Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  After feeding Inky, I made a pot of tea, knowing that tea would help me relax. After the day I’d had, I could sure use a cup or four. While the tea brewed, I told Aunt Kit about my day, including how someone had attacked Josh outside the warehouse.

  “Heavens. With that young woman’s murder and now the attack on Josh, I wonder if it’s safe to move back to Louiston. It used to be such a safe community.”

  Just then, tapping sounded at the kitchen door. I pulled the curtain back, surprised to find Nita standing there, and let her in.

  “I heard the news about you and Josh. I knew if I called, you’d say you were okay, no matter what. So, I came to see for myself.” It always warmed my heart how Nita and her extended family cared about me the way they did. The whole family had taken me into their hearts from the time Nita and I had become friends. Given my unhappy home life, I was eternally grateful.

  “You were sweet to worry, but I’m fine.” Why was I not surprised Nita had already heard the news about Josh? With her large and well-connected Italian-American family, there wasn’t much happening in town Nita wasn’t aware of. Word spread so fast it made me wonder if they did it by telepathy.

  “Have a seat. We’re just getting ready to have a cup of tea. I was telling Aunt Kit what happened to Josh.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news.” Nita accepted the cup Aunt Kit handed her.

  At Aunt Kit’s questioning look, I pointed to Nita. “Her cousin Neil Stanelli was one of the police officers who responded to the 911 call.”

  Aunt Kit’s hand holding the teapot shook as she poured us tea. “You girls worry me. How do you find yourselves entangled in so many dangerous situations?”

  We shrugged. It was as much a puzzle to us.

  Nita added two heaping spoons of sugar to her cup and continued to stir as she talked. “It could have been someone out to rob Josh of his wallet or takings for the day.”

  “Possibly, but from what Josh said, the attacker seemed more intent on murder than robbery.”

  Nita’s eyes widened. “What? Neil didn’t tell me that. Why would someone want to murder Josh? I assumed it was a mugging.”

  “By the time Josh told us that, Neil had already left for the station.”

  After stirring her tea for what seemed like minutes, Nita blew across the top of her cup to cool it. “Do you think Josh’s attack could be connected to the murder—happening so close to where Beth was murdered?”

  “I don’t know. Josh found Beth’s body the next day, so I can’t see the attack on him being connected to the murder. He didn’t witness anything. Besides, we only have his impression that killing him was the attacker’s intent.”

  My stomach growled. “I can’t think when I’m starving. Let’s eat something and then discuss it. Have either of you had dinner yet?”

  Aunt Kit and Nita shook their heads.

  I opened the refrigerator, hoping an already prepared dish would miraculously be there. Since no such dish appeared, I pulled a frozen pizza from the freezer, removed it from the cardboard box, and put it in the oven. I’d done it so often that I automatically set the temperature and cooking time without referring to the instructions on the box.

  “Let’s get back to what happened to Josh.” Aunt Kit placed a plate of cheese and grapes on the table.

  “If the attack wasn’t related to Beth’s murder, what other reason could someone have to knock off Josh?” Nita reached for some of the grapes.

  Aunt Kit grimaced. “It’d have to be a serious reason for someone to risk trying to kill him. What else has he been dealing with recently?”

  “I hate to suggest this, but do you think Josh could be dealing in drugs and crossed his supplier?” Nita asked. “You think you know people, but he could be hiding illegal activities.”

  I laughed. “Always a possibility, but knowing Josh, highly unlikely.”

  Aunt Kit brought out a bottle of wine and some glasses to go with our pizza. “You never know. Look how surprised we were when someone we knew committed murder at Hendricks Funeral Home. That adventure aged me five years.”

  I thought about Josh’s recent dealings. “He worked out a deal with the TV people to rent them space in his warehouse. But I don’t think any of them would have been driven to kill him.”

  Nita took a sip of wine and pondered that for a moment. “I don’t know. His quirky ways can drive people a bit nutty.” Seeing the expression on my face, Nita added, “Okay, maybe not murder.”

  Then I remembered Josh’s earlier visit from Detective Spangler. “This may be unrelated, but recently someone sold Josh and several local dealers some antiques. Later he discovered they were stolen goods. From what I heard, the police suspect the thefts were part of a big operation. Perhaps the person who sold the items to Josh is now concerned Josh can identify him.”

  “Serious enough to commit murder?” Nita asked.

  I thought about it for a minute. “No, probably not. Perhaps the attacker wanted to get Josh out of the way temporarily. Or scare him off.”

  Aunt Kit leaned forward. “Preying on the elderly is a big business. I’ve had several friends victimized. The antique thefts could be just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe the attacker is major player in the operation and is afraid if Josh can identify him, it could bring down their whole operation.”

  I bit into a slice of pizza, savoring the bits of pepperoni. “Who could have gained access to the homes they stole from to know what they had—without raising questions?”

  “Beats me,” Nita said. “Other than family and friends, the only people who come to my house are meter readers and an occasional kid selling Girl Scout cookies.” She paused at the mention of Girl Scout cookies and reached into the tin of cookies I’d brought out.

  Aunt Kit took a piece of pizza. “If the victims had been thinking about moving, it could have been real estate agents and even home stagers.”

  Seeing the twinkle in her eye, I knew she was teasing us. “Thanks a lot, Aunt Kit. Now Nita and I have to worry about appearing on the police radar because we may have visited some of those homes.”

  “Okay, if someone cased the places, what did the people who were robbed have in common?” Nita asked.

  “Most of them were probably old,” Aunt Kit said.

  Seeing our surprised expressions, she shrugged. “It’s older people who have antiques—younger people usually turn up their noses at Grandma’s things.”

  “But with the thieves taking such a big haul, how did they know which houses had what they wanted?” I asked.

  “Well for one, if the people were older, who most likely visited them and got in long enough to identify anything of value?” Aunt Kit started to clear the table.

  “Cleaning people?” Nita asked.

  “Medical personnel,” Aunt Kit said. “You know, visiting nurses and aides. Honorable and hardworking people, but all you need is one who isn’t, or who just took a job as an aide to case houses.”

  “You’re brilliant, Aunt Kit. That would be more likely than a cable repairman or meter reader.”

  Aunt Kit frowned. “Oh, dear. Does that mean you girls are going to get involved with something dangerous again?”

  “With the competition, I don’t have time to get involved in anything right now. But it’s worth giving this puzzle some thought.”

  “With someone out to get Josh, we have to do more than just think about this,” Nita said.

  “I’m sure the police are looking at who could be casing local homes. Why not let them do their job?” Aunt Kit asked.

  “They may not have thought of the visiting medical personnel angle,” Nita said. “It wouldn’t hurt to give them information that could help in a case. They might welcome it.”

  I snorted, thinking of the times I’d suggested things to Detective Spangler. He’d only view it as interfering with his in
vestigation. “With the police having their hands full right now with Beth Crawford’s murder, they don’t have much time to focus on Josh’s attack or the burglaries. Whoever attacked him could try again and soon.”

  I pursed my lips together in deep thought. “I have an idea. Nita, can you arrange to have Mrs. Webster join us when we meet with the team tomorrow morning at Vocaro’s?”

  Chapter 14

  Minor upgrades, such as new appliances or kitchen and bathroom countertops, will do more to change your sales price than redoing the kitchen or bathroom entirely.

  Competition Day Three

  Before heading to the warehouse for another day in the competition, I arrived early at Vocaro’s to meet with my team. At the counter, I grabbed a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin, skipped my usual cappuccino in favor of a pumpkin spiced latte, in keeping with the season, and joined Nita and the others at a large table in the back room.

  Sitting down, I looked around the table at my terrific team, Nita, Will, Tyrone, and his grandmother, Mrs. Webster. With a team like this, we could accomplish almost anything. But what I wanted to talk to them about would be a challenge.

  “Okay, any problems so far this week?” I asked. “Again, Tyrone and I are sorry to leave everything to the rest of you.”

  “Will and I got the Masterson’s house staged. No problem.” Nita took a bow. “In one of the bedrooms, we added a table, lamp, desk pad, and a pencil jar, and staged it as a home office. And if homebuyers still didn’t know what the setup was for, we added an old laptop—Guido removed the hard drive.”

  “It turned out right nice, if I do say so myself,” Will said.

  “Hey, that’s something we can do, Laura, in the competition living room,” Tyrone said. “We can add a small work area in one of the corners. The room is big enough.”

  “Great idea, Tyrone. We’ll work on that today.”

  Nita pulled out a notebook and referred to it. “We received some calls about possible stagings, so I set up some appointments for next week.”

  “Thanks, Nita. You guys are doing great.” I closed my notebook and returned it to my canvas bag. “Okay, if there’s nothing else we need to discuss related to Staging for You, I’d like to talk about something a lot more serious.” That got their attention.

  “Is this related to the death of that poor young woman?” Will asked. “Considerin’ I’d just been with her the day before, I was stunned when I heard the news. That sure was sad. You aren’t plannin’ to get involved with that investigation, are you?” During a case we’d previously been involved with, Will had been seriously injured when hit by a car. He knew firsthand how dangerous these cases could be.

  “No!” I said and meant it. For once, a local murder didn’t involve someone close to me that I felt compelled to help.

  “My cousin Neil said she’d been strangled with her scarf.” Nita wadded up the wrapper from her sticky bun. “She must have known the person to have turned her back on him.”

  “What I can’t understand is why the killer put her in the wooden trunk,” Will said. “Do you think it could’ve been to incriminate Josh?” Will was another mystery reader and loved reading about conspiracies.

  I thought mournfully of the beautiful wooden trunk that I planned to buy from Josh. But not now. “The killer probably saw the trunk and viewed it as a convenient place to dispose of Beth—to keep her hidden for a while.”

  “Neil told me it was probably to delay anyone finding her. She could have been in there for days before anyone noticed. They found marks on the floor near the trunk that indicated a scuffle. Also, her heels left marks when she was dragged across the loading dock area. Dirt on the backs of her shoes was consistent with the grimy dirt on the floor.”

  Mrs. Webster looked outraged. “Dang. That was a terrible thing to happen to that young woman. I sure’d like to see the evildoer responsible for her death put behind bars.” For an older woman, Mrs. Webster had a lot of moxie and would go head-to-head with anyone to right a wrong.

  “Sorry, but it won’t be us putting him behind bars. We need to focus on another challenge—if you are willing to help.” I explained what happened to Josh the previous evening and our thoughts about who might be casing local homes.

  “This town gets more wicked every day,” Mrs. Webster said.

  Tyrone pushed back his chair and got up. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a second. Luigi is waving me over.”

  “I thought you had finished for the day,” I said, concerned that our meeting was taking him away from his work.

  “I am, but it seems I’m sometimes the only barista who can fix those temperamental coffee machines.”

  “I’ll fill you in when you get back or later,” I said, turning back to the team.

  “It’s hard to believe medical personnel or a caregiver could be the one casing homes,” Mrs. Webster said, “but it makes sense to investigate.” Mrs. Webster had retired after many years of nursing patients in their homes. Not much missed her. Her observation of something in the home of a long-ago patient had recently helped solve a murder. “Now that you’ve dragged me in here at the crack of dawn, what do you want me to do?”

  “I’d like for you to use your connections in the home nursing community to see who might have visited the homes affected. The companies providing personnel might be more forthcoming to you than with the police. With a list of the affected homes, we might begin to see a pattern.”

  Mrs. Webster sat erect. “Like going undercover.” She appeared to like that idea. The thought of Tyrone’s elderly grandmother going undercover almost made me laugh. I stifled it, realizing that if anyone could do it successfully, she could.

  “Not exactly, but you’ve got the idea,” I said. “Nita, do you think you can get the list of affected homes from Neil? Getting it from him will be faster than trying to put a list together from other sources.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I may have to blackmail Neil by threatening to reveal some of his past antics to get it.”

  “It’s essential. We need to identify the person who wants Josh out of the picture before that person tries again. We may get nowhere, but if we’re right, we’ll have a small piece of the puzzle.”

  “Why not just leave it for the police to figure it out?” Will asked.

  “For a start, they’re spread really thin right now. They also believe the attack on Josh was a mugging, with no leads to follow. I’m concerned about Josh. I think he’s more worried about another attempt than he lets on. Anything we can contribute might help the police identify his attacker.”

  Tyrone returned and slid back into his seat. “You aren’t going to believe this. I just heard up front the police charged Chris Channing with Beth’s murder.”

  Who’s that?” Will asked.

  “One of the cameramen from the production company,” Tyrone said.

  “What a relief to have the killer in custody.” Nita started gathering her things to leave. “I didn’t like the idea of you and Tyrone being there with a murderer on the loose.”

  “That’s too bad about Chris. I talked to him several times and liked him.” I hoped the police would end up releasing him. They were known sometimes to hold people for questioning and then letting them go.

  “Nine times out of ten, people are murdered by the folks close to them,” Will said.

  Tyrone cleared the table of empty cups. “From what I heard from some of the crew, Chris and Beth had been close at one time.” It didn’t take Tyrone long to form friendly relations with people. That’s how he heard so much of what was going on in the community. People liked and opened up to him. He’d make an excellent detective.

  “I’d heard that. But based on the argument between Chris and Beth I witnessed, I figured that relationship had probably been long over.”

  After Will, Nita, and Mrs. Webster left, Tyrone and I took a few minutes to make a l
ist of things we needed for the day.

  Afterward, Tyrone stood up to leave. “I know a guy who refurbishes computers who would sell us an old laptop dirt cheap.”

  “Wait a second.” I rummaged around in my overstuffed canvas bag for the competition cash card and handed it to him. “Don’t forget to get a receipt. We can’t use anything in the room that wasn’t provided by the production company or purchased with the card. It’s essential since we have Staging for You inventory stored in the warehouse. We don’t want anyone viewing us as having an unfair advantage.”

  Just as I was ready to leave Vocaro’s for the warehouse, I looked up to see Sam, the audio technician. Next to him stood a middle-aged woman with dark magenta hair, wearing a long flowing skirt with multiple patterns and in colors that matched her hair. She reminded me of Madam Zolta, our local psychic.

  “Hi, Laura. Can we join you?” Sam placed his cup on the table.

  “Please do.” I still had plenty of time to get to the warehouse before we started, so I decided to stay for a few more minutes.

  “Laura, have you met Emma? She’s the hair and makeup artist with the production crew. Emma, this is Laura Bishop, one of our competitors.”

  “Hi, Emma. I didn’t realize there was a hair and makeup artist with the crew.” Where had she been when I could have used some help looking my best during filming?

  “I just got here, arriving late yesterday afternoon. I made a trip home for a family emergency and had flight delays getting back. Olivia was livid, but there was nothing I could do. A power failure shut down the whole of Edinburgh Airport.”

  “From your accent, can I safely assume your home is in Scotland?”

  “Aye, it is.”

  Hearing her accent made me think of my expired passport without a single stamp in it and my desire to travel. My late husband, Derrick, hadn’t wanted to travel, and when he had been killed in a car accident, with another woman, I found myself building a new life and new career with little time and money to visit the places I dreamed of—Scotland among them. Someday.