Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I’ve always wondered whether Victoria caught someone stealing from the house the night she was killed. It’s hard to prove since no one can say if anything is missing. Skip hasn’t lived in the house for a few years and wouldn’t know what Victoria accumulated or gave away after he left.”

  “But how does Carlos’ helper come into this?”

  “He’s living in a small, rickety trailer at the campground. It made me wonder how he came by a piece like that to sell to Josh.”

  The traffic light turned red, and Nita slammed on her brakes, stopping in the middle of the intersection. At the best of times, Nita’s driving made me cringe, and tonight was no exception.

  Nita shifted into reverse and backed out of the intersection. “You think he could have stolen it from Victoria? Aren’t you being a snob? Who’s to know what he owns or buys with his salary, even if he lives in an old trailer?”

  I decided not to remind her of her suspicions about the motorcyclists. “Seriously, you should have seen the piece. It looks like it should have been in a museum. It just doesn’t fit.”

  “And what do you know of museum quality pieces?”

  “You’re right. I don’t know anything, but it still makes me wonder. I’m so lacking in clues I’m willing to consider anything.”

  “Okay. Let’s go check it out. We can go there on the way home.”

  “What? Tonight? It’s already after ten.”

  “Didn’t you say earlier at the campground one of Carlos’ helpers recognized you? Maybe seeing you there made him think you were checking on them. Have you thought about that? They could be clearing out of there right now.”

  “I should call Detective Spangler and let him handle it.”

  “And tell him what? Someone who might have been one of Carlos’ helpers sold Josh a wooden chalice that may or may not have belonged to Victoria and, therefore, he’s Victoria’s murderer?”

  As much as I hated to admit it, Nita was right. “Okay. We’ll have a quick look around the campground, but that’s all.” I rested my head on the seat back, feeling weary.

  When the light changed, Nita accelerated but we found ourselves going in reverse. Thankfully, no one was behind us. She put the gear in drive, and we started down the road again. Fortunately for her children, Guido had been the one to teach them to drive.

  Nita pulled into a parking space in front of Mason’s Pharmacy and grabbed her handbag from the backseat.

  “What do you need so urgently right now?”

  “Hair spray.” Nita pushed open the door and hopped out, pulling her cell phone from her bag. “I also need to tell Guido I’ll be a little late.”

  I opened my car window and called after her. “You’re worried about your hair at a time like this?”

  “No. It’s for self-defense. Cheaper than mace and it’s legal. You never know what characters you’ll run into creeping around in the woods.

  “In that case, get two.”

  When Nita returned to the car, I was studying the map spread out in front of me. “At this time of night, campers may need some kind of card to activate the gate to get back into the campground. If we drive up and don’t have a card, we’ll draw attention to ourselves. Mrs. Dexter already thinks we’re crazy.” I refolded the map and returned it to the seat pocket. “If we park on Orchard Road, we can walk across the field that’s next to the campground and get in from the back. No one will see us.”

  “I believe you’re really getting into this.”

  “Not on your life.”

  Nita drove to the campground in record time and parked under low-hanging tree branches along the road. I breathed a sigh of relief we’d arrived there alive. When the car lights went out, the area was dark, but, after a while, my eyes adjusted. The full moon peeking in and out from behind thick clouds brightened the area enough to help us see.

  We stepped out of the VW onto a gravel shoulder. I stumbled when my boot slipped on a rock and caught myself before falling. “I’m not exactly dressed for trekking across fields.”

  Nita handed me a can of hair spray and the flashlight she had taken from the glove compartment of the car.

  “Duck.” Nita pulled me down. “A car’s coming.”

  I crouched beside her. “Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?”

  “If they see us, they might think we’re stranded and offer help. Or they might call 911.”

  “The car didn’t even slow down.”

  “Well, you never know.” Nita stood, surveyed the area, and pointed toward the tree line. “The campground is that way. You have the flashlight, so lead the way.”

  “We can’t use a flashlight. A moving light can be spotted from miles away.” Again, I was thankful for the full moon, which gave us some light. I patted my jacket for a pocket to hold the flashlight and slipped it in. We might need it later.

  When we reached the field, I gingerly climbed over a split rail fence that marked the boundary of the field, trying to hold onto the hair spray can as I grasped the railing. Stepping down on the other side, my foot sank into something soft and slippery. “Nita, what do they use this field for?”

  “Grazing. Brown’s dairy farm is around the bend. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering.” My boot made a sucking sound as I lifted it free. Yuck. I wiped my boot on the grass, trying to remove whatever it was I’d stepped in, thankful I wasn’t wearing open toe shoes.

  “Isn’t this fun? We haven’t done something like this since the night we slipped out of our cabin at Girl Scout camp.”

  “Fun. We ended up with two weeks of kitchen duty.”

  “Ouch.” Nita moaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something with thorns attacked me.” She pulled a vine away from her pant leg. “I should have heeded today’s horoscope. It warned me to stay in bed with the covers over my head.”

  Avoiding yet another hole, I wished fervently I’d stayed in bed.

  The growth covering the field was getting thicker, slowing our journey. To make matters worse, heavy clouds occasionally blocked the moonlight, pitching us into darkness. The light from a lone campfire acted as a guiding beacon, but we needed the moonlight to avoid any more squishy patches.

  Nita shivered and wrapped her jacket closely around her. “I’m freezing. Do you think we can go over and warm ourselves next to that fire on the campground?” She danced from foot to foot, trying to warm herself. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  “Now you decide that.” I blew on my hands to warm them.

  Something flapped its wings and flew at us. Nita shrieked and waved her hands wildly around her head, trying to ward off whatever it was. In the process, she dropped her can of hair spray and scrambled to the ground, trying to find it like a cowboy who’d dropped his gun during a shoot out.

  “Got it.” Nita jumped up triumphantly, holding the can in front of her like a weapon.

  “Come on, Tex. Let’s find the trailer and get out of here.”

  “How are we going to find it?”

  “Look for the most rundown trailer we can find with a beat-up truck parked next to it.”

  When we reached the edge of the field, we faced another split rail fence, this one separating the field from the campground. I climbed to the other side and reached back to help Nita, who was struggling to get over it.

  “You make it look easy.” Nita grasped my hand and pulled herself up.

  “Longer legs and yoga sessions help.”

  Nita landed on the other side of the fence with a thump. Straightening her five-foot frame, she brushed herself off. “I’m tired of being vertically challenged.”

  We found a road that wound its way through the campground and followed it, I hoped in the right direction. When a trailer door slammed, we sto
od frozen, waiting to see if anyone approached. Hearing no further noise or footsteps, we continued. Fortunately, lamps within the campground now made it easier for us to find our way.

  A dog barked loudly in the distance. The memory of being chased by a Boxer made my leg muscles tighten, and I was ready to run. Relieved when no dog approached us, we continued, passing by luxurious recreational vehicles, some with lights on, but most of them dark.

  Finally, I saw a dilapidated trailer and pointed to it. “That’s the one.” The pickup truck parked next to it was equally dilapidated. Over the trailer door an awning sagged at one end, and the paint on the trailer had faded to a point where it would be impossible to determine its original color. Aluminum folding chairs, missing much of their strapping, were scattered around the front door. The glass window in the storm door was smeared and dirty. It was one sad place.

  “Get ready.” Nita popped the lid from her hair spray can as though she were cocking a pistol.

  Nita was being silly, but I did likewise.

  “What do we do next?” Nita asked. “Maybe we can pretend to sell something and then peek inside when someone opens the door.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Can you imagine what they’d think we were selling this time of night?” I rubbed my hand over my forehead and paced back and forth, trying to come up with a plan. What would Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum do? Investigate or run like the devil? I’d never viewed Stephanie as a role model, but I knew she wouldn’t turn tail and run, especially with Grandma Mazur’s prodding. Imagining Mrs. Webster prodding me, I straightened my shoulders, resolving not to give up now. I motioned to Nita to follow me. “Let’s go around back. There may be a window on the other side we can peek through.”

  Nita nodded and followed me. Music blared from the trailer, the beat so strong the structure nearly shook from the sound. It helped cover any noise we made, but it would also prevent us from hearing each other well. When we reached the back of the trailer, I viewed the window with relief. It was above our heads, but I spotted the fence railing close to the trailer and motioned to it. The top railing would be the right height for one of us to sit on and peer through the window. Nita shook her head vehemently. I took that as a signal I would have to be the one. I stepped on the lower rung and swung my other foot over the top railing, reaching out to the side of the trailer for balance.

  At the sight of the thick curtains in the window, I groaned. Fortunately, the curtains weren’t long enough to completely cover the opening, and a narrow band of light appeared along the bottom. Relief flooded through me when I discovered if I stooped down a little, I could see through the narrow opening.

  As I peered into the trailer, the bright light temporarily blinded me, and, for a few seconds, I couldn’t see anything. Eventually, my eyes adjusted to the light. Someone stood directly in front of the window, only inches from me. All he had to do was turn around to see my eyes visible below the curtain. Oh, gosh. I’ve turned into a peeping Tom.

  I inched along the railing, attempting to see around the man blocking my view. My neck began to ache, and when I reached up to massage my tight neck muscles, I started sliding off the railing. Trying to regain my balance, I knocked the can of hair spray against the side of the trailer and froze at the loud sound. I was convinced someone fifty feet away could have heard the noise and waited for someone to come investigate. With the din of salsa music, no one in the trailer seemed to take notice. For once I was thankful for music too loud to be comfortable.

  The man with his back to me was talking animatedly to someone in the room. I couldn’t hear his words but could see him gesturing wildly. When he moved away, I caught a glimpse of his face and this time recognized him as one of Carlos’ helpers. He definitely was the man I’d seen at Josh’s place.

  Since he no longer blocked my view, I could see into the room. Dishes piled high in the sink looked like they could topple easily, and the remains of a recent meal covered the table. Even though the windows were closed, I could smell fragrant spices from whatever they had cooked recently. My empty stomach growled so loudly it was a surprise the people in the trailer hadn’t heard it. How could I be hungry at a time like this?

  I shifted on the railing to get a better look at the far end of the room and gaped. A row of wooden chalices, identical to the one Josh had purchased, stood on the countertop. Each of them looked like a fine piece of woodcarving. Well, so much for my knowledge of museum quality pieces.

  I watched as one of the men polished an unfinished chalice with a stained cloth, while another man used a device like a dental pick to create crevices in another. They had an assembly line going, producing fake pre-Columbian wooden chalices.

  If the men were making the pieces, they hadn’t stolen one from Victoria and, more than likely, hadn’t been responsible for her death. I hadn’t wanted to think one of Carlos’ helpers had murdered Victoria. That they passed off a fake antique chalice to Josh Sheridan was another thing.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Startled at the male voice, I turned and let loose a jet of hair spray—directly into the face of Detective Spangler.

  Nita and I huddled in the backseat of the police cruiser, trying to get warm, thankful for the hot air coming from the car heater. Through the closed window, I watched Detective Spangler pour water from a plastic bottle over his eyes and then wipe them with his sleeve. He squeezed his eyes closed and blinked several times. Remorse filled me, and I wondered whether I’d blinded him.

  When he looked up, he glared at us, his expression leaving little doubt as to how angry he was. He paced back and forth alongside the cruiser, as though trying to gain control of his temper before interrogating us. Several times he started to approach the car and then abruptly veered away again.

  Eventually, he opened the front car door, slid into the passenger seat, and turned toward us. I sank farther into the seat, ready for the full blast of his fury. It didn’t take long.

  “What were you two twits trying to do?” he asked between clenched teeth.

  “We were—”

  “Do you know I could charge you with obstructing a police investigation and assaulting a police officer?

  “A police investigation? You were watching Carlos’ helpers after all?” My hopes soared. He was looking at suspects other than Tyrone.

  “No, we weren’t! We were on stakeout watching an RV we suspected housed drug dealers. You two nearly derailed our investigation.” He rubbed his eyes again and glared at us. “Lucky for you they didn’t come back tonight. You and your antics would have given us away. Anyone seeing you creeping around here peering into windows was bound to call the police, and we would have had to send an officer out to investigate. It could have put our suspects on alert.”

  He looked at us as though we were truant teenagers. “Instead, we spotted you two. What were you doing? Surely you weren’t chasing some good-looking guys like high school girls?”

  My temper flared. “We were doing what you should have been doing—investigating possible murder suspects.”

  Detective Spangler did the worst possible thing. He laughed.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” I sputtered. “They could have been the ones who broke into Victoria’s house and murdered her.”

  “And why do you think that?”

  “One of them sold a quality antique to Josh Sheridan that could have been stolen from Victoria.” Yep, it sounded just as stupid as Nita said it would. “Forget it. It wasn’t an antique, and they were making them in the trailer.”

  “Am I going to have to call my husband to come bail us out?” Nita looked more subdued than I’d ever seen her. If Guido had to get her out of jail, the whole family would learn of it, and Nita would never live it down.

  “I should take you down to the station and book you.” Spangler looked directly at me. “It might teach you to stay out of things not concern
ing you. This time I’ll let you off with a warning.”

  For a second, I thought he’d winked at me. More likely the effects of the hair spray.

  “If I catch you doing something like this again, I won’t be so lenient. Now, get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Nita and I scrambled out of the police cruiser, mumbling apologies, and dashed toward her VW parked nearby.

  “Ladies, smart move carrying the hair spray,” he called after us. “But use wasp spray if you really want to hit a target—ah, wasps. It propels up to twenty feet.”

  I looked back at Detective Spangler, who stood next to the police car. He might have been letting us off easy, but I still needed to prove him wrong about Tyrone.

  Chapter 27

  If a desirable feature isn’t obvious in your home, draw attention to it by posting a note nearby pointing to it.

  Dawn came all too early for my comfort, and I found it difficult getting out of bed. Exhaustion and embarrassment overcame me, remembering our adventures of the previous night. Of all the stupid things to do, and to be caught by Detective Spangler.

  After showering, I fed Inky and gave him a little loving. I didn’t want him being upset with me as well.

  After attending church, I decided to escape to the Denton house, hoping to make a little headway for a few hours. On the way, I paused along Battlement Drive, where Will had been hit and wondered how he was doing.

  After parking my car in the Denton driveway, I went around to the front door. As I rummaged through my tote bag for the key, I looked up to see a sheet of paper attached to the door with tape. In large block letters written with what could have been Magic Marker, the note read:

  DO YOU WANT TO END UP LIKE WILL PARKER?

  I stared at the paper, questions racing through my mind. Who was the message for? Skip didn’t live here and rarely came by, so I didn’t think it was meant for him. I was the only one coming to the Denton house on a regular basis.

  What could it mean? Who put it there? Regardless of how naive I was, and hard as it was to accept, I knew I could hardly view it as anything other than a threat. Will was in a coma and near death, and someone was threatening me with the same fate.