Peaches and Creme Killer: Book 6 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Read online

  When Ed reached the barrel, he realized that there was hardly any clearance above it, so it would be extremely difficult to get out of the crawl space without cutting into the floor above it. Thinking that if he could tip it far enough, it might fall on its side, allowing him to roll it toward the egress, he pushed against it, but it didn’t budge an inch. Scooting closer, he put his shoulder against it for leverage, and leaned forward, but it was heavy enough that he made no progress in the confined space.

  “Well, that settles it,” Ed grumbled, heading toward the exit. “If it’s still sealed, and it’s too heavy to move, I’m just not going to worry about it,” he decided.

  He had bigger fish to fry, and didn’t want such a small, insignificant thing to impede his progress. He had no intention of going down into the crawl space anyway. Carl Blaisdell, his kitchen and bath guy was standing in the kitchen frowning when he came back into the house, still brushing off cobwebs and phantom spiders.

  “What’s up, Carl?” he asked, the man’s expression filling him with dread.

  “Not a big thing, but something that I need a decision on,” Carl replied, glancing at a utility map in his hand. “There’s no way that I can run the drainage lines for the kitchen through that wall, because of the duct work, so, if you want the sink on this wall, at this location,” he pointed. “We’re going to have to run it down this wall and underneath the floor.”

  Ed nodded, peering at the plans. “No problem, I was planning on replacing the flooring anyway. Go ahead and rip it up and do what you want to do, just make sure that the joists are solid enough to handle the extra weight that we’ll be putting in here,” he instructed.

  “That’s a given,” Carl replied. “I’ll have it torn up in just a few minutes, so that we can see what kind of structural work we’re going to have to do to support the plumbing.”

  “Let me know how it goes,” Ed raised his hand in farewell, heading down the hall to check progress on the reframing that was going on in the Master bedroom.

  He’d only been in there for a few minutes when he heard some shouting from the front of the house, and ran to see what had happened, hoping that, whatever it was, his insurance would cover it. As he came through the living room, headed for the kitchen, where there seemed to be a great deal commotion, two of Carl’s workers, who looked ashen, darted past him and out the front door, where he heard the unmistakable grinding sounds of vomiting.

  “What the…” he started to demand, before an overwhelming stench engulfed him, forcing him to throw his hand over his nose, as he willed his breakfast not to rise. A handful of workers, and Carl, had assumed a similar position and were gathered in a semi-circle, peering down at a hole in the floor where Ed planned for his sink to be.

  “What the heck is that smell?” he demanded of Carl, as the workers drifted away from the hole and out of the room.

  “Not what…who?” Carl said, clearly shaken.

  Ed was hesitant, but made his way over to the gaping hole in what would eventually be his kitchen floor, stumbling backward in horror when he realized what he was seeing.

  “I’ll call the police,” he said shaking his head back and forth, clearly in shock. “Carl, come on…we gotta get outta here,” Ed said hoarsely before bolting from the room.

  CHAPTER 4

  Many detectives hate cold cases, laboring under the generally true supposition that, if a perpetrator hasn’t been found within the first 48 hours after the crime, chances of finding them are slim to none. Detective Chas Beckett has a different perspective, relishing the opportunity to take his time and go digging in order to right a wrong, even if the crime was committed decades prior. His pursuit of justice outweighs the perception of futility.

  Chas was headed toward an older part of town, to a neighborhood where some of Calgon’s prominent families had lived for generations and opportunities to “buy in” were few and far between. He knew who Ed Jabrowski was. The contractor had an outstanding reputation for producing quality work that was worth every penny of his “not bargain basement” prices. The dispatcher had said that he sounded pretty shaken up on the phone, and the detective was sympathetic. Even after years as a top-notch homicide detective, seeing a body was never a picnic – he could only imagine the shock to the system of an everyday citizen who made a gruesome discovery.

  Chas was glad that Calgon’s new Medical Examiner, Timothy Eckels would be on the scene as well – the way that the eccentric fellow could “read” a corpse was uncanny, and he hadn’t been wrong yet. In fact, he’d provided a wealth of evidence in every homicide case that had been brought to him. Not only had he helped underscore the guilt of several killers, he’d found enough evidence to make certain that the perpetrators were soundly convicted.

  **

  “Hey Timmy, we’ve got another stiff,” Fiona McCamish appeared in her boss’s office doorway.

  Timothy Eckels, as usual, had his nose buried in some obscure article on forensic evidence, but looked up with interest.

  “Rigor mortis has already set in? What else do we know?” he stared at her intently.

  “Don’t be so literal, geez,” Fiona shook her head in amusement. “Stiff is what normal people call a dead body, Boss Man,” she blinked at him.

  He peered at her through coke-bottle thick lenses.

  “I did not hire you to be “normal,” he replied flatly. “Use proper terminology for the deceased, if you please,” Tim admonished.

  “Oh lighten up, Timmy,” she sighed. “I already put your bag in the meat wagon, are you coming or what?” she challenged.

  The young woman may have had a makeover that changed her appearance from a mohawk-wearing, pierced and tattooed gothic creature, into a socially acceptable funeral director, but she still retained the moxie that had made Tim want to hire her in the first place. She was his perfect counterpart and he knew it, though he’d never admit it.

  “Your irreverence is disturbing,” he muttered, rising from his chair. “And don’t touch my bag. No one touches my bag, you know this.”

  “I’m driving,” Fiona tossed out with a wicked grin, knowing his response.

  “You are most certainly not,” Tim looked horrified. “That is out of the…” he began to sputter.

  “Relax, Timmy. I’m just messing with you,” she chuckled.

  She knew how to push her boss’s buttons better than anyone, and enjoyed mildly tormenting him for her amusement, on occasion.

  “Don’t call me that,” he replied. It was an automatic response at this point.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Inn was bustling. Campaign staff that had been recruited nationally to work for Calgon’s candidate for Governor, Tom Chase, were staying there, and the candidate had reserved use of the ballroom for later in the day to host a staff meeting. That meant that Maggie, Missy and a caterer were scurrying about, trying to get things ready for the arrival of the local “celebrity.”

  Missy’s other guest at the Inn, Marilyn Hayes, had observed the frenzied activity and was pitching in to help, telling Missy that there was no way that she was going to sit idly by while all of this excitement was happening around her. Marilyn knew how to get things done, having built her own business from the ground up, after a nasty divorce, so she rolled up her figurative sleeves and got down to business when Missy finally relented and allowed it, with a grateful smile.

  Maggie popped into the ballroom, where Missy and Marilyn were setting out baskets of cupcakes, pastries, croissants and bagels to get the staffers through their morning session, and when the team had a twenty minute break, they’d clear the breakfast debris and set up for lunch. It was going to be a hectic, fast-paced day, so Missy had placed a “Closed” sign on the cupcake shop, but would be meeting Echo for coffee after she finished setting up the ballroom.

  “Missy…?” the silver-haired Innkeeper began nervously, her big blue eyes wide.

  “Maggie, what is it, sweetie?” Missy asked, concerned. Maggie was a solid rock of efficiency and
effectiveness – there was nothing that the slim, stalwart gal couldn’t handle, so seeing that look on her face was mildly terrifying.

  “It’s just…the press is here,” she whispered, beckoning Missy to follow her. “See…” she said, peeking out of the windows on either side of the grand double doors at the entrance. “And they’re not just there…they’re everywhere. In the bushes, in the backyard, hanging out by the pool…and I can’t find Spencer anywhere,” the Innkeeper worried.

  “Chas must have sent him on an errand, don’t worry about that. With Marilyn helping we should be okay.” Missy placed her hands on both of Maggie’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry about all of those reporters, okay? It’s going to be great publicity for the Inn, and they’re not here for us, they’re here to see Tom Chase, so there’s nothing to worry about. In fact, why don’t you run over to the cupcake shop and get all of the inventory that I had ready to go today, and serve them some cupcakes. Full tummies make happy people,” Missy grinned.

  Maggie relaxed a bit. This was much more within her comfort zone; she knew how to make people feel welcome and comfortable, as well as carry out an assigned task. The familiar look of determination that Missy was accustomed to seeing on the face of her innkeeper came back.

  “You betcha,” she nodded, relieved. “I’m on it.”

  Marilyn appeared at Missy’s side as Maggie headed for Cupcakes in Paradise.

  “Looks like we’re all set for the morning. All that the caterer will need to do is clear dishes and replenish the food and coffee,” she reported.

  Missy gave her a quick hug. “Darlin, you are a lifesaver. Let’s go get our own coffee and breakfast.”

  Echo and Marilyn hit it off immediately – Marilyn was down to earth and friendly, fitting right in with best friends Echo and Missy. The three women laughed, talked and enjoyed their time together until it was nearly time to go change over the ballroom from breakfast to lunch. On their way back to the Inn, reporters who were waiting outside to catch a glimpse of the candidate thanked them for the cupcakes and coffee that Maggie had thoughtfully provided.

  Missy reached the ballroom just as the meeting adjourned for the twenty minute break, and found herself face-to-face with none other than Tom Chase himself. She’d met him before, at local charity events, but in this new context was rendered a bit starstruck.

  “Oh hi, Tom,” she exclaimed, caught by surprise at the chance encounter.

  “Melissa! I can’t thank you enough for being such a gracious hostess. Our time here has been quite productive this morning, and part of that is because you’ve seamlessly provided the perfect venue and circumstances. It must be ingrained – southern hospitality and all of that,” he complimented.

  “Well, it’s certainly my pleasure, and if y’all need anything at all, you just let me know,” Missy beamed.

  Marilyn was at Missy’s elbow after Tom moved on.

  “Wow, this is so exciting,” she whispered. “I never thought that I’d be involved in a political campaign when I went on vacation to this quiet little town, but it’s really been fun,” she grinned.

  “You’re such a good sport. I’m glad you were here – I don’t know what Maggie and I would’ve done without you.”

  “Oh, you two would’ve been just fine. I’ve seen how well you work together, but I’m glad that you let me help; it made me feel like I was part of something exciting. Whatever happened to that hunk of a man that you have working for you, though? I was looking forward to a bit of eye-candy this morning,” Marilyn waggled her eyebrows comically, making Missy chuckle.

  “I don’t know, it’s strange. I would’ve thought that, today of all days, he’d be right here, where I needed him,” she shrugged. “But then again, sometimes Chas sends him out on errands that I don’t even know about.”

  “It’s all good,” Marilyn observed. “We managed without Prince Charming,” she grinned wickedly.

  “Yes we did.”

  **

  Spencer Bengal sat, with his back against the hand-hewn siding of the cabin that stood in the midst of some pretty dangerous Florida swamp country, soaking in the early morning sunshine. There was far too much media coverage of the event taking place at the Inn today…he couldn’t risk having his picture broadcast nationally, so he’d come here, to his place of refuge.

  There was movement to his left, and he knew without opening his eyes, that his buddy and fellow veteran, Janssen, had arrived. The man always seemed to pop up when least expected, but could almost always be found when Spencer needed him. It was uncanny, really.

  Janssen lived off the grid in the wilds of Florida at the moment, but traveled wherever the wind blew him at times. He’d never been able to successfully re-acclimate after returning from Afghanistan, and had disappeared from society in order to live a life that only he, and some of the brothers who had fought by his side, would understand. His was an isolated existence, but the only one that he could tolerate for now…for so many reasons. Spencer was his touch-point with the outside world.

  “Wasn’t expectin’ to see you here today,” Janssen observed, setting down his crossbow and leaning against the porch railing.

  He pulled a gnarled toothpick from between his teeth and tucked it into his pocket to burn later. Spencer knew that he’d never just casually flick it into the grass surrounding the cabin – that was far too much DNA to be leaving about.

  “You bring beer?”

  “What do you think?” Spencer grinned, pushing the cooler that sat beside him over to his fellow Marine, who had scars that were obvious as well as scars, both physical and psychological, that were hidden.

  Janssen nodded, taking an icy brew out of the cooler. “The good stuff,” he quirked an eyebrow at Spencer. “What do you need?”

  “Nothing but good company today, my man.”

  The scarred Marine eyed his buddy skeptically, but took him at his word…for now.

  “I noticed you’re still hanging out with that author chick,” he observed, too casually.

  Spencer had been becoming more and more involved with internationally-famous horror author, Izzy Gillmore, who had just relocated to Calgon to escape from her micro-managing publisher.

  “Don’t start,” Spencer warned, his smile disappearing.

  The warning slid off of Janssen like water on a duck’s back.

  “She’s high profile, man. Her being with you is dangerous for both of you, and you know it. That’s all I’m sayin’,” Janssen took a slug of beer.

  “Breakfast of champions,” Spencer smirked, changing the subject as he watched his buddy enjoy the beer at such an early hour.

  “Carbs are carbs, my man. I’m just “eating my cereal,”” he replied easily, taking another gulp and deciding to let the other topic of conversation go…for now.

  CHAPTER 6

  Chas Beckett, along with two uniformed officers, Timothy Eckels and Fiona McCamish, stood peering down into the hole in Ed Jabrowski’s kitchen floor. Everyone present, with the exception of Tim, had elected to smear their upper lip with Mentholatum to minimize the effects of the putrid stench that emanated from the space beneath the house.

  The bushes and front lawn of the home had been liberally sprayed with the substance of more than one breakfast, but the Medical Examiner seemed unfazed. “Biologicals don’t upset me,” had been his mild comment. His focus was on the body that had been discovered, and the “interesting” condition of it.

  “We’ll need to hoist it up to transport it,” Chas said, and Tim shook his head.

  “We have to get down there first and take pictures and measurements of where exactly each item is located. It could be significant. Fiona, get the camera,” he directed, still staring into the hole.

  “Oh, heck no. Or ! I’m not going down there. No way,” she crossed her arms and shook her head vehemently.

  Tim pursed his lips and turned his head slowly to stare at her, his gaze oozing disapproval.

  “You can glare at me all you want to,
Boss Man, but I am NOT getting in that hole,” she raised her eyebrows and set her jaw.

  “Amateur,” he muttered, glancing away, not seeing the ghost of amusement that passed over Chas’s features as he witnessed the exchange between the M.E. and his equally eccentric assistant.

  Fiona handed Tim the camera and the Medical Examiner addressed Ed Jabrowski.

  “How do I get under here without going down the hole?” he asked, blinking rapidly.

  “Follow me,” Ed replied, glad to get out of the kitchen and away from the body.

  He led Tim to the egress, and held his camera while the man lowered himself into the crawl space, after having slipped on a haz-mat protective suit. Tim retrieved his camera from Ed, once inside, and crawled toward the site. By the time that he reached the barrel, Fiona had rigged up a system where she could lower a bucket down to him, filled with the instruments and containers that he would need as part of his preliminary investigation. He had a passing thought that perhaps she wasn’t useless after all.

  Ed’s subcontractor, Carl had said that, when they discovered the barrel was blocking the exact space where they wanted to run the drain lines, they had tried to nudge the barrel over by pushing on it with a large, wooden post. Instead of moving, the barrel had cracked in two, with the top half falling over to one side, and the body inside it, along with some other curious items, spilling out into the crawl space. Tim confirmed that the subcontractor’s description of those events looked to be accurate, based upon the condition of the barrel and the direction in which the contents had fallen.

  The Medical Examiner was intrigued when he saw the condition of the corpse. He couldn’t tell yet whether it was male or female, and couldn’t decide whether to be disgusted or fascinated by the way that the deceased had been prepared for their rather unorthodox resting place.