Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  Tyrone had more reason to be resentful and was dealing with it better than I was since Detective Spangler had arrested him for Victoria Denton’s murder. But Tyrone was a much better person than I was.

  I climbed the stairs to the porch, noticing that Geoff and Ron had added more rocking chairs, which was a good idea. The position of the porch would give guests fabulous views of the Allegheny Mountains.

  Police business. “Are you having problems out here?”

  Geoff shook his head. “No, not at all. Besides we have Will Parker keeping an eye on things. Detective Spangler was looking for more information about Ian Becker. Anything we could add about his stay here.”

  “Were you able to tell him anything?” Tyrone asked.

  “Not anything more than we told you before.” Geoff grimaced. “That’s two of our former guests dead in a week. Rather frightening. We’re just relieved that neither death happened here.”

  I had come to ask them questions about Damian Reynolds and his stay there. They were going to be inundated with questions about their guests.

  “Welcome. Come on inside.” Geoff opened the heavy oak door leading into the foyer. “We only have a couple of guests at the moment, but they’ve gone out to see some of the sights.”

  We followed him into the massive foyer. A tall hunt table held a guest book and brochures for some of the local sights. The place brought back so many memories of our first visit to the house and everything that had transpired there afterward.

  Geoff led us into the living room. “Please have a seat. Ron is in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast and will join us shortly. He does all the cooking while I take care of bedrooms and baths. He’s got the better part of the deal. Since I’m not much of a cook, it’s better for the guests that I stick with bathrooms.”

  “It all depends on how good Ron would be doing bathrooms.” I wrinkled my nose. The thought of cleaning several bathrooms a day was more than I wanted to think about.

  The living room looked inviting, and after the week I’d experienced, I gratefully sank into a comfortable leather chair, yearning to put my feet up on an ottoman. It was the perfect place to relax. Tyrone sat on a long leather sofa. Seeing the expression on his face and his raised eyebrows, I turned and looked at the direction of his gaze. Sitting on the mantel was a ceramic statue of a pink flamingo, probably something brought back from a trip to Florida. I stifled my urge to laugh, especially given Tyrone’s look of horror. It was so out of character with the style of the house. But everyone was entitled to a bit of whimsy.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” Geoff asked. He was the perfect host for a B&B.

  “Thanks, but we just had some at Vocaro’s before we came.”

  Ron came into the living room, drying his hands on a chef’s apron, and greeted us. “Another breakfast finished—hundreds more to go.”

  I wondered what the breakfast they offered their guests was like. B&Bs could prosper or fail based on the quality of the breakfasts they offered.

  “Ron does a bang-up job with breakfast,” Geoff said. “You’ll have to come up one day and join us. He is always experimenting with new recipes and could use some feedback.”

  “We’d love that. Can I bring Nita? She knows her pastries and could give you an expert’s opinion.” Nita would die if she knew I got to have breakfast at the B&B without her.

  “Absolutely.” Ron waved his arm, gesturing to the room. “How do you like what we’ve done so far?”

  “We haven’t seen much yet, but I love the leather club chairs that you’ve added here.”

  “Thanks. We got them from Josh. He’s going to find us some more. We wanted ones that were a little more broken in than new ones. They’re more comfortable and look like they’ve been here for a while.” Ron stood next to the cavernous marble fireplace, the pink flamingo over his shoulder. Tyrone and I grinned at each other.

  “Thanks, Laura, for recommending Josh,” Geoff added. “He’s been great.”

  I was pleased they liked Josh’s warehouses of unusual things but felt the more they visited it, the less the B&B would look as we left it. I needed to learn to separate myself emotionally from the houses we worked on.

  “Since Tyrone didn’t get to see the final work on the house, we’d love to have a tour if you have time. But first I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “I’d be delighted to give you a tour and answer your questions. What do you want to know—what we changed when we moved in?” The twinkle in Geoff’s eye sent a clear message that they had changed things, which could only be expected.

  “You’ve already gotten some questions about your former guests from Detective Spangler. I hope you won’t mind a few more. When I spoke to you before, you mentioned that when Damian Reynolds stayed here there was a bit of drama—that he and his agent argued. Can you tell us any more about that?”

  Ron and Geoff glanced at each other and shrugged.

  Geoff spoke first. “It’s been a while. You have to remember, the walls in this place are pretty thick. We could hear raised voices, but not necessarily what they were saying.”

  “Whatever they argued about,” Ron added, “it caused the agent, can’t remember his name at the moment, to check out the next morning. He had been scheduled to stay for another night. Geoff, why don’t you take them on the tour, and I’ll check our records for the agent’s name.”

  Geoff led the way toward the dining room and kitchen. “Eventually we hope to finish the basement. I’d like to add a bar and billiards room, along with a wine cellar. Ron wants a sauna and workout room. I don’t know what we’ll end up with.”

  The basement held bad memories for me since that was where I had discovered Victoria Denton’s body. They could board up the basement and forget it was there for all I cared. But seeing it turned into useable space made sense.

  After seeing the dining room and kitchen, Geoff escorted us up the grand staircase to the guest rooms upstairs and showed us the rooms that weren’t occupied. They had added some welcoming touches to each room. “We added more books to the library, and guests are welcome to select a book and relax in there.”

  When we returned to the ground floor, Ron was waiting for us and handed me a slip of paper with the agent’s name printed on it. Garrett Fletcher. Now I remembered. That was the name of the man Jaime hadn’t liked.

  “While you were gone, I had a chance to think more about that evening. I remember one thing I heard, but it wasn’t much. Damian kept saying, ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’ He almost sounded desperate. And Garrett said something like, ‘You must,’ or ‘You have to.’ I can’t remember exactly. Is it important?”

  “Yes, why are you asking?” Geoff asked. “Is this related to his murder? Didn’t they arrest his girlfriend?”

  “I’m asking for a friend of mine who won’t accept that Monica Heller could have committed the crime. I recalled you mentioned the argument here that evening and thought it might be something that could help with her case. Probably not, but I wanted to be able to give my friend some hope, even if it is a bit misguided.”

  Ron shook his head. “From what I read, it’s going to be hard to dispute the evidence of how she was found.”

  “I know, but I owe it to my friend to find something. Had Damian and Garrett seemed to be on good terms before the argument?”

  “Hard to tell when you don’t know people. They’d seemed cordial enough—until their argument that night.”

  Tyrone, who had his own experience with desperate situations, added, “If you think of anything else, could you give Laura a call?”

  “Absolutely.” Geoff and Ron followed us as we walked toward the front door.”

  “Thank you, both, for everything. We appreciated the tour and the information. You never know what can help.”

  What could Garrett Fletcher have been pressuring Damian to do that he
so desperately didn’t want to?

  Chapter 25

  A home stager can stage a vacant house with tasteful furniture and accessories.

  After leaving the B&B, Tyrone and I drove to Antiques and Other Things to view the storage area Josh had identified for us. I hoped it would work since Louiston’s only self-storage facility didn’t have any available storage units at the moment.

  I looked around the large space Josh took us to, imagining how it would look once we got shelving and our inventory in. “What do you think, Tyrone?”

  “Looks good to me, but it’s really big. Do you think we are going to need all this space?”

  “It’s a big space for the inventory we have now, but it will give us space to grow.”

  Tyrone shrugged. “I guess you have to think big.”

  I had always been cautious, sometimes too much so. Now I needed to have confidence that my business would grow and plan for it. And having a place to store the furniture we needed would help us do that.

  “I think it’ll work quite nicely, Josh.”

  “I’m glad it will work out for ya’ll. How about if I work up a draft lease agreement and we go from there?”

  “Sounds good.” I could hardly believe it was actually working out. But then I thought of Monica’s situation and how quickly a small business could fall apart. I gave myself a shake and decided to think positively—not letting my mother’s and aunt’s negative views of the world affect me.

  Josh closed the metal door behind us. As we walked back to the front entrance, he stopped. “While y’all are here, let me show you the paintings Damian Reynolds consigned with me.” He led us to a room with a closed door and pulled out a key.

  “How can you sell them if you keep them locked up?” Tyrone asked.

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know how I should handle them. They were valuable when he brought them in, but now that he’s dead, they’ll become even more valuable. And in all fairness to his family, they need the opportunity to decide whether they want to keep them.”

  Josh opened the door and switched on a light. He’d hung the paintings on the walls, so we got a good view of them. “The ones on the left are his works, and on the right, works from other artists he’d collected.”

  Tyrone and I stood stock still taking it all in. I had seen Damian’s paintings in magazines, but seeing them in person was quite different. They were impressive.

  “Wow!” Tyrone had an excellent eye for color and design, and he was obviously impressed by the pieces in front of us. “These must be worth a fortune.”

  “Yes, they are.” Poor Josh looked wistful, knowing what his share of the sale might have brought him. I’d always felt Josh was an honorable businessman, but this was proving it. He could have sold them and no one would ever have been the wiser.

  “That’s why I’ve locked them up.” He closed the door behind us and locked it.

  “You could always contact his agent. Since Damian was divorced, I don’t know whether his ex-wife has any right to them. I read Damian had a teenage daughter. She’ll more than likely inherit them.”

  “I just want to make sure they go where they should and I get them off my hands, with a receipt showing that I turned them over. It makes me nervous having such valuable items here.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I want to talk to his ex-wife and agent about something else. If I’m able to talk to them, would you like for me to get a sense of them and see who you might want to approach about the paintings?”

  “If you would, that’d be great.” Josh visibly relaxed as though the worry of the paintings had been lifted from him. I just hoped that I’d not taken the worry on myself.

  Chapter 26

  Clear everything from kitchen countertops except for one or two tasteful accessories, remove magnets and other items from refrigerators, and reduce dishes to best pieces for display.

  The next morning at Vocaro’s, I knew if we waited long enough, we would eventually cross paths with Warren. He usually came in for coffee, and if he had time, he would sit down and chat with us for a bit. That morning after he ordered breakfast at the counter, I waved at him, and he joined Nita and me at our table.

  I moved the work plans Nita and I had been going over to make room for him. He put down a tray laden with an egg-and-sausage sandwich, a bowl of mixed fruit, a muffin, and a carton of banana yogurt. The stress of being a possible suspect in Ian Becker’s murder hadn’t dulled his appetite.

  “How have you been, Warren?” The last time I saw him, he’d been convinced the police suspected him of Ian Becker’s murder because his body had been found at the funeral home Warren owned. They couldn’t have been serious in that belief because I knew from experience the police don’t wait around much before making an arrest.

  “I’ve been better.” He took a huge bite from his sandwich and chewed slowly. Hours went by, or so it seemed, before he finally swallowed. “They haven’t found out who murdered Ian, so the police may still have me in their sights.”

  I finished my last bite of croissant in record-breaking time compared to Warren. “Have you thought of anyone else in Louiston Ian might have wanted to see while he was here? What about his girlfriend that last summer? I heard his cell phone showed he’d made a call to her when he first arrived. Did he say anything about her when he called you?”

  Warren paused as he peeled the cover off the carton of yoghurt. “Over the years, Ian dated a lot of girls. But that last summer, he’d spent most of his time with one girl—Emily somebody.”

  “Emily Thompson?” Nita asked. “That was the name on his phone records.”

  “I think that was her name,” Warren said. Even after all he had already eaten, he dug into the yogurt with gusto.

  “Did Ian mention her when he talked to you?” I asked.

  “No. I can’t imagine why he would. Why are you interested?” Warren asked.

  Nita went on alert. “We are looking to see if there’s a link between Ian’s death and Damian’s murder.”

  Warren looked perplexed. “Monica murdered Damian. You think she killed Ian too?”

  I glared at Nita. “No. We’re looking at both murders to see if the same person could have murdered them—someone other than Monica.”

  “But you caught Monica standing over Damian’s body with a knife in her hands.” Warren looked puzzled. “How could you two of all people expect to prove someone else did it? Besides, you and Monica have never gotten on. Why are you trying to help her?”

  “Because of Sister Madeleine,” Nita said.

  I sighed. It did sound impossible. “Not just that. Monica said she didn’t do it, and Sister Madeleine believes her. She’s convinced me to help Monica with her business while she’s in jail. You know Sister Madeleine.”

  Warren laughed. “Yeah. How well I know Sister Madeleine. She’s a lot like Mrs. Webster—has an iron will and can convince you to do anything. And make you think it was your idea.”

  “And since she believes Monica is innocent, I’m asking questions to see if she could be right. It may be hard to believe, but when I think about how awful it was for Tyrone to be in jail, and seeing Monica there now too, I’m beginning to feel sorry for her.”

  Nita snorted. “You are being more considerate of Monica than she deserves.”

  I ignored her. “Warren, is there anything you can tell us about Ian’s last summer here?” I watched as he thought about it, as though searching his memory banks.

  “Honestly, I can’t remember much. I was working for my dad and getting ready to go back to school. That summer, Ian spent a lot of time with Emily. You might want to talk to her—if she’s still in town. I haven’t seen her since that summer. She lived somewhere in the outskirts of Louiston.”

  Warren gathered his trash and got up to leave.

  “One more thing, Warren,” I said. “Are you han
dling the funeral arrangements for Damian or Ian?”

  “I’m handling them for Damian but not for Ian, especially since he was found at my place. It just wouldn’t seem right. His folks are dead, and since he has no other family, his arrangements are a bit up in the air right now. I understand he has an ex-wife, but she doesn’t want to get involved with making the decisions about his final arrangements. Probably afraid she would get billed for them.”

  “She sounds like a nice woman,” Nita commented dryly.

  “The Reynolds family hasn’t made it public yet, but they plan to hold a memorial service for Damian at my place in the chapel. They haven’t decided on a date yet.”

  Good. When the service was held, that would give me the opportunity to possibly talk to Damian’s ex-wife.

  “Sounds like Damian had a nicer ex-wife if she’s arranging the service.” Nita took our empty cups and tray over to the collection station.

  “Mrs. Reynolds has her daughter to think about,” Warren said. “Most of the arrangements are being made by Damian’s agent, Garrett Fletcher.”

  Garrett Fletcher. That was someone else I needed to talk to. Since he would be in town for the memorial service, I’d have to find a way to talk to him too, especially after hearing about his argument with Damian at the B&B.

  Chapter 27

  Remove excess or oversized furniture to make rooms look larger.

  A few days later, Nita and I pulled into the Hendricks Funeral Home parking lot well before the memorial service for Damian was to begin. It would enable us to watch people going in to see who was attending and if anyone acted strangely. But how we would determine what was strange behavior would be anybody’s guess.

  “Don’t you think people will think it’s a bit strange for us to be attending this service when we didn’t even know Damian Reynolds?” Nita never liked going into funeral homes, but after finding Ian Becker’s body in one, she was even more uncomfortable than before.