Mrs. Fix It Mysteries, Season 2 (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection)

by Belle Knudson

  As they drank their beers, she went into humorous anecdotes about Marly Jones and her chicken coop to get his mind off things, and by the time they were heading out, Jason seemed like a more relaxed version of who he’d been these past few days.

  “Would you like me to check in on you later tonight?” she offered, as she came to a stop in front of his house to drop him off.

  “I think Jared’s going to swing by,” he said.

  “You think or you know?”

  “He mentioned it, but said he’d let me know. He’s been at the Mayor’s office later and later each night. So I kind of doubt he’ll have time.”

  “You’re more than welcome to come back home with me and have dinner,” she said—even though she had already offered twice on the ride here and twice he had declined.

  “Really, Mom. If anything, I would go over Mr. and Mrs. Langley’s for dinner, but I don’t even feel like doing that. I’m sure Scott will track me down for another interview soon enough.”

  She gave him a little squeeze and then watched him climb out of the truck and head inside. When the door shut, she drove off, wondering just what in the hell Scott was thinking, interrogating her son.

  It was less than fifteen minutes before she came to a stop in front of her house. As she neared the door, she heard music playing quietly inside, and when she passed through the foyer, into the living room, and then rounded through to the kitchen, she smelled spices, which she soon pegged as Thai food.

  “You’re cooking?” she asked, surprised to see Scott in an apron and standing over the stove, as he stirred what appeared to be chicken masala.

  Scott set down the ladle and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I thought it would be the least I could do since these cases are taking up all of my time and I haven’t been home much.”

  She smirked and wondered how she would broach the subject of the Rock Ridge police giving her son a hard time.

  “There’s a bottle of wine on the table outside,” said Scott. “It’s open if you want to help yourself. I thought we would eat out there.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Need any help?”

  “No, this is almost ready. Go on out and relax.”

  She padded through to the sliding glass door then stepped onto the back patio where she found a bottle of red wine resting next to two wine glasses on the table. Pouring one for herself then a second for Scott, she had to ask herself if this display of thoughtfulness was genuine or the mark of a guilty man. Did Scott feel bad that he found Jason suspicious of Becky’s disappearance? Or was he merely trying to be a good husband on the rare occasion that he was home for a night?

  As she sat, she couldn’t decide.

  “Here we are,” he said, passing through the open doorway and setting the pot of chicken masala on the table. He had two plates tucked under his arms, so he set those out then quickly padded back into the kitchen to get utensils. When he returned a moment later, he handed one set to her then settled into an adjacent chair.

  “This looks great,” she said, then wasted no time diving into her biggest question. “Why did you question Jason again today?”

  Scott’s face grew long. “I don’t want you to be concerned about that.”

  “Of course I’m concerned.”

  “I was hoping to have a nice night with you.”

  “This isn’t like Cookie’s murder. This isn’t like any of the murders that occurred two years ago where you were in the right to keep the details of the cases to yourself, Scott. This is my son, your stepson. How many years have you known Jason and Jared? How many fishing trips? How many dinners have we all had? How could you possibly think he had anything to do with Becky being abducted? And worse, how could you possibly think about keeping any of this from me?”

  “Because I don’t want you to worry about it until I get to the bottom of it and know what’s going on.”

  “If Jason’s worried, then I’m worried, and I think you scared the crap out of him.”

  “Look,” he said, though his tone was kind. “Part of this process is ruling people out. The best thing I can do for Jason is to thoroughly scrutinize his statement, rule him out once and for all, and move on.”

  “But why do you suspect him in the first place? Why would anyone?”

  “Kate,” he said then paused to let out a long sigh. “You know how it works when a person is the last one who has seen the victim alive.”

  She did, but her instincts were telling her that wasn’t the reason he was looking into Jason, and all she had to do was lift her brows at him to let him know what she was thinking.

  “His story doesn’t check out,” he state frankly.

  “Because he told you he was drugged and the test came back negative?”

  “Yes,” he said, just as frankly. “He said the kidnapper stuck him with a needle in his neck and the nurse at the hospital saw no mark whatsoever. He said the abductor took Becky out the front door, but after finding her necklace in the woods, that also doesn’t add up. We found no sign of a struggle in his entire house. And if Becky had been drugged before the abductor stole her and if the abductor carried her out as Jason had said, then how could her necklace have possibly come off? How could the chain break? And who in their right mind would carry her through those woods? They spill out into a lake eventually. There’s nowhere to go.” Scott leaned forward in his chair and tried to take her hands. “Nothing Jason said adds up. Nothing.”

  “So what do you think happened? Why would he lie? Who took Becky?”

  “My guys are still out there looking. The search dog picked up Becky’s scent, and the team found a shoe of hers and about half a mile later a sweater.”

  “Well that’s good isn’t it?”

  “There’s something not right about it, Kate. Those articles of clothing, the necklace, the particular route through the woods... it all looked staged, fake, phony, just like Jason’s story.”

  “So what are you trying to tell me?”

  Scott fell silent and took a moment to drink his wine. When he set the glass on the table, all he said was, “Currently, I’m looking into Becky’s debit card, her bank statements—”

  “But there was no robbery. We’re all in agreement on that.”

  “I’m not looking into it because I think the abductor stole her credit cards. I’m looking into it to get a sense of her finances, and Jason’s.”

  “Becky’s parents have a net worth of over—”

  “I know how Becky’s parents are doing financially,” he interrupted. “And you don’t know if they were passing it along to their daughter. You don’t know if they were upset with her for getting involved with a blue-collar family. Jason works in construction now. You don’t know if they cut their own daughter off. You don’t know anything.”

  “So how would Becky going missing gain them money?” she pressed.

  Scott lifted his white-eye brows, holding her gaze.

  “The second Becky turns up safe, you can bet every media outlet is going to be knocking on her door. Hell, they’re already floating into town, writing articles on the mustard princess gone missing in the one town in Pennsylvania where five murders took place two years prior. If and when Becky gets found, and I’m emphasizing ‘when’ and using the term ‘found’ loosely, she and Jason will be able to name their price for interviews. Twenty thousand for Fox News, fifty thousand for ABC. Heck, Barbara Walters could pay them five hundred thousand each for an exclusive. This is going to make national headlines.”

  Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jason would never do such a thing. It would be immoral and unethical and downright despicable to waste police resources, and she was appalled at Scott that he was entertaining this outlandish theory.

  But there was no sense arguing against him. She would have to put her time and energy into disproving him. And after she silently resolved to do so, she ate dinner and tried not to fathom that Clifford Green could very well be right about the Rock Ridge police.

 
Chapter Ten

  The next day, Kate woke up with her alarm, and when she rolled over, she discovered Scott was already gone. In the haze of her waking mind, it slowly dawned on her all over again that her husband suspected her very own son of perhaps staging Becky’s abduction as some horrendous ploy to get money, and as it did, her stomach dropped.

  The only thing that got her out of bed that morning was a sense of faith that she knew her son and because of it, she knew he wasn’t capable of doing anything like that. The truth would come out soon enough, and until it did, she would have to stay strong, be there for Jason as much as possible, and get to the bottom of this herself.

  After a quick shower and changing into a pair of overalls that happened to also be shorts—each day felt hotter than the last—she made her way into the kitchen where she saw Scott had left her half a pot of coffee. She took a moment to smell it, checking that it wasn’t stale. It was fresh, so she poured the contents of the carafe into her thermos and started off into the warm day.

  As she climbed into her truck, she felt her cell phone vibrating. Dean Wentworth’s number was flashing across the screen so she swiped to answer the call.

  “Good morning, Dean.”

  “Hi, Kate. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Oh please,” she teased. “You know I get up much earlier than this.”

  He laughed good-naturedly then said, “I know it’s last minute, but I could use your help. My office door all but fell off its hinges this morning. It was gradually reaching disrepair, but I’ve been too busy to fix it. Do you think you could swing by?”

  Kate checked the clock on the dashboard. Grayson’s would be open, and she would need to buy new hinges. “I can make that work,” she said. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

  After driving over to Grayson’s Hardware and chatting briefly with Larry, who mentioned he was leaning towards voting in favor of the amusement park, Kate started a tab for the hinges she needed to buy since she felt too pressed for time to write out a check.

  “How do you think you’ll vote?” he asked, as he walked her out to her truck.

  “I’m not sure it’s going to matter how anyone votes,” she said. “Have you driven by the camping area? Construction is already underway.”

  Larry looked surprised to hear that, but she didn’t have time to discuss the matter further. She climbed into her truck and drove off towards the center of town where the Mayor’s office was located.

  As she walked into the building and found her way up to Dean’s floor, she realized she was smiling. Seeing Jared—or either of her boys—was always a treat. After years of them being away at college and spending their summers abroad in various programs, it felt so nice to know they lived right here in Rock Ridge with her. She would never take for granted the fact that they were close.

  “Hi, honey,” she said to Jared, who was carrying some files through the anteroom.

  “You must be here about the door,” he said, kissing her on the cheek, as he juggled the files in his arms. “Go on in. Dean is wrapping up a phone call.”

  Kate carried her toolkit back into Dean’s office and tried not to make too much noise as she investigated the problem with the door. It had come off its hinges at the top rungs, but not on the bottom, though those were hanging on by a thread.

  Selecting the right screwdriver, a Philips-head, she began removing the bottom hinges, and soon the door was completely free of the frame.

  Dean ended his phone call, setting his phone in its cradle.

  “Can you salvage it without having to redo the molding?” he asked, stepping up beside her and examining the wooden molding that framed the doorway.

  “I think so,” she said.

  “Good,” he said, sounding satisfied.

  As she got to work, he rounded his desk and sat.

  She debated with herself whether or not to bring up the whole farce of voting on the amusement park, and finally, the itch had to be scratched.

  “I happened to drive past the camping area the other day,” she began then shot him a glaring look. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  “Only that I’m glad to be getting my ducks in a row.”

  “Is that what you call it?” she challenged. “Dean,” she went on in a leveling tone, “it’s obvious you’re going ahead with the build. Why did you host a town meeting and tell people there would be a vote when it won’t matter which way the vote lands?”

  “Because,” he said with a sigh, “at the time I really was going to take a vote. But building the amusement park makes sense.”

  “Financially, it might look that way on paper, but a giant park like that is going to change this town, and change it for the worst.”

  “I disagree. It might change Rock Ridge, but only for the better. I truly believe that.”

  She held her response, while she plugged in her electric screwdriver and angled the bit to the new hinges, drilling them in, screw by screw with quick, noisy blasts. Then she set the electric screwdriver down, and said, “One of your arguments was that literally building the amusement park would create jobs for the unemployed. So who is building the park if no one in town knows it’s going up?”

  Again, he sighed. “That was a bit of a complication.”

  “Complication?”

  “A misunderstanding. When I spoke with Six Flags, I was under the impression we could hire people to build the park. Then after I signed contracts—”

  “You signed contracts?”

  “I had to. But I discovered the fine print was that only their union teams could build it.”

  “Dean—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, but it will still create jobs, and the real money maker is going to be the tourism it brings in.”

  Kate was not pleased.

  As if he could change the subject and she’d drop the argument, Dean said, “What do you make of Cookie Halpert’s murder?”

  She let her eyes glaze over when she looked at him. “Seriously?”

  “I heard you were looking into it,” he said innocently.

  “I’m not dropping the whole Six Flags argument,” she countered. “I’ll get everyone in town to sign a petition if I have to.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he said dryly. “Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I’m good at running this town. And you’re good at solving murders.”

  She smirked sarcastically and rolled her eyes. “You mean fixing things.”

  “If you want to make a pun of the situation, sure.” Dean stood, rounded his desk, and then sat on the edge of it, watching her attach the door into its new hinges. Then he said, “I wonder how Gunther’s holding up.”

  “Gunther?” she asked, caught off guard by how random the comment was. “Officer Gunther?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Gunther had a thing for Cookie.”

  “He did?”

  “She didn’t exactly reciprocate as far as I heard, but he definitely had a crush on her, and to get her attention, he offered to fund her whole website, hiring extra bakers to help fill her online orders, the whole nine yards. Gunther had to be her biggest supporter.”

  “Really?” she said, highly curious.

  “He must be devastated.”

  As Kate began writing up an invoice, she wracked her brain for the precise date that Cookie had started her new website. It was about a month ago. Right around the same time she began getting agitated according to Clara. Then three weeks ago she bought a gun and incidentally Clifford came to town. What if Clara and Clifford were right? What if Clifford wasn’t the reason she was agitated and felt compelled to get a gun?

  Then she nearly gasped when she realized what might have happened that night on the side of the road.

  “Kate?” asked Dean. She turned to him and he added, “You look pale.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just in a hurry.”

  “Jared can handle writing out a check. Thanks so mu
ch for coming by.”

  Grabbing her toolkit, she walked out into the anteroom, found Jared behind his desk, and set the invoice down.

  “Just a second, Mom,” he said, buried in a financial report.

  “It’s okay; you can mail the check or drop it off.”

  “Sure thing,” he said without looking up, but she was already out the door.

  It wasn’t connected. Cookie hadn’t been mistaken for Becky, as Clara had suspected. Kate could feel it in her gut. But feeling it and proving it were two entirely different matters. No wonder Cookie had kept her fears to herself. Whom could she tell? She wouldn’t have been able to go to the police. They were all friends with Officer Gunther. They’d known him for years, and likely wouldn’t believe that he could possibly pose a threat to Cookie since it was his job to uphold the law.

  And Clara, being Cookie’s close friend, had only meant to help her friend and business partner by calling Clifford to town. But Kate suspected that it was Clifford’s arrival that set Gunther off. If Gunther had been harboring a dangerous obsession with Cookie and then discovered her meeting with an old boyfriend, it would stand to reason that he could’ve gone into a jealous rage, driven by her car on the side of the road that night, and done the unthinkable.

  Kate realized she was driving at breakneck speed through the center of town, so she hit the brakes and eased up to the curb in front of the police station.

  How would she possibly handle this? Could she call Scott? Or should she try a different tactic, one that would be more likely to catch Gunther doing something incriminating? Should she even trust this hunch? Or had she lost her mind? Had the stress of knowing Jason was under such scrutiny somehow scrambled her thinking so badly that she was inventing killers that weren’t there?

  Kate leaned back in her seat and tried to still her racing mind. Suddenly, she had an idea. Using her cell phone and keeping her eye on the precinct across the street, she dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to Officer Gunther’s line.