Marshmallow Creme Killer: Book 7 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 6

  Reggie looked longingly at the table full of food that was now out of his reach, then sighed with resignation.

  “There was this Earl…” he began, and Chas pushed the table within reach.

  CHAPTER 14

  Detective Jim Reubens drove Richard Morgan to the station to meet with a police sketch artist. The house sitter said that he’d been contacted by a woman who claimed to be Carla Mayhew several weeks ago. She’d asked him to come do some work on her house, and seemed to be in quite a hurry, so he had come to Calgon a couple of days later to take a look at her projects and give her an estimate.

  Once he’d given her the estimate, she’d paid him a deposit with her credit card and enlisted him to do the work. Richard had begun working on the property the next day, and she came home that afternoon saying that she had to go out of town, and needed a house sitter. Since it would be easier to finish his tasks while staying at the work site, he agreed, and had gone back to Miami to retrieve some extra clothing and supplies that he’d need while he was in Calgon. The woman had given him a key before she left, and he’d come back to an empty home.

  Richard Morgan spent nearly three hours with the sketch artist, who turned out a portrait of a frizzy-haired blonde with blunt, tired-looking features and a scar on one cheek.

  “So, what happens now?” he asked Jim Reubens when the artist was finished.

  “Now this rendering will be compared against a database of mug shots to see if our gal is a career criminal, or if this is her first foray into a life of crime,” the detective explained.

  “So, I’m guessing that I’ll need to stop working and move out of the house,” Richard sighed.

  “Actually, maybe not. You could be of help to us in the investigation,” Jim replied.

  “Oh? How can I help?” the house sitter was surprised.

  “If you all of the sudden pull up stakes and disappear, she’s going to know that something is up, and will probably run for the hills, but if you stay, she may come back, and if she does, you can notify us.”

  “So, I’m sort of the bait in the trap?” Richard asked with a crooked grin.

  “If you’re willing.”

  “Sure, I’m game. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “For now, no. I’ll probably think of more things that I need to ask you at some point, and I may want to take another look around the property, but for now, just sit tight and wait for “Carla” to come home,” the detective advised.

  **

  The detective wrestled with what he should tell Melissa Beckett when he called her. Since he was now making the case an active investigation, there wasn’t actually much that he could share. He decided ultimately to go with the old “tried and true” pat answer that police tended to give when they didn’t want to reveal anything.

  “…so, I’m sorry Mrs. Beckett, but I really don’t have anything to tell you right now. I’ll be checking into a couple of things, and I’ll keep you posted if anything turns up.”

  “Well, did you talk to the house sitter?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did, and everything that he told me checked out, but I’ll be running some queries down on him just to be sure,” Jim assured the anxious woman.

  “Well…okay. Please let me know if there’s anything that I can do to help,” Missy said quietly.

  “Absolutely. You have a good day now,” he hung up feeling less than good about the conversation, but his first duty was to protect his investigation, not placate a citizen, no matter how genuinely wonderful she was.

  Missy was troubled. Jim Reubens hadn’t told her anything, and she feared that he really wasn’t taking her worries seriously.

  “So what did he say?” Echo prompted, spooning some soy yogurt into her mouth.

  “Nothing really,” Missy sighed, tapping her foot in frustration.

  “So, what are we going to do about it?”

  “We’re going to do some investigating of our own. Let’s spend some time putting ideas together.” The determined blonde went for her notebook.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Looks like we’re heading to England,” Chas said grimly to Spencer, after hearing his brother’s tale.

  “Agreed,” the Marine nodded.

  “I don’t want to go to England,” Reginald grumbled. “Damp, depressing place.”

  “You’re not going to England, you’ve caused enough trouble already,” Chas snapped.

  “May I suggest that Janssen might be the best choice as temporary guardian for Mr. Beckett?” Spencer said quietly.

  “No, you may not suggest any such thing. Who is this guy?” Reggie demanded, narrowing his eyes at the Marine, who didn’t dignify him with a response.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” the detective replied. “Reginald, you are going back to New York as soon as we can get you to the airport. Once there, you’ll stay at the mansion until further notice, under the protective watch of the security staff.”

  “I most certainly will not,” his brother retorted, furious. “I’m planning to head to Greece once I’m done here, and you have no say in what I do with my life, Charles. You left the family – don’t try to come back now and be the patriarch.”

  “I did not leave the family,” Chas replied coolly. “I merely left the lifestyle, because I chose to go out and make something of my life, a concept which is clearly foreign to you,” he accused.

  “Don’t give me that holier-than-thou stuff,” Reg sneered. “Dad offered you the keys to the Beckett empire and you threw them back in his face. You turned your back on him and us. He should’ve made me the President of the Board, not you. I actually cared about his business.”

  “Oh please. You care about nothing but the money and the lifestyle that it affords you,” Chas snipped, his eyes filled with contempt. “The stunt that you pulled this week stands to jeopardize everything that Becketts have built for generations. This family was smart and kept a low profile, despite our societal position. You and your big mouth have given a certain Earl knowledge that can be used to try to knock us to our knees, so if I were you, I’d keep my fool mouth shut for a change, hang my head, and get back to New York before I destroyed anything else,” a vein pulsed in the detective’s forehead.

  “Thankfully, you’re not me,” Reggie’s lip curled.

  “Bryson will accompany Mr. Beckett to the airport,” Spencer told Chas, who nodded.

  “Get your things together, you leave in half an hour,” the detective told his brother, turning to leave.

  “I don’t take commercial flights,” Reggie pouted.

  “And you won’t this time either. The jet is waiting, and the attendants have been instructed to handcuff you if necessary. Pleasant travels,” Chas replied, stone-faced, and left the room, Spencer following closely behind.

  Reginald tried to defy his burly escort when he came to take him to the airport, acquiescing only after Chas told him that he’d be forcibly sedated if he continued to create problems. There was no time for diplomacy, and no place for tantrums.

  **

  “Bryson will keep your brother…contained,” Spencer reassured Chas as they headed for London on a chartered jet. From there, they’d rent a car and drive into the countryside to seek out the Earl.

  “I have no doubt,” the detective replied. “I’m just trying to figure out what he told the Earl, exactly, and why it caused him to make an attempt on Chalmers’ life. The recollection of his drunken ramblings isn’t terribly informative,” he grimaced.

  “I wish he had at least kept a copy of whatever documents he signed, but I fear that what he revealed to the Earl in confidence is probably far more damaging than an agreement that can be torn apart legally,” Spencer confessed.

  “Exactly,” Chas nodded. “Clearly he revealed that Chalmers is the overseer of the family’s financial interests, at the very least.”

  “Well, we don’t actually know that the Earl was the instigator of the attack against Chalmers, but the timing of it certainly seems to
suggest that,” Spencer nodded.

  “True. And I really hope that Wendell Shropshire kept his mouth shut and didn’t spread the news of his insider info on the Beckett family around the bars of Monaco and beyond.”

  “We’ll know soon enough,” the Marine remarked. “But there are ways of taking care of such things.”

  “Where were you educated, Spence?” Chas asked suddenly.

  “Harvard, then Oxford.”

  “And you’re a Marine.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  The detective stared at him.

  “How long have you worked for my family?”

  “Since long before your father passed. He was an admirable man,” Spencer said somberly.

  “Indeed,” Chas had a faraway look in his eyes, as though remembering. “Tell me, Spence, why would a Harvard and Oxford graduate take a job as a handyman at an obscure little bed and breakfast in Florida?”

  “Because that’s where you moved to,” the Marine shrugged slightly.

  “Were you watching me in Louisiana?” he raised his eyebrows.

  “Of course. When you started seeing Mrs. Beckett, and both of you lived in Louisiana, I tried to get a job in the cupcake shop that she owned down there, but I didn’t have any baking experience, so she hired someone else,” Spencer admitted.

  “With all of your qualifications, you can’t bake?”

  “Not a crumb. I can cook quite well, but baking is beyond me.”

  “So you’re not superhuman,” Chas mused.

  “Not in that regard, no. I’d have to say I’m not,” the Marine finally cracked a smile, which made Chas laugh out loud. The emotional release of that simple action was like a breath of fresh air.

  “Well, I must say, you’ve been full of surprises.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Ever going to fill me in?”

  “Some things are better left unknown, Chas, but I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. It took an emergency of incredible magnitude for me to reveal to you that I even knew Chalmers. I had to reveal my identity only because on the first few nights, the doctors were telling us that Chalmers might not…” the Marine swallowed hard.

  “I get it,” the detective nodded, rescuing him. “I find it amazing that your devotion to him is at least as profound as my own. Have you known him your entire life?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “I see.”

  “I have some intel on the whereabouts of Wendell Shropshire if you’re interested,” the Marine changed the emotionally-charged subject.

  “Great, let’s hear it.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Okay, so from what we can gather, Carla has been missing for a few weeks now, right?” Missy said, tapping the end of her pen on her notebook.

  “Sure seems that way,” Echo replied. “So?”

  “So…she should have received billing statements for things like utilities, her mortgage, credit cards, things like that, right?”

  “One would think so,” Echo agreed, wondering what sort of scheme her friend was cooking up.

  “And if she’s not home to pay them, the bills would be overdue, right?”

  “Unless she made arrangements to have them forwarded to wherever she is, or had them automatically deducted from her account.”

  Missy shook her head. “I had a conversation with her about that once. She said she never authorizes automatic payments to go out, because she feels like a responsible adult when she writes the checks every month, and she doesn’t trust utility companies to have her bank information.”

  “That woman is an odd duck,” Echo mused.

  “Be that as it may,” Missy gave her friend a reproachful look. “We can try to talk one of the utility providers into giving us the forwarding information, and then we’ll be able to find her.”

  “Good luck with that. Utility companies are notorious for never revealing their customer information.”

  “Except of course, to someone who is responsible for paying bills,” a slow grin spread across her face.

  “I still think you’re shooting in the dark, but I suppose it’s worth a try,” Echo shrugged.

  “Let’s go,” Missy put down her pen, grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door.

  **

  “Hi Marge,” Missy greeted the ancient receptionist at the City Water desk. She’d met the elderly woman at several charity events.

  “Well, Missy Beckett, how are you, sweetheart?” the wrinkled gal replied, apparently delighted to see her.

  “I’m doing just great,” Missy smiled. “Missing my Chas though. He’s in New York with a sick family member,” she said sadly, laying it on a bit thick. “I brought you some cupcakes,” she set a pink bakery box filled with delicious treats on the desk.

  “Oh my! Well how thoughtful of you dear,” Marge’s eyes lit up as she gratefully accepted the gift. “But I know you didn’t stop by just to ruin my diet,” she giggled. “What can I help you with?”

  “You know Carla Mayhew, right?”

  “Why, yes, I believe so. Isn’t she that poor woman whose son and husband were…murdered?” she whispered, leaning forward over the desk.

  “Yes, poor lamb,” Missy said, her eyes sad.

  “Oh dear, please tell me nothing has happened to her,” Marge’s eyes grew wide at the thought.

  “No, quite the opposite, actually. She finally got some time to herself, so she went away on vacation.”

  “Well, I’m sure she needed it.”

  “Absolutely,” Missy nodded vehemently. “Anyway, she left me in charge of taking care of things for her at the house while she was gone, and don’t you know, I’ve lost the address that she wanted me to forward things to for a few weeks. I tried calling her, but she’s in a spot so remote that she doesn’t have cell service. So, Marge, I was hoping that you could do me a little favor and look up the address that she wanted her water bills to be forwarded to, and I can get those things out to her,” Missy looked sheepish.

  “Well, dearie, I’m really not supposed to,” Marge blinked at her, looking concerned.

  Missy and Echo remained silent, imploring her with their eyes.

  Marge patted the top of the bakery box, coming to a decision. “You know, I really don’t see how it could hurt anything, with you two being good friends and all, so just give me a minute and I’ll see if I can find it,” she winked, as Missy and Echo released a relieved breath.

  The elderly gal tapped on her computer using two fingers, and frowned at the screen.

  “What’s wrong?” Echo asked, unable to help herself. Missy nudged her with her foot.

  “Well, this is a bit peculiar. I don’t have a forwarding address noted for her, but her bills are all up to date. The payment for this month came in yesterday.”

  Missy and Echo glanced at each other, puzzled.

  “Well…would you happen to have the envelope that the payment came in? Maybe seeing the postmark would jog my memory,” Missy asked, desperate.

  “Oh no,” she chuckled. “We throw those out as soon as the payments are recorded.”

  “I see,” Missy murmured. “Okay, Marge, thanks so much for checking. Enjoy your cupcakes,” Missy attempted a smile.

  “Thank you so much, dear. You gals have a good day now,” she beamed.

  **

  “So, how did she pay her bills if they weren’t forwarded anywhere?” Echo asked, when they got back into the car.

  “I have no idea. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “Now, we go to the bank and have a little chat with Clarice,” Missy said, thinking.

  Clarice Sharples had organized a community food showcase sponsored by the bank which had featured cupcakes from Cupcakes in Paradise. She’d become an instant fan of Missy’s creations. The young girl was an accounts supervisor at the bank, and Missy was hoping that she could get some information out of her.

  “Good thing you brought a few
boxes of cupcakes,” Echo remarked, knowing the young lady’s fondness for cupcakes.

  “They do come in handy sometimes,” she nodded, deep in thought.

  When the gals arrived at the bank, Clarice had someone in her office, so they waited in the lobby for her to finish up. They had a few minutes of chit-chat when they finally got in to see her, and she was delighted to see the bakery box.

  “…so, I’m really embarrassed, but I told Carla I would take care of things…” Missy told Clarice the same story that she had told Marge at the City Water office.

  “I don’t remember any forwarding requests coming across my desk, but let me look and see,” her fingers flew over her computer keyboard, and just like Marge, she frowned at the screen.

  “Is something wrong?” Echo asked, just like last time.

  “Well…I’m not sure. How long has Carla been on vacation?” Clarice asked.

  “It’s been quite a while now,” Missy hedged, unable to supply exact information.

  “Is she back yet?”

  “Not that I know of, why?” Missy frowned.

  “Because her credit card activity has been pretty regular…”

  “She’s been using her credit card?” Echo asked, as she and Missy both breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Yes ma’am, and she’s been using it right here in town and in the surrounding area,” Clarice confirmed.

  “Are you sure?” Missy frowned.

  “The transaction addresses are on my screen,” she nodded. “Maybe she just wanted to take a “staycation.”

  “Must be,” Missy said brightly. “Well, it looks like I won’t have to pay her bills after all.”

  “Strange that she didn’t tell you about that,” Clarice remarked.

  “Oh, she gets forgetful,” Missy chuckled. “Thanks for your help. Enjoy the cupcakes.”

  “I will. Thanks so much!” they young woman grinned.

  **

  “Now we have to figure out…” Echo began, as they drove away from the bank.

  “Who’s using Carla’s credit card, and where in the world is Carla? She wouldn’t have a house sitter if she was taking a staycation, and she wouldn’t have missed her committee meetings without saying something to someone,” Missy worried.