Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  Thankfully, their voices faded as they went back into the film set. How they were handling Beth’s death was becoming worse than in a cheesy TV drama.

  I hurried up the flight of stairs, relieved not to run into Simon, and entered just in time to see Detective Spangler and Neil Stanelli, a uniformed police officer and one of Nita’s numerous cousins, alight from the freight elevator, which had been freed from its position between floors. Detective Spangler caught my eye and nodded as he passed me. Neil grimaced, which signaled he was there to do something he didn’t like doing.

  Zoe stood in the doorway of her cubicle. “Why do you think the police are back here again? This is becoming so unnerving.”

  Brendan slipped out of his cubicle. “What’s going on? I’m never going to get anything done with all these disruptions.”

  “Two police officers just walked through,” Zoe pointed to them.

  Brendan grunted. “The police are here again? I wish they’d just arrest somebody and get on with it.” With that, he went back inside his cubicle and slammed the door.

  Detective Spangler and Neil stopped in front of Olivia, who pointed to the far end of the room where Robin and Chris had cornered Ms. Eyebrow for an interview. Perhaps it was she who had cornered Robin and Chris. She’d become notorious for trying to get as much coverage as possible.

  The police officers spoke to Chris. After a few minutes, Chris put his camera on the floor and walked toward the elevator with the officers.

  Could they suspect Chris knew something about the murder—or had murdered Beth? Of all the people in the production company, he seemed the least likely to have killed her. Too bad they didn’t focus on Brendan, who was so obnoxious. Chris was such a pleasant guy. But given enough motivation, almost anyone could be driven to murder. Could the argument between Chris and Beth I’d witnessed have escalated later into violence?

  Olivia walked toward us. “Okay, people, back to work.” She looked pleased the police had someone in hand and she could get back on schedule.

  Chapter 12

  Make needed repairs before listing your home to avoid delays during the final transactions. Buyers will ask for fixes, especially those on a home inspection report.

  Tyrone and I spent the afternoon going over our plans and arranging the furniture we had gathered.

  I stood back to admire the bookcase Tyrone found and painted red. “It’s perfect for that wall. It’s sometimes difficult to get a good balance in a room, especially with the design challenges we face.”

  Tyrone reached for the paintbrush. “Think I should slap another coat of red paint on it? It won’t take long.”

  “I don’t think it needs it. Once it dries, we can fill it with books and other items that fit the character of the room. But not too many. The key to good staging is not to over-accessorize.”

  We decided to work with the cream paint already on the plywood walls since it would work with our design, plus save us time and effort.

  A loud crash sounded in the cubicle next to us, followed by vehement cursing. Tyrone and I rushed next door to see if everything was okay with Brendan and his assistant. I started to open the door in case Brendan was injured, but thought better of it and knocked instead.

  “Brendan, are you okay in there?”

  After several seconds, he opened the door just a crack to peer out at us with squinted eyes. He looked like the doorkeeper at a speakeasy. Seeing us, he pulled the door open only wide enough to enable his slender frame to slide out through the narrow opening. Once out, he quickly pulled the door closed behind him as though to prevent us from seeing anything inside.

  “Man, are you okay?” Tyrone asked. “That was some crash.”

  “Ah, yeah. My assistant knocked over a ladder. We’re okay. But thanks for checking.” With that, he slipped back inside.

  Seeing the splatter of turquoise paint on his pant legs, I gathered his assistant must have also knocked over a can of paint. I cringed. If the paint can had crashed down from the height of a ladder, it must have made a dreadful mess. Poor Brendan. It would take some doing to get that cleaned up.

  Ms. Eyebrow opened her door, peered out, and then quickly slammed it.

  Tyrone’s eyes were wide with surprise. “What did they think we were going to do? Spy on their ideas?”

  Between Brendan and Ms. Eyebrow’s desire to keep their designs a secret, this competition was beginning to feel like we should have guards posted at each door to prevent industrial espionage.

  I needed to keep reminding myself that this competition presented big stakes to the other competitors. They weren’t as cavalier as I was about it. Although I intended to do my very best, I wasn’t going to treat how we handled the design challenges as state secrets.

  After returning to our cubicle, Tyrone and I made steady progress, even with Robin and Luke periodically popping in with one of the other cameramen. Seeing the cameraman made me wonder what was happening with Chris and why the police had singled him out for questioning.

  “That’s about all we can do today, Tyrone.” I wiped my dusty hands on the back of my jeans. “Since we have to leave here soon to stay within their time limitations, why don’t you head out, and I’ll tidy up here?”

  “Thanks. I need to get to Franklin Auditorium to make some changes to the Players’ sets and to pick up Gran. She’s been helping to alter the costumes.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “See ya tomorrow.”

  Later, leaving the warehouse and seeing how dark it had become outside, I pulled my car keys from my bag, preparing to jump into my car as quickly as possible. The days were getting shorter, and I was still trying to get used to going home in the dark. Seeing the dim lighting in the parking lot next to the warehouse, I was glad I’d parked close to the exit.

  As I stepped down from the loading dock, I heard the sound of glass breaking, and then someone running in the gravel.

  “Help! Stop him!”

  A dark figure brushed past me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

  “Help!” Turning back toward the loading dock area I’d just passed through, I saw the tall, lanky figure of Josh staggering toward me, a hand reaching out for aid. I rushed to him, grabbing his arm to steady him.

  “Josh, are you okay?” It was all I could do to keep him upright. “Here, sit on the steps.” I steered him toward the stairs to the loading dock. He sank down under the overhead light, and I was able to get a good look at him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “That fella jumped me! I stopped at the dumpster to tip in some trash, and he came at me from outta nowhere.” Josh touched a wound on his head that had started to bleed.

  Reaching into my bag, I searched for the wad of paper napkins I always carried with me and handed them to him. “Here, press these on it.” As he blotted his head, I used my cell phone to punch in 911. Patty Charles, the head dispatcher, answered almost immediately.

  “Patty, this is Laura Bishop. I’m at the back of Josh Sheridan’s warehouse near the loading dock. He’s been attacked and has an injury to his head.” After answering her questions, I turned back to Josh.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No. Lucky for me, I’d just turned away when he struck out at me. If I hadn’t, he woulda’ brained me.” Josh pulled the napkin away from his head, stared at the bloodstains on it, and grimaced. “Fortunately, I was only grazed. If you hadn’t come out when you did, he might’ve struck me again.”

  I grimaced at the sight of Josh’s blood. Head wounds, no matter how minor, bled like crazy.

  A police car and ambulance pulled up with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Fortunately, the police station was only a couple of streets away.

  “The response team is arriving now, Patty. Thanks for your help.”

  With the EMTs there to assist Josh, I stepped aside to get out of the way. The policeman approa
ched me, and I answered his questions, describing what I’d witnessed, which hadn’t been much. He turned away and spoke into the mic on his shoulder. Shortly after that, another car pulled up, and Detective Spangler and Neil Stanelli stepped out. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I would be dealing with the detective three times in a matter of days.

  Detective Spangler nodded at me. “Ms. Bishop. We meet yet again.” Turning, he walked over to one of the EMTs. “How’s he look?

  “Just a graze. We bandaged him and suggested he accompany us to the hospital for tests in case he’s concussed, but he refuses.”

  “I’m more angry than hurt, Detective,” Josh said. “That fella came at me meanin’ to bean me.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Detective Spangler pulled out his notebook.

  Josh shook his head. “It all happened so fast…it’s like a blur. He was dressed all in black—had on one of those hoodies. He even wore black gloves.”

  “Laura, are you okay?” Neil asked. He had been like a family member and always showed concern for me.

  After holding it together, my legs began to tremble, and I sank onto the steps next to Josh. If I’d come out minutes earlier, I might have been the victim of the attacker instead of Josh.

  “Thanks, Neil. I’m fine. As Josh said, it all happened so fast. As I came away from the loading dock, I heard Josh call out. Just then, a man brushed past me.”

  “Did you get a look at him? Could it have been a woman?” Detective Spangler asked.

  I paused for a moment, trying to remember. “I only saw the person from the back. Tall and thin...but with broad shoulders. So, I assumed it was a man. He was dressed all in black. Sorry, that’s all I remember.”

  “Did he run towards a car?” Detective Spangler asked.

  “After he brushed past me, I turned back and focused on Josh, so I didn’t see what direction he ran. Sorry.”

  “I think he hit me with a glass bottle.” Josh touched the bandage on his head. “When I wrenched away, I heard something hit the ground and shatter. If you find glass, there wasn’t any on the ground when I walked up to the dumpster. I’d been out here earlier when it was still light, and the area had been clean.”

  Detective Spangler switched on a flashlight and walked over to the dumpster. “Stanelli, grab an evidence bag and gather up this glass. Since the guy was wearing gloves, the glass may not do us any good, but pick it up anyway. When you collect it, you can head back to the station with the patrol car.”

  The detective turned back to Josh. “Do you carry out the day’s receipts with you when you leave?”

  “No. I don’t like carrying money out at night, so I put receipts in my safe and take them to the bank during the day. Quite frankly, some days, there isn’t that much, so I frequently let them accumulate before I go to the bank.”

  “Did a man of similar build or dressed in black come into the shop earlier?”

  Josh shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone tall and thin like that. Also, I don’t recall seeing anyone in the store wearing all black with a hoodie.”

  “When he came toward you, did he say anything…demand your wallet?”

  “No. That’s what was so strange. It was as though the only thing he wanted was to bump me off.”

  Detective Spangler looked surprised. “Why do you think that?”

  “He swung at me with terrific force. If he’d made full contact, I’d be standin’ at the Pearly Gates now instead of here at this old warehouse. Sure lucky I turned away when I did, or he would’ve landed a good one on me.” He wiped the sweat off his face with the arm of his jacket. “Now I remember why I turned. I heard footsteps in the gravel…must’ve been yours, Laura. I turned toward the sound. That could have been what saved me.”

  Detective Spangler made notes in his notebook and then tapped his pen on it—an annoying habit I had noted before. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.” He took a business card from the top pocket of his jacket and handed it to Josh.

  “I sure appreciate you comin’ here, Detective.”

  “We were heading to the station when we heard the call go out. After the murder here, I thought we should check it out.”

  “Do you think this could be connected to the murder?” Josh asked. The anxious note in his voice revealed how that thought alarmed him.

  “There’s no way of knowing. It makes me wonder why someone would have attacked you.” The detective returned his notebook to his pocket.

  “Who would want to be rid of Josh?” That drew the detective’s attention to me. I could almost sense him groaning inwardly.

  “We don’t know that’s the case.” It was as though he were mentally rolling his eyes.

  Josh frowned. “Maybe someone thinks I know more about that young woman’s death than I do.”

  Who else could have a reason to attack Josh? “If it’s not connected to the murder, could it be connected to the recent thefts from area homes? Josh can identify the man who sold the goods to him.” Once the words were out of my mouth and I saw the stricken look on Josh’s face, I regretted I’d spoken them.

  “Sorry, Josh, that’s the murder mystery reader in me—always trying to solve the puzzle.”

  Detective Spangler looked at me with a quizzical expression. “You know about the antique burglaries?”

  Uh, oh. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything about them. “Yes. Josh told me what happened.”

  He shook his head. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Is there anything that goes on in this town that you aren’t aware of—or involved in?”

  I didn’t respond. From what Tyrone learned at Vocaro’s and I heard from Nita’s well-connected family, that was about the case.

  Josh rose from his seat on the steps. “If I can’t give you any more information, Detective Spangler, I think I’ll head home.”

  I took Josh’s arm to steady him. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  “Na, I’m feeling okay, but thanks anyway.”

  Detective Spangler and I walked Josh to the parking lot. We stood there in stony silence as we watched Josh get into his car, start the engine, and back out of his parking place.

  Detective Spangler’s gaze focused on Josh’s car as it left the parking lot. I held my breath, waiting for him to blast me for my comments about a motive for Josh’s attack.

  Eventually, he turned toward me. “With everything that’s been happening, I’ve not properly thanked you and Tyrone for helping Nicki—and for guiding me on how to handle it.”

  Wow, I hadn’t expected that. I released my breath and relaxed. “I didn’t do much. It was Tyrone who thought to bring Nicki to my house.”

  “I’ll thank Tyrone in person.” He paused. “She was upset with me. I guess I’ve been too restrictive. Being a policeman, it’s hard. I see far too much of what can happen, so it makes me overprotective of her. It’s something I know I have to work on. Nicki and I are going to have some sessions with a family therapist.” The pained look on his face revealed how difficult it was for him to be sharing so much of his personal life.

  “I’m glad to hear that. A therapist will address both your concerns and hopefully help you meet somewhere in the middle.” I thought about how I could have benefitted from family therapy when I was younger, trying to deal with my missing father and emotionally aloof mother. The detective was wise to reach out for professional help.

  “In the meantime,” he said, “Nicki needs more than the housekeeper around when I can’t be home, so her grandmother is coming for a visit.”

  “That’ll be nice for Nicki. She seems to be very fond of her grandmother.”

  “She also liked you.”

  That surprised me, especially coming from him. “Probably because I didn’t screech and tell her how stupid she was taking off like that. Although I felt like it.”

  He laughed, s
omething I hadn’t heard him do very often. “It was more the cookies you gave her. She doesn’t get homemade cookies very often.”

  That made me smile. “I’m glad she enjoyed them. I’m not exactly known for my baking skills.”

  I picked up my canvas bag, ready to leave. “I better get home. Aunt Kit will be wondering what happened to me.”

  “Where are you parked?” Detective Spangler asked. When I pointed to the location, he walked me to my car. Following what had happened to Josh, I was relieved to have him see me safely inside it.

  He leaned close to my window, which I lowered. “Thank you again, Laura, for everything.” With that, he tapped my car roof as though signaling I was clear to leave.

  As I drove home, I realized that was the first time the detective and I’d spoken without one of us becoming frustrated or angry.

  Chapter 13

  The best expenditures for most home selling markets are paint, flooring, and light and plumbing fixtures.

  I’d no sooner arrived home than the back door flew open, and Aunt Kit whisked into the kitchen, along with several colorful leaves.

  “Hi, Aunt Kit.” Inky jumped from my lap and immediately began circling her legs. Inky frequently abandoned me when Aunt Kit was around.

  “The wind sure is picking up out there.” She put her purse down, removed her jacket, and hung it on the peg near the door. “I think I found the perfect place to live.” For someone who was usually so dour, her big smile made for a pleasant change.

  After a several years living in a small town several hours away, Aunt Kit’s move back to Louiston was primarily to be closer to me. But I knew her real reason for agreeing to the move was to be closer to our fabulous library and the cultural activities a college town could provide.

  “Aunt Kit, I’ve told you before you can stay here as long as you like.”

  “I know, dear, but it’s best if we have our own places. That handsome young real estate agent you recommended took me to see several houses today. One was a cute cottage near the college that could be perfect. I want to think about it overnight before I make a decision.”