Marshmallow Creme Killer: Book 7 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 8

  “Where was the guard?” Janssen’s eyes narrowed.

  “I have no idea.”

  The Marine nodded. “I understand, thank you. The next time you send someone to find me, make sure that they relay at least some info about why you need me,” he directed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Janssen was frustrated. He did want to know about every medical intervention that was needed, but there had been absolutely no reason for him to have made a mad dash to get there, and the fact that the guard who had been tasked to remain outside the door was gone infuriated him. He strode quickly from the room, after being reassured that Chalmers would most likely sleep for hours, on a hunt for the guard who had most egregiously neglected his duties.

  “Where’s Kendall?” he barked at a lab attendant who worked in the room next door to Chalmers’.

  “I…uh…I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen him for a while,” the startled techie stammered.

  “How long is a while? Ten minutes? Two hours? Give me something to work with here.”

  “He was here, sitting in the chair outside the room when I went on my break about half an hour ago, but I don’t remember seeing him since I’ve been back.”

  “When did you get back?”

  “I was only gone like ten minutes.”

  “So, if he’s on the run, he has a twenty minute head start,” Janssen shook his head in disgust. “If you ever see a guard for that room not at his post, you notify me immediately, got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” the attendant nodded.

  “Bingham,” he growled into his wrist watch.

  “Yes sir?” Bingham replied from his spot in the security camera screening room.

  “I’m going to want to see all activity on every camera for the past half an hour. I’m on my way up now.”

  “Aye, sir,” was the immediate response, and the Marine heard buttons already clicking in the background as Bingham began to process his request.

  The screening center was at the other end of the sprawling underground complex from the medical area, so Janssen broke into a trot, slowing only when his watch flashed and beeped.

  “Sir?” a ragged voice came through the wrist watch.

  “What is it, Alders?” the Marine tried hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  “We’ve got a body down here,” the young man sounded professional, because he was trained for extreme situations, but Janssen could hear that he was rattled.

  “Who?” he demanded, wondering what else was going to go wrong tonight.

  “Kendall.”

  Well, that explained why he wasn’t at his post outside Chalmers’ door. Janssen’s mind immediately began putting contingency measures in place, and as soon as he had a plan of action, he pressed various buttons on his watch, conferencing in the agents that he needed to speak with.

  “Morton, Calhoun, Elgin – I want all three of you in the medical wing immediately. Morton, you stand right next to Chalmers’ bed – I mean it, your hip had better be touching the mattress, and don’t move for anything or anyone, aside from a direct order given by me or Spencer Bengal, got it?”

  “Aye sir, on the move,” Morton confirmed.

  “Good. Calhoun, Elgin, you two stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the door to Chalmers’ room. No one gets in or out, understood?”

  “Aye,” Calhoun replied immediately.

  “What about medical staff, sir?” Elgin asked.

  “The nurse can be admitted if Morton tells you that Chalmers is in extreme distress, aside from that, no one in or out.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Elgin replied.

  Janssen raised his watch to speak again. “Parker, meet me in the kitchen, by the rear entrance ASAP.”

  “On it, sir,” Parker replied.

  The Marine’s watch showed him where on the property young Alders awaited, with the body of Kendall. They were near the perimeter fence, quite a ways away from any of the main buildings – he’d bet his last dollar that Kendall had been lured out there somehow, but couldn’t figure out why, or by whom. Whoever it was might be still out there, so he intended to approach the men from behind, with Parker flanking them on the other side. He trusted Parker completely – the man had been in training with him from the beginning, and had proved his worth on multiple occasions.

  Janssen shared the plan with Parker when they met in the kitchen, and the two split up. Parker went out the delivery entrance to the kitchen, keeping low and skulking behind hedges and plantings so that he could exit the property unseen, and Janssen faded into the night, becoming like a shadow himself, so that he could slip up behind Alders and assess the situation. Both he and Parker had turned off the sound and light from their watches, and moved in complete silence, unable to be traced.

  The Marine moved swiftly, slipping through territory that he knew like the back of his hand. He circled around behind the garages where Chas’s classic car collection was held, for viewing by the public, past the stables, not eliciting so much as a whinny of alarm from the majestic four-legged creatures within, and past the fishing pond, skirting around the perimeter of the property, where he wouldn’t be caught on camera, or by the motion detectors. As he closed in on Alders’ position, he heard the faint snap of a twig off to his right, and froze in place, listening.

  No animal had made that sound. Someone was nearby, and it might just be a matter of life or death for him to find out who it was. He had arranged for Parker to stay several yards away from where Alders waited with Kendall’s body, instructing him to reveal himself only in the event of conflict, so he knew that the sound that he had just heard had not been made by his agent.

  Every nerve ending in his body was tingling with awareness and anticipation, and his senses were all scanning for more info. The silence of the dark night was oppressive, feeling like some living, breathing creature was getting ready to pounce and devour him. Janssen turned his head to look left, and came into sudden, jarring contact with the cold steel of a gun barrel. The silky, subtle sound of a silencer split the night – there was searing pain, then nothing, as Janssen’s world went dark.

  CHAPTER 20

  Missy and Echo were on their way to Carla’s yet again. Missy just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something amiss, and was half-hoping that if they kept checking at the decorator’s house, they’d eventually run into the criminal who had pretended to be Carla and had employed Richard as her house sitter and contractor.

  “You ladies must miss me when you leave,” Richard teased, opening the door, delighted to see the two women again.

  Missy and Echo tried to laugh, and apparently were convincing enough for Richard.

  “Actually, I was hoping that you might be able to help us,” Missy began.

  “Damsels in distress are my specialty,” he grinned, interrupting. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I think the crawl space in my cupcake shop might have some issues, and I figured that maybe when you’re done with Carla’s house, you could come give me an estimate. Do you know when you’ll be done here?”

  “Well, I’ve still got some work to do here, but I’d be happy to come out and take a look at your place, just tell me when,” he offered.

  “Can she see what you’ve done here so far? It might help her to see what kind of work you do,” Echo smiled innocently.

  “Why, yes ma’am, I’d be happy to show you some things I’m working on. I’m just finishing up with the crawl space here, so you can tell me what you’ve noticed in yours,” Richard opened the door wider.

  “You know what, I’m beat,” Echo said, coming in and sinking onto the couch. “I’ll just wait here while you two kids go have a look.”

  “Okay,” Missy agreed. “Poor thing, she works way too hard these days,” she commented to Richard as he led her toward the door. The crawl space had to be accessed from the outside, so while Missy kept the house sitter busy out there, Echo moved swiftly through the house, looking for anything strange. The purse
that she had noticed in the entryway was gone, and she didn’t find anything else interesting until she got to the master bedroom. She opened the door to the master closet and found that nothing had changed since the last time that she saw it, when she had come in here to find Carla a new set of clothing, while Missy cleaned the decorator up after her last drinking binge. She hurried back out to the living room and leaned her head back, trying to catch her breath. Missy and Richard came back in seconds later.

  “Are you okay?” the house sitter asked. “You look kind of flushed. Do you have a fever?” he moved toward her as though he planned to put his hand on her forehead, and she stood suddenly, turning away from him.

  “I’m fine,” she nodded with a tight smile. “Too much caffeine, I’m sure.”

  “Well, I guess that means that you gals won’t be staying for a cup of coffee.”

  “No. Thanks anyway, but we have to run – Echo isn’t feeling terribly well.”

  “Alright,” he nodded. “I sure hope you feel better soon,” he smiled sympathetically, and Echo waved wanly on her way out. “And you,” he turned to Missy. “Call me anytime you want me to come out and do that estimate.”

  “Will do. Thank you, Richard, you’ve been most helpful,” she replied, heading for the door.

  **

  “Okay, spill it,” Missy ordered when they got back into the car. She could tell by the look on Echo’s face when they came back into the house that her friend had found something.

  “He didn’t remodel the closet…he didn’t even touch it, at least as far as I can tell,” Echo said, her eyes wide.

  “Huh?” Missy missed the point completely, exhausted from having to put on a happy face for the house sitter.

  “When we saw Carla’s purse in the entryway, he told us that she had several purses, and when I asked him how he knew that, he said that he was remodeling her closet – that it was part of what she had contracted him to do. I went into her closet, and nothing has been done,” she explained, proud of her sleuthing.

  “Well, that might be because he knows now that it wasn’t actually Carla who told him to do the work,” Missy pointed out, deflating her friend’s balloon.

  “Right,” Echo nodded, subdued.

  “He’d clearly been working on the crawl space though, there was dirt everywhere.”

  **

  Detective Jim Reubens drove to the outskirts of Calgon, to a place where the tourists didn’t go, and where no one would be expected to attend a charity ball. Hennman Heights adhered so closely to the definition of the “wrong side of the tracks,” that he was surprised the neighborhood wasn’t referenced by name in the dictionary. Referred to as “Hangman Heights” because of all of the formerly jailed residents and high crime rate, most of Calgon’s citizenry made a point of staying away from the tiny tract of homes which featured weed and trash-filled yards, peeling paint, and other signs of years of decay. Reubens had finally tracked down a potential lead…he was going to talk to the mother of the recently released felon, Renee Manta, who had allegedly posed as Carla Mayhew.

  “Mrs. Engman?” he said politely, to the woman in a faded housecoat that was torn at the neck, after ringing the bell. The smell of cigarettes and kitty litter in drastic need of changing seemed to swirl about Renee’s mother like a cloud.

  “Who’s asking?” Virginia “Ginny” Engman’s raspy voice certainly accounted for the smell of smoke. She narrowed her eyes at the detective and looked as though she might just slam the door in his face.

  “Detective Jim Reubens, Calgon PD,” he replied cordially, flashing his badge. “I’d like to talk with you about your daughter.”

  “I ain’t got nothin’ to say about that good-for-nothin’ little…” Ginny grumbled, as she moved to shut the door.

  Jim put his hand on the door, letting her know that he meant business.

  “Now, I could go to her parole officer if you’d prefer, but then she’d be in trouble, and might even end up in jail again,” he raised his eyebrows at the frazzle-haired woman, who was currently scratching the back of one calf with the toenails of her opposite foot.

  “She’s in trouble again? Why ain’t I surprised at that?” Ginny rolled her eyes. “What’d she do now? Knock off a liquor store? Knowing her, she’d be wanting to get some hooch.”

  “Uh, no. Actually she’s not in trouble yet…I just need to ask her some questions. Do you know where she is?”

  “Heck no. I ain’t seen her since they put her in the slammer,” she shrugged and patted the pocket of her housecoat, most likely looking for another cigarette, Jim figured.

  “She didn’t come home?” he asked surprised.

  “No way. I don’t let no criminals live here,” Ginny shook her head vehemently. It’s just me and the young’uns.”

  “The young’uns?” Reubens raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, Renee had no siblings or children.

  “Yup,” she opened the door a bit wider, and Jim saw a couch filled with cats. She beamed proudly.

  “Wow, that’s…quite the group you have there,” he said at last.

  “Twenty-one,” Ginny nodded. “My poor Oliver died last month. I gave him mouth to mouth and everything, but he had already crossed the bridge.” The tough old battle axe actually teared up.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Do you have any idea where your daughter might be?”

  “Nope, not a clue. She had some nasty biker that she was dating for a while, but I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. I’m just glad that he ain’t come around here lookin’ for her. Other than him, all I can say is check the bars. That girl can guzzle some alcohol, I’ll tell ya,” she shook her head.

  “She’s not allowed alcohol, it’s a condition of her release.”

  “You’re talking about a convicted felon, Mr. Detective. You think she’s gonna give a hoot owl’s toe about the rules about drinkin?” she scoffed.

  “You may have a point,” Jim conceded.

  “Darn straight,” she nodded sagely.

  “Well, if you happen to hear from her, would you please give me a call?” he asked, handing her a card with his contact info.

  “If by some miracle she appears, most likely wantin’ money, I’ll be on that phone like a shot, tellin’ you to come git her before I throw her out on the street,” Ginny agreed, pursing her lips.

  “Yes, well…thank you,” Reubens tried to smile, he really did, but his eyes were starting to sting from the smell that emanated from Virginia Engman’s home. “Have a nice day,” he called out on his way to the sedan.

  Detective Jim Reubens was just about to pull away from the curb when his cell phone rang, and he saw that the call was from dispatch. He put his car back into Park and took the call.

  “Reubens.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” the dispatcher began. “But there’s a body…”

  CHAPTER 21

  Missy trudged up to her room after yet another long day with no answers about her missing friend. Echo was staying in the guest room until Chas returned from New York, and both gals had agreed that an early bedtime would be a good idea after several event-filled days. When Missy opened her bedroom door, she immediately had the feeling that something wasn’t right, but shook it off, thinking that she was just weirded out by recent events. She set her latest novel on the nightstand, along with her water glass, and noticed a breeze coming in through the window.

  “Hmm…that’s odd,” she mused. “I don’t remember leaving the window open, and the AC is on,” Missy frowned, thinking that she really had to get caught up on her sleep so that she’d stop forgetting little things like this.

  She went over and shut the window, noting that the yard seemed darker than usual, which made her heart speed up just a tiny bit. When a shadow moved near a clump of bushes, she convinced herself that it was just the breeze moving the branches, and in the next moment, every light in the house went out. Missy stifled a scream, and felt the immediate pressure of two loyal dog bodies against her l
egs. Toffee and Bitsy had leaped from their bed in the corner and rushed to her side.

  “Missy? Are you okay?” she heard Echo’s voice from the hall.

  Making her way carefully to the bedroom door, she opened it and said, “Shhh…I think there may be someone outside.”

  Echo was using the flashlight on her phone to make her way down the hall to Missy’s room, trailed by two very sleepy dachshunds.

  “What are you going to do?” she whispered, dousing the light when she got to Missy’s room and allowing her friend to lead her by the hand to the window.

  “Paddy is filling in for Spencer while he’s gone, so I’m going to text him,” Missy replied, clutching her phone.

  “Mrs. Beckett, are you alright?” the two women heard the Irish accent in the hall outside her door that let them know who was asking.

  “Paddy?” Missy called weakly.

  “Yes Ma’am, are you okay?” came the immediate and intense response.

  “I think there may be someone outside,” Missy whispered, after opening the bedroom door.

  “Stay here, keep this door locked, and don’t open it until I come back to let you know that we’re all clear,” he instructed, then turned to go, heading for the stairs at a sprint.

  “Should we call the police?” Missy called after him.

  “No Ma’am, I’ll handle it,” and he was gone.

  She shut the door and locked it, as he asked, then took the extra measure of placing a chair from her writing desk under the doorknob as a brace.

  “He reminds me an awful lot of Spencer,” Echo said, as the two women huddled together on the chaise, dogs at their feet. “And I could listen to that Irish accent all day.”

  “He does seem a lot like Spencer,” Missy nodded. “Maybe they were in the Marines together or something.” Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she dashed to the window, opening it wide and pushing the screen out.