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

by Belle Knudson

  “It was in the paper,” said Greta, a bit taken aback that Kate hadn’t read it.

  She recalled setting it aside. She hadn’t gotten further than reading her own name, and even that had been too much.

  “It was in the paper,” she echoed now that the timeline was dawning on her. The paper was generally printed at three in the morning. It took a good few hours to print off the thousand copies required to fulfill distribution, then a good hour to package and distribute to the delivery boys who were contracted to deliver between five and six in the morning. Ken had been found dead around ten o’clock at night, and it’d taken the medics an hour beyond that to even show up. That meant that the reporter, Eric Demblowski, would’ve had to know the full story by around midnight in order to start writing the article. How could he have possibly learned the fact of Ken’s poisoning in that short window of time?

  “Right,” said Greta, “the paper. You didn’t read it?”

  “Not all of it, no.” Shaking herself out of deep thought, Kate said, “I might as well pick up Justina’s order for Brent Townsend’s house. Is it ready?”

  “Ah,” said Greta, glancing in the books. “Yes. Give me a sec.”

  Greta disappeared into the back, and as Kate waited she wondered about this Eric Demblowski. He wasn't a resident and yet seemed to know an awful lot. Lily van der Tramp also wasn’t a resident, and her SUV had definitely been parked outside Ken’s house. Kate had been exposed to too many murders to overlook a coincidence like this. Did the two know each other? Had Lily killed Ken with Eric’s help and then Eric conveniently wrote up the article? Kate really ought to read that article. If it threw suspicion on someone, maybe Eric had used the article to do just that, throwing suspicion off of himself.

  Greta returned with two giant bouquets of roses, one pink and the other red.

  “Can I help you get these out to your truck?” she offered.

  “That’d be great, thanks.”

  Once Greta helped her set the bouquets in the front seat, she gave Kate a weary smile then started off down the sidewalk. Kate climbed into her truck and drove across town to Brent’s house where she set the bouquets in the kitchen and living room. She wondered how Justina was doing with Lily. The fashion designer was abominable, to say the least, and Kate hoped Lily wouldn’t buy the house. Rock Ridge didn’t need her kind. Especially if she is a killer, Kate thought.

  Kate was sure to lock up Brent’s house on her way out, which included checking that all the windows were locked, as well, then she drove off to Celia’s house.

  Celia came to the door when Kate banged the lion-head knocker. She was dressed in the same black shawl as last night, and as she spoke, Kate was bothered that Celia didn’t look quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Celia.”

  “Come in,” she said, downtrodden. “I’m glad you’re here. Carly’s in shambles.”

  As Kate followed Celia into the living room, Kate realized why Celia didn’t look quite right. She hadn’t appeared to be crying. Her eyes were clear and bright and not red and puffy, though Celia certainly looked depressed.

  Carly, on the other hand, was sobbing where she sat on the couch. She blew her nose into a tissue, sighed, and then a fresh swell of tears overcame her when she realized Kate was there.

  Without hesitation, Kate joined her and put her arm around her.

  “Oh Carly, I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t understand it,” said Carly, sniffling. “How could this have happened?”

  Kate grimaced sympathetically and then looked at Celia. “Has Scott said anything?”

  “Only that he’s actively investigating,” said Celia.

  “You didn’t happen to read the paper, did you?” Kate asked, treading carefully.

  Carly was the one to indicate they had. “Poisoned? How could that have possibly happened? He was home alone, sick! Who could’ve poisoned him?”

  “Well, the back door was wide open,” Celia supplied.

  “Which doesn’t make any sense,” Carly blurted out. “That door was fine.”

  “Oh please, Carly,” said Celia. “I know you’re upset, but the fact of the matter was that you always came in the front door and you were barely here.”

  Carly didn’t argue, but Kate believed her friend. What if there had been nothing wrong with the back door? Why wasn’t Celia upset?

  “Celia,” Kate started, “do you know a woman named Lily van der Tramp?”

  Celia went blank then said, “I don’t think so, why?”

  Kate wondered if tipping Celia off when even she wasn’t certain Lily had been involved in Ken’s death would be a good idea. Celia was known to gossip, not that she would in this instance since the subject related to her own family, but still. Kate debated for a moment then asked, “Ken wouldn’t have known her?”

  “What is this about, Kate?” she asked impatiently.

  “I should talk to Scott. He hasn’t returned my calls yet.”

  “I’m sure he’s very busy with this case,” Celia suggested.

  Then Carly asked, “Who is Lily van der Tramp?”

  “Well, she came to look at Jessica’s house, but...well, I don’t want to worry you. I should really talk to Scott first, but when I came here last night I noticed an SUV parked in the driveway. I didn’t think anything of it because I was preoccupied with deciding which screwdriver I should use. Anyway, when I left after calling the police I noticed the SUV was gone.”

  “You should definitely tell Scott,” said Carly emphatically.

  Then Celia chimed in. “What does Lily what’s-her-name have to do with that?”

  “When she came to Jessica’s I noticed the same SUV. It’s hers.”

  “And you didn’t tell Scott?” Carly was stunned. “Kate, how could you not tell him?”

  “I don’t know. I was in shock. My main concern was getting in touch with you two. I’ll do it now,” she said, getting up. “Would anyone like coffee?”

  “Please,” said Celia.

  In the kitchen, Kate put on a fresh pot, as she pressed her cell to her ear. Scott’s cell only rang, so she dialed up his desk phone at the precinct. He didn’t pick up there, either, so she left a message mentioning the SUV and Lily van der Tramp and then immediately dialed the general number for the precinct. When the receptionist picked up, Kate immediately asked where Scott was.

  “On a case,” said the receptionist.

  “Well could you please tell him to call me back? Kate Flaherty,” she said, spelling out her last name. “I’ve tried his cell and his desk phone. Tell him this is in regard to Ken Johnson’s murder.”

  “I certainly will,” said the receptionist before hanging up.

  Kate carried three mugs into the living room and set them out on the coffee table then made a second trip with the coffee carafe, cream, and sugar, which she set out and poured coffee in all three mugs.

  “Did they tell you what poison was used?” Kate asked.

  “I really can’t talk about this,” said Celia. It would’ve been understandable if she was a mess of tears, but Celia seemed only angry. “Carly and I have a lot of arrangements to make for the funeral, relatives to call…oh this is a nightmare.”

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” Kate offered.

  “That’s very kind of you,” said Carly, drawing a blank.

  Kate felt her cell vibrate in her overalls and was fast to answer since she’d been expecting Scott to get back to her. She answered without even looking at the screen, and was surprised when she heard Dean’s deep voice come through clear as a bell.

  “Kate,” he said excitedly, which gave her the impression that he might not have heard the news about Ken. How could that be? Celia was the mayor’s receptionist. “I’m in the mayor’s office! I mean, my office. I’m the mayor! Can you believe it?!”

  Kate didn’t want to sound too happy in front of Celia and Carly, but she congratulated him. “What can
I do for you, Dean?”

  “This office is falling apart, and I figured it’d be easier to have you take a look rather than me spending time on these repairs. I’m a bit overwhelmed, as you can imagine.”

  “Certainly,” she said. “I’ll be right over.”

  As soon as she returned her cell to her overalls, she apologized for having to take off.

  “Please call me if there’s anything you need,” she said then hugged Carly. “Celia, I’m so sorry for you loss.”

  Politely, Celia said, “Yes, thank you.”

  “Did you not tell Dean what happened?” she asked, getting up from the couch.

  Celia sighed. “After Dudley’s murder and Harvy’s arrest, I had to ask myself, what am I doing there? And now with my very own husband murdered…well, I called in this morning and left Dean a voice message that I quit. I’m sure I owe him an explanation, but quite frankly, I didn’t have it in me to detail all that over the phone. Besides, I’m sure he reads the paper. And I’m sure he won’t have a hard time replacing me.”

  “You do what’s best for you,” Kate said understandingly. “No one can fault you.”

  Celia cracked the first smile Kate had seen all morning.

  It took a bit longer than Kate would’ve liked driving across Rock Ridge through the midmorning traffic. It was certainly a sleepy town, but since many residents got to work between ten and eleven, if they weren’t an up-with-the-sun type, the roads were a bit crowded, especially Main Street.

  As she parked in the lot in front of the DPW building where the mayor’s office was located along with the police station, Kate made a mental note to swing by the homicide department to see if Scott happened to be there.

  She found Dean with his sleeves rolled up, standing in the center of his new office. He was turning about and trying to make sense of a mess on the floor, There were old boxes packed to the brim, odd slots of wood that Kate realized were shelves, and most of the paintings on the walls hung off-kilter. She realized she hadn’t set foot in here since the previous mayor had been arrested. Clearly, the police had done a thorough job of tearing the office apart searching for evidence.

  Kate set her toolbox just inside the open doorway, which got Dean’s attention.

  “Hey! Thanks for coming by,” he said. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night, too hopped up on the thrill of having been voted mayor to get a decent night’s sleep. “I think the shelves are the worst of it. You tell me if you can repair them, otherwise we can buy a new unit at Grayson’s.”

  Kate stepped carefully through the mess and inspected the boards of wood. Some were cracked badly, but a little woodworking glue could do the trick. Lord knew the town didn’t have a dime to spare on brand new furniture fixtures, even if she did get a discount at Grayson’s Hardware.

  “I think I can salvage this,” she said, straightening up. “What are you going to do about your receptionist?”

  Dean met her gaze finally and his face went long. “It’s just terrible news,” he said. “Not to mention that Celia had become the heart and soul of this office. She knew where everything was. She knew every detail of every correspondence and item up for review. It’s going to take a lot of time to get up to speed.”

  “I can imagine.”

  As Kate began lining up the boards and gluing their cracks, taking time to assess the shelving unit that was still set against the wall, she asked Dean what she could. They were close, and she felt anything she opened up about or let slip wouldn’t backfire. He was good at keeping things to himself.

  “Have you talked to Scott at all?”

  “Not other than when he congratulated me last night,” said Dean, settling in behind the desk. “See, I don’t even know the password on this thing,” he grumbled, typing angrily into the keyboard. “Then he rushed off to Ken’s house. I got the sense he took Ken’s murder personally.” Dean gave up typing and began sorting through some files on the desk. “They were close, you know?”

  “Oh believe me, I know,” said Kate, as she slid the first repaired board into its slot at the top of the unit. “What I don’t understand is how that reporter, Eric Demblowski, got word that Ken was poisoned. That’s a really fast turnaround, if you think about it.”

  “Well,” said Dean wryly, “Eric has his ways.”

  “You know him?”

  “Oh yeah, for years now.” Dean placed file after file into the desk drawer. “He wasn’t always a reporter. Back in the day, we used to go to heavy metal band shows together. I think it was Eric who showed me how to put on guyliner.” He chuckled at that. “Last I heard he was trying to make a name for himself in journalism in New York. Weird that he’s here. He owes me a dinner.”

  “He was living in New York?”

  “That was my understanding, but we fell out of touch. You know how it goes.”

  Lily van der Tramp was also from New York, but how could either of them have possibly known Ken? Or had they not known him but knew they needed him dead? But then again, why?

  “So,” Kate began asking as she slid another repaired board into its slot in the shelving unit, “any big plans as mayor?”

  “I’ll tell you my plan,” he said proudly. “Running those anarchists out of town.”

  Kate paused and gave him her full attention.

  “Everyone knows they’re up to no good, and the last thing Rock Ridge needs is a huge corporate development. I happen to know Clem Tully has completely lost confidence in the project. They’re short on cash. The investors expect him to work miracles. His men are exhausted. And now that Ken’s dead, well, I’m more determined than ever.”

  “What do you mean, now that Ken’s dead?”

  “Right after Harvy got arrested and the mayor’s chair was open, Ken and I got to talking, casually at first. We were likeminded about that development out east. You ask me, Ken was terrified of it, but never really told me why. He just said he wanted someone in office to stop the project, run those hoodlums out of town. And I agreed. Then he made me a proposition. Well, maybe not a proposition. Proposition sounds like something out of The Godfather.” He laughed at the reference. “But he said that if I was committed to shutting down the development, he’d help me get into office.”

  “Did he?”

  “Of course I thought he was nuts. We were drinking buddies, you know. Nothing unhealthy, but most of these conversations took place at The Rail over a beer or two. I didn’t think he was actually serious. And, in fact, a few weeks ago we stopped talking about it. He got busy at the precinct and I was up to my ears in contracting deals. I thought he forgot. Then I got voted in last night! Crazy!”

  It certainly was.

  “Do you know if Ken mentioned this plan of his to anyone?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. I guess I wouldn’t know. Bar talk and all.”

  Anyone could’ve overheard, thought Kate. Also, if Ken felt that strongly about shutting down the development, he could’ve voiced his concern openly. Opinions spread like wildfire in this town. Anyone could’ve gotten wind of it.

  “Hey, that looks really good,” said Dean, approaching the newly reconstructed shelving unit.

  As she watched Dean inspect her work, she felt suddenly worried for him. If Ken was trying to shut down the development and someone had killed him because of this, then Dean was also at risk.

  It had never sat right with Kate that upon Harvy’s arrest for killing Walter Miller, Mike Waters, the president of the Anarchist Freedom Network and the man behind the development out east, had never been arrested. Surely he was guilty of conspiracy, if not murder. Now that Ken was dead, she wondered if Mike could’ve been behind it.

  That would mean that Lily van der Tramp and Eric Demblowski, two New Yorkers by all accounts, would have to be somehow tied to Mike Waters. At this point, she had no reason to believe they were.

  Kate worked in silence fixing up Dean’s new office, while Dean scurried about, refiling papers and getting acclimated to his new role. Soon, she�
��d spackled over the old holes in the wall and helped Dean gather Harvy’s paintings in a box and cleaned up, carrying the boxes with him into one of the storage closets past the receptionist's desk. After an hour, his office looked good as new, though the walls were bare and could use a fresh coat of paint.

  “I can swing by Grayson’s for some paint,” she offered.

  “That’d be great. I’m thinking a soft blue, nothing too dark, just lively,” he suggested. “I trust your judgment.”

  “That’s no problem, but I won’t be back to paint until tomorrow. Justina has quite a bit of work for me, and I’ve only been tackling it slowly.”

  “That’s no problem,” he smiled. “What do I owe you?”

  Kate wrote up an invoice and handed it to him. It took Dean more than a few minutes to locate the mayor’s checkbook then he frowned. “I’m not sure I’ve been added on the account yet.” He riffled through his pants pocket. “No matter. I’ll write you a personal check and worry about the city reimbursing me later.”

  After he did just that, Kate tucked the check into her overalls and collected her tools.

  “I’ll give a call tomorrow before I head over,” she mentioned as she took off through the anteroom and into the hall.

  She wanted to drop her toolbox off at her truck, but Kate was so anxious to talk to Scott that she decided to walk over to the precinct right away to see if he was around.

  The building was a bit of a maze to cross through the DPW department and into the police station, which assigned each department to its own floor. Homicide was located on the first floor, so she took the stairwell down since it was closer than the elevators. The stairwell put her at the back of the first floor hallway. She ventured along to the entrance to the homicide department, which was just shy of the building entrance.

  When she circled in she stopped at the receptionist’s desk, but her eye was on Scott’s desk. It was empty, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the building.

  The receptionist, a mousy woman in her early forties, regarded Kate with flat eyes. “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see Scott York, if he’s around.”