Fireside Homicide Cozy Mystery Bundle

by Willow Monroe

  Tucking her hands into the sleeves of her jacket, she flipped open one of the handles that locked the window in place. Whoever used an icicle to kill Loden West would have left fingerprints on this window handle.

  “Ms. Stone?” Mrs. Northlake said from behind her.

  Gemma jumped, then immediately whirled to face the petite old woman who was standing not five feet from her. How had she been able to sneak up on her like that? And then Gemma noticed that she had her knitting bag over one arm, her hand inside the bag.

  “Child what are you doing? It’s cold enough up here without opening all of the windows.”

  “I was...I was...” Gemma simply could not think of an excuse. “Okay, Mrs. Northlake. I think maybe an icicle was used to kill General West. I noticed that one was missing right here in front of this window and I wanted to make sure before I went to the police.” As Gemma spoke, she closed the window.

  “An icicle would have melted before the killer made it downstairs,” Mrs. Northlake said simply.

  “You’re right,” Gemma said, her heart dropping a little in disappointment. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Just who do you think killed General West, dear?”

  Gemma shrugged, defeated yet again. “I have no idea.”

  “He wasn’t killed with an icicle,” Simone Northlake said. Her voice had changed. It was more like it had been that morning, cold and hard. She reached into the basket on her arm and pulled out a long knitting needle.

  “A knitting needle,” Gemma guessed, her voice barely a whisper in the hall.

  Mrs. Northlake nodded. There was certainly nothing wrong with her hearing.

  “He was stabbed with a knitting needle,” Gemma repeated.

  “With this one in particular. It’s a Bernat, number 2, made of steel. Fourteen inches long. The point is quite sharp.”

  “You...you..,” Gemma swallowed hard as realization hit her that she was face to face with the last person she suspected of murder. “But why?”

  “Why don’t you come into my apartment?” Mrs. Northlake said, motioning toward a door across from the elevator. “We’ll have tea and I’ll be happy to tell you the whole story. Then you can go get your detective friend.”

  Gemma followed, knowing it was the last thing she should be doing but unable to stop herself. She had to know. Her mother would have said curiosity killed the cat. As they walked to Simone’s door and stepped inside, Gemma noticed just how quiet it was up here. No one was around at all.

  Mrs. Northlake’s apartment was really just several guest rooms with doors opening up the walls between them. Gemma was led through a pristine sitting room filled with beautifully carved antique furniture and then Simone ushered her into a small kitchen with a table and two chairs in one corner near a window.

  “Please have a seat,” Mrs. Northlake said, pulling out a wobbly little chair. “You know Winter and I loved having tea here in the evening while we talked. Even covered in the snow, the view is gorgeous.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” Gemma agreed. She sat gingerly on the edge of the chair.

  Mrs. Northlake filled a kettle with water and set it on the small apartment sized stove. Then she prepared a small plate complete with a paper doily and covered it with an array of cookies. “I don’t have many visitors up here,” she said, turning to smile at Gemma. “I’ve almost forgotten how to entertain.”

  Delicate-looking white china tea cups were placed on saucers with a little clink and Mrs. Northlake dropped a tea bag in each one. Gemma didn’t recognize the logo on the box and thought perhaps it might come from somewhere in Europe, maybe even France. Gemma watched her movements carefully. Her hands were steady. There was no sign of nervousness or age in her movements.

  “Would you like one lump or two?” Simone asked, holding up a box of sugar cubes.

  “Two,” Gemma said without thinking.

  The teakettle began to whistle and Gemma looked out the window. The snow was coming down again. Her phone vibrated in her pocket but she ignored it. Holly would be angry with her, but she had to get Simone to talk.

  “Now, isn’t this pleasant?” Simone said as she placed a tray on the table between them.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gemma said, as if a man had not been murdered in the lobby the day before. As if this seemingly frail old woman was not his murderer.

  “Now, be patient with me while I tell you a little story,” Simone began. “Remember I told you I met Mr. Northlake in France during the war?”

  Gemma nodded.

  “I was working for the French Resistance at that time. Now, don’t look so shocked. They approached me and how could I refuse? I did it for my country. Besides, who would suspect a young girl, riding around the countryside on her bicycle selling soap and giving knitting lessons?”

  “Probably no one,” Gemma admitted.

  “Especially the Germans,” she said with a little smile. “I would learn of their movements and carry that information to the Americans in code, of course.”

  “Weren’t you terrified?” Gemma asked. She could see the steam coming off of that cup of tea and knew it was too hot to drink.

  “I was. But they taught me how to protect myself. I’m not proud of it, but I had to resort to violence a few times,” Simone said, looking at Gemma sadly.

  “You killed people?”

  “Germans.”

  “With your knitting needles?”

  Mrs. Northlake nodded, a tendril of snow white hair falling out of place and curling against her neck. The needles lay on the table between them, looking more like weapons than Gemma could have ever imagined.

  “Why General West?” Gemma asked. “I heard you greet him, saw him stoop to hug you and then you sat on the sofa with him.”

  “He was already dead by that time,” Mrs. Northlake said, a little smile on her face. This one was not sad.

  “Why?” Gemma tried to remember the chain of events. Could Simone have moved him to the sofa after stabbing him? With no one the wiser? It was possible, she supposed. The settee they’d been sitting on was very close to where they hugged, so Simone could almost have just pushed him back onto it.

  “Several years ago, General West approached Winter with a moneymaking scheme that was going to make us enough money to save Northlake Manor,” Simone began. “We were already running on a shoestring by that time, but we’d put a little nest egg away. We both knew it was a gamble but from the numbers he showed us, it was all legitimate and seemed to be a really a good investment.”

  “But it wasn’t,” Gemma guessed.

  Simone shook her head. “Within months every penny was gone with nothing to show for it. Our gamble had given us nothing. I was heartbroken. Winter was devastated and so embarrassed that he’d let his family down.”

  Gemma needed something to do with her hands and her first instinct was to drink the tea. She even reached out to pick up the cup, but it was almost too hot to touch.

  “Drink your tea, dear,” Simone urged.

  “As soon as it cools a bit,” Gemma told her.

  Simone smiled. “Of course, Benjamin and Vincent didn’t help. They berated their father for doing something so foolish, for wasting his money and for putting Northlake Manor at risk. And then Winter killed himself. Shot himself in the office that Benjamin uses now as his own.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Gemma said.

  “Which brings us back to how and why Loden West was killed. I stabbed him with the knitting needle when he hugged me there in the lobby. There was no way I was going to let him get away with what he had done to Winter. To our family. I just had to wait until the right time. When I found out he was here and that Benjamin and Vincent were going to sell out to him, I saw my chance. End of story.” The steel in her eyes was startling.

  “You just had to tell her, didn’t you, mother?” Victoria said. Gemma twisted in her chair to see the other woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “You had to give it away.”

  “She had alread
y figured it out,” Simone said without looking at her daughter.

  “And now what, mother? Are you going to kill her? Me?” Victoria’s voice grew shrill as she approached the table. “I told you you’d never get away with it.”

  “Victoria, darling, you know I was just trying to cover up for you,” Simone said.

  Gemma was suddenly so confused she sat there in silence, simply watching the two women.

  “Ms. Stone, I was just trying to cover up for my daughter. She’s the real killer.”

  “What? How could you say that?” Victoria wailed, lunging for her mother. “You know I’d never kill anyone.”

  Gemma saw Simone’s hand fall onto one of the knitting needles. She scrambled to her feet and ran, leaving the two screaming women behind her. Their voices were somewhat muffled in the hall but she heard Simone say, “Look what you’ve done. Now she’s gotten away.”

  There was no way Gemma was waiting on that elevator. Dashing to the opposite end of the hall, she slammed through the fire door and bounded down the stairs. They were dark and cold, and she felt like she might fall any second, but she plunged ahead. She had to get to Ross before Simone alerted her sons to stop Gemma. Once or twice Gemma almost fell, but she managed to grab the railing and keep herself from tumbling headlong down the concrete stairs and breaking her neck.

  Once she reached the ground floor, Gemma paused outside the fire door to collect herself. She could hear nothing from above, so she was pretty sure no one was following her. All she had to do was get to Ross before she ran into one of the Northlake men.

  Gemma opened the door and stepped out into the hall. There was the murmur of voices and the clank of silverware from the restaurant. The bathrooms were on her right and then Benjamin’s office. The door to the sci-fi convention was directly across from that.

  She fought the urge to run and moved forward at a normal pace. And then, just as she reached the office door, it swung open. At the same time, someone came out of the sci-fi convention, weird noises and laughter flooded the hall and Gemma ducked inside and flattened herself against the wall. Bilker was at his table, hawking his books. Chewbacca was nearby talking to some fans. A zombie came up behind her and Gemma almost screamed.

  And then she saw Nick and her heart leaped for joy.

  “Nick,” she called his name over and over as she ran in his direction.

  “Gemma, honey, Holly has been looking for you,” he said, concern clouding his face. “What is wrong?”

  “Mrs. Northlake. Simone. She killed him. Knitting needles. She’s upstairs,” Gemma babbled, knowing she wasn’t making sense. “Please come with me. I’m afraid...”

  “Okay, okay, calm down. Afraid of who?” Nick said, holding onto her hand as he followed her toward the door.

  “We have to find Ross,” Gemma said.

  The hall was empty and Gemma ran toward the conference room door, pulling Nick behind her. Everyone looked up when she flew into the room, including Ross and the big men in uniform.

  “Gemma,” Ross said.

  “Mrs. Northlake stabbed General West with a knitting needle,” Gemma gasped. “She told me. She’s upstairs in her rooms now with Victoria. I’m afraid....I’m afraid she might hurt Victoria.”

  Ross was already moving, followed by the men in uniform and police officers. He pointed to one. “You! Stay here and watch the elevator. Stop anyone coming down.”

  Nick and Gemma brought up the rear, following Ross up the steps. Gemma could hear the sound of their feet on the concrete. It was colder than ever and she was shaking like a leaf but she and Nick managed to keep up.

  Victoria was in the hall on her knees, sobbing hysterically. “She drank it. She drank the poison.”

  “Someone call 911,” Ross barked, then ducked inside Simone’s apartment. Everyone was suddenly busy.

  But all Gemma could think about was the woman on her knees in the middle of the floor, wailing, clawing at her face and pulling her hair.

  “Victoria – it’s OK,” Gemma said as she knelt on the floor beside her. “We’re going to get your mother some help.”

  “The poison was meant for you,” Victoria screamed. “When I let you escape, she drank it. I killed her.”

  “No, Victoria. No you did not,” Gemma told her. “We’ll get this all sorted out soon enough but right now, you need to calm down and let us help.”

  “What’s going on here?” Benjamin Northlake loomed over them as big as a bear and twice as scary. Vincent was right behind him.

  “I killed her Benjamin. Oh, God, I killed her,” Victoria began to moan aloud again.

  Nick pulled Gemma to her feet and took her to the side where she watched wide-eyed as the area filled with more and more people, all of them in police and military uniforms. At last the EMTs arrived and took Simone out on a gurney.

  “Is she...is she dead?” Gemma asked when Ross approached them. He looked shaken, but still in control.

  He shook his head and reached to brush her hair back from her face. “No, but you could have been, if you’d drank the tea she prepared for you.”

  As if to bring the point home, Lt. Colonel Baker stepped up beside Ross. He carried a clear evidence bag with the tea cups sealed inside.

  “She was going to poison me?” Gemma asked, looking from Ross to the cups.

  “She drank it, instead. I think we caught it in time to save her,” Ross said.

  “Where is Victoria?” Gemma asked.

  “She’s with her brothers now. They’re looking after her, making sure she gets her meds and getting her calmed down,” Ross explained.

  “Ms. Stone, if you’re up to it, we’re going to need a statement from you,” Lt. Colonel Baker said.

  Gemma nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  With Nick on one side and Ross on the other, she held both of their hands tightly as they rode down to the lobby on the elevator. She felt cold and in shock, unable to believe that any of this was happening. That sweet little old lady was a murderer, and she would never have guessed it.

  Once again, she found herself in the makeshift interrogation room. It seemed awfully small with Ross, Nick, Colonel Baker and several other military people crowded around the table. They were all looking at her.

  Slowly, Gemma began to repeat Simone’s story.

  Chapter Fourteen

  While Gemma talked, the atmosphere in the room grew more and more tense. Every once in a while a telephone rang somewhere, but no one left to answer it. Both Ross and Nick were scribbling notes as fast as they could. A knock on the door interrupted her briefly and a young police officer handed a note to Lt. Colonel Baker. He read it and nodded.

  “There is absolutely no background on Simone Northlake before she came to the United States with her husband, Winter Northlake,” he announced.

  “I know what she told me,” Gemma said.

  “I believe you. It just looks like the French took care of their informants very, very well. Continue.”

  By the time it was over, she was exhausted. Nick walked with her back to the convention hall, which was almost completely empty.

  “Gemma,” Holly said, taking her into her arms. “I was so worried.”

  “Can we just go home?” Gemma asked, leaning into her friend. “I’m so tired and I don’t want to stay here another night.”

  “Absolutely,” Holly said. “And I’d love it if you would stay with me tonight.”

  Gemma nodded, too tired to argue.

  “Mitch and I will close up shop here,” Nick offered. “If you’ll take her home with you.”

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Holly said, helping Gemma into her coat.

  Nick walked them to the back door where they’d entered just one day ago and waited with Gemma while Holly went to get the SUV. The snow had stopped but it was bitter cold. Gemma began to shiver and knew she would not stop for a long time.

  “Nick, please be careful,” Gemma said quietly as she looked up at him. “I don’t like leaving you
here.”

  “I’ll text you later and let you know I’m home safely. I don’t think there’s any more reporting to be done here,” he told her. “And I don’t think anyone else is in danger.”

  “If you hear anything you’ll let me know,” Gemma said.

  “I will. You stay with Holly and get some rest,” he said as he buckled her safely into the seat. Then he closed the door with a thud and waved as they drove away.

  After a hot shower, Gemma sipped cocoa while wrapped in a quilt in front of the fireplace in Holly’s living room. Her shivering had subsided somewhat and she knew Holly and her mom wanted to hear Mrs. Northlake’s story. She told it again, growing sleepier by the minute.

  Finally, they climbed the stairs to the room where Holly had slept as a child. She rarely slept in this room any longer but after helping Gemma into one of the twin beds, she crawled into the other. Safe and secure in her best friend’s house, Gemma was asleep in seconds.

  The next morning, Gemma awoke with a start. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was and then she saw Holly sleeping in the bed across from her. How many times when they were growing up had she spent the night here, woken up in this same room and looked across at her best friend sleeping soundly, holding onto her pillow?

  She reached for her phone, which was on the night stand by the bed and saw that it was after eight o’clock in the morning. There was a text from Nick. He’d let her know he was safe at home just like he promised he would. She smiled at the little heart he always added to his texts to her.

  There was a voice mail from Ross. She was to call him as soon as she woke up. Getting out of bed, she was halfway to the bathroom when there was a knock at the door. It opened and Brenda poked her head inside.

  “Oh, Gemma, you’re up,” she said with an apologetic little smile.

  “Yes, ma’am. Is something wrong?”

  “Detective Ferguson is downstairs. He’d like to talk to you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Gemma said, reaching for a robe on the door.