Clambake Murder: A Rocky Cove Culinary Cozy - Book 2 Page 5

  The hearing for the Foster Development proposal was next week, and Becca was beginning to wonder if fighting it was worth the heartache and danger involved. All had been quiet since the fire, but she lived every moment looking over her shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. She had risen like a phoenix from the ashes of divorce, and although it would take a tremendous amount of courage and hard work, maybe her best alternative was to close up shop, sell her house and start over somewhere new. Reminding herself how much she loved Cape Cranston and the people in it, she steeled her resolve, glad to have made it through a tough day. Feeling like she’d triumphed, at least in some small way, she drove toward home, looking forward to an evening with Poppy and the television. A bit of peace would be a nice change.

  Darkness was descending as Becca pulled into her drive, but there was unmistakably a figure sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs on her front porch. Not putting the car in the garage, she got out and headed for the porch, squinting to try and see who was awaiting her arrival.

  “Working late, Becca?” Simon’s voice sent a chill through her, and she stopped halfway up the front steps. Noting her hesitation, he taunted her. “Don’t stop now, have a seat, chat for a while.” He was sitting casually, hands back behind his head as though he had a right to be there, enjoying the early twilight air.

  “What do you want Simon?” she demanded, her voice barely audible.

  “What I want, dear Becca, is to know precisely why a detective from this charming little burg tracked me down to hound me with ridiculous questions that have nothing to do with me,” he shot back, annoyed.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, her voice trembling only slightly, but this man whom she had married picked up on it and pounced.

  “Look Becca, we may not have had the best relationship, and we certainly didn’t part as friends, but I can’t believe you’d try to frame me for something in which I’m not even remotely involved. Call off your dogs and call them off now, or you’ll be hearing from my attorney,” he seethed.

  Becca was distracted momentarily. “Is that your car?” she asked, pointing to a red luxury sedan parked at the curb.

  “It’s a rental, I always get one when I have to visit this godforsaken hellhole. What does that have to do with anything?” he grumbled.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, looking him in the eye.

  “I still have clients here. So I decided since I was in town, I’d save myself the trouble of making a phone call and just come reason with you directly, why do you ask?” his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “How long have you been in town?” she fearlessly held his gaze.

  “We’re done here Becca. I’ve already undergone an inquisition from your Detective Reynolds, I will absolutely not tolerate another from you. Back off Becca, I mean it,” his eyes darkened with menace.

  “Or?” she challenged, shaking inside.

  “I’m not even going to dignify that with a reply,” he shook his head in disgust, charging down the steps, brushing by her rudely.

  Still shaken by the sudden and hostile appearance of Simon, Becca got back into her car, pulled into the garage, and made her way to the back door. When she stepped up into the back porch, the door leading to the house was ajar, and some sort of substance was puddled just outside. Using her cell phone as a flashlight, she dipped a fingertip into the congealing puddle and looked at it in alarm. The red liquid looked like blood. Bringing it to her nose for a sniff, she gagged a bit when she confirmed that it was indeed, blood. Not daring to go inside, she called Detective Reynolds, who was out of the office. Nearly hysterical, she explained the situation to the dispatcher, who promised to send out a patrol car immediately and would notify Detective Reynolds as soon as he was available.

  Chapter 14

  Detective Lance Reynolds shook his head in frustration as he discussed the case with his veteran partner, Chester Gramble. “I spoke with Simon Langworthy, Becca Rogers’ ex-husband tonight, and not only does he have solid alibis for the times in question, he just doesn’t seem the type. Don’t get me wrong, I think the guy is an arrogant ass, but I don’t think he has the chops for this kind of thing. I feel like he’s not one to get his hands dirty, you know?”

  Gramble nodded. “Besides, what would be his motive? Whether he wants to admit it or not, the Rogers woman helped prove his innocence. Why would he go out of his way to torment her?”

  “Well, he does have a history with Gareth Foster, but I agree, it just doesn’t add up,” Reynolds replied.

  “What about Jenkins and Foster,” Chester pursed his lips, thinking.

  “Nothing solid that we can tie either one of them to yet. We gathered evidence that’s being compared at the lab, but we won’t know what’s going on with it until we receive their report.”

  As if conjured by Detective Reynolds’ words, Gonzales, the lab tech who had given them the results that they needed to find Lacey Warrington-Langworthy’s murderer, knocked softly on the office door, coming in with a thick file folder of results.

  “Bout time, Gonzales,” Gramble muttered, taking the folder. “Where the heck have these results been?”

  The unfortunate young woman flushed bright red. “Well, as it turns out, sir, we actually had several of results back a few days ago, but the papers were…misplaced. But now that we’ve compared everything, the findings are much more conclusive,” she added before Chester could explode in a flurry of epithets. The grizzled detective dismissed the flustered tech with a wave of his hand, focusing his attention on the contents of the file.

  He looked up at Reynolds, amazed and impressed. “Well, it looks like your hunch was correct again. Let’s go, I’ll explain in the car.”

  Chapter 15

  The detectives sped toward Becca’s house, parking their unmarked car across the street. For once, instead of heading over to Becca’s or Sally’s, they stayed on the other side of the highway and banged on Hubert Finch’s front door.

  “Mr. Finch, we’d like to take a look in your garage if you don’t mind,” Chester Gramble said as cordially as he could.

  “Yeah, I do mind,” Becca’s cranky neighbor growled.

  Lance Reynolds stepped in. “Not a problem.” Taking a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket, he snapped one end on Hubert’s wrist, turned him around and cuffed it to the other wrist behind his back and proceeded to read him his rights. “Mr. Finch, you are under arrest for the murder of Sally Case, the arson of Ms. Case’s home, and various acts of malicious vandalism. You have the right to remain silent…”

  While Reynolds secured the prisoner, Gramble called for a forensics team and headed for the garage.

  “Oh officer, thank goodness you’re here,” Becca exclaimed when the patrol car pulled up in front of her house. “I found something that looks like blood on my back porch and the door itself was open when I got here. I’ve been calling and calling my cat, Poppy, but she isn’t coming out or meowing or anything, and I’m really scared.”

  “I understand ma’am. I’m going to ask you to please go have a seat in your vehicle while I check out the house. I’ll come back out to let you know when it’s safe to enter your home, okay?” the lantern-jawed uniformed policeman said, trying his best to calm her down. Becca nodded and went to her car, locking the doors just in case.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the officer came back out of the house and over to the car. Becca stepped out so that she could see what he had to say.

  “There’s no one inside ma’am, and it didn’t look to me like there was anything disturbed, so you’re okay to go back in. I took a sample of the red substance, and will turn it in to the lab. I didn’t see a cat, but I have one myself, and if yours is anything like mine, she’s probably hiding under a piece of furniture, madder than a wet hen and waiting for you to come rescue her,” he smiled kindly.

  “I hope so,” she said, moving toward the house. Avoiding the back door and the puddle of blood
in front of it, she went in the front door, calling for Poppy, alarmed when she didn’t come running. She went into the kitchen and what she saw stopped her in her tracks. Poppy’s bag of food, food bowls and dinner mat were gone. “Officer, wait!!!” she screamed, running for the door. “My baby, they took her!!”

  Chapter 16

  Becca was standing in her front yard talking to the officer who had inspected her house, and was trying desperately to keep from breaking down in front of him as she described Poppy, when she saw Detective Reynolds muscling Hubert Finch into the back of a police car. When the patrol car carrying Hubert pulled away from the curb, Reynolds went back inside and came out a few moments later carrying some sort of bundle in his arms. As he crossed the street, Becca shrieked with relief and started running.

  “I thought you might be missing her,” the handsome detective smiled, handing Poppy over to her weeping owner.

  “Oh my gosh, thank you so much Detective,” she cried, hugging a very disgruntled feline to her chest. “But why was she over at Hubert’s? She must have run away when someone broke into my house, I guess.”

  “Ummm…not exactly,” Reynolds replied. Before he could explain, Gramble came around the side of Hubert’s house and headed over.

  “We got him?” Reynolds asked his partner.

  Gramble nodded. “Yep, we definitely got him. Spray paint cans, the missing cookware from the clambake, items taken from the victim’s home before the fire, a jerry can that used to be full of kerosene – we have everything we need.

  Becca was horrified. “Hubert Finch did all of those things? Why would he do something like that?”

  Detective Reynolds responded. “It makes sense. As a person who had lost everything, Hubert had nothing left to lose, but with the tidy sum that Foster offered, he had everything to gain. If he chased you and the other neighbors out of town so that Foster could build the resort and the condo complex, he’d be able to take his money and make a new start somewhere else. Foster or Jenkins may have even paid him to cause the mischief and swore him to secrecy. We’ll find out, you can be certain of that.”

  “I bet he was the man with the heavy New England accent who called the newspaper about the ruined clambake too. He knew what had happened because he was the one who caused it. It all makes sense now,” Becca realized. “Wow, I’ve lived across the street from Hubert for years, I knew his wife, it’s just so painful to think that he’s capable of such terrible things.”

  “People are capable of all kinds of things that you’d never imagine when they get desperate enough,” Reynolds observed grimly. “But at least it’s over now. You can feel safe in your home again, and Poppy is where she belongs. I’ll run back over to Hubert’s to get her food and bowls, and then you can finally rest easy.”

  “Thank you so much, Detective. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Sad, but relieved,” Becca shook his hand gratefully.

  “I can only imagine,” he smiled.

  Chapter 17

  The City Council firmly rejected Foster Development’s request for a zoning change after evidence was presented to suggest foul play. Hubert Finch had sung like a canary once he was in custody, implicating Foster Development in general, and Samuel Jenkins in particular, in a scheme to scare non-compliant residents from their homes. Gareth Foster himself escaped unscathed, despite evidence which suggested that he had attended high profile functions in town in order to spread foul rumors about Becca’s catering business. Becca was still considering bringing a civil suit against him for slander, ironic considering his threat to do precisely that to her. True to his word, Simon Langworthy, Becca’s ex-husband had actually done nothing wrong, and really was trying to be helpful when he had warned her about Foster. Hubert had an unlikely accomplice, one of the newest members of Becca’s kitchen staff, who told him when and where events were going to happen, as well as times when Becca was either at home or at the office, so that he knew his vandalism would not be interrupted. The staff member was fired, and police were considering charging the young man with malicious conspiracy.

  Mrs. Crestwood made a statement to the reporter from the Tribune, letting him know that she had nothing but the highest praise for the way that Becca had come through and saved her event, against all odds. Almost every one of the clients who had cancelled, called back to re-book, and the season was busier than ever.

  Becca and Katie sat on the couch with a bottle of wine between them that was disappearing at an alarming rate.

  “All’s well that ends well,” Katie proclaimed raising her glass.

  “Indeed,” Becca clinked her glass against her friend’s. “I’m going to miss Sally though.”

  “Yeah…a toast…to Sally, an awesome neighbor,” Katie raised her glass again.

  “To Sally.”

  They sipped their wine, lost in the moment and in their own thoughts, finally able to relax after a very long and painful couple of months.

  “Hey, some good news though!” Becca remembered suddenly.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “We may be catering a major event for a celebrity on the 4th of July,” she announced excitedly.

  “A celebrity? Who?” Katie sat forward.

  “I don’t know yet. I was contacted by an agency out of Los Angeles. Whoever it is will be filming a movie in the area, and they want the best caterer on the East Coast to make sure the stars are happy,” she explained.

  “No way!” she set her wine glass down and clapped her hands.

  “Way!” Becca laughed. “Aaaaaand…with the kind of budget that they mentioned, if we do this, I may be able to open up a café as well as operating the catering business.”

  “Oh my gosh, Becca, that’s awesome!” Katie gushed.

  “It’ll definitely be awesome for you,” she nodded. “Because if I open a café, you’ll be completely in charge of the catering side of things.”

  Her friend’s eyes sparkled, already plotting, planning and cataloguing ideas for things that she’d like to do with the catering business. Becca looked at her fondly, glad that in this crazy thing called life, she was fortunate enough to have great friends, a great business and a bright and promising future.

  A letter from the Author

  To each and every one of my Amazing readers: I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think by leaving a review!

  I’ll be releasing another installment in two weeks so to stay in the loop (and to get free books and other fancy stuff) Join my Book club.

  Stay Curious,

  Summer Prescott