Cookie Dough Killer Page 4

  “You do such a great job,” she observed.

  “Thanks,” Kendra smiled. “I absolutely love having the kids here. Did you have a question about something?”

  “Not exactly,” Missy felt her face grow warm. “I…I had heard a rumor about…your family, so I did a background check and I wanted to let you know that I’m confident that you’re a good choice for Kaylee’s daycare provider.”

  The color drained from Kendra’s face.

  “It was his mother, wasn’t it?” she shook her head in disbelief. “Why can’t she just leave us alone? She took everything from him, but she just can’t keep her nose out of our business,” her chin jutted forward as she struggled to control her emotions.

  “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Missy sighed, embarrassed.

  “No, no, not at all,” Kendra put a hand on her arm to reassure her. “This isn’t your fault. Allivia Dunham has been the bane of our existence since I met Brant. I’m really sorry that she dragged you into our ugly story, but I can assure you…” she began.

  “No, it’s fine,” Missy squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ve met his mother,” she smiled wryly.

  “Thank you for understanding,” Kendra seemed relieved. “I’d better start getting these little ones cleaned up for story time,” she glanced over at the children, who were in various stages of finishing their snack.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Missy agreed hastily. “I’m sorry to have kept you. I just thought that you might want to know.”

  “Yes, I’m glad you told me. Someone really needs to put that vile woman in her place.”

  “Okay…well, I’m going to run. I’ll see you later,” Missy waved and headed for the door, eager to end the entire awkward conversation.

  **

  To say that Missy felt decidedly uncomfortable pulling into the driveway of Allivia’s home would be a profound understatement. She felt like she had just seen not only all of the social maven’s dirty laundry, but all of her unmentionables as well, flapping rudely on a clothesline.

  “How am I even going to look at her, knowing what I know?” she murmured, sitting in the car for a moment. “Oh well, it has to happen at some point,” she sighed, opening the car door.

  Walking up to the door, she vowed to keep her thoughts regarding Allivia’s family to herself and focus entirely on the details of her assignment for the gala. That was safe turf that couldn’t turn ugly. She rang the bell and waited, puzzled when no one came to the door. Last time she visited, the housekeeper had let her in. She rang again and waited. Still nothing. Ashamed to feel a huge measure of relief, Missy returned to her car and texted Allivia.

  I’m here. I rang the bell, but no one answered. Are we still on for this morning?

  She waited for a full five minutes, and when Allivia didn’t answer, she felt justified in leaving, figuring that either something more important had come up, or that she had simply forgotten the appointment. Either way, Missy was grateful to not have to face the woman.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  Visions of colorful, billowing silk, twinkling lights and a festive, funky vibe danced through Echo’s head as she reviewed the dramatic design boards that Blaze had done.

  “I’m speechless,” she breathed at last. “This is absolutely stunning. I’m glad that you decided to go in this direction,” she stared at the boards.

  “Well, I decided that no feud with Allivia was worth ruining my reputation, so why not make it a visual spectacle to remember?” the artist smile modestly. “And I’m hoping that you’re willing to help me to convince her that this is the perfect design for the event.”

  “Oh, I’m totally on board with this. I wouldn’t change a thing,” Echo gushed, unable to help herself.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, because Allivia tries every year to alter my designs in ways that are just abominable,” he pursed his lips.

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “She’s a decision maker,” Blaze shrugged. “She wants to have the final say, so I’ve learned to always put something in the design for her to pick apart, and when she criticizes it, I’ll take it out. She gets to make a decision, I get to take out a part of the design that I don’t like anyway, and everyone wins,” he grinned slyly.

  “Well, aren’t you clever?” Echo chuckled. “So, what’s the tragic flaw in this design that you’re hoping she takes out?”

  “You tell me,” he challenged, a sparkle in his eye.

  Echo turned a more critical eye toward the boards, looking for something that didn’t belong, taking in the glamorous colors and glitz, and came up blank. She was about to give up, when something caught her attention.

  “The clowns,” she breathed, turning to Blaze, who nodded with glee.

  “Now who’s the clever one?” he laughed lightly. “Clowns are creepy. Everyone hates them, so having them draped randomly around the corners of the room are sure to trigger a negative reaction from her. She’ll point it out as being bad, I’ll replace them with trapezes draped in chiffon, and voila! Problem solved,” he gestured with a flourish.

  “Brilliant,” Echo nodded. “But what if she likes them? I mean, have you seen her idea of home décor? She may loooooove clowns.”

  Blaze grimaced a bit. “I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. So, can you drop by her house with me in the morning? I want to present this as soon as possible because there is a ton of ordering and prep work to be done.”

  “Of course. Did you make an appointment with her already?”

  “Heavens no. That’s not how one effectively approaches the dragon lady in her lair. The element of surprise is essential. She won’t be as prepared to hate everything if we just spring it on her.”

  “I see,” Echo giggled, feeling like she was taking part in a wonderful conspiracy on behalf of the “good guys.”

  “Pick you up around ten?” Blaze asked, tapping on his phone to access his calendar.

  “I’ll be at my bookstore. Can you drop by there?”

  “Of course. I need to stock up on Cozy Mysteries anyway,” he winked at her.

  “Perfect. Then you can go next door and find a candle to set the mood while you read,” she teased.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you then,” Blaze walked her to the door of his studio and waved as she headed down the sidewalk.

  **

  “There,” Joyce Rutledge, Echo’s spunky general manager of both the bookstore and candle shop, set a stack of books near the register. The self-proclaimed bookworm, a highly educated young woman who just happened to be Beulah’s beloved niece, nodded with confidence. “He hasn’t read any of these, and there are a couple of fabulous new authors here whom I think he’ll just love.”

  “I had no idea that you knew Blaze Sutton,” Echo smiled. “What a small world.”

  “Small town, actually,” Joyce chuckled. “We bookworms have to stick together. He comes in at least once a month to buy a stack of Cozies, and we always have the best conversations.”

  “Really?” Echo grinned slyly. “Ever talk to him outside of work?”

  Joyce stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “Miss Echo, are you seriously trying to set me up with Blaze Sutton?”

  “He’s awfully cute,” her boss gave her a wicked grin.

  “Who’s awfully cute?” a masculine voice demanded, coming in the door behind Echo.

  Joyce flushed red under her lovely mocha skin, but she looked pointedly at Echo. “The puppy that she wants me to adopt from the shelter. He’s adorable.”

  “Aww…I love dogs, good for you,” Blaze grinned, entirely unaware of the undercurrent in the room. “Find any treasures for me this week?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I think my boss is chomping at the bit to get out of here, so I’ll show them to you when you get back,” she promised.

  “Perfect,” Blaze finally seemed to notice the extra glow in Joyce’s cheeks. “Apparently, I
need a candle to achieve the proper reading ambiance, will you be able to help a guy out?”

  “Of course. I think you’re going to love the Lemon Dream ones that she brought in last week, but I’ll have a few for you to choose from.”

  “You’re the best. I’ll bring your favorite latte when I come back.”

  “You don’t have to,” Joyce protested.

  “You always say that, and I always bring it,” Blaze shrugged. “See you soon.”

  Echo gave her manager a delighted conspiratorial look on her way out the door behind the handsome artist. Joyce met her gaze with a reproving, but amused, look.

  “Ready for this?” Blaze asked while Echo put on her seat belt.

  “I think it’ll be kind of fun,” she admitted.

  “I think so too. It really helps when you know that you’re subtly manipulating a manipulator,” he grinned slyly.

  “You’re positively wicked,” Echo giggled.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Blaze’s lips twitched at the corners as he pretended to focus on the road.

  The two of them chatted about the design and different ways to counter any protests that Allivia might raise, and before they knew it, Blaze had pulled into her driveway.

  “Ready or not, here we go,” Echo smiled.

  “After she signs off on this, the real work begins,” Blaze reminded her.

  “Bring it on, it’s all downhill from here,” Echo’s response was confident.

  Blaze strode up to the door, design boards in hand. Echo kept pace and reached out to ring the doorbell once they got to the intricately carved mahogany door. The two of them stood staring at the door, waiting, and exchanged a knowing glance.

  “Hmm…maybe she didn’t hear it,” Blaze suggested. “Try again?”

  “Sure,” Echo pressed the button again.

  They heard the bong-bong-bong of chimes inside and knew that the doorbell was working.

  “She’s going to give her housekeeper a dressing-down for making us ring the bell more than once,” Blaze whispered. “I hate to get anyone in trouble, but we have business to take care of. Go ahead and try one more time.”

  Echo pressed the button again, but there was no answer.

  “That’s strange. Even if Allivia isn’t here, you’d think that the housekeeper would open the door. Oh well, we’ll just have to try again later, are you up for it?”

  “Sure. I can do an hour or so after lunch, if that works for you,” Echo glanced at her watch.

  “How about two o’clock?” Blaze suggested.

  “Sounds good.”

  **

  Echo and Blaze exchanged an uneasy look when the pulled into Allivia’s exclusive neighborhood and found it lined with emergency and law enforcement vehicles. Clearly something had happened, and the closer they got to Allivia’s house, the more they realized that whatever happened had happened there.

  “Oh gosh, maybe she didn’t answer the door because she’s sick or hurt or something,” Echo whispered.

  “I think it’s worse than that,” Blaze said grimly. “Look,” he pointed out the coroner’s hearse.

  “Oh dear,” Echo worried. “What should we do?”

  “I’m going to turn the car around and get out of the way so that these professionals can get their job done,” Blaze replied quietly.

  “No, wait,” Echo put a hand on his arm. “There’s Chas Beckett’s car. I know him. Let me go see what’s going on,” she urged.

  “Do you think that’s wise? I mean, it really looks like we’ll be in the way if we go over there,” Blaze commented, surveying the scene.

  “Well, we can try, and if they tell us to leave, we’ll leave,” Echo declared, her hand on the door handle.

  “Okay, hang on a second though, let me pull off the road,” he cautioned.

  After Blaze put the car in park, the duo hurried up the sidewalk toward Allivia’s house, only to be stopped by a uniformed police officer.

  “Sorry, there is an active investigation underway, I can’t allow you to go any further,” the lantern-jawed cop informed them.

  “I’m here to see Chas Beckett,” Echo ignored his admonition. “We were here earlier to meet with the homeowner.”

  A look flickered across the officer’s face.

  “Stay right here,” he instructed, gesturing for another officer, who looked much younger, to join him. When the second cop came up, the two officers had a brief conversation, and the younger one hurried toward the house.

  “Is he going to get Chas?” Echo asked hopefully.

  “Yes ma’am,” the officer replied with a dark look.

  “Oh, good,” she nodded, and looked at Blaze who seemed decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Do we really have anything to say that will be helpful to the police?” he asked her in a low voice, when the officer was momentarily distracted by a crackling radio communication.

  “Probably not, but I want to know what’s going on,” Echo whispered back.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” Blaze retorted dryly.

  “Nobody’s going to get killed with all these police around,” Echo smiled wanly.

  “Looks like somebody already did,” he reminded her.

  “Let’s hope not.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “Hi! How did my angel do today?” Missy asked Kendra, as Kaylee threw herself against her mother’s legs, hugging for all she was worth.

  “She did great,” Kendra smiled but looked distracted. “There were no potty training accidents at all, and she took a nice nap.”

  “Good,” Missy bent down to kiss her daughter’s smiling face.

  When she stood upright, she noticed that Kendra looked distressed.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, with a concerned frown.

  Kendra sighed.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve been trying to get in touch with my husband today and he’s not responding. I’m sure he’s just busy at work,” the younger woman tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Yeah, I hate it when that happens,” Missy nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Thanks for taking care of my baby girl. I’ve gotta run,” she made a beeline for the door, wondering at her own strange behavior.

  Something seemed off with Kendra, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew that she didn’t want to stick around any longer than was necessary. Missy called Chas on her way home, and was disappointed to receive a short text from him in return. Apparently there had been a murder, so she wouldn’t be able to talk to him about her concerns until much later, possibly even tomorrow.

  **

  “Bad news?” Spencer asked when Chas frowned at his phone.

  “For someone. There’s a body that I need to go see. I’ll probably be out for at least the rest of the day, possibly the next several days, because it looks like homicide.”

  “Not a problem, I’ll take care of things around here,” Spencer assured him as he stood to slip into his sport coat.

  **

  “Hey Timmy, we gotta load up the wagon, there’s a stiff waiting for us,” Fiona McCamish, assistant to Coroner Timothy Eckels sang out.

  “Don’t call me Timmy,” her pale, balding boss muttered, pushing his coke-bottle thick glasses up his nose.

  Tim was not only the Calgon County Coroner, but he also owned the only funeral home in town, and business was keeping him hopping lately. There always seemed to be more passings in the winter.

  “Dispatch said that it looks like suspicious circumstances,” Fiona’s eyes were bright.

  “I’ll be the one to determine that,” he groused. “Did you…?” he began.

  “Yes, I put your bag in the car, along with a couple of body bags,” Fiona answered, going through their daily ritual.

  He always asked the same questions, and she always anticipated his needs. Tim might be cranky and taciturn, but even he, however begrudgingly, had to admit that she was the best possible assistant he could
ever hope for. Her mind was keen, her wit acerbic, and her thirst for knowledge of his craft insatiable.

  “Is the…?” he continued.

  “Yep, the camera is charged up and ready to go,” she answered, leading him down the hall to the garage where the hearse was kept.

  “Has the…?”

  “Yes, I stocked everything. We’ll have all of the supplies that we need,” she assured him. “I’m driving,” she said, playfully moving toward the driver’s side door.

  “No, you’re not,” Tim replied, finishing their ritual.

  “You’re no fun,” Fiona complained, climbing in the passenger side.

  “Indeed,” the coroner agreed, getting in the hearse.

  The two of them were silent as Tim followed the directions to the scene that his phone spoke aloud from the dashboard.

  “So, I was wondering,” Fiona began, picking at a hangnail while she spoke.

  “Shhh!” Tim frowned, shushing her. “I can’t hear the directions.”

  “Why in the world do you need directions? Calgon isn’t exactly a congested metropolis,” his assistant sighed.

  “I’ve never been to this neighborhood, so I need directions,” he snipped. “Now, be quiet.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes at him, but lapsed into silence again. Once Tim had turned onto the street where the stiff was located, she made another attempt. The attractive young woman had a major crush on her boss and delighted in trying to break through his reserve.

  “So, when are you going to ask me out, Timmy?” she teased.

  “That’s highly inappropriate…and don’t call me Timmy,” he said as he parked the car and got out before she could respond. Stifling a giggle, she followed him, putting her mask of professionalism firmly in place before she entered the scene.

  Tim was among the best in the business, and once he entered a crime scene, he had a singular focus. Assess the body, assess the scene, listen to the story that the physical clues tell. He’d been known to spend hours at the scene prior to moving the body, just to make certain that he had all the data that he needed.