Caramel Creme Killer: Book 3 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Read online

  Kel looked at her for a long moment. “Well, that was smart of you. Shall we?” he offered his arm.

  “We shall.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Detective Beckett sat across from Timothy Eckels in the office of Memorial Mortuary, holding the autopsy for Clara Schenkman in his hand.

  “So, this proves conclusively that she was suffocated,” Chas mused, running his finger down the meticulously detailed report.

  “Yes, it does. The internal indications supported the external findings,” Tim nodded.

  “Undigested contents in stomach: high sugar content, cake, frosting…” the detective read aloud. “So, how long before she died did she have dessert?”

  “Not very,” Eckels replied. “But what’s more significant than that is on page two.”

  Chas flipped to the second page, which contained the results of the drug screen that had been done, and saw immediately that there had been a heavy dose of tranquilizers in both the stomach and bloodstream.

  “Whoever did this put tranquilizers in Mrs. Schenkman’s dessert?” the detective raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s what the data would indicate,” Tim nodded. “I also sent the scrapings that I took from under the deceased’s nails in for DNA testing, and it came back with some very interesting results.”

  “Did we find a match in the database?” Chas asked, quickly flipping through the report to get to the last page, where the DNA evidence was noted.

  “Indeed we did,” Tim said somberly.

  The detective looked from the report to the mortician several times, surprised by the name listed as a match.

  “Okay,” he nodded. “Now I know which direction to go in with the rest of the evidence. I can’t thank you enough for your thoroughness,” Chas shook Tim’s hand.

  “It’s my job,” the mortician looked at him curiously, as if to ask, how else would I be?

  ***

  “Briggs,” Chas called to one of the police officers at the station when he came in. “The DNA results came back on the Schenkman case today. What’s the status on our reports?”

  “I put them on your desk about ten minutes ago,” the officer replied. “They’re sealed, so I didn’t open them. We got a perp?”

  “Yep, we do,” the detective sighed.

  He went to his desk, picked up an antique letter opener that used to be his father’s, and slit the envelope, dumping the report out on his desk, already knowing what it would say. Chas looked it over carefully, confirmed his suspicions, and headed for his car.

  When the detective arrived at Havenwood, the first person that he saw was Lynette Kempthorn.

  “Miss Kempthorn, I’d like to check your drug inventory sheets for the week preceding Clara Schenkman’s death.”

  Lynette’s eyes went wide.

  “I’ll need to get a supervisor, come with me, Detective,” she replied, hurrying down the hall.

  ***

  Sharlene Schenkman-Wilkins hated being in the hospital. She couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep, she despised the food, and found the décor tasteless, even in the luxurious private room that she’d insisted upon. She’d been dozing fitfully off and on when she heard the door to her room click softly open.

  “What now?” she sighed, rolling her eyes. These people just would not give her any peace.

  “Hi, honey, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Dayne Baker said softly as she approached the bed carrying a white paper bag.

  “You are. What do you want? Did my father send you?” Sharlene made a rude face.

  “No, I just wanted to come by and check on you, and bring you a little something to brighten your day.”

  The light in the room was dim—Sharlene insisted upon having the shades drawn—but she thought that the expression on Dayne’s face was a bit odd, despite the perpetual smile.

  “What is it?” she asked curtly, eyeing the bag.

  “It’s a gourmet cupcake from the finest shop in town,” Dayne announced, trying hard to overlook the young woman’s rudeness.

  “I’m gluten free. Some of us still care about our figures,” she sniffed with disdain. “Throw it in the trash on your way out,” she ordered, dismissing her guest.

  “I’m a dear friend of your parents, young lady, the least you can do is treat me with common decency,” Dayne snapped, then pasted her sweet smile on her face once again. “Come on, honey, just try one bite… it won’t hurt you,” she advanced toward the bed.

  “Take a hint, old woman. My parents, especially my father, may think you’re tolerable, but I’ve known what you’ve been up to all along. The way you’ve mooned over him, and right in front of my mother too… it’s disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself. Don’t even think of trying to suck up to me, I’m not buying your Susie Sunshine act, so just leave,” she ordered, without turning to face the older woman.

  Dayne’s face changed dramatically as she inched closer to the bed.

  “Dayne Baker, freeze right where you are and don’t move another step,” Chas commanded from the doorway. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Clara Schenkman and the attempted murder of Sharlene Schenkman,” he announced grimly.

  “Cuff her and read her her rights,” he instructed the two uniformed officers that he’d brought with him for backup.

  “Wait… you’re the one who ran me off the road?” Sharlene sat bolt upright, furious. “You nasty old…”

  “I’ll need a statement from you, Mrs. Wilkins,” Chas interrupted the pending tirade.

  “Detective? What do you want us to do with this?” One of the officers held up the bag with the cupcake in it.

  “Take it into evidence. I’m betting that it has the same tranquilizers in it that were stolen from Havenwood and given to Clara Schenkman,” Chas’s eyes narrowed.

  Sharlene Schenkman-Wilkins stared at Dayne in horror as the uniformed officers handcuffed her and led her away. Dayne held her gaze the entire time, finally allowing her eyes to express her pure, unadulterated hatred.

  CHAPTER 19

  “I can’t believe that sweet woman murdered her best friend and tried to murder the daughter too,” Missy shook her head in disbelief, sitting with Kel and Echo at their morning get-together. “Although, I did find it odd that she said Walter was just as much of a victim as Clara and Sharlene, when Clara was dead and Sharlene was in the hospital. And that explains the bandage on her head. She obviously got hurt in the accident.”

  “After the story that she told me at lunch, I didn’t want to believe it, but I thought that she was guilty. I texted Chas and told him my suspicions, then I went down to Jimmy’s Auto Repair to look for her car. It was there, and the front was smashed in. The paint scrape on Sharlene’s SUV matched the paint on Dayne’s car,” Kel explained, shaking his head at the tragedy of it all.

  “It’s crazy what some people will do, all because of a love gone bad,” Echo murmured.

  “And she used my cupcakes for her nasty little plan,” Missy frowned. “That’s awful.”

  “Well, at least there was only one casualty instead of two,” Echo looked hard for a silver lining in the whole debacle.

  “True,” Kel nodded. “And from what I understand, Sharlene has made peace with her father and has dropped the lawsuit. She’s also moving him back into Havenwood. Apparently she found out what her mother had done to Dayne, and felt sorry for her father, so she moved him back. Now Nurse Lynette can keep her eye on him.”

  “So, she’s going to leave the business in Warren’s hands?” Missy asked.

  “Yes, and that’s not the only good news. The first thing that Warren did was nullify the contract with the overseas suppliers so that he could rehire Melvin Chandler.”

  “Wow. It’s sad that it took a death and a prison sentence to put things to rights, but at least there’s a little bit of a happy ending,” Echo mused.

  “Speaking of happy things…” Missy brightened.

  “You have our attention,” Kel grinned, appreciating a c
hange of subject.

  “I’m going to steal Echo away next week to go visit Grayson and Sarah in LaChance, so that we can do some wedding planning for the two of them,” she announced.

  “Oh, I can’t wait!” Echo exclaimed. “Do you think it’ll be strange being in your old shop again?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure I’ll love it. Grayson said he made some changes to the storefront and the display areas. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Me too,” her friend grinned. “You’re right, that’s a much happier thing to think about.”

  ***

  Spencer and Izzy sat side by side, staring into the flames of the fire that he had built on the beach. The night was a bit chilly, with the gentle breeze from the water, and the fire bathed them in a warm, golden glow.

  “So, I’m curious about something…” Izzy began.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” Spencer grinned. “What’s up?”

  “Who is Steve?” she asked bluntly, staring into his eyes, which suddenly became somewhat distant.

  “What do you mean? Steve who?” he looked away.

  “Don’t hide from me, Spencer. When I first mentioned him, you suddenly turned into a different person. You were cold and distracted and acted… I don’t know… paranoid or something. You can’t tell me it isn’t so… I know what I saw.”

  The Marine sighed heavily.

  “I knew someone named Steve. A long time ago. Things didn’t… end well between us, and when you described the guest at the inn, he sounded a lot like the Steve that I used to know. The whole thing just brought back some bad memories, that’s all. No big deal,” he shrugged.

  “It seemed like a very big deal. I’ve never seen you move, think, act or speak with anything other than total confidence and skill, and it was like… I don’t know… like you were suddenly… afraid or something,” she gazed at the mountain of a man in front of her, her eyes soft and large. “I just can’t even imagine what might be so awful that it would have that kind of impact on you.”

  “What difference does it make?” Spencer asked, poking at the fire and not knowing what else to say.

  “It makes a difference to me. It hurts me to see you hurt,” Izzy dropped her gaze, and Spencer turned his head for a moment, taking in a big breath.

  “Izzy… I can’t…” he began.

  She shook her head, stood up, and brushed the sand from the back of her pants.

  “Of course. I get it,” she said quickly, her voice hoarse as she turned away and started striding back toward the inn, flip-flops in hand.

  “Izzy… ” Spencer called out, feeling helpless.

  “I’m fine,” she replied shakily, without turning to face him, and broke into a run.

  He let her go. Because he had to. He shoved ferociously at the fire with the stick, then stood and kicked sand over it to douse it, his frustrations taken out on the disappearing flames. Unaware that he was being watched, he gathered up his shoes, the thermos of cocoa that they’d enjoyed earlier, and the blanket that was still warm from the fire and their body heat, and trudged toward the inn.

  ***

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