Boston Cream Killer: Book 8 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Read online

  The artist gave her a measured look, then gazed with utter contempt upon the lunchtime interloper.

  “I certainly should,” he replied coldly.

  Betty handed him a large bag. “Here are your leftovers, hon. I threw a piece of pecan pie in there for good measure,” she said, pointedly glancing at the exit.

  “Thanks, Betty,” he took the bag and stood, still glaring at the stranger.

  Hannah merely smirked at him and waggled her fingers mockingly in a goodbye wave. The rest of the lunchtime crowd, who had been curiously watching the exchange, went back to their food and chatter.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Beckett,” Chas answered the phone as professionally as he could, given the volume of work with which he was currently dealing.

  “Hello, my name is Darla… is this Detective Chas Beckett?” a sweet, somewhat timid voice asked on the other end of the line.

  “Yes, speaking. What can I do for you?” He made a Herculean effort to sound cordial.

  “Well, I… I was just wondering… umm… I mean, I was just hired by your family’s company, Beckett Holding Corporation, and it seems to me that something is really wrong, and that there are some bad things happening…” the woman trailed off uncertainly as Chas pulled on his tie to loosen it, biting back a sigh of frustration.

  “I’m sorry, Darla. I’m afraid that I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I can’t help you, so if you don’t mind…” he had the receiver halfway back to his desk phone when he heard her protesting on the other end.

  “Please, Mr. Beckett, don’t hang up. They’re going to blame you for it. If you’re not involved, you need to…” and the line went dead. Hannah’s smirk turned the corners of her mouth up, and she felt invigorated at having made first contact with her target. Darla had been her stepmother’s name, and she always felt wonderfully vindictive when she used it as her alias.

  Chas stared at the receiver, wondering what on earth that had been about. He’d give Chalmers, his deceased father’s former manservant and current overseer of the corporation, a call later, after he’d waded through the morass of paperwork that threatened to drag him under. He was waist deep in an incident report when his phone rang again.

  “Beckett,” he barked, sounding harsher than he’d intended.

  “Hey Chas, it’s Kel,” the artist replied tentatively, now wondering if there might be some small bit of truth to what the nasty woman in the diner had said about his friend.

  “Hey Kel, what’s up?”

  “Well, I hope that I didn’t catch you at a bad time; I was just calling to see if you might be able to meet me for a drink this evening.”

  “Oh geez, man, I’d love to, but I’m just snowed under right now. Can I take a raincheck?” Chas asked, truly hating to have to say no.

  “Of course, no worries,” his friend assured him, troubled. “Another time.”

  “Thanks for the invite. As soon as I get caught up, it’s a go,” the detective promised.

  “I’ll be looking forward to it.” Kel hung up the phone and tented his fingers under his chin, thinking. He picked up his phone again, this time to call his fiancée.

  “Hey hot stuff, what’s up?” Echo asked, delighted to hear from her beloved in the middle of a work day.

  “Can you and Missy possibly meet me for drinks tonight?” he asked.

  “Well, I know I can, and it’ll surprise me if Missy can’t. She’s up to her elbows in guests and would probably love a chance to escape. When and where?”

  Kel gave her the details and hung up, wanting to go back to his work but suddenly feeling very troubled.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Joyce Rutledge was stacking books on the shelves in the cozy mystery section of Echo’s bookstore, her favorite section by far, when the door opened and quite possibly the most attractive man she’d ever seen entered. Echo had run out to the Pita Palace down the street, a vegan and vegetarian deli, to grab them some lunch, so Joyce unconsciously brushed her hands off on the folds of her red eyelet skirt and approached the man, who was standing in the candle shop, glancing about.

  “Hello,” she greeted him with a wide smile. “Can I help you with something?” Oh how she’d like to help him with something…

  “You must be Joyce. It’s great to meet you finally. I’m Spencer Bengal,” the tattooed young man with shoulder-length flowing dark hair said, extending his hand.

  Joyce shook it, willing her palms to stay dry.

  “You’re Spencer? The gentleman who helps Echo make her candles?” she asked, kicking herself for being so amazed. She had honestly pictured a middle-aged man with glasses and a nervous tic when Echo had told her about her helper.

  “Among other things, yes,” he grinned, making that handsome face even more attractive, if that was possible. “I also work at the Beach House B&B and Cupcakes in Paradise, too.”

  Spencer was a Marine veteran who lived in the basement at the inn, so that he’d be available whenever Missy or Chas needed him, but there was much more to the warm, intelligent young man than he was letting on.

  “You work at a cupcake place and have abs like that?” Joyce pursed her lips, blatantly eyeing his muscular midsection.

  “I work out,” he shrugged with a smile.

  “I can see that,” Joyce fanned herself unconsciously.

  This Adonis was right about her age, and was making her keenly aware that it had been a very long time since her last date. Spencer did his best not to blush at her compliment. Despite his movie-star good looks, he was shy, and sometimes found himself tongue-tied around women his age. He was getting better, largely from being around Izzy Gillmore, the reclusive but lovely horror author so much, but he still could be rattled pretty easily by a pretty face.

  “So, uh… is Echo around?” he asked, the tips of his ears burning under Joyce’s scrutiny.

  “She went to get us some lunch. You can hang out here with me until she gets back if you’d like,” she blatantly flirted.

  Spencer paused for a moment, feeling intensely disloyal, but entirely unable to take his gaze away from the dramatic planes of Joyce’s face, her large dark eyes, and silky chocolate skin. Every fiber of him was aware of her, and he felt like a world-class heel when he breathed in more deeply just to try to catch more of the scent of her perfume.

  “I have to… uh… that is, I can’t… umm…” he struggled.

  “Oh look, there she is,” Joyce looked a bit crestfallen, but waved cheerily when her boss came in the door.

  Spencer let out an audible sigh of relief, causing Joyce to grin from ear to ear.

  “Hey, Spence! What brings you here, Tiger?” Echo asked, hugging the befuddled Marine.

  “Oh, I uh… I just,” he frowned, kicking himself for losing his focus.

  “Did you come by to pick up the candles for the inn?” she asked, noting his deep blush and wanting to help him out.

  His gratitude was palpable. “Yep, that’s what I need,” he exhaled.

  “Come with me,” Echo beckoned with one finger, and he followed her after saying a quick goodbye to Joyce, who watched with great interest and much appreciation as he walked away.

  “Lord have mercy, I need me a cup of tea after that,” she sighed, fanning herself and heading to the kitchen.

  When Joyce returned to the front, blowing on her cup of tea to cool it, Spencer had gone, and Echo was talking with a woman who didn’t look like a books and candles kind of customer. When the woman caught sight of Joyce from the corner of her eye, she did a double-take. Seeing the mug of tea in her hand, she called out to her.

  “Oh, I’ll take an espresso if you don’t mind. Thanks so much,” the woman smiled in a most patronizing way.

  Joyce looked at Echo, eyebrows raised, and Echo returned her gaze, then looked at her customer, aghast. Hannah, wondering why everyone was staring at her and no one was moving, turned back to Joyce.

  “Well, go on, girl. Do I have to pay you in advance or something?” she f
rowned.

  Joyce put down her mug of tea, chin jutting forward, gearing up for the tirade that she was about to unleash on the rude stranger, when Echo let out a gasp of shock.

  “We don’t serve espresso, and in any case, Joyce is not… she’s more educated and intelligent than I am,” she said to Hannah, wide-eyed.

  Hannah looked back and forth from Joyce to Echo and back again, realizing her faux pas, but not terribly upset by it.

  “Oh, I see. My mistake,” she smiled and waved her hand as though to erase the whole matter. “I thought…” she trailed off.

  “Yeah,” Joyce’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you thought,” she accused, grabbing her mug of tea and heading to the storage room for more books, muttering to herself all the while.

  “Wow, I can never figure out why they are so sensitive like that all the time,” Hannah whispered to Echo after Joyce had gone.

  “They?” Echo’s blood boiled. “Just what… precisely… do you mean when you say ‘they’?” she asked, her teeth clamped together.

  “Well… I mean… the help, you know, employees,” she shrugged, not backing down an inch, and seemingly unfazed by the seething woman in front of her. “You know how they can be.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t, because I’m not small-minded enough to try to classify people in that manner. I do, however, know what I’m like, and because I know what I’m like, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, before it gets ugly in here,” Echo whispered, bringing her face alarmingly close to Hannah’s.

  “Is everyone in this backwater burg always so hostile?” Hannah complained as Echo stepped even closer. “Fine, get out of my face, I’m going,” she sniffed. “It’s not like I have any interest in anything that you’d have to sell anyway.”

  “You mean like intellectual masterpieces of great literature? I can see how you wouldn’t be interested in those. They’re for people of intelligence. Now get out,” the incensed owner growled, walking quickly behind the exiting woman to make certain that she didn’t even think about turning around.

  Hannah nearly plowed into Spencer, who had been lingering near the front entrance, catching snippets of the uncomfortable conversation.

  “Well,” she said, brushing past and turning around to take in the Marine from head to toe. “Apparently there is some scenery in this town worth looking at after all.”

  There was no blushing this time around, Spencer merely stared at the woman, memorizing her features, his face like stone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kel sat in the Clam Shell, a quiet bar overlooking the water, stirring his swizzle stick round and round in his drink, waiting for Missy and Echo. He’d been quiet and withdrawn all day, and wasn’t looking forward to sharing what he’d overheard with Missy, but he thought that Chas should know about it, no matter how busy he was, so his wife could break it to him when she had a chance.

  “Hey handsome,” Echo sang out, wrapping her arms around Kel’s neck from behind and scooting around beside him to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  “Oh, my lovely, you’re quite the sight for sore eyes,” he smiled at his bride-to-be.

  Hearing his tone, Echo’s radar immediately began flashing warning signals, but he saw her look of concern and met it with one of reassurance, in the kind of unspoken communication that couples who endure have mastered.

  “Hey Kel, good to see you,” Missy greeted him with a hug and kiss as well. “We missed you this morning, but Echo said that you have some exciting work going on.”

  His two favorite ladies took chairs opposite him, and the server approached, taking their drink order, then slipping away.

  “So, what’s the occasion?” Echo got right to the point, knowing that something was making her fiancé uneasy. She had a disquieting moment, where she wondered if he wanted to call off the engagement or something, but one look in his eyes assured her that that was definitely not the case.

  “I had a very strange encounter with a woman today, and I think that Chas needs to be aware of it,” he began with a sigh.

  Missy and Echo glanced at each other, eyebrows nearly into their hairlines, and then back at Kel.

  “What happened, sugar?” Missy asked.

  Before Kel could recount the things that he’d overheard in the diner, Spencer came in and made a beeline for Missy.

  “Hey, Spence,” Missy greeted the Marine with a smile.

  Hugs and handshakes were exchanged all around and Spencer told Missy that Chas had dropped by the inn after she’d left to grab a quick sandwich, but that he’d be at work until late into the evening, catching up on his paperwork.

  “Well, there’s another chair, won’t you join us for a drink?” Kel asked, ever the socially perfect one.

  Spencer sat, ordering only a ginger ale, and Kel proceeded to tell his tale of the encounter with the woman at the diner.

  “Wow, she sounds like a piece of work. I wonder what she’s up to… and why,” Missy’s sunshiny disposition clouded over like an approaching storm.

  “I have no idea, but I thought that Chas should know. I invited him out for a drink tonight, but as we’ve all just heard, he’s much too busy right now. I thought that if I told you, you could let him know at your first opportunity.”

  “Do you think we should though?” Missy chewed her bottom lip. “I mean; we are usually pretty darn good at figuring these types of things out on our own. What if we did a bit of investigating before bothering him with yet another issue? Maybe we can find out what’s going on and fix it,” she suggested.

  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am,” Spencer said quietly, before anyone else could speak.

  Kel, Echo, and Missy went silent, turning to look at the young man.

  “What makes you say that, Spence?” Echo asked.

  The Marine chose his words carefully, but maintained a casual air, despite the alarm bells going off in his head. Someone was trying to get information about Chas, and he wanted to know why. Spencer Bengal was far from just a handyman at the inn, though no one but Chas knew that. He’d been handpicked by the detective’s father to serve as a sort of bodyguard, which Chas had been shocked to discover only a few weeks ago. The Marine had gone through some extremely specialized training, and had been groomed from an early age for his position.

  “I just think that, since Chas is in law enforcement, we have to be very careful about how this is handled. There are all sorts of dangerous people out there.”

  “But, it’s just a woman talking about his family business. She may be rude, but how dangerous could she be, really?” Missy asked.

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that she’s here at all? Kel said that she isn’t from Calgon. If that’s the case, who is she? Where is she from? And why is she here at all?” the young man challenged.

  “She could be on vacation,” Echo shrugged.

  “Anything is possible,” Kel replied. “But I’m inclined to agree with Spencer on this one. It just seems a bit odd.”

  Missy and Echo shared a glance and suddenly became very interested in their cocktails.

  “Your minds are already made up,” the artist sighed, shaking his head. He looked at Spencer as though waiting for him to come up with a better solution. The Marine seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts.

  “I just think that we can do a little bit of research before bothering Chas with this,” Missy patted Kel’s hand, trying to reassure him.

  “Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” he sighed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Detective Chas Beckett had had a late night at the office, and his morning had been yet another foray into the quagmire of bureaucracy piled on his desk. To clear his head and stretch his muscles a bit, he decided to take the short walk to Betty’s diner to have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, while it was still cool, before the smothering humidity of the Calgon summer day descended.

  “Mornin’, Detective,” Betty called out, when Chas entered the diner.

&nb
sp; Most of the early morning crowd had dispersed. There were a few occupied booths, but the counter was mercifully empty, and before he even had to ask, Betty had poured the detective a cup of coffee and sat it down on the counter, along with a paper placemat and a roll of silverware.

  “Good morning, Betty,” he replied, taking a seat. Betty provided him with some great intel at times, and he knew that she could be trusted to be discreet. “How did you know?” he gave her a crooked smile and reached for the coffee.

  “Oh honey, I’ve been working in this diner my whole life, I know when a man desperately needs a strong cuppa joe,” a corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile.

  “You are truly an angel of mercy,” he smiled, taking the first sip.

  “I’m no angel, but I do make a mean batch of hotcakes,” she looked at Chas expectantly.

  “Prove it,” he fired back, enjoying his coffee. “And throw some bacon on that plate while you’re at it, please.”

  “You got it,” Betty tucked her pen into her apron pocket.

  She delivered the hot, fluffy pancakes, topped with a melting ball of whipped butter, four perfectly crispy strips of bacon, and a pitcher of warm, thick maple syrup to the stressed-out man in front of her, and leaned in a bit, looking around to see that no one was watching.

  “Someone was asking about you yesterday,” she confided in a low voice as she set down the food.

  “Oh?” Chas had already picked up his fork and was using it to cut a perfect triangle of golden-brown pancake.

  “Attractive woman, looked like she’d been around the block a few times if you know what I mean. Tried real hard to look like “normal folk,” but had a thousand dollar haircut and wore shoes that cost more than my car payment,” Betty said, casually wiping the already clean counter.

  “What was she asking?” the detective dug into his breakfast, listening carefully.

  “She was more… insinuating rather than asking. Said your family was involved in some shady business dealings. I had to practically strap Kellerman into his seat, she had him so wound up,” she refilled his coffee cup for the second time already.