Hot Chocolate Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 28 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

  “What have we got, Stan?” the detective asked Coroner Stanley Nichimura.

  “Relatively fresh. Stabbed in the back, left side and neck several times. Looks like the perp didn’t have much upper body strength, but was lucky enough to hit a vein. Hard to tell whether he bled out first, or drowned – I’ll know more when I get to the lab. I also want to run some tests for drugs,” the coroner replied, still examining the body.

  “Drugs, why?”

  “Because what I’m finding here doesn’t add up. The victim looks to be in good shape, lean and healthy, with plenty of muscle. The perp clearly wasn’t as strong, judging by the shallowness of the stab wounds, which means, even if he surprised the victim, he wouldn’t have had time to inflict so many wounds unless the victim was incapacitated in some way. There are no ligature marks on the wrists or ankles, so he wasn’t tied up, which makes me suspect that he may have been drugged, or drunk, which would allow a weaker man to have the upper hand.”

  Chas nodded, and was about to speak when the photographer notified Nichimura that he was done with photography, so the body could now be moved.

  “Alright,” the coroner nodded, standing up and holding his gloved hands out in front of him. “Let’s flip him, then we can get out of the way so that forensics can finish up here,” he said to his two assistants, who were standing behind him as he worked, waiting with a zippered body bag and a gurney.

  The men moved carefully to the edge of the water, taking care not to disturb the scene any more than was absolutely necessary. One stationed himself at the corpse’s head, the other at his feet, and in a coordinated effort made perfect by years of practice, firmly grasped the body and turned him over.

  Detective Chas Beckett sighed and shook his head when he met the unseeing eyes staring out of the pallid skin of the victim’s face. While he’d held no particular regard for the man, his death was not going to be a pleasant thing to deal with.

  “What?” Nichimura asked, noting Chas’s reaction. “You know him or something?”

  “Yeah, in a manner of speaking,” he nodded, already trying to figure out what to say to the next of kin.

  “My condolences,” he responded with the practiced professionalism of a man who dealt with death on a daily basis, and went back to work.

  Chapter 12

  “So, Bernard Thornton really was missing,” Echo breathed, her eyes wide.

  Missy nodded. “I sat with Brenda for quite some time last night after Chas gave her the news. Poor thing had to take a sedative to get her through the night.”

  “How did the kids react?”

  “I don’t know if she’s told them yet. They were all really quiet at breakfast this morning, but they’re usually like that, so it’s hard to tell.”

  “Does he have any leads on who might have done it?” Kel asked, pushing away the plate of cupcakes without taking one. Echo frowned, noting that her boss hadn’t been eating as much as he usually did, and looked a bit peaked lately.

  “No,” Missy shook her head. “I mean, they don’t know anyone down here, so I’m guessing it may be someone from their home who followed them, but Chas hasn’t said anything about any of his theories.”

  “Where are they from?” the artist asked, oblivious to the scrutiny from his Gallery Manager.

  “I looked that up on their registration form this morning, and it turns out they’re from Clarkmont, which is a suburb of Boston.”

  “Boston, really?” he sat forward with interest.

  “Yes, Boston…why?”

  “Well, it just so happens that I need to be in the Boston area to meet with a prospective apprentice this weekend. I could have a look around Clarkmont while I’m there.”

  “Oh, Kel, that’s great! I could come with you if you think it would be helpful,” Missy volunteered.

  “I don’t think that would be wise. This may take some persuading, and I’d hate to have you stuck there for days while I woo the young man into becoming an apprentice.”

  “I could always fly back on my own if you need to be there for an extended time,” she offered reasonably.

  “Dear lady, your charming company would be more of a distraction than I could cope with while trying to both deal with business and accomplish some sleuthing,” the artist smiled affectionately, standing firm on his desire to go alone. “Besides, I hear they have a snowstorm on the way. I’d hate for you to have to deal with wind and bitter cold.”

  “Ugh, yeah, I definitely don’t want to experience winter in New England,” Missy shivered just thinking about it. “Okay,” she sighed finally. “I’ll stay put, but you have to promise to call whenever you find something interesting,” she raised her eyebrows at him.

  “That goes without saying, dear lady. You know that I can’t possibly keep juicy tidbits to myself,” he teased.

  “I know…I like that about you,” Missy chuckled.

  Echo had remained silent throughout their whole exchange, and when Kel left to head to the studio, Missy asked her what was wrong.

  “Kel’s getting an apprentice,” she said dully in response to her best friend’s question.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Missy was confused. “That means that his business is growing, right?”

  Echo nodded. “Yep, that’s what that means, and that’s a good thing. What’s strange is that he didn’t tell me about it.”

  “Maybe it slipped his mind.”

  “No way. Nothing about the Gallery ever slips his mind, and he always tells me everything. If he planned to get an apprentice, I should have been the first to know. I should have been the one setting up meetings and screening candidates, but he didn’t involve me at all,” she shook her head.

  “Hmm…that is weird,” Missy agreed. “Why do you think he’d exclude you from that?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been acting strange lately, coming in late, going home early, missing appointments, forgetting to make phone calls…it’s like he’s in his own little world, like he’s hiding something from me,” Echo murmured.

  Missy bit her lip, her heart going out to her friend. “I don’t want to be hurtful, but do you think maybe he has…”

  “A girlfriend? The thought has crossed my mind,” she sighed. “It’s funny, he chased me for months and I resisted him at every turn, even though I find him charming and witty and attractive. Now, when I consider the prospect that he might be seeing someone else, it makes me crazy,” her eyes filled with tears as she articulated aloud what she’d been afraid to admit, even to herself.

  “Oh honey, it’s okay. Sometimes it takes seeing someone slip away before we realize that everything we’ve been searching for was right under our noses the whole time,” Missy reached across the bistro table and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Maybe when he gets back from Boston, you two can have a heart to heart and see what happens.”

  “Maybe,” Echo agreed, then laid her head on the table and had a good cry.

  Chapter 13

  Brittany Thornton still bore the marks on her body from the last contact that she’d had with her father, and she stared into space from behind large glasses that hid her tearstained eyes. She and Bennie laid back in loungers, watching their brothers swim in the pool.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

  Her brother gazed at her with a combination of confusion and surprise, then sighed.

  “Mom seems pretty upset,” he remarked tonelessly.

  “Well of course she is, I am too. Aren’t you?” she replied in a low voice with just a hint of accusation.

  “Yeah, but…” the youth began, clearly uncomfortable.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t wanna say, you’ll think I’m a terrible person,” Bennie muttered, absently touching the sore spot on his skull.

  “No I won’t. I know you’re not a terrible person. We always stick together, remember?”

  He sighed again, started to say something, then thought better of it, and close
d his mouth.

  “What?” Brittany demanded, sitting up a bit.

  “I just feel kind of…”

  “Kind of what?” she prompted.

  “I dunno…relieved, I guess,” he admitted, letting out a big breath. “I mean, we always walked around on eggshells, afraid that we’d do or say something wrong, it sucked,” he shrugged, his jaw muscles flexing as he fought to control his emotions.

  “Yeah, I thought about that too,” his sister replied softly. “I feel guilty, but it’s not really our fault that we feel that way, it just…is what it is, I guess.”

  “Yeah,” Bennie looked over to where their brothers were splashing each other, with Brant taking the brunt of his twin’s exuberance. “Don’t you wish it could be as easy for us as it is for them?”

  “They’re younger, it’s different. I know that at least now Brant won’t have to get in trouble all the time for sticking up for Beau when he mouths off.”

  “Yeah, you’d think the little dude would have learned his lesson, but he stood up for him every time,” Bennie shook his head.

  “I walked by their room one time afterwards, and Beau was hugging Brant, rocking him back and forth while he cried. It was sweet, but I hated that he had to do that – hated that they were little kids and had to live with the fear of continually being watched in case they might make a mistake while they were making the bed, or clearing the table, or pulling weeds out of the garden. That’s no way for a couple of kids to live,” Brittany said sadly.

  “We did,” was her brother’s husky reply.

  She nodded and continued to gaze out over the pool.

  **

  Echo had booked a one-way ticket for Kel to fly to Boston, not knowing how long he’d be staying. He’d continued to act more remoted and distracted than she’d ever seen him, and she was ashamed to admit that she’d cried herself to sleep wondering what she had done, or what he might be doing. She’d resolved to suck it up and act like an adult, even if what she really felt like doing was curling up in a ball and pulling the covers over her head until the hurt went away.

  “So, no idea when you’ll be back?” she asked as Kel waited for a car to the airport.

  “No, my lovely, it will depend upon how things go,” he replied, looking out the window in anticipation of his ride.

  “Okay. Oh, by the way, what’s the name of the guy that you’re interviewing?”

  “Hmm?” the artist blinked at her.

  “Your potential apprentice? You never mentioned his name.” Or anything else about him, she wanted to add.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Uh, John. His name is John.”

  “John?” she repeated, waiting for more information.

  “Yes. John,” his gaze was fixed on a point outside the window, and Echo half expected a beautiful woman to come sweeping in and fall into his arms for a passionate goodbye. Then she speculated that the as-yet-fictitious beautiful might be meeting him at the airport for a romantic vacation in Boston.

  “Well…I have some phone calls to make, so I guess I’ll head up to my office,” she said, staring at him, hoping for some sort of response.

  “Certainly,” he murmured without looking at her.

  “I’ll see you when you get back,” she started awkwardly toward the staircase.

  “Right then,” he replied, flashing her a tight smile that looked out of place on his typically warm, affectionate face.

  Unable to take any more of the unconscious coolness, she darted upstairs, hoping to make it to the safety of her office before the tears began to flow. Kel’s driver arrived shortly after her mad dash, and she stood just out of sight at her office window, watching the car until it turned the corner and was gone.

  Chapter 14

  “We read in the newspaper that Mr. Thornton was murdered. Should we be worried?” Vera Klein whispered to Missy at breakfast.

  Thankful that Spencer had taken Brenda and the kids on a ride through a wildlife sanctuary, leaving before the Kleins were even out of bed, Missy replied.

  “I’m sure that whatever happened to Mr. Thornton was probably the result of him making an enemy rather than just becoming a random victim. He may have had a business deal go bad or something, who knows?”

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Morty remarked, shoveling a large bite of Maggie’s fluffy Quiche Lorraine into his mouth. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who wouldn’t have minded putting a knife in his back in a dark alley.”

  “Morty!” Vera scolded slapping at his arm. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”

  “Ow, watch it!” he exclaimed, holding his arm. “I told you, that still hurts.”

  “What hurts?” Missy asked, trying to be helpful and change the subject at the same time.

  “Oh, this big baby played one too many rounds of golf,” Vera rolled her eyes. “He just needs some ibuprofen or something…do you have any?”

  “I’ll see what I can find,” she promised, heading for the kitchen.

  “Hey Maggie,” she greeted the busy innkeeper, who was bustling about, going from loading the dishwasher, to making another pot of coffee, and finally, spooning yogurt and fruit into crystal serving glasses. “Do we have any ibuprofen? Mr. Klein strained some muscles playing golf yesterday.”

  “How is that possible?” Spencer asked, putting down the chef’s knife he’d been using to slice the fruit for the yogurt parfaits.

  “Well, he’s elderly, and I think he probably just overdid it,” Missy shrugged.

  “No, I mean how is that possible, because the public course, Parliament, is closed for two weeks of seeding, and the country club doesn’t allow non-members to play,” he frowned.

  “Hmm…that’s strange,” Missy pursed her lips. “Well, at any rate, he still needs the ibuprofen.”

  Maggie handed her the bottle and she turned to leave.

  “But, why would he lie about golfing?” Spencer directed his question at her retreating back, stopping her in her tracks.

  She sighed, turning to face him. “I hate to say it…but I think Morty may have a drinking problem. Vera told me that he came back from a walk on the beach soaking wet because he fell into the surf. He disappears for hours at a time, and I think he may not remember how he injured his arm, maybe catching himself to keep from falling, and he just made something up.”

  The Marine nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose. I’ll keep an eye on him. One dead guest is more than enough,” he grimaced.

  “Thanks Spence,” Missy smiled and headed for the dining room.

  “Thanks, doll,” the sweet, if occasionally cantankerous, older man accepted the ibuprofen gratefully.

  “A nice long soak in the hot tub might help you feel better too,” she suggested.

  “Now you’re talking,” Morty nodded. “I’ll have to get my girl here to put on a bikini and join me,” he teased his wife, nudging her with his good arm.

  “Oh stop it, you!” Vera blushed.

  “I know just the shop if you’d like to pick one up,” Missy joked, joining in the fun.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Vera chuckled, waving her hand at her husband.

  “You folks have a good day,” she replied on her way out.

  “We always do,” Morty called after her.

  Chapter 15

  Phillip “Kel” Kellerman looked around his finely appointed hotel room feeling numb. Normally, tracking down information that would help solve a mystery energized and invigorated him, but it seemed that nothing could penetrate the fog that had descended upon him over the last couple of weeks. He reasoned that, focusing on the mystery would at least give him something to do – something that might help him forget, even temporarily the news that had crushed his spirit and darkened his soul.

  The clever artist had done an internet search on Bernard Thornton prior to leaving for Boston, and had secured his home address from Missy’s files. His first move would be to visit the Thornton residence in search of any clues that would reveal who might want
the man dead, then, if he still needed more info, he’d go straight to Bernard’s office. The insufferable control freak was a patent attorney, and Kel planned to walk in without an appointment and request to see him so that he’d have a chance to chat with some of the man’s coworkers.

  Plugging the Thornton address into his phone, he drove his rental car to a perfectly ordinary middle class suburb, which was more than surprising. With the clothing, attitude and appearance of the Thorntons, everyone had been under the impression that they were at least well-to-do nouveau riche, but apparently, such was not the case. The modest-sized house was one of the older ones in a neighborhood of homes built in the seventies. It looked well-kept, but was clearly in need of updating. He was eager to get inside, particularly now that it looked like he certainly wouldn’t have to worry about a burglar alarm – that always made investigation much easier.

  The artist parked his car a few blocks away, and strolled casually through the neighborhood, darting into an access road that ran between the back yards of the family homes when he looked around and established that no one was watching. Approaching the gate which led from the alley to the back yard, Kel popped the latch and let himself in, thankful that no loyal canine had been left behind in the care of relatives or neighbors. He’d jimmied the lock on the back door in a matter of seconds, a skill that he’d picked up from a friend who was a locksmith, and let himself inside.

  The interior was utterly unremarkable, with department store drapes and overstuffed furniture. The house was spotlessly clean, the only traces of the family that occupied the residence were the pictures on the walls, where the smiles looked as plastic as the dull, black frames. Kel shook his head as he wandered through, wondering what life must have been like for this family. The kids seemed to be scared of their own shadows – not surprising when growing up with a domineering brute for a father, and a mother who just tried her best to stay out of his way.