Star Spangled Killer Page 7

  “Hi!” Angel Tucker gave her a little wave when Missy appeared behind the counter. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I had… a few things going on and I got tied up with those. Do you still need some help?”

  Missy breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Oh honey, I am so glad to see you. Come on back here and grab an apron. We’ll get these cupcakes frosted in no time, and we have a full day of deliveries for you.”

  She was so enthralled at the prospect of having help in the busy season, that all thoughts of details like having Angel fill out an application and tax information slipped her mind, and Missy let Angel into her kitchen with no questions asked. Her new helper immediately put on an apron, scrubbed her hands and snapped on a pair of protective gloves like a pro. She picked up a frosting bag and topped a cupcake with a bouquet of intricate flowers in a matter of minutes. Missy stood back in awe.

  “Wow, you certainly seem to know your way around a kitchen,” she remarked, impressed.

  “I like cooking,” Angel shrugged, not looking up from her work. She turned into a different person, a consummate professional, and became totally absorbed in her task. There was a sort of glazed look in her eyes as she crafted the cupcakes that made Missy somehow uncomfortable.

  “Hey, darlin, don’t worry about making each one a work of art. We need to make them nice, of course, but we should have fun too,” she instructed, giving a nervous little laugh.

  Angel slowly raised her head, a cupcake in one hand, the frosting bag in another. “It needs to be done properly. Food is art,” she stated in a flat manner that gave Missy pause.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked, her heart beginning to race inexplicably. “I know you’ve been through some things lately,” she backed away a bit, as her new employee still stood staring at her, frosting bag raised.

  The unblinking stare went on for several seconds, until finally Angel seemed to snap out of it, and laughed awkwardly. She lowered the bag, shook her head, and avoiding Missy’s eyes, put down both the cupcake and the bag.

  “Sorry, I just get really carried away when I’m in the kitchen. I’ve worked in several,” she said, blushing to the tips of her ears.

  The hair on the back of Missy’s neck stood up, and she felt strangely chilled.

  “I understand,” she nodded. “I love cooking too, and always want to do my best. Hey, I was just about to take a break. Why don’t you join me? I just forgot that you haven’t filled out your paperwork yet. I can’t even pay you for the amazing work that you’re doing until we get that taken care of.”

  Missy’s words sounded false in her own ears, and apparently they didn’t ring true for Angel either. The younger woman stared at her coldly.

  “Do you typically take a break with all of this work still needing to be done, when you open in forty-five minutes?” She raised an eyebrow… and Missy’s ire.

  “Honey, I’ve been in this business my whole life. I’ve run a cupcake shop since my parents passed when I was seventeen, and I put myself through school while doing it. Now, I can appreciate that you’re some sort of perfectionist, but I’m thinking it’ll be best if you let me run my business the way I run my business. If I was looking for a managing partner, I’d’ve let you know,” she said, managing to keep her cool and smile sweetly at the end.

  Angel’s eyes glittered in a way that made Missy think of awful things… like the way Louisiana copperheads glide through the water. Graceful, elegant, deadly. It took a strong amount of resolve to stand in her place under that malignant gaze.

  “It’s criminal to toy with food,” one corner of Angel’s mouth quirked up in a smile that spoke of sadistic horror.

  “I don’t think this is going to work out,” Missy folded her arms, stone-faced. “I’ll give you twenty dollars for the work that you’ve done, and we’ll just agree to part as friends,” she attempted to keep a pleasant look on her face as a curl of fear unfurled in her midsection.

  “They’re going to blame you, you know,” the sadistic grin spread wide. “I killed that arrogant chump using one of your cupcakes and they’re going to blame you. When they find you, they’ll think that you were so guilt-ridden that you decided to end it all,” Angel tittered.

  Missy paled, realizing that she was in the presence of a monster—a monster who stood awfully close to a block filled with razor-sharp kitchen knives. “Who are you?” her eyes narrowed, and she quickly glanced away from the knife block.

  “I’m Angel. The angel of death,” The woman looked quite pleased with herself. “Don’t try to be clever, I saw you looking at the knives, and yes, I have plans for those… later. For now, I think I’ll toy with you a bit, because I love the smell of your fear. You’re just a warm-up by the way. Sorry if that makes you feel less special. My real prize is still waiting in the looney bin. It’s easy to get into, though. Kinda makes me feel at home.”

  “You need to leave… now,” Missy said firmly, clenching her fists in an effort to keep from trembling.

  “You’re so cute, but let me just explain something to you. You’re rich and spoiled and accustomed to being in charge. You use your fluttery lashes and cute little drawl to disarm people so they let you walk all over them. Sorry, but your little dream world where you control the universe doesn’t exist right now. I’m in charge and I’m not nice. I don’t even pretend to be nice unless it gets me closer to my… projects. You messed up, little Missy,” Angel leaned back against the counter. “If you hadn’t gotten all self-righteous on me, I probably wouldn’t have had to kill you, even though you have an irresponsible attitude toward food prep, but now… you just have to go.”

  “Don’t. You. Dare. Threaten. Me.” Missy snarled, her anger overriding her fear.

  “Oh, honey,” Angel mocked Missy’s southern accent, hands on hips. “That ain’t a threat, that there’s a promise.”

  Missy launched herself at the killer in her kitchen with a primal roar, head down, at top speed, and slammed into what felt like a brick wall. Angel, also known as Susannah Eckels, had taken up bodybuilding so that she could more easily subdue her victims, and when Missy charged toward her, she put up a powerful forearm and slammed the petite woman to the ground with very little effort. Instead of deterring the infuriated blonde, Susannah’s easy rebuff seemed to ignite her anger even further, and she let out a war cry, springing to a crouch and tackling the murderess around the knees. Smug Susannah was caught off guard and crashed to the floor like a ton of bricks.

  “You wanna play, huh, you cutesy little twit,” Susannah gave Missy a predatory smile as the older woman tried to scramble on top of her, and with two quick martial arts moves, flipped her over and plunked herself squarely on Missy’s midsection, knocking the wind from her. As she struggled to breathe, making futile choking sounds, Susannah sat atop her with a maniacal grin.

  “I love that sound,” she leaned closer, putting her ear near Missy’s gaping mouth.

  In a flash, Missy lifted her head and clamped down on the killer’s ear, breath or no breath. Susannah cried out in pain and jerked her head up, her bleeding ear slipping from between Missy’s teeth.

  “Ha!” the killer exclaimed, her eyes wide and bright as she gazed down at her next victim. “You’re feisty, I love that! I just want to go ahead and thank you right now for making your death a pleasant experience for me. The more you fight, the sweeter my victory… oh, and the worse it’ll hurt for you. By the way, it’s an ear for an ear, sweetheart,” and with that, Susannah snapped Missy’s head to the left and swooped down, clamping her teeth onto Missy’s ear.

  The breath returned to Missy’s lungs in a merciful whoosh and she emptied them soon after with a scream so powerful that the birds in the trees at the front of the cupcake shop were startled into silence. A searing pain gripped her, and she was afraid that she’d lose her ear and ultimately her life, but she was determined to fight… to the death if necessary.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Spencer heard
Missy’s bloodcurdling scream and feared that he was too late. His heart shrunk within him as he considered the possible demise of the sweet, loving woman who had become like a mother to him, and he picked up his speed, charging into the cozy shop and heading straight for the kitchen. He smelled the blood before he saw it, and noted instantly that there was still a struggle taking place.

  “Spencer, help!” Missy screamed in terror.

  The moment that the words left her lips, Susannah sprang up and sprinted for the back door, disappearing from sight as Spencer knelt beside Missy.

  “You’re hurt,” he said calmly, methodically assessing her from head to toe, looking for injuries.

  “I’ll be fine. Go get that monster before she kills Fiona,” Missy sobbed, her hand going to her ear. “I’ll call 911, go! Just go!” she insisted, pushing him away.

  Spencer headed out the back door, and once outside, he looked in every direction for an indication of which way the killer might have gone. Checking the ground for telltale signs, he found no trace, and grimaced. True to her word, Missy had called 911 and he heard the whoop-whoop of sirens as he returned to the kitchen.

  “Sweetheart, thank you for saving me. I love you, Spence, but you’ve got to get out of here and head to wherever Fiona McCamish is being held. She wants to kill her, darlin. Don’t let that happen, please,” Missy pleaded, holding one hand to her throbbing ear and squeezing his arm with the other, hoping desperately that Susannah didn’t have any diseases.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, his jaw set.

  EMTs entered the shop just as he was exiting, and he directed them to the kitchen, then jumped into his car, speeding toward the psychiatric hospital.

  ***

  “I have something to tell you,” Timothy Eckels tried his best to maintain eye contact with his assistant, as she lay there in the hospital bed, looking and feeling perfectly healthy.

  He hated conversations in general, and felt particularly reluctant to have this one, but he felt that it was past time, so he tried to stifle his characteristically awkward shyness and do what needed to be done.

  “Okay,” Fiona said, setting aside the magazine she’d been thumbing through.

  “The person who has been… bothering you, is…” his sentence tapered off. He didn’t want to finish it.

  “Is what?” she prompted, eyes wide. She’d never seen her ultra-competent boss seem so unsure. He was always awkward, but this was a whole new level, even for him.

  “My wife,” he sighed deeply and stared at the floor.

  To his surprise, Fiona blushed, from her neck to the tips of her ears. “Excuse me, your what?” she whispered, thunderstruck. “You’re… ?”

  “Married,” he nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  Fiona went from high color to no color at all as the blood drained from her face. “But you never said anything.” She was clearly in shock, staring at her enigmatic boss, who studiously avoided her gaze.

  “She’s… different. She… kills people,” he sighed again.

  “Why isn’t she in jail?” Fiona unconsciously bunched the sheets in her fists.

  “She was. She was captured in the small town next to ours when we lived in Minnesota. She killed the guard and escaped. Apparently she’s been following me ever since, even though I’ve tried to keep a very low profile so that she wouldn’t find me.”

  “Are you in danger?” Fiona trembled at the thought.

  He finally raised his head and looked at her carefully, seeming to weigh his words. “I don’t believe that I am. Clearly you are, however. I just can’t understand why.”

  “I work with you, I carpool with you, I have direct access to you every day, and she doesn’t. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why she’d want to snuff me.”

  “I don’t understand,” he frowned.

  “She still loves you, obviously, and she sees me as a threat.”

  “Why would she see you as a threat?”

  “Well… maybe if she’s been watching you as closely as you think she has…” Fiona swallowed and took a deep breath, capturing the mortician’s gaze and holding it steady. “Maybe it’s sort of obvious to her, how…”

  “How what?” Tim tilted his head like a dog hearing a strange sound.

  “How I feel about you,” she blurted, dropping her gaze, her flush returning.

  “I don’t… I can’t…” Tim began.

  “Well, well, well… isn’t this just cozy?” a familiar voice sent chills down Tim’s spine and he stiffened, not turning to look at the face of doom. Susannah sauntered into the room and stood by the window, as though she was a casual visitor. Blood from the ear that Missy had bitten had run down onto Susannah’s blouse, soaking the shoulder. She also had blood on her cheek and chin, and she held a bloody box cutter.

  “I’d love to stay and chat, but I think the body outside in the hallway is going to cause a bit of a stir, so we’ll have to decide who lives and who dies pretty quickly,” Susannah stated matter-of-factly, staring at Fiona as if she were a delectable pastry under glass. “Your skin will serve me well. I may make an entire tree of leaves out of it,” she mused. “Timmy, you’ll need to step aside. I don’t want to hurt you. I never did want to hurt you.”

  “Don’t call me Timmy,” he whispered, not moving, still not facing her.

  Fiona’s terrified gaze shot to the door, making Susannah glance over as well, just in time to see Spencer’s massive form looming there.

  “You again?” Susannah said. “Okay, junior. You have pretty skin too. If you want some of this, you’re gonna have to come get it,” she held her hands up and beckoned him.

  “She’s got a knife!” Fiona screeched, not wanting Spencer to come to harm.

  Susannah took advantage of the momentary distraction and darted past Tim, heading for the door, Spencer dove after her, and would have been able to catch her easily, if Tim hadn’t shot out his foot and tripped him.

  “I’m sorry,” he shook his head as Spencer scrambled to his feet and sped toward the door, the sound of sirens in the distance growing rapidly closer. “She can’t help it,” he called after the PI. “It’s art for her,” he finished lamely, his chin dropping to his chest, his shoulders shaking.

  “You love her,” Fiona breathed. “In spite of everything… you love her.” The statement had a small sob at the end of it.

  “I’m incapable of love,” Tim muttered and turned to go.

  “Hey!” Fiona stopped him with the word. She didn’t speak again until he turned to face her. “Why did you decide to tell me about her?”

  He looked into the eyes of his assistant, who’d just made a declaration that would make working together impossible, and breathed a painful sigh of regret.

  “Because you deserved to know. She shouldn’t have done what she did. I’m sorry,” he turned to leave once again, dejected, and she let him go, tears running down her cheeks.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  “Hi!” Izzy Gilmore greeted Holly Meadows, her nemesis, with a bright, cheery smile.

  The imaginative author had managed to convince herself, on the plane ride back to Florida from New York, that what she had seen was probably just an informal meal between two coworkers, which meant nothing of significance. She’d also decided that, if it had indeed been a date, Spencer Bengal was worth fighting for, and she’d be happy to remind him just exactly how she felt about him.

  “Hello, how may I help you?” Holly replied with her professional smile. She clearly had no recollection of having spoken with Izzy previously.

  “I’m here to see Spencer Bengal. I don’t have an appointment,” she said hastily, before Holly could ask. “But my name is Izzy Gilmore and I’m a close personal friend.”

  “I see,” Holly replied neutrally. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Bengal hasn’t been in all morning.”

  “Okay,” Izzy pursed her lips, recognizing the run-around that she’d been given on every occasion that she’d spoke
n with the insufferably polite receptionist. “Does that mean that he’s actually not here, or just that he’s been in his office because he’s busy and you haven’t seen him in a while?” she challenged with a determined smile.

  “I’m sorry, I can honestly tell you that I have no idea as to Mr. Bengal’s whereabouts,” Holly didn’t even bother with the professional smile. “Would you care to leave a message for him?”

  Izzy sighed, frustrated. “Why yes, yes I would.”

  She waited for Holly to get to her message screen on the computer. After lots of important-sounding clickety-clicking, the receptionist finally nodded at Izzy to begin.

  “Hi Spence. I missed you, so I came back to town earlier than I anticipated. I’d love to take you to dinner and talk, and maybe go for a romantic walk on the beach later. Please call me when you get this. Love, Izzy,” she dictated.

  “Got it,” Holly confirmed, her expression never changing. “Anything else?”

  “No, that’ll be it. Thanks so much,” Izzy grinned, feeling much better. She swung her bag up onto her shoulder and sashayed out the door.

  ***

  “She’s gone. I couldn’t get to her quickly enough and she just disappeared,” Spencer shook his head, not liking the unaccustomed feeling of failure.

  Susannah Eckels had managed to elude him twice today, a feat never accomplished by another human being. The former Marine was furious with himself and Timothy Eckels. Missy and Fiona had been in grave danger and he hadn’t been able to catch their attacker.