Entitled to Murder (Hawg Heaven Cozy Mysteries Book 6) Read online

  “What do you mean ‘something?’” his eyes grew round as he considered the possibilities.

  “I mean like a candy wrapper that he might have dropped or something that would show the police which way to go,” Rossie reassured him hurriedly.

  “Oh.”

  Their eyes were on the ground as they scanned every inch in front of them. Everything was picked up and bagged. Every cigarette butt, every scrap of paper was collected to be carefully scrutinized later; unfortunately, nothing of substance had yet been found. Police dogs were on the hunt, noses to the ground, as was Barney, who looked like he’d been trained to do that kind of work.

  The search had gone on for hours, and volunteers were regrouping at the starting point with twilight approaching, when suddenly Barney bayed long and deep, signaling that he’d found something. He was pawing at a patch of grass, hackles raised, while police and sheriff’s deputies shouted for the volunteers to stay back.

  “Good boy,” Officer Morgan Tyler approached the dog slowly, but Barney remained fixated on a spot in the grass. When the Chatsworth police and just about the entirety of the sheriff’s department had surrounded the incredibly focused animal, the looks on their faces turned grim.

  “Release,” Morgan said quietly, and Barney gave a good snuffle before returning to Ryan’s side.

  “Y’all just go ahead on home now. We can continue in the morning,” Sheriff Buckley Willis bellowed at the murmuring crowd, without further explanation. “Go on now, we got an investigation to conduct,” he motioned with his hand to get folks moving.

  “What do you think Barney found, Mom?” Ryan asked, stroking the dog’s long ears.

  “I don’t know, Rye, but whatever it was must’ve been pretty important.”

  ***

  “You and your boys can go ahead and take off, we got this from here,” Buckley Willis dismissed Officer Morgan Tyler, hitching his pants up and brimming with self-importance.

  “We’re going to need all the manpower that we can get on this one, Willis, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that I’ve got jurisdiction on this one,” Morgan’s brow creased.

  “County line is less than a mile that way,” the sheriff jabbed a finger in the air. “I said we got this,” he turned away. “I’ll let you know if we need more search teams.”

  The forensics team had already been busy taking swabs of the blood spots that Barney had found, and were looking for trace evidence in the area. Frustrated, Morgan shook his head and headed back to his patrol car, hating the fact that a teenager’s life might be resting in the hands of Sheriff Buckley Willis. He’d have to fight for jurisdiction on this case. Willis might think that he’d won, but there was no way that Morgan Tyler was going to cede the case to the blustering buffoon.

  ***

  Chanelle Ellington-Brigman was a mess. Her normally perfectly coiffed hair was tousled from the many times that she’d unconsciously run her fingers through it in frustration, her eyes were puffy and void of makeup after two days of sobbing, and her nose was a dark and alarming shade of red. Her doctor had prescribed a sedative, but she refused to take it, resolved to be awake and fully coherent when the news came in that they’d found her son. She wouldn’t even consider any other alternative. Wentworth would be coming home, it was only a matter of time. When her husband even tried to suggest otherwise, she’d shut him down immediately with a sharp retort and an icy glare.

  Wentworth Harrington Brigman Jr. took his wife’s hand and brought it briefly to his lips.

  “Sweetheart,” he began in a soft voice. “They found blood. I just want you to prepare for…”

  “You stop that kind of talk right now,” she snatched her hand away and her eyes accused him. “I won’t have it, Harry. I simply won’t have it.”

  “What do you propose we do?” Harry sighed. All the money in the world couldn’t overcome his feelings of helplessness.

  “Forget relying upon these incompetent hayseeds for one thing. Find a professional and pay them enough to make this their top priority. Don’t you know someone? What about the heir of the Beckett fortune? Didn’t I hear something about him becoming a private investigator or some such nonsense?”

  When Chanelle went into business mode, there was no trifling with her, she was a hard-nosed negotiator who always got what she wanted… no matter how impossible it might seem.

  “Chas Beckett? I believe I heard something about that, yes, but he’s certainly not local,” Harry frowned.

  “So much the better. Find him and get him here. Yesterday,” her voice was low and invited no opposition.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he kissed her hand again and went to make arrangements.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  *

  Ryan Channing sat on the steps of the front porch, leaning against Barney and looking dejected. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear Tom Hundman approach, only looking up when the biker’s shadow fell across the sidewalk in front of him.

  “Worried about your buddy?” he asked.

  “Yeah, and other stuff,” Ryan admitted, staring at the dog. He wasn’t avoiding eye contact, he was merely seeking refuge in his loyal pet’s adoration.

  “Your dad?” Tom guessed.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “How do you know him?” Ryan looked up and even stopped petting Barney.

  “We were in the military together a long time ago,” this time Tom avoided Ryan’s eyes.

  “He hasn’t come around much, and I don’t know why Mom is avoiding him. All she did when she thought he was dead was cry and cry. He’s back now. I just don’t get why she isn’t happy. Why can’t things just go back to the way they were?”

  “People change, kid. Life ain’t simple.”

  “She’s always said she really loved him, though. Was she just making all that up? Why wouldn’t she love him?” Ryan turned his head away as tears welled in his eyes. “I’m glad he’s back, why can’t she be?” he choked out, wrapping his arms around his knees and laying his head down. Barney lapped at his ear, then settled down with a sigh.

  Tom swallowed hard, his heart going out to the suffering boy.

  “You know, one of the hardest things in this world is saying goodbye to someone you love. Runs over your soul like a bulldozer, but eventually you get through it. You let go, and you get on with your life. That’s what your mom did. That’s what she had to do, partly so she could take care of you. It ain’t easy coming back from that. It ain’t easy learning that you let go when you didn’t have to.”

  “I never let go,” Ryan muttered, his tone bitter.

  “She didn’t have a choice, kid, and you’d better be cutting her some slack on that,” Tom’s cobalt eyes bored into the sullen teenager’s. “I know you’re mad and confused and all that, but the last thing your mom needs right now is you looking at her like she’s the enemy. Everything she’s ever done has been for you, and you best remember that.”

  “Not true,” Ryan’s jaw jutted forward and he shook his head stubbornly. “If everything she did was for me, she and my dad would be together right now.”

  Tom shook his head.

  “That’s how you’re going to be? After as hard as she’s worked, after all she’s been through? You think she’s being selfish and difficult? Look in the mirror, kid, and think long and hard about the kind of man you wanna be,” the biker made a face and turned to go.

  “Why are you always on her side?” Ryan accused.

  “Maybe because she’s right most times. You might wanna consider that,” Tom took his parting shot and strode toward home, the original purpose of his visit forgotten.

  ***

  “Your wife and kid need you,” Tom said simply, taking in the sight of Will sitting with his back against the wall in his empty living room, a six-pack by his side.

  “I think you’re wrong there,” Will replied dully. It hurt his gut to say it, but he believed it to be true.

 
“You talk to her?” Tom sank to the floor a few feet away from his former brother-at-arms.

  “She won’t answer my calls or texts,” Will stared straight ahead.

  “I know for a fact you’ve got more brains and resources than that. You can’t give up on this, man. Get in there and fight for your family. They’re going through some stuff and could probably really stand having you around.”

  “Why do you care?” Will muttered, spinning a bottle cap next to his leg.

  When silence was Tom’s response, he looked up suddenly. “Oh… is that how it is? You got something going on with my wife?” his eyes narrowed.

  “No,” the biker replied quietly. “Seems like she can’t think of nothing but you,” his eyes were filled with accusation.

  “You love her,” Will deduced, shaking his head. “You love ’em both.”

  He’d been lurking around Chatsworth for months now, observing his wife and son. He’d seen Tom building models with Ryan, just like he used to, and it had ripped his heart from his chest. He’d seen the biker having coffee with his wife, watching out for her, rescuing her on more than one occasion, when he couldn’t intervene, for fear of revealing his presence too soon. Tom Hundman had followed Ryan to school at a discreet distance more times than he could count, making sure that the boy was safe when local police thought that Rossie had a stalker. She did have a stalker, her husband had been lurking in the shadows, loving her from afar, while Tom Hundman took care of her and their son, the way a husband and father should.

  “She’d be better off with you,” the defeated veteran mumbled. “I’m too far gone. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming back here.”

  “Don’t you give up on that woman,” Tom growled. “She loves you and she deserves better than this. Be a man… be a Marine, and get back into your life. She ain’t my wife, she’s yours, and you should be thankful that she is,” he stood. “Get yourself up off this filthy floor and take care of business, one way or another. Get in, or get out, but don’t leave a good woman hanging,” the biker directed, and then he was gone, leaving Will staring after him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  *

  Chas Beckett, a private investigator from Calgon, Florida, sat across from Chanelle and Harry Brigman in their opulent living room.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Beckett,” Chanelle was all business.

  Harry had met Chas several times before, at social functions on the Beckett estate in New York, but the two men weren’t close. Not that it mattered; Harry knew that his wife would be taking charge, even if he and Chas had been best friends for life.

  “I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have a child go missing. I got here as quickly as I could.” He and his junior associate, Spencer Bengal, a young Marine veteran, had flown up shortly after Harry had explained the situation, and were committed to staying in Illinois for as long as it took to track Dubya down. “I have to ask, do either of you have any idea who might’ve taken your son, assuming that he didn’t run away?”

  “First, let’s get one thing straight,” Chanelle’s mouth compressed briefly into a thin line. “Wentworth did not, I repeat, did not, run off. If you are going to operate under that assumption, we’re done here. You’re looking for a victim, not a miscreant, and we’re wasting valuable time if you believe otherwise.”

  “Noted. Please be aware that things will go much more quickly and smoothly for all of us if you simply answer my questions. I ask them for a reason and they are specifically designed to uncover important bits of information, whether they seem relevant at the time or not,” Chas met her gaze evenly. Chanelle Brigman might be a hard-nosed businesswoman, but she’d more than met her match in former detective Chas Beckett.

  Harry intervened, answering before his wife could fire Chas on the spot. “Of course, Chas, we’ll cooperate in every way. Whatever you need to aid in your investigation, you just let us know.”

  “Thank you. Now, can either of you think of anyone who might possibly want to get back at you for something, or who might be trying to set up a ransom situation? Kidnappings are often motivated by money.”

  They both shook their heads.

  “No hostile business transactions?”

  “Not that I can think of,” Harry shrugged. “Business is booming.”

  “Any resentful competitors?”

  “No,” Chanelle said shortly.

  “Who saw Wentworth last, and what were the circumstances?”

  “Shouldn’t you be getting this info from the local police? We’ve answered all these questions before,” Chanelle pointed out, arching an imperious eyebrow.

  Chas paused for a moment, and Harry looked uncomfortable at his wife’s brashness.

  “Often times local law enforcement resents private investigators. Engaging them too soon in the process can be a hindrance.”

  “Particularly with these yokels,” Harry grimaced. “Wentworth was with a local boy. They apparently stayed downtown for a bit, and then explored the woods, according to the young man. When they went their separate ways, Wentworth disappeared.”

  “What time did he leave the house?”

  Both parents shifted uncomfortably.

  “We don’t know. We were out of the country, on business,” Chanelle replied, the look in her eyes daring Chas to challenge her.

  “Who can I speak to that would know?” Chas didn’t back down an inch.

  “Uh, no one, actually,” Harry admitted. “Our housekeeper, Anna, and our household manager, Jasper, were tasked with keeping an eye on him this summer because his school is closed for a couple of months, but they didn’t give him permission to leave.”

  “He wasn’t allowed to leave the estate?”

  “Surely you can understand why,” Chanelle interjected, indignant. “Look what happened the very first time that he ever wandered away by himself.”

  Harry put his hand on her arm. “Chas wasn’t implying that we were too restrictive, he was clarifying my statement.”

  “Exactly,” Chas gave a brief nod. “When did they report him missing?”

  “He didn’t show up for dinner and they checked his room. When he wasn’t there, they had all of the staff check every room in the house, then they searched the grounds. When they still couldn’t locate him, they called us in Europe for further instructions. We told them to contact the local police, and we made arrangements to return home immediately,” Chanelle explained.

  “So, around what time did they contact local police?”

  “I think it was around eight o’clock. Jasper said that it was getting dark and he was concerned,” Harry supplied.

  Chas looked at his watch and made some mental calculations. “I’d like to take a look in his room if you don’t mind, and I’ll need a list of any of his classmates with whom he either had conflict with or was particularly close to.”

  “Wentworth didn’t associate much with his classmates,” Chanelle averted her eyes briefly.

  “Oh?”

  Harry jumped in. “He’s very introverted and highly intelligent. He prefers the company of his books rather than interacting with his peers most of the time.”

  “Was he bullied?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. The school environment is pretty tightly controlled,” he explained.

  “One of the best prep schools in the world,” Chanelle announced. Chas wondered if she knew how intolerable she sounded.

  “I’ll need the name of the headmaster there as well,” he noted. “Now, back to my original question, who saw Wentworth last, and what were the circumstances?”

  Harry walked him through the information that they’d gleaned from the sheriff, who had spoken with local shopkeepers and witnesses.

  “Do you have the boy’s name?”

  “Yes, I wrote it down,” Harry handed Chas a piece of paper. “That’s the boy’s name, his mother’s name, and their address. She owns a small business here in town, apparently.”

  “Do you know this family?�
��

  “No, we’re not familiar with most folks here in town.”

  Chas nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep you updated on our progress. I’ve brought my associate, Spencer Bengal with me, so that we have double manpower, and…”

  “Oh no, absolutely not!” Chanelle interrupted. “You are not delegating the responsibility of finding my son to some lesser associate,” she snapped, clearly gearing up for a tirade. Chas held up his hand to stop her.

  “I can assure you, I do not delegate my responsibilities,” he drilled her with a glance. “My associate is a highly trained, former government operative who is one of the best investigators I’ve ever seen. His help has been instrumental in solving multiple homicides, and we will be working together to find your son. If you have a problem with that, perhaps I’m not the best choice for this case,” he challenged quietly.

  “No, no, no,” Harry broke in. “We have every confidence in your abilities, and those of your associate, and will be happy to assist in any way that we can,” he shot his wife a warning look and stood. “Let me see you out,” he offered. “I’m sure you’re eager to get started.”

  The two men walked silently until they were out of the range of Chanelle’s hearing.

  “My wife is under an extreme amount of stress,” Harry began apologetically, but Chas interrupted.

  “No worries. People react differently when they’re scared and hurting. My goal is to get this taken care of as soon as possible and get your son home safely.”

  “Thank you,” Harry shook his hand when they got to the door. “We’re counting on you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  *

  Spencer Bengal opened the front door to Hawg Heaven and his stomach growled audibly. Although it was only seven A.M., the breakfast rush was in full swing, and he could certainly see why, if the quality of the food matched the delicious aroma issuing forth from the spotless kitchen. A young blonde woman with full rosy cheeks was running the cash register with efficient ease, while a young man who looked like he could be her brother was taking orders.