Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  “Mr. Hamilton invested heavily in property on Winston Lake where a group planned to build lakeside condos. Interested investors were taken to the site by boat so they could admire the position of the property on the lake. I heard later there weren’t any access roads to the site because it was surrounded by land owned by the state. Boat owners could still get to the property, but it would be really hard and expensive getting heavy construction equipment to the site.

  “Making the property worthless for development,” I added. That sounded promising. “And, of course, the investors didn’t learn this until they put up their money?”

  Connie nodded. “They might eventually get access rights, but it could be held up in bureaucratic red tape for years. Now whether Victoria was involved with it, I couldn’t say.”

  “How heavily invested was he?” Nita asked.

  “I don’t know, and that’s all I’m going to say about the matter. If you have further questions, talk to Norman Ridley. He was the developer. But be careful—he’s so slick he could bite off your arm and you wouldn’t notice it was missing until later.”

  Chapter 20

  Placing fresh-cut flowers throughout your house before showing it is like adding jewelry to complement an outfit. It will give your home an extra little touch. Even a few flowers in a baby food jar can add charm.

  After dropping Nita back at the office to get her car, I picked up Inky from the vet and took him home. It was already mid-afternoon, and I knew I wouldn’t get much done that day at the Denton house, but the trip there might give me the chance to see Will Parker along the way. I hoped I hadn’t missed him.

  As I turned onto Battlement Drive, I spotted flashing blue lights from a police car blocking the road. Somebody was going to get a ticket. The police officer waved me over. I hoped it wasn’t going to be me. The thought of having to pay a fine with my meager savings worried me. I’d already sacrificed my daily cappuccino; now even regular coffee might be beyond my reach.

  “Sorry, ma’am, you won’t be able to get through here right now. There’s been an accident.” Farther up the road, I saw a number of emergency vehicles and Detective Spangler getting out of his car.

  “Can you tell me what’s happened?” I asked. “I was supposed to meet someone along this road.”

  “A man was hit by a car, and they’re getting ready to take him to St. John’s Hospital.”

  “Oh, no.” I tried to absorb the news, envisioning Will and his cheeky smile. “Was he an older man in western-style clothing?” I hoped I was wrong.

  “I believe so, ma’am. Was he the man you were to meet?”

  I nodded sadly. If I’d gotten there sooner or called to say I would be delayed, he might not have been hit. Would it have made a difference? I would never know.

  In addition to my concern for Will, I worried about what the shock of this would do to his daughter and grandchildren. “Do you know how he is?”

  “He was in pretty bad shape when we got here.” The officer held up his hand to wave another car to the side.

  “What about his dog? He would have had Pinto with him. Is he okay?”

  “The dog is fine. He stayed right by the gentleman.”

  “I’d like to find out where he lives so I can go by and talk to his family. Would you be able to tell me? I’d like to offer them my help.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know. The other officers up there will be looking for identification on him and will be notifying the family.”

  “If he doesn’t have any identification, you might let them know his name is Will Parker. He said he lives with his daughter on this road, but I don’t know which house. Is there any way I can find out about his family?”

  “If you call the station later, they might be able to give you more details. Tonight’s TV news or tomorrow’s paper may also have information. Reporters desperate for news usually follow up on calls we get like this.”

  “What will happen to his dog? His name is Pinto.”

  “We’ll check the houses up here. If we can’t find anyone at home, we’ll call in Animal Control. They’ll check his tags.”

  “Oh, no.” I knew Will would be worried about Pinto. If Inky were taken to an Animal Control center, even if for a short time, I would be upset.

  “Don’t worry. We know he isn’t a stray. They’ll keep him until we can notify the man’s family and they can come get him. We can’t leave him here.”

  I didn’t think there was anything more I could contribute. “How long will it be before I can get through?”

  “It may take a while. After the ambulance leaves, we’ll be here searching for clues.”

  I looked up. The ambulance turned onto Battlement Drive, its lights flashing and the siren beginning to wail. “Clues for what?”

  “For the identity of the car that hit the old gentleman. It was a hit and run.”

  I sat there for several seconds still shaken and my heart racing. How could anyone hit Will and leave him there?

  Turning my car around, I headed back toward town. What had Will wanted to talk to me about? Something he said kept nagging at him. Had he seen someone coming or going near Victoria’s home the night of the murder and remembered it? Or suspected something?

  Feeling depressed about what had happened to Will, I wasn’t in the mood to go directly home. I wished I knew where his daughter lived. I didn’t know if there was anything I could do to help, but I’d at least like to offer.

  As I drew closer to town, I decided to visit Mrs. Webster. She would be getting anxious to hear news about my investigation, no matter how trivial. On my way, I stopped at the Magnolia Blossom, a florist on Tyler Avenue, where I picked up a basket of spring flowers. I hoped they would help cheer Mrs. Webster and soften the blow that I still hadn’t found the killer. I also picked up a basket of flowers for Will, if I could get into the hospital to see him. If not, I could leave them at the front desk for him.

  The Webster house was nestled in a grove of evergreen trees, near the edge of the college grounds. A split rail fence covered with fragrant honeysuckle surrounded the small brick bungalow, and a wide variety of roses filled a well-tended flower garden for which Mrs. Webster was famous. The roses, starting to bud, would soon be in full glory. The smell of damp, rich earth reminded me of the times I’d helped tend the Romano vegetable garden and how beautiful Louiston was this time of year as it came alive again.

  When I knocked on the door, Mrs. Webster pulled back the curtain and peered out the front window. I appreciated that she didn’t automatically open the door but first checked to see who was there. I had no reason to suspect Mrs. Webster was in any danger, but she couldn’t be too careful.

  “Girl, come on in here.” Mrs. Webster broad smile showed how happy she was to see me. “It’s so good of you to stop by.”

  I handed her the basket filled with tulips, daffodils, and other spring flowers. “These are for you. They might help cheer you up.”

  “That was thoughtful of you.” She placed the basket on the coffee table. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have spent your money on me.”

  I smiled. That was so like Mrs. Webster—always doing for others but never feeling comfortable accepting anything for herself.

  “Have you eaten yet?” Mrs. Webster picked up a pair of oven mitts. “There’s meatloaf in the oven. Will you join me for supper?”

  Each time I had visited the Webster home, Mrs. Webster always offered me food. Feeding people was one of her greatest pleasures. I wondered how Tyrone stayed so slim all these years. Must be the running he did.

  “If I’m not imposing, I would love to join you.” I was unexpectedly hungry, even after the sandwiches and cakes I’d consumed for lunch, which seemed like days ago. They’d been delicious at the time, but the dainty morsels hadn’t stayed with me for long.

  “Then go wash your hands and I’ll set anoth
er plate.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I got up to obey. When I returned, I viewed the changes to the kitchen with surprise. “I love what you did in here.”

  “The cream paint on the cupboards was your suggestion. I can’t do anything to help Tyrone, so painting the cupboards kept me busy, and my stress level under control. If he’s in jail much longer, every board in this house will end up with a fresh coat of paint. After that, I may start making new curtains for every window.”

  “How was Tyrone when you last saw him?”

  “Anxious about missing school and the play production. But, most of all, he wants to be working on the Denton house with you. He appreciated your confidence in him but feels he’s left you in a bind.”

  “Everyone misses having Tyrone around. Luigi Vocaro said business has been down with Tyrone away.” Tyrone had worked for Luigi during high school and people liked him, particularly the older folks who frequently came in searching for someone to talk to. Tyrone asked them about their families and their lives. He knew their woes and their war stories, and he never corrected them when the stories changed from one telling to the next. “Luigi is lucky to have him, and he knows it.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, Laura. Tyrone is a good young man. It’s terrible having him in jail. He’s worked so hard and stayed out of trouble all these years. How could this happen?”

  “It’s only a matter of time before he’s released.” I wished I could say that with more conviction.

  Mrs. Webster put a large plate in front of me, overflowing with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn bread. I stared at the plate, wondering how I was going to eat it all. I took a bite of the mashed potatoes smothered in rich brown gravy and sliced mushrooms and closed my eyes as pleasure filled me. I hadn’t eaten anything that delicious since I began working on the Denton house, and even some time before that.

  We ate in companionable silence. I admired Mrs. Webster’s restraint in waiting to ask about the investigation and marveled at her ability to stay centered and calm, just as she had when she nursed my dying mother.

  When we finished, Mrs. Webster scooped up a slice of pecan pie for each of us, my eyes widening at the size of the pieces. It would be useless to protest. If I ate her food every day, I would have to buy a whole new wardrobe.

  “What have you been able to discover?” Mrs. Webster eventually asked.

  “I’m sorry to say, not too much. It’s going slowly.” As we ate our pie, I filled Mrs. Webster in on the people I’d talked to so far.

  “No one saw anything unusual the day of the murder?”

  I decided not to mention Will Parker’s accident. It was senseless letting her think Will might have seen something.

  “I found out Carlos, the gardener, has an alibi, so we can mark him off our list of possible suspects.” I wished I could tell her more. I set down my coffee cup more forcefully than I’d intended. “This is so frustrating. TV detectives make it look much easier.”

  “I’m grateful you’re delving into this for Tyrone.” Mrs. Webster put her hands up to her brow as though to wipe away some of the stress and fatigue showing on her face. “The police are satisfied Tyrone did it, so they won’t be investigating this further.”

  “I did get one piece of information, for what it’s worth. Mr. Hamilton invested heavily in a property development project set up by Norman Ridley. I overheard Cora Ridley accuse Victoria of having an affair with Norman. There may be no connection, but it’s worth investigating.”

  “Norman Ridley is a real sleaze ball. I nursed his mother at his home, and the goings on there would have appalled anyone who hadn’t already seen the things in life I’ve seen. How he ever got elected to the state legislature, I’ll never know.”

  “Sometimes people get the officials they deserve, especially if they were stupid enough to vote for him.”

  “I’ll tell you this,” Mrs. Webster waved her fork in front of her as though for emphasis. “If Victoria was involved with Norman, they were up to no good. And I don’t mean the hanky-panky type of no good.”

  I got up to help clear the table. “What about Victoria’s supposed affair with Norman? Could that have driven Cora to murder? She’s been putting up with his affairs for years, so why now?”

  “I don’t know why Cora and Victoria would want to fight over a tomcat like Norman, but some women are stupid. Cora has a violent temper. I was on the receiving end of it enough times to know. It wouldn’t surprise me if she murdered Victoria in a fit of rage. When do you plan to question her?”

  Mrs. Webster’s piercing gaze pinned me to the chair, and I found myself unable to answer. Her words were less a question and more a directive. If Cora’s temper was as bad as people said, I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask her whether she had murdered Victoria, no matter how vaguely I worded the question.

  “Why don’t we both go see her?” I hoped Mrs. Webster would agree. “Since you know her well, she may react better to being questioned if you’re there?”

  Mrs. Webster snorted. “Like I said, I was witness to too many of her shenanigans when I worked in her home. She’d see me as nebbing into her business. Besides, with Tyrone being a suspect, if I were there, her defenses would go up.”

  I sighed and gave in. “I’ll figure out a way to run into her.” I didn’t look forward to being on the receiving end of one of Cora’s eruptions. Did her outbreaks ever turn physical?

  Chapter 21

  For open house, leave the driveway and front of your house free of cars or other vehicles. You want to give potential buyers a clear view of your house.

  It was nearly dawn, and the din of chirping birds was becoming annoying. I wrapped my jacket more tightly around me, wishing I could turn on my car heater. However, even with my limited experience, I knew enough not to have my car running while on stakeout. It was bound to draw attention, and someone in a nearby house might come out and question me, or worse, call the police.

  I was parked on a tree-lined road close to the Ridley home to be in position to trail Cora when she pulled out of her garage, whenever that might be. I wanted to question her on neutral territory and hoped this wasn’t a day when Cora decided to sleep until noon. Mrs. Webster said Cora stopped for breakfast on her way to work at Millennium Bank most mornings. Unfortunately, she didn’t go to the same place each day.

  I sat waiting in hopes Cora would come out soon and drive to a place that was warm and had hot coffee. Until then, I shivered in my seat and sipped a cold Pepsi, hoping its caffeine would help keep me awake.

  Through the budding trees, I had a clear view of the Ridley house. Another week of warmer weather and the sprouted leaves would have blocked my view and I could have missed seeing Cora drive away. A small thing, but, at this point, I was grateful for any break that helped with my investigation.

  I studied the Ridleys’ two-story colonial with its ugly mustard paint. I shook my head in disbelief. What were they thinking when they selected such an awful color?

  It didn’t take long for me to become bored. Other than slouching down even further in my seat when an occasional car drove by, I had nothing to do or to keep my thoughts occupied. I wished I’d downloaded an audible book on my phone. I could have listened to Robert P. Parker’s character Spencer and learned from him how to trail someone without being seen. He was a pro and wasn’t afraid to approach a suspect who might become violently angry. How would Spencer deal with Cora?

  Fictional detectives gave the impression stakeouts were more interesting than what I was experiencing. I was cold, cramped, and convinced I was wasting my time. However, I needed to question Cora, and hopefully soon so I could go on to work at the Denton house. Conducting a stakeout would be a lot easier if I didn’t have a job and work to do. Once I talked to Cora I could report back to Mrs. Webster and have it off my mind.

  Just when I was beginning to give up hope Cora was going to
work anytime soon, the garage door went up and Cora’s gold Cadillac backed out. I sat up abruptly, nearly spilling my Pepsi, and fumbled with my keys to start my car. After my long, uncomfortable wait, I didn’t want to lose her.

  Cora drove toward the center of Louiston, and, after multiple turns, ended up in the vicinity of Vocaro’s. Could she be going there? My hopes rose, but then the Cadillac coasted past the coffee shop. Drat. Why couldn’t Cora go to Vocaro’s like almost everyone else in town so I could casually bump into her there?

  When a traffic light turned red, I braked abruptly, thankful another car wasn’t behind me. I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand in frustration. No matter how much I wanted to keep up with Cora, I wasn’t going to run a red light.

  I tried to keep the Cadillac in sight, but when it disappeared from view and the red light became the longest I’d experienced in my life, a word I never used came out of my mouth. Now I could understand why detective fiction contained so many curse words. A detective’s frustration level must be overwhelming.

  With no traffic in sight, as soon as the light turned green, I accelerated with as much force as a NASCAR driver. I wouldn’t run a red light, but I didn’t mind a little speed. Circling several of the mid-city blocks and still not seeing Cora’s car, I was ready to give up when I spotted a gold Cadillac parked in the lot next to Hibbard’s Bakery. It might not be Cora’s, but it was worth checking inside to see if Cora was there. I hadn’t gotten close enough to her to see her license number. If she wasn’t inside, my only other option was to drive to the Millennium Bank and hopefully intercept her in the parking lot. Since I didn’t bank there, it would be obvious to Cora what I was up to.

  When I opened the bakery door, the aroma of freshly fried donuts hit me. My stomach growled, and I realized how hungry I was. After the huge meal Mrs. Webster had served me the evening before, I didn’t think I would ever be able to eat again. One whiff and I was ready to give into the temptation the array of donuts presented. First, I needed to look for Cora. Later, I would come back to the counter and select donuts for the painters at the Denton house. At least then my stop at the bakery wouldn’t have been a waste of time.