Vanilla Bean Killer Page 3

  Why on earth had she reacted to the receptionist that way? So what if the new girl was attractive and efficient and her brand-new suit didn’t dare to even suggest having a wrinkle in it. Business was business, and she and Spencer were dating. He probably didn’t even spare the perfect-skinned young woman a second glance… right?

  The young author had no idea that her worries were needless, Spencer hadn’t even been in the building. If she’d wanted to find him, she would have had to look in a very different place indeed.

  ***

  Phillip “Kel” Kellerman was a locally raised, internationally renowned artist, who just happened to be married to Missy’s best friend, Echo Willis. The couple had just had a baby girl a few months ago, and life was grand. Seeing Spencer Bengal at their front door was an unexpected treat for both of them.

  “Spencer, great to see you,” Kel shook his hand and led him into the spacious, appropriately gallery-like home. “Echo and Jasmine are out in the garden getting some air, do you have time for coffee or tea?”

  “Actually, I need to discuss something with you that I’d rather not share with anyone else,” Spencer got straight to the point and Kel stopped in his tracks.

  “I see. Let me show you to my office and I’ll let Echo know that I’m going to be tied up for a few minutes.”

  Spencer had just gotten seated in the ultra-modern leather chair across Kel’s desk when the artist came back in, bearing two club sodas with delicate slices of lime.

  “We can’t have civilized conversation without at least a bit of refreshment,” he announced, setting Spencer’s glass down on a coaster that was a reproduction of a famous splatter painting.

  “You read my mind,” the young man accepted the drink gratefully.

  “Now, what can I do for you? I trust all is well in your world?” Kel’s eyes probed the cobalt ones in front of him.

  “For the most part, yes, but Chas and I have stumbled into some interesting circumstances that I think you might be shed some light upon.”

  The artist’s eyes sparkled. There were few things that Kel enjoyed more than good gossip and a good mystery. He knew just about everyone in Calgon, having been born and raised there, and had been a tremendous resource for Chas in the past. “Do tell,” he raised his eyebrows, a smile beginning to form at the corners of his mouth.

  “This is more of a show thing than a tell thing,” Spencer said carefully. “Do you own any casual clothes?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  One of the landscapers who was working on a far corner of Missy and Chas’s new back yard yelled in alarm, “Boss! Hey Boss!”

  Landscape architect Kaplan Bartlett sighed heavily and, wiping his face with a towel hanging from his belt, started off toward the back corner to see what all the fuss was about. It seemed that few things on this job had gone well. It had been one unpleasant surprise after another, but now that the sinkholes were eliminated, the pool had been repaired, and the rear plaza rebuilt, he’d hoped that things would have started getting better.

  “What is it now, Jones?” Kap asked, striding to the location where the landscaper had been clearing brush and digging out a perimeter for a new stone and stucco wall that would surround the property. The old one had begun to deteriorate and would need to be replaced.

  As the architect got closer, he saw that the landscaper’s eyes were so wide, he could prominently see the whites. The seasoned laborer looked scared to death. Thinking that a large reptile might be involved, Kap grabbed a hoe on his way over to the man.

  “What have you got?” he asked, surveying the grounds in the immediate vicinity for danger.

  “Back there,” Jones pointed. “I ain’t going back there again,” he shook his head vehemently. “No way.”

  Kap stepped behind a stand of palms, surrounded by sharp, prickly palmettos and saw what the landscaper had discovered, his face blanching.

  “I’m shutting this down right now,” he said quietly, leading the shaken man back toward the house. “This whole operation stops right now, and I’m calling the cops.”

  ***

  When Spencer arrived, with Kel in tow, both clad in clothing that looked like it should be headed for the rag bag, he was astonished to find what looked like the entire homicide department of the Calgon PD, securing the property. Tapping on his smartwatch, he sent Chas a quick 911 text, letting him know to come to the house immediately.

  “Back it up fellas. Crime scene,” a heavily sweating man in a bad polyester suit barked at them when they entered the back yard.

  They’d made their way past all of the uniformed cops that were in the area, having been recognized by them as being friends of Chas’s. Neither Kel nor Spencer had any clue who this overheated dictator was.

  “I live here,” Spencer said quietly, trying to gauge the situation.

  The coroner, Timothy Eckels, was over in the far corner of the back yard with his assistant Fiona, which meant that a body, or bodies, had been found. Forensics techs roamed all over the grounds, collecting samples, measuring, and taking photos.

  “Sure you do, sonny,” the man made a face. “You and your pal go sit down on the patio,” he gestured vaguely toward the pool plaza. “Someone will take your statements in a few.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” Spencer began.

  The shorter, stouter man got right up in the face of the Marine. “No, pal, you don’t understand. I said get your tail up on that patio and cooperate, or I’m going to have to arrest you for obstruction. Am I making myself clear, here?” he blustered, while Kel stood looking on, nonplussed.

  “My good man, there’s really no reason to be…” the artist began, trying to defuse the situation.

  “Shut it, Sally,” the man snapped.

  “What’s going on here?” Chas interjected, having just arrived. Fortunately, he’d been on his way home for lunch when Spencer had sent out the emergency text.

  “Who the heck is supposed to be securing the perimeter for cryin’ out loud?” the man shouted, looking in all directions as uniformed policemen avoided his gaze.

  “I’m Chas Beckett, the owner of this property. You mind telling me what’s going on?” Chas asked, pinning the man down with a look.

  “Beckett,” the man made a face and shook his head. “Of course. That’s just my luck,” he sighed.

  “And you are?” the PI raised an eyebrow.

  “Art Solinsky. Head of Homicide, Calgon PD,” his face bore a look which seemed like he’d just swallowed sour milk.

  “You’re the new guy,” Chas observed coolly, seeing his replacement for the first time. “I had thought that the job would be going to Miranda Ellson from Connecticut.”

  “Well, apparently the chief made a different choice,” Solinsky’s voice dripped resentment. “You got a problem with that?”

  Ignoring the man’s obvious aggression, chalking it up to insecurity over his new position, Chas took the high road.

  “I’m glad you’re on the scene. What have we got?” the PI asked, striding toward the back corner of the yard at a brisk case, the shorter man trotting to keep up.

  “Beckett,” he barked, halting Chas’s forward motion for a moment. “The way I see it, we ain’t got nothin. Now, me, I got a homicide I’m working, cuz that’s my job. Last I heard, it ain’t your job no more. Do we understand each other?” he challenged, hitching up the waistband of his polyester slacks as sweat trickled down his cheeks from his receding hairline.

  Chas paused for a second before speaking.

  “Solinsky, I know what it’s like to be the new guy in town. I get it, okay? It’s my understanding that I’m supposed to be providing support for you for the first few weeks that you’re in town. Just until you learn the ropes. So let’s get to the scene, and you can brief me.”

  “Listen up, Mr. Private Investigator, you may be a big shot in this town, but homicide is my gig now, and I ain’t about to let no moneybags PI throw his weight around in my juris
diction, you got that?”

  Before Chas could form a response, Fiona McCammish, assistant to the town’s only mortician and coroner, approached the men.

  “Hey Detective Beckett,” she addressed Chas with a smile. “Tim wants to go over some of his observations with you before we head out in the meat wagon.”

  “If the coroner has something to say, he’ll be saying it to me, doll,” Solinsky interrupted rudely, appraising Fiona in a manner that made her blood boil.

  Seeing that the situation was about to explode, Chas took Fiona by the arm, leading her toward the scene, where her boss waited. Solinsky had no choice but to follow, having to break into a jog at times, while huffing and puffing behind the fit PI and coroner’s Assistant.

  “Let’s go talk to Tim,” had been Chas’s only direction, giving Fiona an apologetic look.

  The intrepid coroner crouched beside a depression in the earth right below where the original perimeter wall had stood. He came to his feet and nodded a greeting to Chas, glancing over the PI’s shoulder at the man who was steaming toward them, and dismissing him as non-consequential.

  “Tim,” Chas greeted him. “What are your thoughts?”

  “Looks like he’s been here anywhere from eight to twelve years, based upon the degree of decomposition, so it’s not a recent victim,” the coroner replied. “He’s in the fetal position, so it looks like a post-mortem burial at least, but I’ll have to take him to the morgue to determine the cause of death.”

  “How did the skeleton stay intact?” Chas asked, his keen eyes taking in everything around the depression in the earth.

  “Apparently, whomever buried him was very careful to build the wall around him. It became a tomb of sorts,” Tim observed, pushing his coke-bottle thick glasses up his nose with the back of his gloved wrist. “There is one other thing…”

  “What is it?” Chas asked, just as Solinsky came huffing up to the graveside.

  Tim glanced at the new detective, then back at Chas. “I’ll be in touch,” he replied.

  “How close are we to wrapping this thing up, Eckels?” Solinsky demanded, still trying to catch his breath.

  “Fiona and I will have the deceased removed within an hour,” Tim replied stiffly, measuring the man with a glance.

  “Well, let’s quit standing around and gawking and get to it, then. I’ve already missed out on my lunch. And as for you, Beckett, you are not on this case, you are not on the force any longer, and I ain’t gonna share nothin’ about this case with you, got it?”

  “However ill-informed you may be, you do speak with confidence, I’ll give you that, Solinsky,” Chas responded without answering Solinsky. “Spence, Kel, may I have a word?” he asked the two men who had followed him to the scene. They fell in step with him and headed back to the house.

  “This guy’s going to be a problem,” Spencer commented when they were out of earshot.

  “He called me Sally,” Kel frowned.

  “If that stiff is who I think he is, Arthur Solinsky is the least of our worries,” Chas replied. “We’ve gotta get this wrapped up in a hurry. We’ve got feds in the area, and now Solinsky is sniffing around.”

  “Fortunately, he doesn’t strike me as being overly brilliant,” Spencer observed.

  “No, but from what I understand, he’s tenacious. When a dog digs for a bone long enough and hard enough, he usually ends up finding one,” Chas sighed.

  “What an apt metaphor for our situation,” Kel remarked.

  The other two men turned and stared at him for a few seconds.

  “What? It’s true,” the artist put his palms up.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  “Hey darlin!” Missy sang out when Chas entered Cupcakes in Paradise. It was a rare treat for him to stop by in the middle of the afternoon, but when she saw the look on his face, her sweet smile disappeared, replaced by a worried frown. “What is it, what happened?” she asked, drying her hands on a towel and rushing toward her husband.

  “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” he cautioned. “The landscapers were in the process of replacing the rear wall of the property, and they… found something. That’s all.”

  “Found something?” Missy heart sank, thinking that there was yet another thing wrong with the property. “What did they find?”

  “Remains. Human remains.” At his wife’s startled look, Chas held up a hand. “Now, they’re quite old, so there’s nothing to be worried about. We just need to do some investigating, and in the meantime, it’ll probably be easier on the police if we stay elsewhere.”

  What the PI wasn’t telling Missy was that since a body had been discovered, he thought staying in the house for the time being might be dangerous; the detective also smelled a mystery with the box behind Spencer’s cottage, which the Marine had cleverly disguised with a locked, double-portable toilet shell on top of it. The feds might see through that tactic, but chances were slim that Solinsky would.

  “This is my fault,” Missy murmured, horrified that yet another awful thing was connected with the house. “The realtor showed us all of those beautiful homes and I had to fall in love with the old, abandoned one that has all these problems,” she shook her head.

  “Hey,” Chas took her in his arms. “Our house is amazing. It’s going to be a wonderful, warm, happy place to enjoy each other and our friends and family. We’ll get past this, there’s no way you could have known about or predicted any of the things that have gone wrong.”

  He squeezed her tight, then pushed back a bit so that he could smile at her. “We’re going to make this into an opportunity, not a loss,” he assured her.

  “How?” Missy was unconvinced.

  “We’re going to treat it like a vacation. We’re going to be staying with Echo and Kel while the investigation continues, so you and your bestie can have a slumber party every night, and you’ll get lots of baby love from Jasmine.”

  “What about the dogs though?” Missy worried, thinking about her golden retriever, Toffee, and maltipoo, Bitsy. “Will we have to board them?”

  “Are you kidding?” Chas grinned, having anticipated the question. “Echo and Kel love the ‘girls’ as much as we do. They’ve been set up with their own doggie suite in the house, and an obstacle course for the back yard is in progress.”

  Missy put her hands to her face, overcome by the love and generosity of her friends.

  “I’ll bake cupcakes,” she managed to choke out.

  “I knew you would, my love,” Chas smiled and kissed his wife.

  ***

  After the first dinner hosted by Echo and Kel, the men had retired to Kel’s study to talk about the case with Spencer, who was still staying in his cottage on the new property. The women changed into comfy clothes and settled in for some serious girl time. Jasmine had gone down for the night, so her lovely fiery-haired mother was able to focus all of her attention on good times and conversation with Missy.

  “How you holding up?” she asked simply, as her friend bustled about the kitchen like it was her own, taking out all of the supplies she’d need for experimenting with cupcake flavors.

  Missy tended to bake… a lot… when she was stressed, so Echo would be supplied with vegan versions of every new flavor of cupcake that her friend invented, for quite some time.

  “Feeling guilty,” Missy admitted with a shrug.

  “Guilty?” Echo put down her mug of lemon tea and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  Missy stopped her ingredient hunt for a moment and turned toward her friend.

  “Yes, guilty. It’s my fault that we bought this house, and now we have to deal with all of these issues. Chas is being really sweet about it, but I really think that I should’ve just picked a ready-made uncomplicated house,” she sighed.

  Echo smiled indulgently. “Wait, let me see… who was the person who actually bought the house after you went to see it?” she asked pointedly.

  “Chas did, but it was because he knew I wanted i
t.”

  “Uh-huh, and who agreed with you wholeheartedly on the project from the very beginning?” the redhead continued to make her point.

  “Well, yes he agreed, but…”

  “But nothing. Don’t you see? You two made this decision together, you’ll work out the kinks together, and then you’ll enjoy it… together. Isn’t that what you want?” Echo challenged gently.

  “Of course it is, but I just wish that ‘working out the kinks,’ meant more replacing windows rather than finding bodies buried on the property. It would be so nice to have normal issues like other people,” she smiled ruefully.

  “Meh, normal is overrated,” Echo dismissed the sentiment with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been far from normal my entire life and I think it’s worked out wonderfully,” she grinned. “You’ll get through this, I promise,” she reached across the kitchen island for Missy’s hand and squeezed it. “And in the meantime, I plan to stuff myself with all the cupcakes that you invent. What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

  Thankful for the reassurance and change of subject, Missy smiled. “Peanut butter and marshmallow crème,” she announced.

  “Perfect,” Echo nodded her approval.

  ***

  Spencer Bengal skirted around the back of the Beckett property to avoid the eyes of police who were in the area, taking a path that federal agents would least expect as well. From his time in the government, he knew thought processes of federal agents, making avoiding and evading them fairly easy. He really didn’t feel like dealing with them. His ability to focus on the task at hand would be made much more difficult with the feds on his heels.

  Slipping silently through the trees and undergrowth like a shadow with no form or substance, the Marine made his way to the “portable toilets” that were perched above the box that had been unearthed, and made his way inside. The heavy plastic shell was just that—the floor was removable, and once Spencer was securely locked inside, he pulled it up and leaned it against one side of the shell, which seemed from the inside much like a hard plastic tent.