Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series

by Belle Knudson

  As they worked, Kate made sure to rest whenever her heart rate climbed too high.

  “About the attack,” she began. “Do you remember what the cord looked like?”

  Maxwell gave it some thought as he selected a screwdriver from Kate’s tool kit. “It whipped over my head so fast.”

  “But was it rope? Was it beige or black? Like a nylon cord?”

  “It looked dark, black maybe.”

  The charred smell was easing off, she thought, or else she was just getting used to it. Realizing that gave her an idea.

  “Did the killer smell any particular way?”

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “He would’ve been close to you, right at your back. Did he smell like anything?”

  “Kate, I thought I was going to die. I wasn’t paying attention to what he smelled like.”

  “Give it some thought,” she said encouragingly.

  “The whole house smelled like flowers, like roses. Carly had just dropped off all those bouquets.”

  “She had? How long before you were attacked?” asked Kate.

  Maxwell exhaled and planted his fists on his hips, thinking. “Maybe ten minutes, maybe.”

  “Enough time for you to put the bouquets around the house?”

  “No, she did that. I only went up into the room on the second floor because I remembered the closet hinges on the door were creaking. So I sprayed some W-D40 on and the next thing I knew... It smelled like W-D40,” he supplied, but his gaze was softening as though a memory was taking hold. “The guy smelled like metal, come to think of it.”

  “Metal?”

  “Like hot metal and oil. Wait, I know that smell...” he trailed off thinking hard. “It’s like a garage.”

  “A garage?”

  “Yeah, like when I bring the Volvo in to my mechanic.”

  Suddenly, Kate felt dizzy. Black spots were flickering through her vision and her head was swimming. She grasped for the kitchen table, but missed. The next thing she knew, she felt hands on her. It was Maxwell guiding her onto one of the chairs. In a faraway voice, he kept saying, “Kate? Are you okay?”

  But she couldn’t respond. She felt on the brink of fainting and could barely feel the table though she had clamped her hands around the edge in a white-knuckle grip.

  Thankfully, the feeling gradually receded. Her vision came back and her hands no longer felt numb.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  “I think so. Where’s my cellphone?”

  Before he could answer, she found it in her pocket and scrolled through the call log to find Dr. Willard’s number, as Maxwell rushed to fill a glass with water for her.

  He set it down for her and she took a sip, listening to the ring tones in her ear. “Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she said, but soon her doctor’s receptionist picked up. “Hi, Maria? It’s Kate Flaherty, uh, York I mean. I’m feeling faint.”

  “Let me get Willard,” she said quickly then asked, “Have you eaten today? Have you had enough sugar and Vitamin C?”

  “I’m not sure, maybe not.”

  “I’ll get Dr. Willard, but eat something if you can. Hold on.”

  Kate covered the mouthpiece and said, “Max, could you get me an apple or an orange?”

  Immediately, he began hunting through the refrigerator and found both. After grabbing a paper towel, he wasted no time peeling the orange for her and setting out the pieces on the paper towel. She ate a few before the line opened up again.

  “Kate?”

  “Yeah, I was feeling faint and wanted to call you.”

  “Can you get to the hospital?”

  “I think so, my assistant can drive me,” she said. “I’ll head over.” After hanging up, she said, “We better get this place cleaned up.”

  “Uh, I think we should go to the hospital right now.”

  But Kate wasn’t having it.

  Twenty minutes and two oranges later, the kitchen looked as good as new. Maxwell loaded the charred, old cabinets into the bed of her truck, and Kate asked him to leave all the windows open for the place to air out.

  He drove slowly and carefully through town with Kate in the passenger’s seat. She felt nervous, but reminded herself that anxiety would be worse for the baby than anything.

  “Didn’t they run a bunch of tests the last time you were at the hospital?” he asked, making a left at the center of town to hook north toward Rock Ridge Mercy.

  “They did, and I got a clean bill of health, so I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  “Maybe the receptionist was right and you just needed to eat something. You should be eating all day long, shouldn’t you?”

  She had been and that was the trouble. Or at least she thought she had been. Now that she was thinking about it, ever since she’d found Mrs. Briar dead in the library office, she hadn’t been eating as much if at all. She hoped that feeling faint had been caused by something so slight as her oversight. That would be much better news than discovering that Dr. Willard had misread one of the tests.

  Maxwell helped her out of the passenger’s seat when they reached the hospital, and as they approached the desk he asked right away where Dr. Willard’s office was.

  They rode the elevator to the maternity floor and didn’t wait long in the waiting room. As a nurse called Kate into one of the exam rooms, Maxwell was quick to hoist Kate out of her chair.

  “I can take it from here,” she told him.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  He asked, “How will you get home?”

  “I can take a taxi. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

  He seemed reluctant, but eventually agreed and told her to get in touch if she needed anything.

  As she followed the nurse into the exam room, it occurred to Kate how much Maxwell reminded her of her boys. He looked nothing like Jason and Jared, but he had the same sweetness.

  “I’m going to get you set up with an IV drip to balance your blood sugar and electrolytes,” explained the nurse as she swabbed Kate’s inner elbow with an alcohol pad.

  “I also want to mention I’ve been forgetful all day.”

  The nurse seemed to consider the symptom, but told her that Dr. Willard would be right in to see her.

  As Kate leaned back on the exam table and the nurse got the IV flowing into her arm, she wondered about Mrs. Briar’s husband and if his dementia could’ve driven him to kill.

  Chapter Seven

  Kate was the first to arrive at Daisy’s Luncheonette, having taken a taxi directly there after learning once again that her health and the health of her baby seemed to be doing just fine. Dr. Willard had pinpointed Kate’s dizziness to low blood sugar, which the IV and an hour’s rest had cured. She checked the clock on her cellphone. It was fifteen minutes before six, but she had asked Scott to come early if he could make it.

  Kate stood just inside the door to the restaurant, where the heat blasted onto her from above to keep her toasty as she waited. Soon she spotted Scott’s truck driving slowly along the road as it passed under a streetlight. As he pulled into the parking lot she debated telling him about her doctor’s visit, but reasoned that if everything was okay, then there was no need to worry her husband.

  She decided to just tell him that Maxwell had dropped her off at the diner. After a quick kiss hello, she stared up at him.

  “You arrested Hazel?”

  “Let me guess, you think I shouldn’t have,” he supplied, gazing off at the wintery darkness.

  She found the envelope in her pocket and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  “Reasonable doubt,” she stated, which caused him to quirk his brow. “Read it.” As he pulled the card from the envelope, she added, “It’s a letter from Holly Griffin to Mrs. Briar.”

  “Who’s Holly Griffin?”

  “Her granddaughter, apparently.” Kate held her tongue, letti
ng him read, and watched his expression shift from irritated skepticism to marked interest.

  He turned the envelope over in his hands and eyed the two addresses. “Kate,” he groaned.

  “You have to find out who her husband is. Clearly he’s in town and could’ve very well killed her. Talk to Holly Griffin. I’m sure she won’t be hard to find.”

  He held his hand up, silencing her. “You took this from Mrs. Briar’s mailbox.”

  “So?”

  “So you can’t steal evidence.”

  “Well, I did, so clearly I can.”

  “It’s inadmissible,” he barked. “I can’t use this, because I didn’t get it by legal means.”

  “You can still investigate accordingly, can’t you?”

  He ran his hand down his face.

  “We have proof that Hazel did it,” he stated regretfully.

  “Because Mrs. Briar had skin under her fingernails,” said Kate, annoyed to be circling around the same bend again.

  “Not just that.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing.

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “It’s an ongoing investigation,” he said, handing her the envelope. He must have been able to read the disappointment on her face, because he added, “Let’s say Mrs. Briar does have a husband, and let’s say Holly Griffin is right and the elderly man came after her. Why then would he attack Maxwell Stone?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

  “And?”

  She didn’t have an answer. “I think this is worth looking into. Plus, I saw Holly Griffin go into Mrs. Briar’s house.”

  “If she’s her granddaughter...”

  “But she didn’t go in through the front door. She didn’t have a key. She stalked around the house, and I think she broke in.”

  “You think or you know?”

  “I think?”

  He sighed, but not for the reason she had assumed. “You’re telling me you spent part of the day alone when you had promised you’d be with your assistant?”

  “I said I would work with my assistant and he would do all the heavy lifting. I don’t recall telling you I wouldn’t spend a minute alone.”

  “Something tells me it took a lot longer than a minute to drive over to Mrs. Briar’s house and steal her mail. What made you think to head over that way in the first place?”

  “I was following Holly Griffin.”

  It wasn’t the best defense, but at least it was over. Carly and Larry were approaching in the dimly-lit parking lot. Carly spread her arms and gave Kate a hug the second she reached them, and Larry and Scott shook hands.

  “Thanks for the get together,” said Carly, as they started for the entrance door.

  Larry held it open for everyone to enter, and when Scott reached the hostess he told the young woman they would need a table for four.

  Once they all got settled in one of the booths, Scott ordered beers for Larry and himself, and a glass of wine for Carly.

  “I’d like a decaf coffee,” said Kate. When everyone stared at her, she squeaked, “My doctor told me I could have one cup of decaf a day. What?”

  The hostess rushed off to fetch their cocktail order and Carly asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Good, good,” said Kate, downplaying the roller coaster of her health that day. Changing the subject, she turned to Scott. “You know Dean Wentworth is considering throwing a winter event at the amusement park and he might need a band.”

  Scott chuckled. “Please tell me you didn’t volunteer The Law.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for starters half the original members are gone or dead,” he explained grimly. “And second, we haven’t practiced in years.”

  “I think you should consider it,” she said. “If Dean contacts you, then why not?”

  The waitress arrived with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order, and the evening unfolded with appetizers. Scott seemed relaxed and Kate had to admit that spending a little time with her lifelong friend helped get her mind off the daily stresses she had been navigating for quite some time. As they polished off the last bites of their dessert, Larry asked her, “How did it go with those cabinets?”

  Scott shifted his eyes from Larry to her, asking, “What cabinets? I thought you were finished with that old Victorian house?”

  “I am,” she said quickly, scrambling for what she could say without revealing she had set a small fire in their house. “The cabinets were for another job.”

  “That sounds strenuous,” he commented with a frown.

  “It wasn’t. I didn’t do any of the work.” Eager to shift the conversation away from her, she asked Carly, “You were at the Victorian the other day to drop off those bouquets, right?”

  “I was,” she said easily. She seemed very relaxed after three glasses of wine and was leaning into Larry.

  “According to Maxwell, you left right before he was attacked, inside of ten minutes. Did you happen to notice anything unusual inside the house or on the street?”

  Scott objected, “Kate, can we please not do this.”

  “I know you think Hazel did it, but—”

  He leaned in and assured her, “I’m going to look into that card you showed me.”

  “Well, have you spoken with Carly?”

  Perhaps to ease the tension between them, Carly offered, “I really didn’t see anything or anyone.”

  “What cars were on the street?” Kate asked quickly. “Did you notice?”

  But Carly looked like she was at a loss, but not more so than Larry, who asked, “What’s this about? I thought Hazel Millhouse did it. Scott, is that not true?”

  “There may have been a development worth looking into,” he said to appease his wife. “But we also have evidence to hold Hazel. Of course our highest priority is to press charges against the guilty culprit.”

  Kate knew he was saying that for her benefit and not because he was actually open minded to anyone else having killed Mrs. Briar.

  “You know I had a chat with Clara at Bean There,” said Carly, making a point to make eye contact with each of them, and Kate suddenly remembered her own conversation with the barista. “Clara mentioned to me that an ex-con was in the library. Gillian O’Reilly. Apparently, she slipped out before the police arrived. You might want to talk with her.”

  Scott looked like he was annoyed but trying to hide it. It was so like him. He’d always been this way. He never appreciated outside help when he was working a case, and yet the fact of the matter was that he often didn’t crack cases or close them until someone like Kate dug up a new angle to explore.

  “I think that’s a valid point,” said Kate, supporting her friend. Clara mentioned the same thing to me, though I’ll admit, I don’t see why Gillian would be behind this.”

  “Thank you, both,” said Scott in a deep tone that Kate knew was meant to conclude the conversation.

  But Kate wasn’t quite ready to put the matter to bed. “Have either of you seen an elderly man around town? A new face?”

  Carly and Larry exchanged a glance, which to Kate seemed as though they were silently arriving at a decision to either open up or keep what they knew to themselves.

  “We have actually,” said Carly after a long moment. “But we didn’t think anything of it.”

  Kate elbowed Scott, as she said, “Tell us.”

  “For about a week now, each night right before we went to bed, I’ve seen a man walking along the sidewalk. I usually see him when I’m getting myself a glass of water at the kitchen sink. Those streetlights along our block aren’t particularly bright, so I was never sure of the man’s age. But I did find it peculiar that he would be going for a walk so late at night.”

  “And when it’s so cold out,” Larry added. “But again, we thought nothing of it. There’s no law against going for a walk.”

  “But he doesn’t look like any of your neighbors?” asked Kate.

&nb
sp; Carly shook her head. “I can’t say I ever got a really good look at him, though.”

  The waitress brought the bill over and slipped it onto the table. Larry reached for it, but Scott’s hand covered it first and a gentlemanly argument ensued over who would pay.

  As they worked it out, Carly and Kate made their way through the restaurant.

  “If you see him, could you give me a call?” asked Kate.

  “You mean tonight?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “And what are you going to do? Drive over at eleven o’clock?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  Carly stared at her like she had two heads, but eventually agreed and when Scott and Larry joined them, they hugged goodbye.

  “Let me pull the truck up,” Scott told her and Larry echoed the sentiment to Carly.

  As the men started off through the dark and snowy parking lot, Carly mentioned, “I hope they find the guy. I know as well as you do that Hazel couldn’t have possibly killed anyone.”

  “What exactly did Clara tell you about Gillian?”

  As they waited for their significant others to drive toward the entrance, Carly explained how she had gotten a cup of coffee a few days ago and Clara mentioned offhandedly that Gillian had snuck out.

  The aspect that didn’t sit right with Kate was that she considered herself a highly aware person. She had been at the library that morning. She had glanced over at the communal table several times, and had noted that she didn’t personally know anyone there. She would’ve remembered Gillian at the very least. More likely, if Gillian had been in the library, Kate would’ve said hello, and failing that, Gillian certainly would’ve gotten Kate’s attention to say as much.

  The first truck to pull up to the door was Scott’s so Kate gave her best friend another hug and pushed the door open, stepping out into the biting wind. Scott pushed the passenger’s side door open from the inside for her and once Kate got situated and buckled up, he began backing out.

  After a few minutes of driving Kate realized the silence between them was tense.

  “I’m sorry I brought up the investigation,” she said to smooth things over and then tacked on a joke. “I was like this back when we were dating so you can’t say you didn’t know.”