by Carol Durand
The forensics team picked up the shards of glass and took samples from the lettering on the house, discovering that there was indeed blood mixed in with the cheap Merlot that was splashed all over the front of the normally tidy yellow Victorian home. Apparently, the vandal had sliced into flesh with a broken bottle piece and had helpfully left some DNA behind. The police were underfoot for several hours, scouring the area for clues and collecting evidence, but when they finally left, just as dawn was breaking in the east, Missy couldn’t bear to leave the mess that had been made, and sacrificing precious hours of sleep, she hooked up her hose and brought out a bucket of warm, soapy water to clean off the house and porch.
As Missy hosed the wine off of the floorboards, she noticed a glimmer of something right next to one of the rockers of her porch glider. Bending the hose over on itself to stop the flow of water, she knelt down and brushed across the sparkle with her finger, feeling something small and hard. Bracing her shoulder against the side of the glider and pushing with her legs, she shoved it aside about an inch and picked up the object that had been catching the light, a diamond earring. It wasn’t one of hers, and she wondered if it might belong to whoever had vandalized her porch. She tucked it into her pocket, deciding to talk to Chas about it when she went over to cook his breakfast.
Missy had just dumped the bucket of dirty water and returned it to the garage when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Seeing that it was Ben calling, she answered, and was dismayed to hear that the rear entrance to her Dellville store had been similarly vandalized. She hung up feeling drained and defeated after instructing Ben to call the police. Glancing at her watch, she decided just to stay awake and drink a pot of coffee before going to Chas’s, rather than trying to catch just an hour or two of sleep. Just when she had thought that life was so good, things seemed to be going wrong in every direction. Well, every direction but one…she still had the courageous and kind-hearted Chas Beckett in her corner, and as long as that was true, life couldn’t be all bad.
Chapter 10
“Should I be worried?” Missy asked Chas as she snuggled up to him on his luxurious leather sofa, having brought him up to speed on recent events and giving him the earring to submit for evidence.
The seasoned detective sighed. “Normally, this kind of vandalism is committed just for the sake of destruction, or as a sign of rebellion, but in your case, the message seemed more than personal, so it’s hard to say. Why don’t you and the girls,” he gestured at Toffee and Bitsy, who were snoring softly on their pink fluffy bed in the corner of the living room, “just stay here until this all blows over? You know you’re always more than welcome. I love having you here.” He kissed the top of her head as she rested her cheek on his chest. “I’d love it if you were here all the time, actually,” he commented, trying his best to sound casual.
“What do you mean?” Missy asked, going suddenly still, almost as though she were holding her breath.
There was a pregnant pause. “I…don’t know. Must be the medicine talking,” Chas shrugged, then winced at the sharp pain that the simple movement had caused.
Missy relaxed against him once more. “I like being here too,” she murmured. In a few minutes, she heard his breathing slow and deepen, indicating that he had gone to sleep, and she gently extricated herself from the circle of his good arm, so that she could make the trip to Dellville, check on Ben and the store, and hang out with Echo over a bowl of Vanilla Bean Rice Dream.
**
“So do you think he wants you to move in with him?” Echo asked, her eyes wide.
“I have no idea,” Missy shrugged, spooning her Vanilla Bean treat into her mouth at an alarming rate. The stress of the past couple of weeks had caught up with her, and she wanted nothing more than to linger in the safe cocoon of her friend’s shop, stuffing her face with ice cream.
“Well, do you want to move in with him?” Echo persisted, living vicariously through her best friend’s relationship.
“I don’t know that either,” she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose as the ice cream gave her an icepick to the brain.
“Well, if you don’t want to, I’d certainly be happy to take your place,” her friend teased. “Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome wouldn’t know what hit him,” she giggled.
“Chas is the least of my worries. There’s a killer running around out there somewhere, and I might be the next victim on her list,” Missy lamented.
“Her? You think a woman killed someone?” Echo raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, and in this particular case, the female victim didn’t seem to have any enemies and only had female friends,” Missy sighed.
“Wow, that would be awful to have one of your friends turn on you. What a horrible betrayal,” she shook her head. “So who do you think the killer is?”
“A younger gal named Samantha Lemmon,” Missy confided. “She’s a nurse at the hospital, but I think she’s on administrative leave until the case is solved.”
Echo’s spoon fell from her hand into her ice cream bowl and her mouth hung open in shock.
“What? Echo, what’s wrong?” her friend asked, alarmed.
“That can’t be right,” she shook her head in disbelief. “Samantha Lemmon has recently become a very good friend of mine, and I know her well enough to tell you that she’d never hurt anyone.”
Missy sat back in her chair, nonplussed. “How is it that you and Samantha Lemmon have become friends?”
“She started coming into the shop a few weeks ago. She looked pretty beat up by life and seemed sad, so I talked to her every time she came in – about life and art and everything and nothing. We have a lot of things in common, and I can tell you without a doubt that there’s no way that girl is a murderer,” Echo insisted.
Suddenly disinterested in her ice cream, and not wanting to argue, Missy let the subject drop by simply replying, “Well, that may be the case, but if Sam didn’t murder Sally Higgins, then I don’t know who did.” She was now glad that she hadn’t told Echo about the earring that she had found, or about more specifics of the case. It was frustrating – Chas was recovering, so she didn’t want to burden him with her worries, and now, her best friend had befriended the woman who was potentially plotting her death, so she couldn’t talk to her either. Weary after a long couple of weeks dealing with fear and drama, she made her way back home and crawled under the covers for a very long nap.
Chapter 11
Missy slept all afternoon, and through the night, waking early the next morning when Toffee nosed at her impatiently, needing to go outside. Glancing at the clock, still dressed in the previous day’s clothing, Missy sat upright in a hurry, apologizing to her furry friends. She jogged down the stairs, in a hurry to provide them with relief, and opened the back door so that they could quickly get into the grass. Bitsy had left a small puddle on the tile in the kitchen overnight, but Missy had no intention of scolding the small dog, knowing full well that the accident had been completely her fault for sleeping so long. When the grateful canines came bounding back into the house, Missy apologized to them again, petting them and giving them each a treat. After they’d had their fill of food and water, and she’d had several cups of coffee and a leftover cupcake, she jingled their leashes and they came running, ready to frolic in the park.
Missy sat on a bench in the park, enjoying the sun on her face, and feeling better rested than she had in quite some time. She watched the dogs run and play, thinking how wonderful it would be to be that carefree.
“Hi Missy,” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts, startling her. Samantha Lemmon stood in front of her, wearing gym shorts and a plain t-shirt, her hair up in a ponytail. “I love this park. I come here to get away from the world sometimes,” she said, sitting on the far end of the bench.
“My dogs like it here,” she replied awkwardly, trying not to tremble and wondering how to safely and tactfully get away.
“I hear we have a common friend,” Sam
commented, following Missy’s gaze and watching the dogs.
“Yeah, small world,” Missy tried to smile, stealing a sidelong glance at the younger woman, then doing a double-take and looking closer.
“What is it?” Samantha asked, noticing Missy’s scrutiny.
“You don’t wear earrings,” she stated, lost in thought.
“No, I don’t. Never have. My parents thought that pierced ears were vain and dangerous, so I couldn’t have them done when I was younger, and I’ve seen far too many ripped out lobes come through the Emergency Room to even think about having it done now,” she shrugged. “I guess that’s kind of strange,” she said, wondering at Missy’s trance-like reaction to her discovery. “Are you okay?” she asked, peering at the older woman.
Her question seemed to snap Missy out of her reverie. “Uh, yes, I’m fine,” she said, giving herself a mental shake. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something,” she murmured. “Well, I have to get going,” she said, standing but no longer afraid. “Take care, Sam,” she said, calling to the dogs.
“You too,” was the bewildered reply.
**
“I don’t think she did it,” Missy announced when she walked into Chas’s luxurious ranch-style home.
“Who did what?” he replied, accepting an intense amount of affection from Toffee and Bitsy.
“I don’t think that Samantha Lemmon killed Sally Higgins,” she said, capturing the detective’s full attention.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, as the dogs settled at his feet.
“She doesn’t have pierced ears,” Missy said, as though that explained everything.
“Okay…so why does that disqualify her from being the killer?” the detective was puzzled.
“Because she couldn’t have worn the earring that I found on the porch,” Missy replied excitedly.
Chas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sweetie, that earring could belong to anyone – you, Echo, Cheryl, the mail carrier. Just because you found it after the vandalism occurred, doesn’t necessarily mean that the two events are connected,” he explained gently.
“Fred the mail carrier doesn’t wear earrings,” she pouted, deflated that he’d shot down her theory.
The detective chuckled. “Well, good, then we can probably eliminate him as a suspect,” he teased. “Look, I totally understand your reluctance to believe that Sam is the killer, it doesn’t seem very plausible to me either at this point, but, knowing the kinds of family ties that she has, anything is possible,” he said, reliving his encounter with Pierre Chartreaux. “The lab is testing to see if there’s any usable DNA on the earring post, so hopefully they’ll have some answers for us soon.”
Missy was preoccupied, staring into space and absently stroking Toffee’s ears, so Chas took advantage of the opportunity to gaze with unashamed love at the most beautiful person he’d ever known. When she caught him in the act and asked, “What?” he just shook his head and smiled a secret smile.
Chapter 12
Missy had taken Chas’s advice and was staying with him until the murder was solved, which made helping with meals much easier. He had a cleaning service come in twice a week, so she didn’t have to worry about housework, and she had to admit, she felt much safer being in the detective’s home. The tenacious lawman had returned to work sooner than his doctor felt was safe, but had no problems getting right back into the swing of things, even arresting one of Pierre Chartreaux’s cohorts after an anonymous tip.
Missy and Chas sat snuggled up on the couch, with the dogs quite literally underfoot, when his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text. Glancing at the screen, he quickly punched in a number and spoke urgently into the phone.
“Gimme Chapman,” he barked, checking his watch. “Chapman…give me the status,” he ordered, his face tense. “When? How bad is it?” he listened intently, pausing the DVD. He exhaled long and loudly with relief, shaking his head. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be right over.” He pressed the end button on his phone and turned off the TV.
“Duty calls?” Missy asked.
“There’s been…an incident…at your house,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh no, Chas…what?” she asked, panicking.
“I’ll explain in the car,” the detective promised. “You’re coming with me.”
**
There were four fire trucks and two police cars in front of the graceful Victorian when Chas pulled up in his unmarked car. A plume of smoke rose into the air from behind the house and Missy gasped, tears springing to her eyes.
Seeing her distress, Chas took both of her hands in his before they left the car. “It’s okay,” he soothed her. “The fire didn’t reach the house, it was contained in the back yard and just got a small corner of the back porch before your neighbors smelled smoke and called the fire department,” he reassured his trembling girlfriend. “The reason that I brought you with me is that I want you to go into the house with me to try to determine if there’s anything missing. Whoever lit the fire, broke into the house first, took all of your books, threw them in the back yard and set them on fire. My guys found an empty can of lighter fluid, and a half used box of matches that were left behind,” he explained as gently as he could. “Are you going to be able to help me with this?” he asked, in a tone designed to snap her out of her fear.
“Yes, of course,” Missy replied bravely, working hard to keep her chin from quivering. “Let’s do it.”
They made their way to the back yard first, to survey the damage, and saw the remnants of Missy’s entire book collection in a smoldering heap by the flower beds. Biting her lower lip to control her emotions, she wrapped her arms around herself and nodded, taking it all in. There were books in that charred pile that had been special to her – some were signed by the authors, some had been given to her by special friends, some had belonged to her grandmother, priceless treasures, gone in the tossing of a match. Her heart ached at her loss and her soul cried out at the senseless cruelty that someone had inflicted upon her. Shaking her head, she numbly followed Chas inside, absently noting the splintered door jamb where the intruder had broken into her house.
She went straight to her now empty book shelves, looking sadly at the space where her treasured books had been, and then doing a double take. There were thin, short horizontal lines in bright red on the back wall of the shelves.
“Chas, look at this,” she pointed to the lines.
“Hmm…were those there before?” he asked, shining his flashlight on them for a closer look.
“No, they weren’t. Do you know what they are?” she asked.
“No idea,” he frowned, stumped.
“They’re nail polish trails,” she said excitedly. “Whoever took the books out was wearing this color of nail polish.”
“Stay here, I’ll be right back. I’m going to have an officer pay a visit to Samantha Lemmon to see if she wears red nail polish,” he said, heading for the back door.
“Chas, wait!” Missy stopped him in his tracks. “The last time I saw Samantha Lemmon, she was so stressed that she had chewed her nails down to the quick. Even if she was wearing red nail polish, nails that short wouldn’t be able to leave a mark.”
“Unless of course she had her nails professionally done since you saw her last,” he replied. “Let’s check out the rest of the house and see what we find. I’ll think about whether or not we need to track down Samantha just yet,” he conceded.
In the kitchen, all of Missy’s bottles of red wine were missing, but aside from that, nothing seemed to be out of place. When they went upstairs to her bedroom, however, there certainly seemed to be a message that the vandal was trying to send. The missing bottles of wine from the kitchen had been emptied onto her bed, making it look like a grisly scene had taken place, and on her pillow, lay a copy of the last book that the book club had discussed in Sally’s living room. It was opened to the scene where the body of the victim had been discovered, and drops of wine had splashed the pages.
Aghast at the scene in front of her, Missy moved to pick up the book and Chas stopped her.
“Don’t touch that, sweetie, we may be able to lift fingerprints from it,” he advised, wrapping his arm around her waist. The empty wine bottles had been thrown on the floor, making horrible stains in her cream-colored area rug, and they were careful not to disturb them as well.
“Why is she doing this to me, Chas?” Missy asked, overwhelmed.
“I don’t know, sweetie, but I promise you that I’ll find out,” he replied, jaw muscles flexing.
Chapter 13
Missy did the only thing that she knew to do when she was stressed beyond belief…she baked. Ben and Cheryl watched with quiet concern as she feverishly turned out batch after batch of flawless cupcakes, each one a picture-perfect creation. She invented new flavors and improved old favorites. She made cupcakes richer, tastier, and dense with moisture, and whipped her toppings higher, fluffier and with brighter color. Missy was like a woman possessed, when one batch was in the oven, another was being mixed. When one pan was done being frosted, another came out of the oven to cool. She worked non-stop during normal working hours and beyond, the staff coaxing her out of the kitchen occasionally for a bite to eat.
“Detective Beckett, Ben and I just don’t know what to do,” Cheryl worried when she ran into Chas at the grocery store. “She just won’t stop, we’re afraid she’s going to work herself to death!”
“Well, I have something planned that I think may help her to focus on something other than murder and baking,” he smiled mysteriously, chatting with Cheryl for a good half hour before gathering the rest of his groceries and heading home to cook dinner for his beloved. Cheryl was stunned and pleased as punch at what the detective had to say, and couldn’t wait to get home and tell Ben.
