Marshmallow Creme Killer: Book 7 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 2

  A long, sleek, black limousine picked Chas up from the airport in New York, proving that even while Chalmers was confined to bed, his staff still ran the estate like clockwork. The driver was a young man, with a strangely dignified bearing, whom Chas didn’t recognize, but that didn’t surprise him. Many of the staff had retired when his father passed, and Chalmers had hired replacements after a very thorough screening process. There was almost no turnover for employees at the Beckett estate. When one was hired, one stayed – it was as simple as that.

  The sight of his sprawling childhood home raised a myriad of conflicting emotions within the detective. Since he’d come to an age of awareness, around the age of twelve, when his father started having him sit in on board meetings and travel for business with him, Chas has steadfastly turned his back on the upper-echelon lifestyle in which his brother reveled. The detective took far more pleasure in helping others than he ever had in living the high life of the wealthy and powerful circles from whence he came.

  But his home was also filled with memories of his beloved mother, who’d understood his need to be different when no one else had, and there had been a veritable army of faithful and loving caretakers who had become like family. There had been trips, occasions and parties where young Chas had enjoyed the company of some of the most prominent families in the world, getting to see the private persons behind the public images. He’d had the best education that money could buy, and chose to invest it in a life of service and philanthropy. He still supported multiple charitable organizations, preferring to stay in the background, rather than being the “ribbon-cutter” for all the world to see. The detective’s fortune was enormous, and he was content to keep its existence hidden – life was much simpler that way. Missy fully supported him in that decision, and loved the fact that he liked to help out anonymously.

  The driver opened the door of the limo for the pensive detective, and took his bags up to his old room in the mansion. Chalmers had seen to it that the family still had private quarters available to them, despite having dedicated many of the public areas of the mansion to becoming part of the museum.

  He strode through the familiar hallways, the décor of which had stood the test of time - it seems that priceless antiques never go out of style - headed for Chalmers private quarters in the servants’ wing. When he reached the door marked “Private,” he encountered an extremely physically fit young man in a dark suit, which he found a bit odd for this time of year. The young man nodded at him and placed his thumb on a small dark rectangle next to the door. Chas heard the “kerchunk” of a heavy metal lock clanking open, and the door swung inward to grant him admittance. Apparently a few things had changed from a security standpoint since he’d last visited.

  Another suited young man was standing outside Chalmers’ door, and performed the exact same measure as the first, to allow Chas entry. He was surprised, yet strangely not shocked, to see Spencer seated in a chair in the gracious foyer of the caretaker’s suite.

  “Sir,” Spencer rose, extending his hand to Chas, who shook it, somewhat bemused.

  “Well, I guess I no longer have to wonder why you didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he remarked.

  “I received an urgent call that I couldn’t ignore, Sir, my apologies,” Spencer replied, his eyes never wavering.

  “I think we’re going to need to have a stiff drink and a long conversation later,” the detective mused.

  “Indeed, but in the meantime, let me take you to Chalmers.”

  “Lead the way,” Chas nodded, having no idea of what was happening, but trusting the Marine completely.

  Yet another surprise came when, instead of heading down the hall toward the Master bedroom, Spencer turned toward the library. The detective followed without a word, and watched, slightly in awe when the Marine pulled out a particular book on a shelf, pressed the back of the antique birds-eye maple panel, and the section of shelving swung open, revealing an industrial looking elevator with thick, stainless-steel doors.

  “Bullet-proof and blast-proof,” Spencer remarked casually, stepping into the metal shaft.

  “Make that two drinks…” Chas sighed, wondering what on earth could possibly necessitate this kind of security at the estate.

  The basement that ran beneath the mansion and grounds was a labyrinth of tunnels and rooms that were all constructed to withstand any sort of assault that might possibly occur. The detective said little to Spencer as he followed the Marine through passageways that were spotlessly clean and well-lit, but had very little character. He smelled a scent that seemed incredibly familiar. It reminded him of…a hospital?

  Sure enough, Spencer placed his hand on a security panel, then positioned his right eye in front of a scanner, and a set of steel double doors swung inward to reveal what was clearly a surgical unit and laboratory. Moving quickly through a sterile looking corridor, Spencer approached a young man who nervously popped up from the chair that he was sitting in and saluted, snapping to attention at the sight of the two men.

  “Not necessary, Sergeant,” the Marine muttered, his jaw set, as Chas raised an eyebrow curiously.

  The detective glanced at the young man who now stood at parade rest, eyes forward, then at Spencer, who seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze as he moved into the room where a very pale and weak-looking Chalmers rested in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. A nurse was entering information into a computer off to the side.

  “We need the room, please,” Spencer told her quietly, and she turned and left without question, not even bothering to log out of the computer.

  Chas felt a bit like he had fallen down the rabbit hole and was in a surreal land of nightmares and secrets, but that feeling was shoved into the back of his mind when he saw the pale, still form in the bed. He moved quickly to Chalmers’ side, relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept.

  “What’s the diagnosis?” he asked Spencer, not taking his eyes away from the caretaker.

  “Poisoning,” the Marine replied grimly.

  Chas’s head snapped up and his gaze darkened.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. It was confirmed right here in the lab. Everyone thought that it was a heart attack, and he almost…succumbed,” Spencer took a deep breath and let it out in a rush.

  “Who? And why?” the detective demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  “We’re working on that.”

  “We?”

  “Long story, Sir.”

  “I’m all ears, Spence,” Chas looked hard at the young man in front of him, who was clearly more complex than he seemed.

  “Perhaps later?” the Marine raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at Chalmers, who had stirred a bit.

  “Of course,” the detective nodded, lowering his voice.

  CHAPTER 4

  Missy was so worried about Chalmers after Chas had called to say that he was still unconscious, that she had stayed up for most of the night inventing new cupcake recipes. One that she’d be unveiling today was a twist on an old favorite. She’d whipped up her pink lemonade cupcakes, but they were filled with fresh strawberry cream cheese and topped with buttercream frosting, then drizzled with strawberry puree. Because she was a bit nervous, and more than a little lonely without Chas, she’d eaten more than her share of the delectable treats while she prepared them, but refused to feel the least bit guilty about it. Sometimes a good cupcake just felt like a hug, and she desperately needed as many hugs as she could get right about now.

  To change things up a bit this morning, she was bringing cupcakes over to Echo’s shop, so that they could walk through the bookstore and talk through some ideas for the new decor. Echo would provide the coffee for their morning ritual.

  “Hey, darlin,” Missy breezed into the candle shop, enjoying the delicious scents.

  Echo had begun her business by creating candles that were scented like Missy’s cupcakes, selling them at the inn and at Cupcakes in Paradise, and the market had gr
own so huge so quickly, that she’d been able to open her own shop.

  “What’s wrong?” Echo demanded immediately, taking in her friend’s puffy eyes and forced smile.

  Missy told her about Chalmers over cupcakes and coffee, ending up feeling much better after talking about it.

  “Do they know what’s wrong with him?” Echo asked.

  “Chas said that they’re still doing tests, so he’ll be up there for a while yet,” Missy sighed.

  “Sounds like a good old-fashioned girls night is in order,” Echo mused. “I can keep you company and we can talk about design ideas for the bookstore. Did you get in touch with Carla yesterday?”

  “I left her a message, but she hasn’t returned my phone call yet, which is strange. She’s usually really good about that.”

  “Oh dear, you didn’t mention my name, did you?” Echo asked, half-teasing.

  “No, silly, but you two are fine now, right?”

  “As far as I know,” her friend shrugged. “Try sending a text, that way, if she’s really busy, she can just send you one back to let you know.”

  “Good idea.” Missy pulled out her phone and did exactly that.

  The two women walked through the bookstore after finishing their cupcakes and coffee, chatting about paint colors and accent pieces.

  “Do you think Spencer might be able to help us paint this weekend?” Echo asked.

  Missy shook her head. “He had to take some personal time. I think a relative of his is sick or something. He talked to Chas about it, and asked Maggie to take care of Moose before he left.”

  “Awww…I love Moose, that cat is the best. I wonder why he didn’t ask me to look after him?”

  “Probably because you have Daimler and Benz now,” Missy reminded her, smiling at the thought of her friend’s happy, tail-wagging pair of dachshunds.

  “I think they would’ve loved having a feline friend,” Echo pouted.

  “Maybe so, but let’s just think for a moment about Moose’s possible reaction to their affection,” Missy grinned.

  “Good point. Okay, so we’ll have to do the painting then…” she jotted down a note in the little notebook that she was carrying.

  Missy pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her Bermuda shorts to see if Carla had responded yet. She hadn’t.

  “You know, I’m getting kind of worried about Carla,” she bit her lip.

  “Well, why don’t you stop by the house on your way back to the inn and check on her?” Echo suggested.

  Missy nodded.

  “I believe I will.”

  **

  The outside of Carla’s house looked much the same as it always had. The lawn was neatly trimmed, the bright tropical flowers swayed gently in the ocean breeze, and her car was not in the driveway, which wasn’t unusual – even when she was at home for just a few minutes, she parked in the garage, closing the door behind her.

  Missy thought about how nice it would be to see her friend again – it had been a long time – and headed up the paved walk to her front door. She rang the bell and waited for what seemed like a very long time with no response. She rang again and had just turned to leave when the door opened.

  “Hello,” a tall, rugged-looking man opened the door with a smile.

  No wonder she hadn’t heard from Carla in a while! Missy blushed as the thought crossed her mind, and she stammered a bit when she replied.

  “Oh, umm…hi. I just dropped by to see if Carla…but I can see that she…so, I’ll just come back another time,” the petite blonde blushed to the tips of her ears.

  “She’s out of town, and I don’t know when she’ll be back, actually,” the man grinned, clearly amused at Missy’s discomfort. “I can give her a message that you stopped by when she contacts me to let me know when she’ll be back. I’m her house-sitter, Richard,” he introduced himself, offering his hand to Missy, who shook it and felt the strength in it.

  “Missy,” she murmured automatically. “House-sitter? Oh, I thought that you…I mean…she…” she stammered awkwardly, wishing that she’d never stopped by in the first place.

  Richard chuckled easily. “No problem. Carla is an attractive woman, I can see how you might jump to certain conclusions,” he let her off the hook gracefully.

  “I…yes…well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Richard. Please let Carla know that I stopped by. She can call me…or whatever,” Missy gave herself a mental shake, still trying to recover from her embarrassing assumptions.

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” the charming man grinned, showing white, even, teeth.

  Missy turned and willed herself not to run back to her car, mortified. She would have been happy to discover that Carla had found someone to love, but being confronted suddenly with the reality of the widow’s lover, only to discover that he wasn’t her lover at all, had thrown the sweet southern gal for a loop. Shaking her head and laughing to herself for her silly mistake, she put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

  CHAPTER 5

  Chas took the crystal stopper from a decanter of thirty-five year old scotch and poured precisely two fingers worth of the liquid gold. He raised an eyebrow and gestured with his glass at Spencer, who sat in one of the tall leather chairs by the fireplace in the room that had once been Chas’s father’s study.

  “No thank you, Sir,” the Marine demurred, his eyes serious.

  Chas took his drink and sat across from his handyman in the other leather chair.

  “Nice suit,” he remarked, taking in the young man from head to toe. “Savile Row?”

  “You have a good eye, Sir,” was the quiet reply.

  “You got here before I did,” the detective remarked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

  “I did.”

  “There’s something going on here that I’d appreciate knowing more about,” Chas looked at Spencer squarely, his jaw set.

  “I understand, Sir, but at the moment we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

  Chas took a sip of the scotch, letting the fiery smokiness of it soothe him as it burned its way down the back of his throat. “Agreed,” he set the glass on a mahogany table beside his chair and leaned back, drained.

  “What do we know?” he asked, going into full “detective mode.”

  “Well, quite obviously, someone tried to poison Chalmers…” Spencer began.

  “Who? And why?” Chas interrupted, his jaw flexing at the thought of the attack on the man who had, at times, been more of a father figure than his own dad had been.

  “We’re working on that. I would suspect that your brother might have done something to anger the wrong person,” the Marine replied carefully.

  “Reginald?” Chas’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Is he in trouble again?” His brow furrowed with concern.

  “He’s…fine. For now.”

  “Where is he? Do you know?”

  “Monaco.”

  The detective shook his head and sighed. “Why am I not surprised? So…what’s going on? And why would whatever Reggie’s doing cause someone to poison Chalmers?”

  “No details yet. I’m going to have to head over there,” Spencer replied.

  “To Monaco?” Chas was surprised.

  “Yes, sir, I…” the Marine looked up, not finishing his sentence, when Janssen, a young man who had served in Afghanistan with Spencer, strode through the door to the study in a suit that rivaled Spencer’s. His scarred features made an interesting juxtaposition to the fine clothing.

  Janssen nodded to Chas and turned to his fellow Marine. “Does he know?” he inclined his head slightly toward the detective.

  “Some,” was the guarded reply, which was given along with a warning look.

  An irritated glance from the detective clued Spencer in to the fact that he had some major explaining to do at some point.

  “There’s a wrinkle,” Janssen shook his head.

  “What wrinkle?” Spencer demanded, his intense blue eyes turning hawkish.

&nb
sp; “Steve,” his fellow Marine said the name like it was a death sentence.

  “I thought Steve Arnold was dead,” Spencer replied, clearly irritated.

  “Well, apparently rumors of his demise have been grossly exaggerated, because he’s back, and he wants something.”

  “What is it this time?” the Marine sighed.

  “You, as usual,” Janssen shrugged.

  “Did Command send him this time, or is he still going rogue?”

  “Unfortunately, Command sent him. It’s legit this time. They’ve discovered who we’re working with and they don’t care – they want us back, but apparently they have a job for you, specifically,” Janssen explained.

  “What are you two? Secret agents or something?” Chas broke in, tired of the cloak and dagger discussion, of which he wasn’t a part.

  “No, Sir,” the two young men said in unison, then glanced at each other.

  “I can inform him on the way to Monaco,” Spencer told Janssen. “I’ll need you here to keep an eye on Chalmers. Any activity at the sister’s place?”

  “Sister?” Chas was alarmed. “Is something going on that involves Olivia?” he asked. He and his sister weren’t close, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t fiercely protective of her.

  “No sir, she’s fine, and we’re here to make certain that it stays that way,” Janssen assured him. He turned back to Spencer.

  “The husband hired some additional security, and I checked them out. They’re just run of the mill, hired hands, but smart, strong and capable. It won’t hurt having them around, and they’re not sophisticated enough to detect our guys,” he explained.

  The surreal feeling that Chas had been experiencing since he’d arrived had increased a hundredfold, and the detective sat, stunned, realizing that something far bigger than his handyman moonlighting as a security guard was going on right under his nose. He tuned out as the two young men talked, trying to make sense of all that he’d seen and heard.

  “Sir?” Spencer said, clearing his throat.

  Chas realized that the Marine, or whatever he actually was, had been trying to get his attention.