Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  Tyrone’s face was creased in anger. “I can’t believe someone locked you in that closet. How’d that happen without you seeing who it was?”

  “After I walked into the master bedroom, I no sooner entered when someone pulled a blanket over my head and grabbed me. Before I could react, he shoved me into the closet. It all happened so fast.” I rubbed my shoulder.

  “Let me see that.” Mrs. Webster gently extended my arm and rotated it. “Does that pain you?”

  “It’s sore from where my shoulder hit the wall, but I can move my arm okay.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance and kept getting closer. When they stopped in front of the house, I turned to Mrs. Webster and Tyrone. “Are the police coming here?”

  Mrs. Webster held up her cell phone, which I didn’t even know she owned. “As soon as we realized you were locked in that closet, I called 911. We didn’t know how we would find you, and we needed to report this crime.”

  Tyrone had opened the door from the inside after he had climbed in through the window and let Mrs. Webster in, so the door was open when the police officer and EMTs arrived.

  An officer I didn’t know came in. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”

  “No, I’m just banged up a bit.”

  “But what about that?” He pointed to drops of blood that had landed on the floor near our feet.

  I looked at it puzzled.

  “Oh, that’s me.” Tyrone held up his right hand. “I cut it on the glass when I put my hand through the window to unlock it and crank it open. It’s just a scratch. Sorry, I forgot about it.”

  Mrs. Webster, always the nurse, grabbed his hand and examined it. “I think you may need a few stitches there.” She reached into her large purse and pulled out a wad of tissues and pressed it against the wound. “Hold this against it until we can get you to the emergency room.”

  “Oh, Tyrone. I’m so sorry you were hurt,” I said.

  I looked up to see Detective Spangler coming through the doorway. “We meet again, Detective.” I spoke with more bravado than I was feeling. Anger began to build up in me the longer I thought about the person who had locked me up and because Tyrone had been injured as a result of it.

  Detective Spangler studied me closely. “Are you okay? When I heard the call go out, I followed, not knowing what we’d find.”

  “My shoulder is a bit sore, but other than that, I’m okay.” I told him everything that happened.

  “It sounds like someone purposely lured you here. You have nothing to go on except for an email from an M. Cassatt?”

  “That’s all. I thought it was strange that we received a reminder for an appointment that none of us remembered making, but at the time I figured one of us forgot to mark it down.” I paused. “Sorry, one second. Mrs. Webster, could you please let Nita know that I’m okay.”

  “I already have. She’s madder than a wet hornet.”

  I followed Detective Spangler down the hall to the master bedroom and stood aside as he perused the empty room. Empty except for a pole-like device lying on the floor. He took out a white cloth handkerchief and used it to pick it up. “It’s one of those devices you put under a door handle to secure it when you don’t have a door lock or you want additional security in a door with a lock. People frequently use them when staying in hotel rooms.”

  “Since the house is empty, someone brought it to lock me in that closet?”

  “Afraid so.” His expression was grim. “The question is who did you rile up enough to do that. The fact somebody contacted you to get you out here shows that it wasn’t a random act—someone seeing you enter an empty place and taking advantage of the situation.”

  “But there was nobody here, or I didn’t think anyone was here.”

  “Obviously someone was waiting for you behind the door. But the question is who and why? I’ll have an officer visit the other houses on this street to see if anyone saw someone going into the house. But since it was midday, no one may have been home.”

  “Detective?” We looked up to see a uniform office standing there.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “The back door was jimmied open.”

  Tyrone jumped from where he had been sitting on the floor. “You mean I went through that window when the back door was open the whole time?”

  When the detective walked away with the officer to investigate the back door, Tyrone leaned toward me and whispered. “Do you think I could be charged for breaking that window and entering?”

  “I don’t think so. Not in an emergency.” But given Tyrone’s experience with the police when he had been charged with murdering a homeowner, I could well understand his concern.

  Detective Spangler came back into the front room. “Looks like whoever attacked you got into the house through the back door. It was definitely a setup. I’ve called the real estate agent who will notify the homeowner. The agent said he’d be right over to secure the place.”

  I suddenly felt weary. “Can we go now? We’d like to get Tyrone to the emergency room. Mrs. Webster said his hand might need stitches, and the EMTs who were here confirmed it.”

  Mrs. Webster, who had been sitting on the floor as well, stood and came over to where we were standing. “I’ll go with Tyrone to the hospital. You go on ahead home.”

  Detective Spangler looked up from the notebook he was making notes in. “Wait a few minutes and I’ll drop you at your place. You may not want to drive after your experience.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that. Aunt Kit and I can come back for my car tomorrow.”

  I said goodbye to Mrs. Webster and thanked Tyrone again for his heroic effort in rescuing me. I didn’t know what I’d do without the people in my life who frequently came to my aid.

  Now I had to face a ride to my home with Detective Spangler.

  Chapter 40

  Shine a light on dark areas of the house. Increase light by replacing dim light bulbs with high-wattage or LED bulbs.

  Being enclosed in a vehicle with Detective Spangler proved to be awkward. He vibrated with anger, and I could almost feel it bouncing off me. The vein on the side of his neck began to pulse.

  After minutes of stony silence, he cleared his throat and finally spoke. “I don’t know what to make of you. I know you want to help your friend, but don’t you realize when you start asking questions of people who could be connected to a murder victim or involved in the crime you could be endangering yourself?” His carefully controlled tone said more than if he had shouted at me.

  “Do you have any idea how lucky you were? If the person who attacked you had been involved in one of the murders, you could now be dead. Why that person only locked you in a closet, I’ll never know. Perhaps it was a warning. But whoever it was took a big chance giving you that warning. Next time you may not be so fortunate.”

  “We don’t know for sure what happened today was connected to my asking questions. It could simply have been someone who was looking for an easy target.” Even as I said those words, I didn’t believe them myself.

  I shrank further into my side of the front seat, duly chastised. Abruptly I sat up. “Wait a minute. If someone was giving me a warning, that means that person could’ve been the one who killed Ian or Damian, or both of them.”

  “If you’ve been asking around about Ian Becker’s murder, perhaps so.”

  Several more minutes went by without either of us saying anything. Then we both started speaking at the same time.

  “Ms. Bishop—”

  “Detective—”

  “You first,” he said.

  “Thank you for coming to my aid.”

  “I’m glad I was available to respond to the call. Can you think of anything, anything at all you remember from the attack? I know it might be painful to mentally relive it, but take your time and think about it. A good technique is to think about it us
ing your five senses.”

  I thought about it for a few minutes related to my senses. “I didn’t see anything when I went into the bedroom. And once the blanket came down over my head, I absolutely didn’t see anything. As to my other senses, I can’t remember feeling anything other than the roughness of the blanket and the strong arms of my attacker.

  “I didn’t taste anything.” Except maybe fear. “The door slamming behind me was the only sound I heard. That leaves the sense of smell. The blanket smelled old and musty. That I remember, especially since it took me a while to get it off my head.

  “Wait. When I walked into the room, I vaguely remember smelling a light scent—spicy like aftershave lotion or cologne. Very light as though the person had applied it hours before and the scent had faded.” I tried to remember anything else. “Sorry, that’s all I remember.”

  “Sleep on it. When you’re rested, something else may occur to you.” He continued staring straight ahead as though trying to avoid eye contact with me.

  We lapsed into silence again. When we pulled up in front of my house, I looked up to see Aunt Kit standing in the doorway.

  He finally turned toward me. “For your safety, stay out of this. Next time you may not be so lucky.”

  “That’s why we have to find that person—so there isn’t a next time.”

  “There is no we about this.” He nearly shouted. “Stay out of this and leave it to the police.”

  I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again. As I reached for the door handle to leave, he placed his hand on my arm. “Laura, please.”

  Aunt Kit grabbed me when I walked in the door and hugged me hard. “Are you okay?” She stepped back and studied me closely. I was surprised to see tears well up in her eyes.

  “I’m fine.” But I began to shake as I said it.

  “Sit down, and I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea.”

  I collapsed on the sofa and pulled an afghan over my legs. Inky must have sensed that I was distressed because he jumped on me and curled up in my lap. His warmth and purring helped soothe me.

  I thought of Detective Spangler’s warning and then remembered his use of my given name—a first.

  “This will fix you right up.” Aunt Kit handed me tea in a cup and saucer, instead of the mug I usually used. It made it feel like a special occasion. “Unless you want something stronger.”

  This clearly was an occasion for Harvey’s Bristol Cream, but I decided to stick with the tea. I needed a clear head. Usually, I don’t take sugar in my tea, but since Aunt Kit fixed it for me that way, for medicinal purposes, I decided to say nothing about it.

  Aunt Kit took a seat in a chair next to me. “Do you feel up to talking about what happened? Tyrone called to tell me you were okay. He was concerned Nita may have called, asking if I knew where you were and that I would be worried.”

  “That was good of Tyrone. He’s always so thoughtful.”

  “Do you think you’re getting too close to whoever is responsible for the murders?” She leaned over and tucked the afghan over my legs.

  “It might be wishful thinking, but I’d like to think I am—enough to shake up whoever it was that struck out at me. But then, it could have been someone totally unconnected to the murders who lured me to that home.”

  “It’s not safe for women to go anywhere alone these days.” Aunt Kit pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “It’s important to be careful, but we can’t live in fear.” Although right now I was feeling pretty fearful.

  “Of the people you questioned, which one do you think could have attacked you?”

  “Any of them—male or female. Whoever it was caught me off guard, so it didn’t take much effort to get me into that closet. Once that blanket went over my head, I was disoriented.”

  Someone knocked on the front door, causing Aunt Kit to jump up. “I’ll see who’s there. Maybe I should take a fireplace poker with me in case I have to defend us.”

  She returned with Nita and Guido trailing behind her.

  “Tyrone said you were okay, but we weren’t going to be satisfied until we saw that for ourselves.” Nita reached over and petted Inky.

  Again, I was comforted I had such good friends who cared about me—and came to my rescue.

  I ran my fingers through my unruly hair, realizing that I hadn’t brushed it since the blanket did a number on me. “I look a dreadful mess, but I’m fine.”

  Guido leaned over and hugged me. “You look great. Any clues as to who attacked you?”

  I shook my head. “Detective Spangler told me to think of my five senses to see if they’d trigger a memory. I didn’t see, hear, feel, or taste anything, other than the blanket that was thrown over my head. It smelled awful.” Could it have come from someone’s trunk or Emily Thompson’s barn? “I remembered smelling an aftershave or cologne as I entered the room. Now all I have to do is come in contact with everyone in Louiston to see if I recognize that scent on someone. It could be one used by half of the people in town, so it might not be a viable clue.”

  Nita frowned. “I can’t believe someone did that to you. Are we going to have to do a background check on potential customers before we meet with them?”

  “We’ll have to be careful about who we meet and where in the future. If in doubt, we’ll go in pairs.”

  “If this is linked to one of the murders, you must have riled someone,” Guido said. “Next time you need to go somewhere that might be questionable, call me and I’ll go along. You can’t be too careful.”

  “Thanks, Guido, you’re a gem.”

  “Laura, have you recorded somewhere everything you’ve learned so far?” Nita asked. “It might be a good idea to list everyone you’ve questioned and what your conclusions are so you have a record of it. That way, if anything—”

  “You mean if anything happens to me, you’ll have a record of what I learned?”

  “Well…”

  “You’re right.” I held up a spiral notebook. “I made a few notes earlier, but I plan to add to it. Aunt Kit, I’m leaving it here for you to find if something happens to me.”

  Aunt Kit’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s supposed to comfort me? I knew nothing good was going to come from you getting involved in this. I’m not going to let you out of my sight until this whole issue is resolved.”

  Chapter 41

  Check out resale shops, antique stores, and garage sales for items to help in staging.

  I spent half the night writing down everything I could remember since I started digging into both Ian’s and Damian’s deaths, filling page after page in my notebook. Reviewing what I’d written, I still didn’t get a clear picture of who could have committed the crimes or how they could be linked.

  Checking the time, I saw it was getting late, and I needed to focus more on my home staging business and less playing amateur sleuth. Nita and I had the staging work we’d scheduled, plus the work we had committed to doing for Monica’s business.

  Since Aunt Kit had been staying with me, I’d been having breakfast with her instead of meeting Nita at Vocaro’s. Some days it was the only time we had together. She had been busy meeting old friends and spending time with Anne Williamson, who had taken a shine to Aunt Kit. They must think alike.

  I plopped my notebook on the kitchen table. “I’ve recorded everything I can remember since I got involved in this. There are plenty of suspects, but nothing that clearly points to who committed the crimes or if they are linked. It’s getting harder to prove Monica didn’t do it.”

  Aunt Kit reached for the notebook. “Do you mind if I read your notes? Maybe another set of eyes will help.”

  “Please do. I’m open to suggestions. By the way, I’m heading out to visit some resale shops this morning.”

  Today was my day to go scouting for goods. Every week I took time to do a quick walk-through of the loca
l resale stores like those run by the Salvation Army, St. Vincent de Paul, and Goodwill, looking for items to add to our inventory. They were excellent sources for the furnishings and accessories we used in staging. People frequently donated quality items that I could pick up for a song. Purchasing items from these organizations was a win-win situation. It enabled me to expand our inventory and helped the organizations raise money for their programs. On the weekends I hit the yard sales and estate sales, always finding something we could use. Then there were Josh’s warehouses. But I needed a full day there.

  “Do you think it’s wise for you to go out, considering what happened to you yesterday?” Aunt Kit asked. Concern was written all over her face.

  “I have a business to run. I can’t cower indoors afraid someone might be lying in wait for me.”

  “Then perhaps I’ll go along with you.”

  “What, and trail behind me as a bodyguard?” Thinking of my older aunt jumping out to protect me made me laugh. “You already have plans today with Anne. I’ll be careful. Besides, the only trouble I can get into at the resale shops is buying too much.”

  Aunt Kit didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything further. I was touched by her concern.

  The morning sped by quickly as I went from one resale shop to another. I was on the hunt for attractive lamps, artwork, decorative items, and anything I thought we could eventually use to make an empty home attractive to buyers. The trick was picking up things when I saw them. If I was doubtful about an item and left it, it probably wouldn’t be there if I went back later.

  At my last stop, while walking through the kitchenware area, a knife set in a wooden block caught my eye. The handles were brushed metal with a black ring around the edge. I froze in place looking at the set. The knife handles looked identical to the one I’d seen in Ian’s back when we found him. Examining the set, I saw one knife was missing.