Frostycake Murder Read online

  “Yep, 642 Mettler Way. This is it,” he sighed, maneuvering his non-descript beige unmarked police car onto the sandy, rutted lane.

  Scraggly trees dotted a yard that hadn’t been mowed in quite some time as he followed the lane to where it ended in front of a faded blue mobile home. He strode up two aluminum steps and knocked on the door. The detective heard some sounds within the thin walls which indicated that someone was home, so he knocked again, more forcefully this time.

  “I’m coming, dagnabbit!” an ancient-sounding man hollered.

  Before Chas had a chance to react, the door came slamming outward, and an old man emerged, carrying a shotgun. Chas immediately drew his weapon and trained it on the man, backing down the steps for a better position.

  “Detective Chas Beckett, Calgon Police, put your weapon on the ground now!” he shouted.

  Startled, the man hastened to comply, going the extra mile by stepping back away from the gun and raising his hands in the air.

  “Roy Tuggle?” Chas demanded.

  “Yass sir,” Roy nodded, eyes wide.

  “Don’t move. Keep your hands up. I’m going to temporarily confiscate your gun. You’ll get it back when I leave, and not before, is that understood?”

  “Yep,” Roy nodded again.

  “Do you have any other weapons on you right now?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Stay where you are.” Chas kept the gun pointed at Roy while he picked up the rifle. He secured the weapon in his trunk and locked it away, then holstered his sidearm. “You gotta be careful with that thing. You’ll get yourself killed if you point it at the wrong person,” the detective warned.

  “I’m sure sorry about that, Detective. Living out here in the middle of nowhere, a man’s gotta be careful.”

  “I understand. I need to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “Alrighty, come on in,” Roy invited.

  “Are there any more weapons in the house?” Chas asked.

  “Just my steak knives,” Roy joked, holding the door open.

  The inside of the home was stacked with boxes and bags and bins of miscellaneous items, and there were towers of mail and newspapers everywhere. The place reeked of cat urine, and dirty laundry, and Chas considered moving the conversation to the sterile confines of an interrogation room, but decided to just get it over with since he’d already made the drive.

  “Have a seat,” Roy gestured to a plaid couch that had a spring popping out of one side of it. He sat in a rocking faux leather recliner that was split and discolored. “What can I do for ya?” he asked amiably.

  “I’d like to talk with you about your relationship with Maureen Gatling,” Chas began.

  “Oh boy,” Roy sighed. “That idiot son of hers telling stories out of school again? He ain’t never liked me.”

  “When is the last time that you spoke with Ms. Gatling?” Chas ignored the statement.

  “Well, let’s see,” Roy rubbed his bristly chin. “I wanna say it was four, maybe five weeks ago,” he sounded uncertain.

  “Four or five weeks ago?” Chas raised his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I think that’s about right,” Roy nodded.

  “Mr. Tuggle, why is it that you’ve not seen your girlfriend in over a month?”

  “Probably cuz she ain’t my girlfriend no more,” Roy’s rheumy gaze was steady.

  “You broke up? When?”

  “Couple of months ago. She’s a great gal and all, but she was too picky about things and that son of hers was something else. Used to threaten me all the time.”

  “Why didn’t he like you?”

  “I don’t know, he was one of them crazy religious folk, always spoutin off about sin and hell and such. I just think he resented the fact that his mama was happy,” Roy shrugged.

  “He said that you owe his mother money.”

  “Yep, I sure do. Got into some trouble with the mortgage and taxes on this place a while back and Mo loaned me some money. Why, is she complaining about it?”

  “How much money did she loan you?”

  “Fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Have you paid any of it back?”

  “Some. It’s hard, cuz all I have is my social security, but I paid her at least a hundred dollars a month since I took the money.”

  “Can you prove that?” Chas challenged.

  “Banks got the cleared checks, I’m sure,” Roy didn’t bat an eye.

  “Mr. Tuggle, to your knowledge, did Maureen have a life insurance policy?”

  “I don’t know, why don’t you ask her? I’d imagine she’s got a little something put aside for that fool kid of hers,” Roy made a face.

  “I can’t ask her, Mr. Tuggle. She was murdered yesterday,” Chas dropped the bombshell.

  Roy sat up straight in his chair, his face registering shock.

  “Whaaaat?” he was dumbfounded. “You gotta be kidding,” his mouth hung agape as he processed the news. “Who would do something like that to Mo? She ain’t never hurt nobody,” he shook his head and ran a hand over his face, blowing out a breath.

  “That’s what I’m here to find out,” Chas replied.

  “This is such a shock,” Roy twisted his gnarled hands together. “It’s just…awful.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Maureen?”

  “No, sir. Not a soul.”

  “When you parted, was there anger? Bitterness on either side?”

  “Well, I mean…I wasn’t happy about it. I like her and wanted to keep seeing her. She was sad, but she stuck to her guns and showed me the door. I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re thinking,” he protested.

  “Her son seems to think that maybe you did.”

  “Her son is a worthless bag of flesh who don’t know which side is up,” Roy declared contemptuously.

  “Do you know who the executor of her estate might be?” Chas let the remark pass.

  “I don’t think she had one. She was definitely responsible about such things, but she never mentioned it. I can’t believe she’s gone. Did she suffer?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss the details of the case,” Chas stood and headed for the front door. Roy Tuggle trailed along behind him.

  “Well, I hope you find whoever did it.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Chas replied. “You stay inside until I’ve turned back onto the highway. Your gun will be at the bottom of the steps. If you put one foot outside that door before I’m on the highway, I’ll arrest you for reckless endangerment of a law enforcement officer, am I being fairly clear?”

  “Yes, sir. I won’t come out ‘til you’re gone,” Roy promised.

  Chas looked in his rearview mirror, and sure enough, the trailer door didn’t open until he was turning onto the highway, where he finally let out a sigh of relief.

  **

  Roy Tuggle had the motive, he owed Maureen Gatling a good sum of money, and she had just broken off her relationship with him, but something in the back of Chas’s mind kept telling him to keep digging. He’d had Ringo pull up every bit of information that he could find on the victim, to see if something in her life or lifestyle might point him in the right direction.

  “I think the cops are gonna feel awfully stupid on this one,” Ringo observed, tossing a folder of information on his boss’s desk.

  “What makes you say that?” Chas frowned, not opening the report yet. He didn’t take kindly to unwarranted criticism of his brothers in blue.

  “Well, you’re the detective, not me, but I’d say that anybody who looked at the police records coulda seen this one coming,” Ringo shrugged. “Is it lunchtime yet?”

  “It’s four-thirty. What’s in there that the police knew about?”

  “Your victim had a stalker. She called it in a bunch of times, and nobody even talked to the guy as far as I can tell. Hey, I’m gonna order up some Chinese food, you want some?”

  “No, I’ll be heading home soon, thanks,” Chas was more than distracted, and sta
rted flipping through the file.

  “So…should I just put the food on the company account?” Ringo sidled toward the door.

  “Yeah, whatever. Have Holly order it for you. She has the card number,” Chas dismissed him, poring over the file.

  Ringo was right. Maureen Gatling had made several calls to the police department regarding a man who was stalking her, and it looked like none of the leads had been followed up on. One of the most interesting things that stood out to the veteran detective was that the case had been handed to the man whom he’d been observing for months…Art Solinsky.

  Solinsky had made comments in the file that, “threats were non-specific and didn’t warrant further investigation.” He may have had a lead on Maureen Gatling’s killer and let it simply slip right through his fingers. The Chief had been waiting for enough evidence to stack up against the incompetent detective, and the contents of the file may just give him all the ammunition that he needed to fire Solinsky, once and for all. It also might make Maureen Gatling’s murder an easily solvable, open and shut case for Chas. The first thing he planned to do the next morning was talk with her stalker, hoping that his investigation would end there.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  “Hey, were you able to get that wallet back to my customer?” Missy asked Chas, as he snagged a to-go cup of coffee on his way out the door.

  Chas turned to her with a strange look on his face. “No, I couldn’t get in touch with her, and then, when I went to her house, I discovered that she’d been murdered,” he said quietly.

  Missy gasped. “What? That’s awful,” she shook her head sadly. “Do you know who did it?”

  “I’m working on it. That’s why I’m headed in early today. Gotta get my ducks in a row and have a talk with a suspect.”

  “Oh goodness, sweetheart, please be careful,” Missy pleaded, grabbing his lapels and tilting her face up for a kiss.

  “Always,” Chas gazed down at his wife and kissed her soundly. “I may have to work late tonight, depending on how the interrogation goes.”

  “Story of my life. No worries, I thought I’d go over and take some food to Echo and Kel anyway…and steal some baby time with Jasmine.”

  “Good. Are you going to see Kaylee today?” he asked, grabbing his briefcase and heading for the door.

  “I…I don’t know,” Missy murmured. “It’s really hard, since we don’t know if we’re going to be adopting her…”

  “There’s no harm in visiting, whether she becomes our daughter or not,” Chas paused a moment, swallowing hard. “You have a lot of love to give and so does Kaylee. Extra hugs and playtime would probably be good for both of you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Missy nodded, avoiding his eyes.

  “Good,” he kissed her forehead and went out the door.

  **

  “Surprise, surprise, there’s no answer on Blake Mauzey’s cell,” Chas sighed, hitting the End button on his phone. “I’m not going to even bother calling his work, I’m just going to show up and surprise him,” he muttered, rising from his desk chair.

  “Umm…I don’t want to interrupt…are you using your phone hands-free?” his receptionist, Holly, asked politely, having stood in the doorway to his office for a few seconds and knowing full well that he’d been talking to himself.

  “No, unfortunately, I’m a victim of my own conversation,” Chas gave her a half-smile. “What’s up?”

  “The Chief of Police is on line three for you.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll take that call, and then I’ll be headed out for a while.”

  “Great, I’ll take messages,” she smiled and went back to her desk.

  Sitting back down, he picked up the receiver on his desk phone.

  “Good morning, Chief. I’ve been meaning to give you a call,” he answered.

  “I got your email regarding Solinsky and the homicide victim. What’s your plan of attack on this one?”

  “I tried calling the stalker, Blake Mauzey, just now, and of course, there’s no answer on his cell, so I was about to head out to his workplace.”

  “Good plan. Catch him off guard,” the Chief approved. “Let me know how it goes. And be very careful on this case. I want everything done by the book.”

  “That’s the plan,” Chas agreed.

  **

  “These gingerbread cupcakes are the best things ever,” Echo raved, savoring the bite.

  “You always say that about new flavors,” Missy smiled, but her friend could see that something was bothering her.

  “Okay, what’s wrong? You’re doing that, ‘I’m going to put on a brave face for the world, but I’m really upset,’ thing that you do. Out with it, lady. What’s bothering you?”

  Missy stared at her perceptive friend for a moment, then dropped her head into her hands, staring at the tabletop.

  “Come on, it’ll make you feel better if you talk about it,” Echo encouraged. “Did you have your talk with Chas?”

  “Yes, we talked. It was good. We cleared the air between us, but…”

  “But…?” Echo encouraged.

  “But he still refused to say whether or not he thinks we’re ready to adopt Kaylee,” a tear plopped onto the table, and Missy wiped it away with the cuff of her sleeve.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that we don’t even know if we’re going to have the opportunity, because her father’s family still hasn’t been ruled out as potential guardians.”

  “Well…that’s true…” Echo frowned, not knowing why Missy was so upset by that.

  “Yes, but what I want him to say is that if she’s available, we’ll adopt her because we’re ready,” the tears splashed more rapidly on the table now.

  “Are you?” Echo asked quietly.

  “Am I what?”

  “Are you ready to adopt a child? It would be a radical life change for you both.”

  Missy stared at her best friend as if she’d just turned into a dragon.

  “Were you ready for a child when you found out that you were pregnant?” she challenged.

  “No, absolutely not, and some of this whole parenting thing has been utterly terrifying,” Echo admitted. “That’s why I’m asking. You’ll be responsible for the care and upbringing of a little human who’s been through hell and back.”

  “You don’t think I’ve thought of all those things? I’m not nine, Echo. I’m a responsible adult and it’s making me really upset that the people who are supposed to love me the most aren’t seeing me that way,” Missy blurted.

  “Hey, hold on there, tiger. I’m on your side, remember?” Echo held up her hands in surrender, shocked by her friend’s reaction.

  “Well, it’s really not seeming like that right now,” Missy’s jaw was set.

  “I think you need to calm down,” Echo stared at her. “I’m here for you, and always have been. You know that.”

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t deal with this right now,” Missy wiped her face and shook her head. “I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later,” she got up from the table so quickly that her chair legs clattered on the floor, nearly toppling.

  “Hey, don’t run away. Talk to me,” Echo pleaded, worried.

  “I’m fine, I’ll talk to you later,” Missy rushed toward the kitchen, not even bothering to turn around.

  Echo sat, staring after her, stunned, until finally Beulah came out and sat down across from her.

  “What’d you say to that girl?” she asked, frowning.

  “Nothing bad,” Echo murmured. “She just…flipped out. That’s so unlike her.”

  “That’s for sure. She’s back there banging pans around and muttering to herself. I ain’t never seen her like this,” Beulah pursed her lips. “I got some idea as to why, but I’ll be keeping that to myself for a bit.”

  “Beulah, if you know, tell me. What’s wrong with Missy? She’s my best friend and she just looked at me as though I’d mortally wounded her.”

&n
bsp; “It ain’t my place to say,” Beulah’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. “I’d best get myself back there and make sure she don’t make my cupcakes in the oven fall, with all that banging around,” she shuffled toward the kitchen.

  “What on earth is going on around here?” Echo wondered, standing to leave, the front of the shop eerily quiet.

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  “Hi, I’m looking for Blake Mauzey,” Chas flashed his badge at the reception desk in the Human Resources department at Calgon Community College.

  “Oh!” the young woman’s eyes went wide at the badge. “Excuse me for just a minute,” she said, and scurried down the hall, disappearing into a doorway on the right.

  Moments later, she returned, with a heavyset, disgruntled-looking man in tow.

  “Help you?” he growled at Chas.

  “I’m Detective Chas Beckett with Calgon PD, are you Blake Mauzey?”

  “No, I’m his boss, Rick Seibold, what can I do for you?”

  “I really need to speak with Mr. Mauzey, personally.”

  “That makes two of us,” Seibold groused.

  “Excuse me?” Chas frowned.

  “Mauzey hasn’t shown up for his shifts in two days.”

  Chas did a quick calculation. That meant that Blake Mauzey had started skipping his shifts beginning the morning after Maureen Gatling’s murder.

  “Is there somewhere that we can talk, privately?” he asked, his eyes darting toward the still very wide-eyed receptionist.

  “Yeah, come on back,” Rick opened a swinging door which led to the area behind the reception desk and stood back to let Chas through. The detective followed him down the hall and into the office from which he had emerged. It was a small space, with the only furniture consisting of a metal desk, a squeaking office chair, and a small chair for visitors, which was parked by the door. Seibold sat behind the desk and gestured to Chas to sit in the other chair. There were various parts, pieces and gadgets scattered around the office. The name plate on Rick’s desk identified him as Maintenance Supervisor.