Chocolate Chills (A Mission Inn-possible Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Rosie A. Point

  “Was your door unlocked?” I asked.

  “My bedroom door? No.”

  “The bathroom door?” Gamma suggested.

  “Yes, that’s always unlocked at night so I can go to the… wait, you don’t think my sister took it, do you?” Kayla gasped and smacked her hand over her mouth. Unfortunately, she’d used the one holding the tissue, and she inhaled the crumpled up ball and choked frantically.

  I thumped her on the back until she spat it out into her palm.

  Kayla rubbed her chest and looked up at us, watery-eyed. “She wouldn’t do that to me, would she?”

  “No clue,” I replied. “You know your sister better than we do.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Kayla said, her lower lip stiffening. “I’ll get the truth out of her. How dare she betray me like this! How dare she!” She leaped from the bed and stormed toward the bathroom door. “Josephine! Are you in there?” Kayla’s frantic banging went unanswered.

  Gamma tapped me on the forearm and nodded toward the door. We made our hasty escape before Kayla could return and continue crying.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “That there might be a motive for murder hidden somewhere in the evidence, but Josephine, as the killer, doesn’t add up with what we found at the crime scene. This is tricky, Charlotte. A very tricky mystery to solve.”

  On the ground floor, my grandmother paused, her frown more worrying to me than the prospect of Kyle turning up. When Georgina Mission—her original last name before she’d had to change it—didn’t see a solution, there was foul play at work.

  “We could talk to Kayla,” I said.

  “We should do that.” Gamma nodded. “But I’m much more interested in what happened to Jordan’s body. And who would want to steal it. Let’s make an appointment to see Dr. Briggs.”

  10

  Dr. Briggs sat behind a small walnut desk in his office, his watery brown eyes regarding us over the rim of his coffee mug. He rocked from side-to-side in his chair, because he was soothing himself or it was a tick, occasionally touching his fingers to the last of his brown hair covering his scalp.

  “I already spoke to somebody from The Gossip Rag,” Dr. Briggs said.

  “Oh?” Gamma cocked her head to one side.

  “Yeah. I spoke to Jacinta Redgrave.”

  “Well,” my grandmother replied, “we’re not from The Gossip Rag. We’re from an independent online publication finding its footing in the industry. We’d appreciate it if you furnished us with the information we need to write an article about recent occurrences in Gossip.”

  Dr. Briggs put down his coffee mug and rolled his lips from one side to the other—a sight to behold.

  “You’re not with Jacinta?” he asked.

  “No,” Georgina said. “Totally independent. And we’re not a tabloid either. We report the bare bones facts.”

  “What’s the name of your website?” Dr. Briggs asked.

  Here we go. The moment of genuine risk. The lie we’d told to get an audience with the doctor and ask all the questions we wanted about the disappearance of Jordan’s body would probably come out, eventually. We needed it to work for the next half an hour while we spoke to him.

  And coupling the lie with my new anxiety over having left the inn’s grounds for the first time in a month… I had to take deep, even breaths to calm down. A part of me wanted to turn and glance over my shoulder, as if Kyle would materialize out of nowhere and attack.

  “Gossip Chronicles,” Gamma said, in answer to the medical examiner’s question. “You can look it up if you’d like.”

  “No, that’s OK. I’m ready to talk.”

  “Great! Charlotte, if you please?”

  I brought my phone out of my pocket and opened it to the recording app. “Mind if we record the conversation, Mr. Briggs?”

  “Sure, yeah. That’s fine.”

  “Fantastic, thank you. We appreciate you talking to us.” I hit the button to record and let Gamma take the lead in the interrogation. Because that was what it was, though Dr. Briggs didn’t know it. My job would be to watch him carefully and take note of his changes in behavior as the questions were asked.

  “As I understand it, Dr. Briggs, there was a theft from the coroner’s office not so long ago.”

  “On Tuesday evening,” Dr. Briggs said. “Mr. Jordan Ames’ body went missing from the morgue.”

  “At around about what time would you say that happened?” Gamma asked.

  “I’m not sure,” the doctor replied, and he stopped rocking from side-to-side in his chair. A look of intense concentration came over him. “Not entirely sure, at least. It had to have been in the evening after we’d all left.”

  “What time is that?”

  “At around 6pm for me. I’m the last one here and the one to lock up.”

  “I see. And you don’t have cameras watching the building at all?” Gamma asked.

  “No. We’ve never needed them before now.” Dr. Briggs resumed rocking from side-to-side. “It’s such a crazy thing to happen, you know. The police are investigating it, thoroughly, though, so there’s no need to worry. They’ll figure out who did this and who killed the victim.”

  “Did you have a chance to examine the body before it was stolen?” Gamma offered him a smile. She was charming as could be, and her British accent helped her too. Likely, Dr. Briggs felt it was a meeting with the Queen. “You understand, people are quite interested in what happened to Mr. Ames.”

  “Right, yeah,” Dr. Briggs said, and again stopped rocking. He resumed only a moment later, though. “Look, I’m not at liberty to disclose details about an ongoing investigation.”

  “Of course. Of course.” Gamma kept that smile in place. “Did you see anything on the day it happened? You know, before you left the office, I mean? Anything suspicious at all?”

  “No, not really. Although…” Dr. Briggs grew still.

  “Yes?”

  “I did notice a black SUV circling the building when I was on my lunch break. I didn’t think it was strange at the time, but in hindsight—well, you know. It’s 20/20.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean.” Gamma feigned a pause in the conversation. “Would you say the coroner’s office is quite safe? Do you have an alarm or anything of the sort?”

  “No alarm, but we’ve got locks on our doors and windows, like usual. Funny thing is, there was no sign of a break-in, really. No sign at all. Which was strange since I distinctly remember locking up after myself.” Dr. Briggs leaned in, catching my grandmother’s gaze on. “It’s almost like… now, this is silly, ha. But it’s almost like he came back to life and walked off. If not for the fact that he’d been locked in the freezer, I would’ve said we had a zombie apocalypse on our hands.”

  What is with people and zombies?

  “Thank you for your time, Dr. Briggs. Our readers will appreciate this information.”

  We left the stuffy office behind and passed a very intrigued receptionist—she craned her neck to watch us all the way into the parking lot.

  “What do you think?” Gamma asked.

  “That he’s… suspicious. But I can’t put my finger on why?”

  “Agreed.” Gamma sighed. “We’ll have to tell your boyfriend and grandfather about this black SUV, you know. Just to be safe.”

  Boy, I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation with Brian. He’d be furious I’d taken matters into my own hands again. But we’d do what we had to do. Anything to solve the case and bring safety back to the Gossip Inn.

  11

  The meeting with Brian was set to take place in my bedroom—not the library, as it was still sealed off—that evening. I paced back and forth in front of my dressing table, Cocoa Puff watching me from my pillow. Occasionally, he would meow his concern, and I’d stop pacing to stroke his furry head. It wasn’t right to stress him out like this.

  My grandmother had been in contact with the mystery man she’d sent the tiny pea-sized pill to and… nothing ye
t. No results to report back.

  I had a feeling that whatever that pill had contained would turn the investigation on its head but brainstorming what the fluid might’ve been wouldn’t get us anywhere.

  A knock rat-tatted at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Brian entered, looking painfully handsome in his plaid shirt and blue jeans today, and locked the door behind himself. “You called?” he asked, sardonically.

  “Sorry I’ve been so quiet lately,” I said. “I’ve been busy.”

  Brian’s features softened. “Busy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what you’ve been busy with.”

  “You know me,” I said, and left it open-ended. He did know me, and he hadn’t been particularly happy with my interference in cases in the past. He was about to be even unhappier.

  “What did you want to talk about?” He came over and gave me a cursory peck on the cheek and a hug. “Is it serious?”

  “Yeah.” I sat down on the edge of my bed and gestured for him to sit on my dressing table chair. Cocoa got up and came over, then dropped himself into his comfy sleeping position next to my thigh.

  “All right.”

  “I think we need to discuss it on a call with Grandpa,” I said. “Especially since he’s had to go on a little mini-break lately.” Meaning Grant and the NSIB task team had withdrawn to a safe distance to avoid the police’s notice.

  “Oh. OK. No problem.” Brian’s brow wrinkled, but he withdrew his phone and the two pairs of wireless headphones that we used to contact Special Agent in Charge Grant. As my liaison, it was expected of Smulder that he would always have his phone and earphones with him. In case of emergency.

  I slipped the earphones into place, and Brian initiated the call.

  “Yes?” Grant’s voice in my ears. Boy, he didn’t sound happy.

  “Hi Grandpa,” Brian said. “Your favorite granddaughter wanted to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  I cleared my throat. “You’re going to need to be on the lookout for a black SUV from now on.”

  “We’re in the middle of looking out for another of your friends, Charlie.” Yeah, he was angrier than a mouse in a cheese drought. “All my resources are… busy.”

  “Trust me, you’re going to want to do this.”

  “Explain why,” Grant replied.

  I took a deep breath, glancing over at Brian and hating that I was about to make him very upset, then started talking. I told them both, in hushed tones, about our trip to the coroner’s office today and how we had discovered that the guilty party may have been driving a black SUV.

  Brian’s expression went from soft and caring to hard and impassive again. If he couldn’t accept the fact that I would go out of my way to keep my grandmother and the inn safe, then—

  “And you thought it was a good idea to go out of your way to find this information? After all the warnings I’ve given you?” Grant asked, blustering in a tone that sounded like a Pitbull’s bark.

  “Frankly, yes, I did feel that way. No offense, Grandpa, but you haven’t exactly got anything to show for the last thirty days. I have a feeling that we’ll figure this out before you do.”

  Smulder’s eyes widened.

  I snapped my mouth shut and grimaced. It wasn’t like me to be directly subordinate—at least not verbally.

  “Speak to me like that again and you’ll face disciplinary action.”

  “Yes, Grandpa,” I said, not meeting Smulder’s gaze.

  “As for this SUV,” he continued, “I doubt that it’s anything to worry about.”

  “But—”

  “Let me and my friends handle the problem.” That was his final say. Special Agent in Charge Grant hung up, and Brian withdrew the earphones from his ears right away.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked. “You put yourself in danger leaving the grounds, let alone going to see the medical examiner. Are you trying to get yourself killed, Charlotte?”

  “No, I’m trying to put an end to this.”

  “You’re going to bring that end down on your head if you continue. You’re lucky that Grandpa’s being so lenient with you. If it were me…” He released a breath. “Never mind.” He walked for the door, stopping only to accept the Bluetooth earphones from me.

  “Brian, please. I’m trying to do the right thing by telling you what’s going on. Try to get Grandpa to look out for that car. It’s important.”

  “Grandpa’s resources are spread thinly enough as it is without chasing after half-cocked theories about that man’s murder. Stay out of it, Charlie. Once and for all.” And then my boyfriend, the same one I’d thought infallibly sweet and caring, strode from the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Do you blame him? You’ve tested him non-stop.

  I stroked Cocoa Puff for a few seconds longer before leaving the room, as well.

  12

  Evening had come in the Gossip Inn, and with Jordan gone—rest his soul—Gamma, Hannah, Maria, and I had set up a schedule for looking after the youngest kitties at night. Tonight, just so happened to be my turn, and that was fine. I doubted I’d get much sleep anyway, not after the argument with Smulder and Grant.

  They seriously didn’t believe us. That or they didn’t believe Dr. Briggs, which was a possibility too. But I doubted that. Grant was convinced he was right. He was used to being the top dog and telling people what to do.

  And I was supposed to be the good little spy who did as he asked.

  Sunlight, the cutest kitty in the world, meowed at me from the door to the incubator room, and I went out to join him.

  It was just past 8:00 p.m., my shift at its beginning, and the smallest kittens were asleep. Sunlight had entered that playful kitty adolescent phase with ease, and I played with him on the kitten foster center’s floor, laughing at his antics.

  “You’re a crazy one, you know that?”

  He meowed and leaped over my knees, trying to bat at the feather toy I dangled above his head.

  The subtle creak of a wood behind me wiped the smile off my face.

  Someone’s here. Someone’s in here with you.

  I turned my head, as casually as I could manage, and scanned the area that led toward the door that separated the inn and the foster center. Nothing. Empty.

  Was I imagining things?

  I’d been awful tense lately.

  Come on, you know better than to doubt yourself. Kyle could be here. He could be anywhere.

  I dragged the feather along the boards again, and a few of the other kittens came to play as well. They play-fought with each other or chased after the cat toy.

  You’re fine. Calm down.

  My ears were officially pricked up now, though.

  I pretended to be fully immersed in what the kitties were doing.

  Another creak came, and I zeroed in on where it had come from.

  The incubation room.

  I set the cat toy aside and rose from my knees. I stretched my arms and legs, carefully and slowly. Nothing worse than going into a fight with tight muscles that wouldn’t do what you wanted them to in a sticky situation.

  Finally, I slunk toward the half-door that separated the incubation room from the rest of the center. My pulse pounded, blood rushing in my ears, but I forced myself to take steady, even breaths.

  He was here.

  It was the slight shift in the air, the atmosphere of ill-intent that had me convinced. Kyle was here.

  I stood in front of the doorway to the incubation room and looked in. The soft hum of the machine was the only noise, and the room itself was kept in a relative state of calm and darkness. The window at the opposite end of the room was always closed.

  Except now it wasn’t.

  The curtains draped over it drifted in the breeze leaked through the tiniest of gaps between the bottom sash and the sill.

  “I know you’re in here,” I said, slowly. “And I’m not afraid.”

>   Who are you kidding?

  Kyle had always had too much power over my emotions. It had taken a lot for me to break free and allow my suspicions to arise during our marriage.

  I removed my phone from my pocket, switched on the flashlight, and aimed it into the room, scanning the dark corners, under the table of supplies and behind the incubator. Nothing. The space was empty.

  I unlatched the door and entered, wary as a mouse under a cat’s nose.

  Regardless, I moved swiftly to the window, closed and latched it.

  When I turned around, the space was as empty as it had been seconds ago, but I lifted my phone and scanned the room with the flashlight again. A glimmer of… something on top of the incubator drew me closer.

  My steps faltered, but I forced myself to keep going until I was directly in front of it.

  It was a rose gold wedding band.

  I lifted it from the top of the incubator, a mixture of terror and hysterical laughter bubbling in my throat. The engraving along the inside of the band told me what I’d feared since the minute I’d laid eyes on it.

  I’ll love you forever. C.M.

  It was Kyle’s wedding band. The one I’d slipped onto his finger on the day of our wedding. The engraving I’d chosen specifically for him.

  My palm closed around the ring, hiding it from view.

  He had been here, all right. And he was toying with me.

  Don’t let him get under your skin.

  A hand landed on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off, dropping into a spinning kick as I’d done with my Gamma the other day.

  “Whoa! Charlie, wait!” Brian tripped backward to stop me from knocking him over. He held up his palms.

  It took me a second to fully register that it was him and not Kyle. I straightened. “What are you doing in here?” I asked.

  “Hostile much?” Brian frowned at me. “As I recall, I wasn’t the one breaking the rules.”

  “Brian, what is it?” The ring was still tucked against my palm. I could tell him about it now, tell him that Kyle had left it for me, but would he believe me? Shoot, would Grant come rushing in and chase Kyle off?