“You got it.”
“That buddy of yours on board?” Chas asked.
“Yep, for now,” Spencer nodded.
“Good, have him do his bloodhound thing. I want him to beat the bushes until he finds this guy.”
“Consider it done.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
* * *
“I honestly don’t know how you work around these incredible cupcakes all day,” Muffy Benton shook her head in awe and wonder. “If I worked here, I’d eat every crumb in the place.” She took a huge bite of her chocolate peanut butter cupcake and practically swooned.
“Well, right now, they don’t appeal to me at all,” Missy confessed. “But normally, I have one or two a day. Since I’m on my feet most of the time, it doesn’t seem to affect me too terribly much,” she shrugged. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a woman having a little extra insulation.”
Muffy giggled. “I think I have enough extra insulation to survive the arctic tundra.”
The bells over the door jangled, and Missy was delighted to see Chas come in.
“What a wonderful surprise,” Missy beamed.
He’d gotten in late the night before, and had been gone long before she woke this morning.
“Good morning ladies,” he greeted them, depositing a warm kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“Did you get a craving for cupcakes?” Missy teased.
“No, my love, I actually came to kiss my wife and talk to her companion for a few minutes, if you can spare her,” was the sweet reply.
“Oh sure, we hadn’t gotten to discussing the Gala yet, we were too busy with cupcakes,” Missy grinned. “I wanted to check on Beulah and Kaylee anyway,” she rose. “You two talk all you want, and you, kind sir,” she grabbed her husband’s hand. “Come get me when you’re done.”
“I certainly will,” he kissed her again.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“Nah, I’m good thanks. I won’t sleep for days as it is after drinking the stuff at the police station,” Chas joked.
“Alright then,” Missy waved and disappeared into the kitchen.
“You came here to talk to me?” Muffy seemed star-struck to be sitting across the table from Chas Beckett.
“Yes, I did. I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh dear,” Muffy became flustered. “It’s about that yellow light that I ran yesterday, isn’t it?” she worried. “I thought it was going to stay yellow the whole time, so I didn’t speed up, because I didn’t want to get a speeding ticket, but then it turned red and I hoped that no one saw it because there wasn’t any traffic, and…” she blathered until Chas held up a hand and interrupted her.
“It’s not about a traffic violation. That’s not exactly my department.”
“Oh, right,” Muffy barked a nervous giggle and flushed pink. “I’m sorry, I have the utmost respect for law enforcement, but you guys always make me feel guilty about something. Oh, wait, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? I’m sorry,” she twisted her hands in her lap.
“No worries, I think quite a few people feel that way. Just try to relax,” Chas suggested. He would have been amused if he hadn’t been wondering whether the woman in front of him had committed murder.
Muffy took a deep breath and visibly tried to settle herself. “Okay,” she nodded.
“Can you describe your relationship with Allivia Dunham for me?” he asked, sounding as casual as possible.
“Allivia?” Muffy was clearly taken aback. “Um, well…it would be accurate to say that we’re not bffs,” she blushed again. “We don’t exactly see eye to eye on lots of things.”
“Have you had any disagreements with Mrs. Dunham lately?” Chas probed.
Muffy sighed. “Almost every day. We’re working as co-chairs for the Children’s Home Gala, and we seem to butt heads on every issue.”
“When was the last time that you spoke with her?”
“Let’s see…I think it was two or three days ago. I’ve been avoiding her, and then when I tried to call her yesterday, she didn’t take my call, so I guess I’ll just have to keep trying. We’re both stubborn,” she shrugged, embarrassed.
“Where were you last night?”
“Last night? Um, I don’t know…sorry, I can’t think when I’m nervous…here let me grab my calendar. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without this thing,” she waggled her phone at him. “It’s my portable brain,” she tittered. “Okay,” she tapped at the device. “Let’s see…Tuesday. Manicure in the morning, meeting with Missy, luncheon at the Club, volunteer work at the hospital in the afternoon, massage, and then…nothing. I was at home on Tuesday night. I like to just relax and watch TV after I’ve had a massage. Truthfully, I usually just eat my dinner and fall asleep in front of the TV,” she confided.
“Was there anyone there with you?”
“Oh, no. My hubby is almost always gone on business. I’m lucky if he’s home two or three nights a month. That’s why I try to keep myself occupied doing volunteer work,” she trailed off wis
tfully.
“Did you speak to anyone on the phone who could confirm that you were home all evening?”
“Probably not, I’m not really much of a phone person,” Muffy frowned. “So…what’s this all about anyway? Why does it matter that I was sitting in front of the TV on a Tuesday night?”
“I’m investigating an incident, I can’t say more than that at this time.”
Muffy’s eyes widened. “Oh my, that sounds serious,” she breathed. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I may contact you for a follow-up,” Chas nodded.
“I’ll help in any way that I can,” she promised.
**
“The victim’s husband just came from the morgue. He made a positive ID,” a uniformed officer informed Chas.
“No surprise there,” Chas nodded. “How does he seem?”
“Oddly unfazed. Not exactly the picture of a grieving husband,” the office shrugged.
“Could be shock,” the detective mused. “Is he in the waiting room?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll come get him.”
“Mr. Dunham?” Chas approached the florid-faced, portly little man who sat in a plastic chair in the waiting room, looking very much out of place in a police station.
“Yes,” his tone was wary.
“I’m Detective Chas Beckett,” Chas offered his hand and Dunham shook it, seeming reluctant. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Would you come with me, please?” he gestured down the hall.
Chester Dunham sighed and heaved himself out of the uncomfortable chair, glancing at his watch. “How long is this going to take? I’m exhausted.”
“I can’t even imagine. I’ll be as brief as possible,” Chas assured him.
Neither man spoke another word until they were seated across from each other in the detective’s office.
“I know that these are things that you probably don’t want to think about right now,” Chas began delicately.
Chester rested the ankle of his right foot on his left knee, exposing a very expensive argyle sock.
“Don’t bother with niceties, Detective. It’s been a rough day and I haven’t had my dinner. Just cut to the chase, if you would,” Dunham said tiredly.
“Certainly. Where were you last night?”
Dunham had an answer ready, almost as if he’d anticipated the question. “I worked until seven o’clock, went to the Club for dinner and a cigar upon leaving work, and came home immediately after, arriving around nine o’clock,” he explained.
Chas stared at him for a moment. “You were home last night, after nine o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“For the entire night?”
“Yes.”
The detective tapped his notepad with his pen, nonplussed.
“What about this morning?” he asked casually.
“I woke up early, as I always do, around five. I took a shower, had a quick breakfast and drove to the airport, because I had an out of town meeting.”
“Did you interact with your wife either last night or this morning?”
“No.”
“Did you see her?”
“No.”
“But you were home the entire time…how is that possible?” Chas raised an eyebrow.
“We have separate bedroom suites with separate entrances. Allivia and I have gone for days at a time without seeing one another.”
“I see. Did you happen to hear or see anything unusual?”
“No. My stereo is motion sensitive, it comes on the moment that I enter my suite. There was nothing out of place in my suite, nor in the kitchen or garage. Those are the only rooms that I entered.”
“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm your wife?”
“Not anyone specific. There are quite a few people with whom she had issues.”
“How was your relationship with your wife?”
Chester stared at him for a beat. “We coexisted in a mostly satisfactory manner.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Dunham clenched his teeth briefly before responding. “She had her life, I had mine. They occasionally intersected to attend community functions.”
“Did you vacation together?”
“How is that relevant?” Chester challenged, seeming embarrassed.
“Just trying to further establish the relationship. Did the two of you argue much?”
“We didn’t see each other enough to bother. We had more of a strategic alliance.”
“I see. Is there anything that you think I should know that might aid me in my investigation?”
“If I were looking for a potential murderer, I’d try to find that degenerate son of hers, and the bitter wretch that he married.”
“Your daughter-in-law had issues with your wife?” Chas played dumb.
“She’s a greedy little social climber who tried to marry into money. She was furious when my son was cut out of our wills.”
“How did your son feel about that?”
“He made his choice, he can live with it,” Chester looked away.
“So, your son gains nothing from his mother’s death?”
“Not a dime, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t want her dead.”
“Do you think he wanted her dead?”
“I think they both did.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
“Baby, I’m going to stay here for a while. I’m helping out an old buddy with something while I try to get my head together,” Janssen winced, bracing himself for her reply.
His fear was that she wouldn’t care. Or that she’d be just fine without him. And her reply cemented that fear, searing it into his psyche like a white-hot brand of failure. She told him to do what he needed to do, with no assurance that she’d be there for him if or when he returned. It sounded as though she’d closed herself off from him again, despite the progress that they’d made over the past few months.
He knew that the only way he’d get through this was by focusing on his work. He’d work himself to death, collapsing into the oblivion of sleep at night, then repeating the process the next day. It seemed like he could only think things out when he was on the brink of utter exhaustion. He hung up and took a breath, pushing the pain out of his mind, not daring to think about it. The text that he had been waiting for from Spencer came in, and he shouldered his bag, ready for his mission.
**
It had been a very long time since Janssen had worked undercover, and he slipped into the position as naturally as a hand in a glove. His somewhat bedraggled appearance would get him noticed, which in this case was perfectly okay. He wanted to stand out like a sore thumb, in the hope that someone would see him and would want to talk.
He blazed in through the back door of the yacht club kitchen like he owned the place, startling a handful of workers who viewed the scarred man with suspicion and more than a touch of fear.
“Who’s in charge here? Where’s Brantworth?” he hollered, causing a pause in the bustling activity of the kitchen.
While everyone stared at him, no one spoke until a man came out of the tiny office in the back, puffed up with self-importance.
“May I help you?” he growled at Janssen, while the rest of the staff looked on. The man cast a warning glance around the room and everyone scurried back to their tasks.
“I sure as heck hope so. I’m looking for Brantworth Henderson. That little…idiot owes me money,” Janssen snarled.
“Well join the club. I’m looking for him too. I haven’t seen him since Monday afternoon.”
“Why, did he get fired or something?” Janssen narrowed his eyes. “He better not have skipped town without paying me.”
“Fired? Are you kidding? Nobody wants his job,” the man rolled his eyes.
“Where was he going when he left on Monday?”
The man shrugged. “If I knew that, I’d have found him myself. I’ve been working double shifts since he skipped out,”
he grumbled.
“He was walking toward the marina,” a busboy who was walking by with a tub of clean glasses volunteered.
“After he left on Monday?” Janssen clarified, startling the young man.
“Yes, sir,” he nodded, his huge brown eyes wide.
Janssen nodded at him and turned toward the door.
“Hey!” the man yelled after him.
Janssen turned slowly, casting a scathing look in his direction. “What?”
“You find that jerk, tell him he’s fired.”
“Tell him yourself,” Janssen muttered, striding for the door. “Hey, man,” he called out to the busboy. “Which way is the marina?”
“Cut across the parking lot and take the sidewalk to the left for about a mile, you can’t miss it,” the young man replied.
**
Andrew Koslowski sprayed on coconut-scented sunscreen, tossed his long blond hair up into a messy bun, and kicked back in his lounger on the dock. Business was slow today, he’d only rented out a couple of boats, but he was thankful that at least someone was on vacation during the off-season.
“Hey dude,” he grinned up at Janssen. “You need a boat?”
“Nah, just out looking for my buddy,” Janssen shrugged, doing his best to look sad. It wasn’t much of a stretch, considering what he’d been through.
“Yeah? He work around here?” Andrew popped up the valve on his water bottle and took a drink.
“He works in the restaurant at the Club, but I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days. He was having some issues with his wife or something, so I’m kinda worried about him.”
“Some of the guys from the Club rent from me sometimes. You got a pic, bro?” Andrew swung his bare feet off of the lounger, stood and stretched.
“Yeah,” Janssen nodded, glad that he’d saved the photo that Kendra had given Spencer on his phone. He tapped at the screen and showed him.
Andrew moved in closer and squinted at the screen, putting one hand over his eyes like a visor and tilting Janssen’s phone for a better look.
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