Peaches and Creme Killer: Book 6 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 5

  “Any identifying marks or cause of death yet?”

  “Too early in the process. I’m trying to preserve the integrity of the tissue when I take off the outer wrappings,” the Medical Examiner said, absently.

  “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it. And, Tim?” Chas said before hanging up.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d try to keep stalling Rackett and give pertinent information only to me,” the detective said quietly.

  “It would be my pleasure, Detective,” was the satisfied reply.

  CHAPTER 12

  Marilyn had been enjoying her time with Echo, while things were getting put back together at the Inn. Daimler and Benz were enjoying having a new human home to play with them during the day, and loved the daily trips to the park. Echo had shown Marilyn, who had never taken a city bus in her life, how to get around Calgon using public transportation, so she could go to the beach, the mall, or downtown if she felt like it. Missy had also offered Spencer’s chauffeur services anytime she might want them, but she’d been enjoying her “green friendly” mode of travel. It turned out that riding the bus was a great way to see the town, without having to pay attention to traffic signals.

  Echo’s vegan cooking had been utterly delicious, and, judging by the way Marilyn’s clothing fit, she’d lost a few pounds – life was good, and she was just enjoying her vacation before attempting to clear her head and make some decisions about her future.

  Coming home with Daimler and Benz trotting along beside her, their tongues lolling happily out of their mouths, Marilyn wondered what delightful creation Echo would be cooking up this evening, and laughed softly when her stomach gurgled in anticipation. She made her way up the steps to the porch. The light wasn’t on yet. Apparently Echo was a bit late coming back from the candle shop, so Marilyn fumbled with her keys at the door and screamed suddenly, when a man stepped out of the shadows, causing her loyal canine friends to start yapping shrilly.

  She stared at him, cold recognition in her eyes, and he stared back, with a typically enigmatic look that she couldn’t quite fathom.

  “Shhhh…” she knelt down and stroked the dogs’ ears until they quieted, then rose to her feet, still staring at the man who had not yet moved.

  “Mr. Eckels,” her voice quavered, as she stood face-to-face with the weirdest next door neighbor that she’d ever had in Key West.

  He’d simply disappeared several months ago, and she’d heaved a sigh of relief. Her daughter, Tiara, had found the man’s quirkiness endearing, but Marilyn had an innate distrust of the pallid, doughy man with thick spectacles. He’d filled the house that he’d rented in the Keys with the results of taxidermy that he’d done on deceased house pets, which she found creepy beyond belief, and he had a serious lack of people skills. Tiara said that he was only like that around Marilyn because he had a crush on her, but Marilyn hadn’t cared, preferring to keep her distance.

  The two of them had a rather rocky start to their association. Having left the mortuary business that he’d run in the Midwest, but wanting to do something part-time, Tim had applied to work as a baker in her Key Lime pie shop. He swore that his grandmother made the best Key Lime pies ever, and had taught him to do the same, and Marilyn had elected to hire someone else, a bit put off by the thought of having to see her strange neighbor every day in her store. He never quite seemed to get over the rejection, and when he brought over a Key Lime pie, which had indeed been one of the best she’d ever tasted, she would swear that he had put a laxative in it, incapacitating her for a day. She’d been leery of him ever since.

  He stood, staring at her, blinking behind those fishbowl glasses of his, seemingly not having heard, or not being willing or able to respond.

  “Mr. Eckels, did you follow me here?” Marilyn whispered, clutching the ends of the leashes so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  “I…I…moved,” was his oblique reply.

  “I know you did,” she nodded. “There’s someone else living in that house now. Did you move here?” she asked.

  Just then, Echo rounded the corner and caught sight of the two of them, standing in the rapidly descending twilight.

  “Hey, you two,” she called out. “Sorry I’m late, Marilyn, I had someone come in and place a huge order for a scent that has to be special ordered, right before closing. You know how that goes,” she smiled at Marilyn, then at Tim, coming up to stand with them on the porch, not noticing the tension.

  “How are you?” she asked her neighbor.

  “I…she…uh,” the mortified mortician stammered, then abruptly turned and fled down the steps.

  “Echo!” Marilyn whispered, grabbing her new friend’s arm. “I think that man followed me here from Key West. He used to be my neighbor, and…” she began, casting worried glances after the strange man.

  “Tim used to be your neighbor in Key West? Wow, what a small world,” Echo exclaimed, delighted. “I refer to him as my sane neighbor, you know, when compared to Loud Steve,” she grinned.

  Marilyn was taken aback. “You mean, you know him? He lives here?” she murmured.

  “Yep, moved in several months ago. Nice guy – really shy and really into dead bodies, but, you know…occupational hazard,” Echo chuckled.

  “Excuse me?” Marilyn’s eyes went wide.

  “He’s the Calgon Medical Examiner, and from what Chas says, he’s really good. Let’s get inside and get dinner started. I’m starving, how about you?” She took the leashes from Marilyn and led the way, with Daimler and Benz at her heels, while her dazed and confused house guest trailed numbly in her wake.

  CHAPTER 13

  Chas Beckett subtly watched his rearview mirror to make certain that he wasn’t being followed, as he drove out to interview Blaine Gardner, Arnold Shelby’s former business partner. Gardner owned a brewery and ale house that was about an hour away from Calgon. Apparently, when his business with Shelby had folded after Arnold’s drinking and gambling, his partner had left town.

  He told the bartender that he was there to see Blaine, then wandered around, checking the place out. It was an attractive pub and brewery, with rustic barnwood walls, corrugated metal cladding the bar, and antiques from the brewing industry tastefully displayed around the dining and bar areas. There were a few patrons at tables, eating what looked like amazing barbeque lunches, and the detective made a note to bring Missy out here sometime. They hadn’t found really good barbeque since they’d left Louisiana.

  “You lookin’ for me?” a large man with slicked-back black hair and a thick beard came toward Chas, wiping his hands on a bar towel.

  “Depends. You Gardner?”

  “Yeah, that’s me. You another cop?”

  “Another?” Chas raised his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I talked to a fancy-pants investigator already this morning. I don’t know why you people think I have anything relevant to say. I haven’t even spoken to Arnie Shelby in a coupla years,” he shrugged, clearly not happy about his work day being interrupted again.

  Chas nodded. “Is there someplace that we can talk?” he asked, not allowing his frustration over the fact that Rackett had beaten him to a witness yet again, to show.

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “You gonna order something from the menu? I got bills to pay, and you cops are taking up all my time,” he stared at Chas pointedly.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I haven’t had decent barbeque since I left Louisiana,” the detective remarked honestly.

  “Well then, you’re in for a treat, man. Follow me,” Gardner took off for a booth in an isolated corner of the restaurant and motioned for Chas to sit. “Iced tea?”

  “Please.”

  “I’ll be right back, you take a look at the menu,” the hulk of a man instructed, heading toward the kitchen.

  Settling down with their iced teas after Gardner had put in Chas’s order for a sampler plate, because everything sounded so delicious that he
couldn’t make up his mind, the brewery owner stared across the table and got right to the point.

  “So, what do you want to know, and I’m gonna warn you right now, if you try to pull any of that threatening psychological nonsense that the other guy did, I’ll toss you outta here on your ear, just like I did with him,” he promised.

  Chas didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I don’t know how he handled things, but I’m just here to ask a few questions, enjoy some barbeque, and be on my way,” he replied honestly.

  “Then we’re already off to a better start,” Gardner commented, still wary, and leaving Chas to wonder about Rackett’s interrogation techniques. “Fire away.”

  “How long have you known Arnold Shelby?”

  “Me and Arnie go way back. Went to high school together.”

  “How did you happen to become business partners?”

  “Arnie came into some money when his Pops passed, and I had saved some cash from working on the docks, so we pooled it and opened up.”

  “Did you know his girlfriend?”

  Gardner looked thoughtful, but kept quiet as a server brought two sampler platters to the table.

  “Can’t stand to let someone eat alone,” he shrugged, by way of explanation. “Amber, yeah, of course I knew her. She hung around him all the time. Arn never got anything done when she was around,” he complained, dipping a hunk of butter-glazed jalapeno corn bread into the juice of his pit beans.

  “So they got along pretty well?” Chas asked, sinking his teeth into the best fall-off-the-rib baby backs that he’d had in quite some time.

  “’Til she left, yeah. Can’t blame her though. They got along way better than Arn and Jen ever did, but she didn’t stick around once his life started falling apart.”

  “Jen?”

  “Yeah, Jen. Arnie’s ex-wife. Gotta say, the dude’s taste was consistent; petite, mouthy, brunettes who had an eye on his checkbook,” Gardner made a face.

  “They didn’t get along?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “How long were they married?”

  “Until a couple of months after Arn started seeing Amber.”

  Chas nodded. “Ah, bitter divorce?”

  “Brutal,” Gardner dug into his creamy mac ‘n cheese with gusto.

  “This is the best food that I’ve had since I left LaChance,” the detective commented. “I’ve gotta bring my wife here.”

  The owner was visibly pleased.

  “Just between you and me, Detective, I didn’t tell the other guy much of anything, because I thought he was a little too full of himself, but I don’t think Arnie would have the guts to pull off anything like murder. I just don’t think he has it in him.”

  “When’s the last time that you spoke with him?”

  “Until today, it had been a coupla years.”

  “You spoke with him today? Why?” Chas put down his fork.

  “He called me after two visits from cops. Told me to make him sound good if they came to talk to me. He sounded scared.”

  “What was your response to that?”

  “I hung up,” Gardner replied without a shred of remorse. “The guy cost me everything I had because he couldn’t stay out of the dog races and couldn’t stop shoving white stuff up his nose. I got no use for someone who almost ruined my life because they were selfish.”

  Chas pushed his plate back, stuffed to the gills.

  “Good?” Gardner smiled.

  “Way better than good,” the detective exhaled. “Hey, before I get going,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “Would you mind showing me around the brewery? I’ve never been to one.”

  “Yup, be happy to, but put your money away, Detective. It’s no good here.”

  “Can I leave the server a tip?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Gardner readily agreed, not noticing that Chas had slipped a fifty dollar bill under his plate.

  They were in the brewery for not more than ten minutes when Chas saw something that gave him pause for thought. Rows upon rows of stacked plastic barrels.

  CHAPTER 14

  There were a series of rallies planned in the days leading up to the debate, and Marilyn wanted to attend one, just for the fun of it. She’d never been to one before, and thought that it would be interesting to see what the candidates had to say, prior to the debate. If she were being truthful, the rally also offered her an opportunity to get out of Echo’s neighborhood. She’d been vaguely uncomfortable there ever since she had learned that Timothy Eckels was Echo’s neighbor.

  She stepped down off of the bus, and headed for the downtown park where the rally would be held, planning to meet Echo for lunch afterwards. The actual event didn’t start for another hour or so, but she’d wanted to get there early so that she could find a spot up front, where she’d be able to see. The petite brunette had been to far too many concerts where she’d been unable to see the performance due to lack of stature.

  As she took a seat near the front, she noticed someone who looked familiar near the stage, so she asked the kindly older woman next to her to save her seat, and went over to say hello.

  “Hey, you were staying at the Beach House before the “Great Flood,” right?” she joked, approaching one of Tom Chase’s out of town staffers.

  The young man in a suit, looking hot and uncomfortable, quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Yes, I was. It seems Chas Beckett isn’t any better at running an Inn than he is at finding evidence and solving murders,” he said, his nasal voice dripping with contempt.

  Marilyn’s eyes went wide, and her blood began to boil at the malicious comment, but she wanted to see what else the staffer had to say, so she pretended to be interested.

  “Really? What makes you say that?” she asked innocently.

  “My boss had to call in a favor and bring in a special investigator from out of state to help solve the body-in-a-barrel murder. Beckett wasn’t getting anywhere with it.”

  “But, didn’t they just discover the body a few days ago?”

  The staffer nodded. “Yep, and the first forty-eight hours in a murder investigation are the most crucial.”

  “But, hadn’t that barrel been under the house for years? Why would there be such a rush to solve a case that happened years ago?”

  “They haven’t established how long the barrel had been there. It could have been put there yesterday for all we know,” he dismissed her thought.

  “But, isn’t Chas Beckett the only detective that Calgon has?”

  “Yes, he is. And if he screws up this case badly enough, he may not even be that for much longer,” the pompous young man smirked, and Marilyn wondered how he could’ve possibly developed that acrimonious attitude toward a man that he didn’t even know.

  Someone said something into the ear piece that the young man was wearing, and he suddenly gave Marilyn a dirty look and stormed off, leaving her standing there staring after him.

  “Was that a friend of yours?” the kind woman who had saved Marilyn’s seat asked.

  “Oh, umm…no, we just stayed at the same bed and breakfast for a while.”

  “Well, lucky you, that’s one of Tom Chase’s aides. You were talking to one of his right-hand men, you lucky girl,” she smiled, and Marilyn’s heart was troubled.

  The candidate himself got up to speak moments later, and Marilyn was impressed by the handsome gent’s agenda, charisma and deep concern for his constituents. He may have just earned her vote, and she wondered how on earth he was still single.

  She glanced over at the corner of the stage where a group of his staffers, many of whom she recognized, were standing together, talking, and noticed that some of them looked over at her periodically. So true to her somewhat brazen personality, she waved.

  After the rally, instead of having lunch with Echo downtown, Marilyn called to cancel, and took the bus to Cupcakes in Paradise to tell Missy what had happened. Her new friend was as dismayed as she had been, and thanked her for the informa
tion. She planned to talk to Chas as soon as possible, and texted him immediately.

  **

  “Why on earth would that staffer say something like that about you, darlin’?” she asked Chas, frowning. “You’re darn good at what you do, and it’s just not right that he’s going around saying things like that,” she folded her arms, angry.

  Her husband looked thoughtful. “My guess would be that Rackett is telling Tom that I’m impeding the investigation, but I can’t fathom why he would do that.”

  “Maybe he’s just jealous?” Missy suggested, trying to be helpful.

  “Jealousy doesn’t prompt someone, who is as good as Rackett is, to try to end someone else’s career. There must be something else going on,” the detective replied.

  “But what?” Missy asked, worried.

  “That’s what I intend to find out.”

  **

  Spencer Bengal headed down the back stairs to his basement apartment, more physically tired than he’d been in a while. There was a ton of demo to be done at the Inn, and since he had pulled the alarm to get rid of the staffers, he felt that he should take responsibility for taking care of as much of the dirty work of cleaning up as he could. The gubernatorial candidate’s staff had brought with it far too much media attention, and Spencer had solved the problem, feeling far too guilty about simply doing what he had to do in order to shift the spotlight away from the Inn.

  He immediately sensed that something wasn’t right. All of the early warning devices that he’d set in place were still as they should be, but he could swear that something was different, and he entered the apartment swiftly and silently, only to find Janssen sitting on his couch, contentedly stroking Spencer’s cat, Moose, between the ears, just where he liked it.

  “You have intel?” he asked, going to the fridge to get his buddy a beer.

  “You’re not going to like it,” Janssen replied grimly.

  “Tell me,” Spencer ordered, popping the cap from an ice cold bottle of beer and handing it over.