Cocoa Conviction (A Mission Inn-possible Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Rosie A. Point

“Guilt?”

  Jessie narrowed her eyes at me. “Listen, flunky, I didn’t come here to talk to you. I don’t mince my words and I won’t spend any of them on someone’s assistant.”

  OK, maybe compromising both our covers for the sake of teaching this woman a lesson wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “Don’t speak to Charlotte like that,” Gamma snapped.

  “You stole my appointment!” Jessie thundered.

  “I didn’t steal your appointment. I have no need to steal appointments, Belle-Blue. Unlike you, I’m not the type of person who sabotages—”

  “Spare me the self-righteous speech, Georgina. I know exactly who you are and what you would do.” Jessie tugged on her pashmina—her go-to accessory. “You’re a no-good, two-bit, piece of trash and you’re a thief. You house murderers and—”

  I marched down the steps until I was on the one above her. “I suggest,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “you back off right now.”

  Jessie’s lips drew thin, but she lost color fast. Maybe I looked scary. Maybe a little of my pent-up frustration had leaked out.

  She backed down the steps until she was on the grass-fringed pathway that ran around the side of the inn. “This isn’t over.” She spun on her heel and marched off without a backward glance.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and Gamma stomped down the steps and onto the path. She tottered forward and peered around the bend. “She’s gone.”

  “Good,” I said, joining her.

  “Really, Charlotte, was it necessary to threaten her? She’s only going to use this as an excuse to get back at you.”

  “Excuse me,” I replied. “I wasn’t the one who told her I’d ‘subdue her.’ I stepped in because you were about ready to loose heck on her.”

  “Well, she would’ve deserved it.” Gamma took several breaths. “I have never met another human being who gets under my skin like she does. It’s beyond the pale. She acts as if she owns everything and everyone when really, she’s just… she’s—” Gamma closed her eyes and I could almost see her mentally counting to ten. “Anyway, never mind. She’s gone now, but I’m sure she’ll be back to sow more chaos and discord when she’s got the opportunity.”

  “What appointment was she talking about?” I asked.

  “A vet appointment. We have to make them in advance and have the vet and his assistant actually come out to see the cats. We coould take them in separately in their carriers, but it’s a lot of effort and Dr. Spitz offered to come out here instead.”

  “And you booked when Jessie did?”

  “No, of course not. I booked an open slot. I have no idea what the wretched woman is talking about. She’s trying to muscle in on my territory and I won’t stand for it, I tell you.”

  I patted my grandmother on the arm. “Well, she’ll fall short if—oh my heavens, what is that smell?” I wrinkled my nose and pressed the back of my hand against it.

  The strong scent of flowers drifted from the bushes that flanked the inn’s back path. But there were no flowers out there, and that scent was more like a perfume. An incredibly strong rose perfume. “Is that from Jessie?”

  “No,” Gamma replied. “She always smells like mothballs and hades.”

  I snorted and instantly regretted it. “Gosh, that is foul. Who wears that much perfume?”

  “Well, it’s not me if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “Georgina,” I said, patting her again. “Please. Relax. Jessie’s gone. Don’t let her get under your skin.”

  Gamma’s tense shoulders finally relaxed. “You’re right, of course. I shouldn’t give her the pleasure.” We walked back to the inn’s steps and climbed them. “Charlotte, what were you doing in the foster center at this time of the day? Your shift isn’t until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Sherlock got out again.”

  “Again?” Gamma paused in front of the doors. “How? That’s … that’s highly unusual. We must have a security breech somewhere.”

  “That or Sherlock’s an incredibly intelligent cat who employs deductive reasoning. Much like his namesake.”

  “You’re not suggestion Sherlock Holmes had a penchant for cream and mice, are you?” The corners of Gamma’s lips twitched. “Because, while I enjoy the image, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is turning in his grave.”

  I waved away the question and let us into the inn. “I was in here,” I said, “because Bob’s fiancée found Sherlock in her room.”

  “Bob had a fiancée?”

  “Yeah, exactly. I’m showing her around the center.” I pointed to the incubator room where Leanne stood with Susan, watching as our helper fed a baby kitten out of a syringe. It lay on its fluffy belly atop a warming pad. “Apparently, Bob was rich.”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Gamma said, eagerness fringing her words. “We should go help Lauren with the Easter eggs.”

  “Easter eggs?”

  “For the inn’s Easter egg hunt tomorrow. Don’t tell me you though Easter in Gossip was a one-day event, Charlotte. There’s a lot of work to be done.”

  I withheld a groan, choosing to focus on the prospect of chocolate eggs and a solved murder instead of shrieking children and an afternoon spent wrapping up chocolates I wouldn’t get to eat.

  9

  “These kids better appreciate all the effort we’ve made here,” I said, swiping the back of my hand over my forehead. I didn’t doubt I’d just smeared chocolate all over myself. Both Gamma and Lauren were streaked with it, from their aprons to their foreheads.

  “I’m sure they’ll be very happy.” Lauren had already molded the chocolate half shells together to create a big container of chocolate eggs that we’d only just started wrapping in foil—in every color, of course. “I just felt so terrible for them, you know? After what happened at the Easter Festival.”

  “What happened to them at the Easter Festival?” I asked. “Apart from several severe cases of toothache.”

  “The murder,” Lauren said, under her breath.

  “But they still go to do their hunt,” I replied. “In fact, they were out hunting for much longer than was originally organized.”

  “That’s the thing, Charlotte.” Gamma selected an egg in gloved fingers and wrapped shimmering pink foil around it. “They didn’t enjoy the hunt.”

  “Jacinta’s son said that he couldn’t find any eggs and that some of the other kids didn’t get any either,” Lauren put in. “That’s what happens when they allow the mayor and the town committee to organize events on their own. You know, Josie asked to be a part of it and they rejected her.” Josie was Lauren’s sister and owned the local bakery in town. Rumor had it, she’d been vying for a position on the town council for quite some time.

  I pulled on my gloves then selected an Easter egg and wrapped it in pastel green foil.

  “And I truly believe that if Josie had been in charge, none of this would have happened,” Lauren continued, turning back to the eggs that needed to be popped out of molds and put together.

  “How so?”

  “Josie’s a very responsible person. She would have made sure that the security at the event was topnotch,” Lauren replied.

  I had my doubts about that. No one had expected something like this to happen. Gossip had had a few murders and crimes in the past year, but a shooting in broad daylight? It wasn’t an unsafe town, and there wouldn’t have been a reason for Josie to set up security bearing that in mind.

  “What’s done is done,” Gamma said. “My mother would always sing that song to me when I was a girl, Que Sera. By Doris Day?”

  “That’s depressing. Whatever will be, will be? No way. Not if I get any say in the matter.”

  Gamma laughed and shook her head. “Of course, you would think that, Charlotte. Now, speaking of murder and mayhem, what do we think about what your new friend said?”

  “Which new friend?” Lauren placed more completed eggs in our container.

  “Leanne. Bob’s fiancée. Apparently,
Bob was rich and his aunt happens to be staying at the inn as well. Obviously she came down here to see him,” I said. “We just don’t know why she would do that. It can’t be a coincidence that she’s here and now he’s…” I drew a thumb across my throat.

  “That’s not very sensitive.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to say it out loud.” I got up and peeked out of the porthole windows in the kitchen doors. The dining area was quiet, its glossy tables glinting in the sunlight.

  “Are you talking about the little old lady with the pink hair?” Lauren asked. “The one who’s staying on the second floor of the inn with her nurse?”

  “She has a nurse?” I asked.

  “Yes. She’s quite frail. She’s got to be at least 90-years-old.”

  Gamma and I gave each other a look.

  “That doesn’t mean she couldn’t have done it,” I said.

  “She’s got pink hair,” Lauren replied.

  “You mentioned.” I wrapped another egg in foil.

  The conversation petered off and I fell into the rhythm of selecting an egg and wrapping it then reaching for another and repeating the process. It was therapeutic, pressing the brightly colored foil and hiding away the chocolatey darkness underneath. My mouth watered from the smell of melted chocolate in the kitchen. Every now and again, Lauren would open the fridge and remove the trays of molds with their egg halves. Gamma took sips of water between wrapping.

  “Just because she’s old,” I said, “doesn’t mean she’s incapable.”

  Gamma didn’t comment. Lauren shrugged.

  I couldn’t quit thinking about what had happened to Bob. It was much easier to focus on the murder of our worst guest than it was to wonder where Kyle was and whether he was just around the corner, drawing closer to the inn. Not that I couldn’t take him. I’d been top of my class in the bureau’s training academy, thank you very much, but what if he struck those closest to me? The people who I cared about the most?

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, my gaze wandering from Lauren to my grandmother. I flinched as she met me with her all-knowing blue-eyed stare.

  “I think Charlotte and I should take a walk around the garden,” she said. “We need a break.”

  “Oh, that’s fine by me. You two are doing a great job of wrapping the eggs, I’m struggling to keep up.” Lauren slathered the inside of the mold with chocolate.

  “We’ll be back in ten.” Gamma rose and gestured for me to do the same.

  It was inching toward late afternoon, and the hazy day was filled with the pleasant sounds of insects whirring through the underbrush and the pleasant scent of grass that had been baking in the sun all day.

  “You need to relax, Charlotte,” Gamma said, the minute we were out of earshot of the kitchen door. “The wistful sighing and the staring off into space is too much. Even Lauren noticed, though she probably assumes it’s because of your new relationship.”

  “Fake relationship,” I said, pointedly. “And I was thinking about the case. There’s no harm in that.”

  “Your superiors would disagree.”

  “What my superiors don’t know, won’t hurt them. And I know you agree with that, Mrs. ‘Armory in the Basement.’”

  Gamma pressed a finger to her lips which had curled upward at the corners.

  We walked a few steps along the path and I stopped across from the greenhouse where Smulder could usually be found, tending to plants that gave the inn its fresh supply of vegetables. The door was closed.

  “We have speak to her,” I said. “This aunt of Bob’s. It might give us a new perspective on what happened.”

  Gamma was restless at the best of times. It wouldn’t take much convincing to get her to come along with me on another madcap adventure. There was a real risk to a murderer being on the loose around the inn and town too. If they killed again, there was a chance our covers could be blown—the more attention on Gossip, the worse for us.

  That was my excuse. Really, I was just curious. And it was terrible that Leanne was so distraught, assuming she wasn’t faking it.

  “I do believe that—oh my!” Gamma pointed toward the greenhouse. “Would you look at that? How fantastic.”

  “What?”

  10

  A bouquet of magnificent flowers sat right outside the greenhouse’s door. Flowers in every color of the rainbow bobbed their heads in the vase. I could’ve sworn they hadn’t been there a second ago. And this was mighty weird, too—who would put a bouquet of flowers outside the greenhouse?

  “Maybe they’re for you,” Gamma said. “Brian might’ve gotten them.”

  “I don’t think he’s that committed to our cover,” I muttered.

  Where was Smulder anyway? Usually, I couldn’t walk into the garden without catching a glimpse of him loping between the trees. What if something had happened to him? It took me a millisecond to identify how ridiculous that thought was. Smulder was a trained NSIB agent. He was the last person I had to worry about.

  As if to reinforce my statement, he came around the corner of the greenhouse, walking backward and dragging what had to be dirt or leaves or compost in a bag in front of him. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, between heaves of the bag.

  “There’s a wheelbarrow in the shed,” Gamma called out.

  A second too late, I realized where Smulder was heading. “Hey, watch out for that—”

  The back of his ankle collided with the vase of flowers in front of the greenhouse’s door, and Smulder’s hands slipped on the bag. His arms pin wheeled and he tipped over backward with a strangled cry, landing heavily on his rear end.

  “Oh dear,” Gamma said.

  That had to smart. Especially with his old injuries—bullet wounds that had healed but hurt in the cold according to the NSIB’s office rumor mill. Smulder had gotten those wounds thanks to my guns blazing attitude in a mission that had been meant to be undercover. He’d never forgiven me for them.

  Smulder blinked. The end of the bag had opened and some of the soil within had spilled out and scattered all over his shoes.

  “Are you OK?” I strode across the garden to the greenhouse and offered him a hand.

  Smulder considered it then looked at his grubby palms. He put them on the ground and pushed himself up. “I’m fine,” he replied, brushing himself off. “What was that?” He spotted the vase of flowers, now lying on its side, a few of the petals scattered on the gravel path. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  “My idea?” I folded my arms. “Brian, you don’t seriously think I’m leaving you flowers. First the notes and now this.”

  “Notes?” Gamma came up.

  “Brian’s been receiving love notes from a secret admirer,” I said.

  Smulder gritted his teeth. “It’s nothing. Just someone’s idea of a practical joke. I assumed it was Charlie because she likes to tease, but she claims it wasn’t her.”

  “I’m not claiming anything. If I say I didn’t do something, I didn’t do it,” I said. “I do have integrity, Brian.”

  “Enough integrity that you still haven’t taken responsibility for the bullet wounds in my—”

  “I apologized and apologized for that,” I snapped.

  “Now isn’t the time for a lover’s spat, children.” Gamma put a hand on either of our shoulders. “There’s murder and mystery afoot.”

  “Murder that you’re not getting involved in.” Smulder aimed that at me.

  “That’s not the only mystery to be solved,” Gamma continued, drawing us both closer and nodding to the flowers on the floor. “Charlotte didn’t get those for you, so who did? A secret admirer, eh? It seems like your relationship is about to get complicated.”

  “Fake relationship,” I hissed, giving Brian my hardest, most unforgiving stare. He returned it in equal intensity. What was it with this man? Why was it so easy for him to get under my skin?

  “Let me see that letter, Brian.” Gamma put out her palm.

  He reached into his top pock
et and gave her the note.

  “What, you’re just carrying it around with you?” I smothered a giggle. “Are you secretly happy that someone’s taken an interest in you?”

  “No, Charlotte. I received another one this morning.”

  “Oh.” My mirth fell away. Was it technically a secret admirer if the messages came this frequently? Or could we class this woman as a stalker?

  The note Smulder had given Gamma was pink and smelled of perfume that made my nose itch.

  Gamma cleared her throat. “Dearest Brian,” she started.

  “Please don’t read it out loud,” he grumbled.

  “Dearest Brian,” she said, again, and of course he didn’t give her any trouble. Gamma was the most decorated spy in the history of the NSIB. He wouldn’t tell her what to do.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Gamma read. “I’ve been meaning to send it over for the past little while, but I’ve been so busy that it’s been difficult to get time off. I hope you’ll like my surprise and that you will consider meeting me someday soon. When you’re ready, wear a rose in the top pocket of your overalls and I’ll know. Love from your admirer. P.S. You look very handsome when you’re hard at work.”

  Fits of giggles threatened to overtake me. Maybe it was childish, but it was just the look on Brian’s face. It was impossible not to laugh when the man who I knew as stoic was as red as a beet that had been boiled and pickled.

  “This person,” Gamma said, handing the note back, gingerly, “whoever they are, is watching you closely. That’s alarming.” She scanned the trees that led into the forest. “Have you noticed anything lately, Smulder?”

  “A smell,” he said.

  “A smell?” I grimaced. “What kind of smell are we talking about? Compost?”

  “No, like… you know when you take flowers and put them in a bowl to dry out? What’s that called?”

  “Potpourri. I’ve considered making my own, but I’ve been busy with the foster center,” Gamma said.

  “That. It smells like that, but stronger.”

  I had a hunch I’d smelled the same thing around the back of the inn just this morning. “Can I have that note for a second?”