Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  “Okay, but watch where you step.” I looked down and saw why she had warned me. Ugh.

  I followed Emily into what I assumed was a paddock where she led Gertie around for several minutes to cool down. Again I was struck with how big the horse was and how easily Emily guided it to where she wanted it to go. She then led Gertie to a water trough, where the horse took a long drink of water and then shook her head, spraying me with drops of water.

  Minutes before I had been neatly dressed and sitting in an air-conditioned car. I pulled a piece of straw from my hair. Now I was sweaty, covered in water, and wearing good sandals that were covered in dirt. I looked down at the ground around me. Hopefully, by the time I left there, my sandals wouldn’t be covered with anything else.

  Emily led Gertie into the barn. Her hoofs beating on the ground made clopping sounds. I followed, continuing to look down at where I stepped, and once inside, studied the variety of equipment hanging on the wall. Most of it was made of leather and brass. With half of my mind always on my business, I couldn’t help but think how perfect some of the pieces would be as wall décor in a home of horse lovers.

  Emily tethered Gertie to a post, and then unfastened, removed, and stored the saddle. Muscles she’d developed over years of doing hard work were evident in her arms. She was extremely fit. She then took a hose and showered Gertie with a gentle spray of water. The day was hot and the spray looked inviting, I was tempted to step into it myself. Gertie stood patiently as Emily brushed her with a pad or some type of brush, using long and short strokes. Seeing Gertie’s contented look, I felt I had stepped into a horse spa.

  Watching all that Emily was doing for Gertie proved so fascinating, I completely forgot about my plan to question Emily as she worked.

  After Emily completed her chores, she walked over to a small sink and washed her hands. “Sorry. That was probably a lot longer than you wanted to wait, but I didn’t want to leave Gertie’s cool down until later, especially on such a hot day.”

  “It was interesting. I didn’t realize horses needed so much care.”

  “We run a good place here, and the folks who leave their horses with us know that we’ll take proper care of them. Lots of places only do a halfway job of it.”

  She pointed to some bales of hay, and we both took a seat.

  “So Laura, what’d you want to talk about, if not about boarding a horse?”

  I took a deep breath and then wished I hadn’t. The odor of horse, hay, and manure was beginning to overwhelm me. How to proceed?

  “I know this is going to sound strange, but I’m here because I’m trying to help a friend. And to do that, I need to ask some questions you might rather I didn’t ask.”

  That caught her attention, but so far she hadn’t darted from the barn. I couldn’t believe I had used the term friend for Monica, but what the heck.

  “You may have heard that Monica Heller was arrested for the murder of Damian Reynolds, an artist teaching at Fischer College. To help in her defense, a friend and I are looking at anything that could raise doubt she did it.”

  “What’s that got to do with me? My son had him as an instructor at the college, but I didn’t know him.”

  This was the hard part. “With his death occurring so close to that of Ian Becker, and with both of them being stabbed, we’re looking into both of their deaths to see if there could be a connection. I know it is a stretch, but we want to consider anything that could help us in Monica’s defense.”

  Emily’s open expression changed as soon as I mentioned Ian Becker. I couldn’t tell whether the look on her face expressed anger, pain, or desolation. She didn’t say anything, so I continued.

  “I’m very sorry about Ian’s death. I was one of the people who found him in Hendricks Funeral Home.”

  “Again, why are you coming to see me about this?”

  “The police discovered from Ian’s phone records that you were one of the people he telephoned when he arrived in Louiston. I also heard that you and Ian dated the last summer he spent here with his aunt.”

  Her expression became mulish. Would I be able to get anything from her?

  After several long seconds, she responded. “Yeah, he called and left a message on the answering machine. Said he wanted to see me—probably for old times’ sake. A police detective came to see me about the call, and I told him the same thing.”

  Detective Spangler had already been there. That was no surprise.

  “So you didn’t talk to Ian?”

  “No. I didn’t particularly want to see him, so I didn’t call back. It’d been a long time since he was here, and my life has gone on.”

  “That’s all?”

  From behind us, a voice shouted. “Tell her. Tell her that he got you pregnant with me and then ran off—out of the country and didn’t look back.”

  I turned to look behind me. A tall blond young man of about eighteen or nineteen stood in the opening to the barn. Dressed in old, dust-covered jeans, he looked as though he had spent the day working outside. His face was flushed and one of his hands was curled into a fist. In his other hand, he held a rake.

  A shocked look crossed Emily’s face. “Brandon, stay out of this.”

  “Why are you keeping this a secret? He’s dead. He didn’t care anything about us, or he wouldn’t have fled the country and left you as he did.”

  The anger the young man felt toward his absent father was visible on his face, which held a scowl. Had Brandon been angry enough with Ian to want him dead?

  “Leave now, before you make this worse.” Emily stood and pointed to the large barn doors behind us. I thought for a second he was going to refuse, but after glaring at his mother for what seemed like minutes, he thrust away the rake he’d been holding and stomped away.

  Emily sighed, sank back onto the hay bale, and covered her face with her hands. “Why did Ian have to come back?”

  Perhaps she was fortunate Ian hadn’t come back before. Since having a son and an elderly aunt who had helped raise him hadn’t been enough reason for him to come back in twenty years, they might have been better off without him. It was only when Ted had notified him that he was the executor of his aunt’s estate that he bothered to return. What kind of a father would he have been if his only motivation to come now had possibly been because of money?

  “Ian was such a charmer. I should never have gotten involved with him, but he had been so different from the boys I had grown up with. When we met, I think he was attracted to me. But when he discovered we had horses, he flipped. He loved to ride. You could say I came with benefits.” At that, she laughed. “It was a toss-up as to what he found more irresistible—me or the horses.”

  “Did he know you were pregnant?”

  “Oh, yes. I told him right before he was to join his family for their move to New Zealand. His father had accepted a job there and would be gone for a few years, so Ian and his mother went too. When I told him, he couldn’t leave the country fast enough. I never forgave him for that.”

  “When he called you, was that the first time you heard from him in all these years?”

  “That’s right. You can imagine what a shock it was hearing his message. When I had to tell my dad about the baby, he got in touch with Ian’s aunt. Dad made it clear that Ian should be held responsible, but she convinced him that nothing good would come of it and that she would help us financially. She said she could more than afford to do so. Ian was very immature, and quite frankly, a little odd. Maybe she was protecting us. From what she said over the years, he never really grew up. Ian was someone with, what do you call it, a Peter Pan syndrome. He was happy to surf, have fun, and live off his father’s money.”

  “What about Brandon? When did he discover who his father was?”

  “I told him when he turned fifteen, thinking at that age he would be old enough to understand. I should never have told him. I
t would have been better if I had listed Father Unknown on the birth certificate and left it at that. He demanded to know more about Ian and asked where he could find him. It got worse after my father died and there was no longer a father figure around. Fortunately, I didn’t have an address for Ian, but Doris did.

  “How did he know of Doris?”

  “He found a check Doris sent me and asked about it. He’s a pretty smart kid and put it all together. I hadn’t wanted to accept money from her, but she insisted. She said Brandon deserved it, and if nothing else, I could save it for his college expenses. And that’s what I’ve been using it for. I think she felt guilty that she hadn’t kept better tabs on Ian when he stayed with her. As if that would have mattered. He’d always run wild. I think his parents were happy to shunt him off to her each summer.”

  “Brandon seemed pretty angry at Ian.”

  “That’s because he wrote to Ian, but Ian never wrote back. Brandon convinced Doris to give him Ian’s address. Her health was beginning to fail and it was easy to get it out of her. If she had been in better health, she might not have given it to him.”

  “Did Brandon know Ian was in town and called you?”

  “Brandon heard the message Ian left.”

  The look on her face said volumes. She was terrified Brandon had killed Ian.

  Brandon knew Damian Reynolds and was connected to Ian Becker. Perhaps Emily Thompson had reason to worry.

  Chapter 36

  Unpleasant odors can put off prospective buyers. Remove carpets and rugs that are stained and can trap offensive odors.

  During dinner that evening, Aunt Kit proved to be a great sounding board. Of course, it came with the usual warnings about dire consequences.

  “Have you reported anything you’ve learned to the police? You need to involve them in this. It was one thing for Sister Madeleine to want you to help Monica’s business while she is in jail, but it’s a completely different thing for you to be asking questions about Damian’s murder.”

  “Well for a start, I’m only asking questions. We haven’t learned anything the police probably don’t already know, and they don’t want people getting involved in their investigations. I’m simply making inquiries and taking an approach the police may not be taking.”

  “Do you think the police are inept?”

  Wasn’t that always how the amateur sleuths in the mysteries I read frequently viewed the police? “Of course not. I may not be crazy about Detective Spangler, but I respect him for his abilities. It doesn’t hurt for citizens to assist the police. They don’t suspect a link between Ian and Damian’s deaths. Primarily because we caught Monica over Damian’s body, so she looks pretty guilty. Also, there’s nothing that shows a motive for her killing Ian.”

  “What about Emily and Brandon Thompson?”

  “That’s a hard one. I think eventually over the years Emily was happy to have Ian stay out of her life and didn’t want anything more to do with him. It helped that Doris helped them financially, so she hadn’t built up resentment because they had to struggle financially. But I’m not sure about Brandon. He’s filled with anger. Now whether he was angry enough to stab Ian in the back, that’s another thing. I can’t see that, but who knows. He took classes from Damian Reynolds, but I haven’t heard anything that would point to a motive for Brandon to kill him.”

  Aunt Kit picked at the sautéed chicken I’d made especially for her. The one with mushrooms and Harvey’s cream sherry she liked. When she finally took a bite, she chewed it for so long I worried it might have become too dry for her to swallow. If Aunt Kit choked when swallowing it, would I be able to do the Heimlich maneuver on her?

  “I wonder how much of a relationship Doris had with Emily and Brandon, especially since Brandon was her grandnephew?” I held my breath, watching Aunt Kit continue to chew.

  She finally swallowed. “Anne Williamson was a good friend to Doris. I’m going to have lunch with Anne tomorrow. I’ll ask her what she knows. By the way, is this a new recipe? It’s a bit dry. You might want to add a bit of Harvey’s next time you make it.”

  What? Nita had been right. I should have added a double measure of it to her food.

  “Also, how about Damian’s agent?”

  “As far as I know, he wasn’t in town when Damian was murdered. But who’s to say he couldn’t have come into town without anyone knowing it, got into another argument with Damian, and stabbed him in anger. But he made a very good point. If he had killed Damian, he definitely would have cut off a major source of his income.”

  “People have done stupider things than that. Who else do you have to look at?” Aunt Kit took another bite of chicken, and again I held my breath.

  “Nita’s niece said that one of the professors at the college held a grudge against Damian—something about his wife having a history with him. Then there’s Damian’s ex-wife. She held him responsible for their daughter’s drowning—enough so that it resulted in their divorce. I’ll probably leave that one until last.” With any luck, I wouldn’t have to talk to her.

  I cleared the table, ready for dessert, which I knew Aunt Kit would have no trouble swallowing—strawberry shortcake. With ice cream.

  Aunt Kit surveyed the room, looking around her. “You’ve done a lovely job brightening this place since your mother died. You didn’t get your decorating talent from her, that’s for sure.”

  “Thanks. The brighter yellow paint gives the place a completely different feel from when I was growing up.” When my mother lived there, the house had been very gloomy, which pretty much matched her outlook on life. Now might be the perfect time to ask Aunt Kit about my mother and dad.

  “Speaking of Mom, I can’t help but wonder what happened to my dad. I only saw him a few times after they divorced, but then he stopped coming to visit me. When I asked her about him, she said that he’d moved away from the area and didn’t want to see either one of us. Later when I asked her again, she said he had died and then quickly changed the subject. Even as young as I was, I didn’t quite believe her. When I was older and had the wherewithal to search for him, I was so hurt that he’d turned his back on us, on me, that I decided I didn’t care and didn’t want to know.

  Aunt Kit frowned as though the memory of my dad was a painful one, and it made me wonder about Mrs. Webster’s suspicion that Aunt Kit had been in love with him. But from what my mother had said, many women had been enamored with him. At least that was what she believed.

  “Your parents were terribly mismatched. Unfortunately, your mother never saw anything but doom and gloom, and your dad was just the opposite. I give him a lot of credit living with her for as long as he did.”

  “She said she divorced him because he had been unfaithful. Was that true?”

  “She believed he’d been involved with another woman. He could have been, but I don’t know if that was the case. He was utterly handsome—and charming in a nice kind of way, so it wouldn’t have surprised me if other women hadn’t come on to him. As to where he is, I don’t know. I never heard that he was dead, so that story surprises me. But after all these years, he could be.”

  “I should have tried harder to find out about him. But after I married Derrick and came to know of his affairs with other women, I couldn’t tolerate the idea that my dad had been the same way, and I didn’t want anything to do with him. I came to understand better why my mother was so bitter, but that doesn’t explain why he didn’t want me in his life.”

  Aunt Kit stopped eating her shortcake and ice cream and looked at me with gentle eyes. “Your father loved you very much.”

  “Then why hasn’t he tried to contact me after all these years? He could have another family now and might not want to hear from me.”

  “Well, then, you won’t know unless you try.” Aunt Kit added another scoop of vanilla ice cream to her bowl.

  “I’ll think about it. Right now, I hav
e to focus on my business, Monica’s business, and trying to convince the police to further investigate the link between Ian and Damian.” If that were possible.

  Chapter 37

  Add seasonal scents. In the fall and winter, simmer apple cider with cinnamon. In the spring and summer, add a vase of fragrant lilacs or roses.

  There was no way I could avoid it. I needed to talk to Detective Spangler about Monica’s case. Even at the risk of being called a busybody twice in one week. But rather than going to his office, I decided I might have better luck meeting him away from his turf and on neutral territory. I knew from the past he frequently went to Hibbard’s Bakery in the morning, so early the next day I waited outside the bakery in my car, hoping he’d show up.

  There were pros and cons to that plan. If I waited until he got inside, it might appear I was following him. If I waited inside, he might grab something and be out the door before I could catch him. Amateur sleuthing could be exasperating.

  When my car got too hot without the air conditioner running, I broke down and decided to wait inside. The lure of coffee and freshly made donuts and pastries helped. The donuts wouldn’t be nutritious, but I needed a reward for my efforts.

  Just as I reached the door, Detective Spangler came from the other direction. I couldn’t have planned it any better.

  “Well, Ms. Bishop, we continue to collide in doorways.”

  “Good morning, Detective Spangler. In need of coffee?”

  “Always.”

  He opened the door and allowed me to enter first, which meant I could be first at the counter to place my order. Good. That way I could sit down and it would be up to him to join me or not. I gave myself a good mental shake. This was beginning to feel like being back in high school and plotting to run into a crush.

  I took a seat in a back booth, unwrapped my English scone with butterscotch chips, and took a bite. Heaven. I then took a sip of coffee and tried to look nonchalant—or as relaxed and unconcerned as I could, which wasn’t easy when facing a talk with Detective Spangler. We always seemed to be on opposite sides of a discussion.