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

by Belle Knudson

  “I’ve been patient. I want my money now, in cash.”

  Amelia laughed. “I don’t keep cash at Kilroy’s house.”

  “Then I’ll drive you home, or to the bank or wherever you need to go.”

  Kilroy yelled, “You should be at work. People are going to wonder why you’re gone.”

  “Don’t tell me where I should be!” Kate heard the sound of a gun drawing out of its holster and then cocking, and Carter yelled, “Whoa!”

  Kilroy said, “You are going to get the hell out of here, and you are going to wait patiently for your money.”

  “Or you’re going to kill me?”

  “It certainly looks that way,” he said coolly.

  “You wouldn’t, not with your own weapon—that can be traced.”

  Kilroy snorted a laugh as though the contractor was some kind of moron. “You’re in my house. All I have to say is that you broke in and I defended myself.”

  Without warning, Josie began wailing.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Amelia, springing to her feet and rushing toward the sound of the baby’s cry.

  Panicking, Kate crawled out from under the desk, but it was too late. Amelia filled the doorway, as Detective Kilroy stepped in behind her.

  “Don’t kill Carter yet,” she said. “Not until this one is dead.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kate sat in a wooden chair in the center of the living room, watching her assailants argue. Her hands were tied behind her back, which wasn’t half as bad as the fact that Amelia Langley was holding Josephine. She wanted to leap across the room at her, but the ropes bracing her to the chair were much too tight.

  “We can’t kill the police chief’s wife,” said Carter, who looked as though he was coming undone. He was pacing and plowing his fingers through his hair.

  Detective Kilroy agreed, saying, “He’s right.”

  “But she broke in!” yelled Amelia, pointing at the missing doorknob.

  “There’s no way I’ll get away with killing her!” Kilroy shot back. “Even if she did break in, with all the daylight here I’d never be able to convince Scott that I didn’t know who I was shooting.”

  “Give me my daughter,” said Kate in a guttural tone.

  “You can’t hold her,” she said with a smile. “Your hands are tied.”

  “Then untie me,” she insisted. “He’s aiming a gun at me. I’m obviously not going anywhere.”

  “Why couldn’t you stay out of it?” Amelia sneered.

  “When have I ever stayed out of it?” she challenged.

  And Amelia immediately turned on Carter, yelling, “This is your fault. If you hadn’t killed Eddie at the inn, then she wouldn’t have had the impulse to poke around.”

  Josie tore out in a wailing cry.

  “Give me my daughter!” Kate demanded. “She needs me!”

  “She doesn’t need you. She needs a mother.”

  Kate gaped at her in utter astonishment. “You think you can get away with taking my baby?”

  “Shut up,” she said, rocking Josie in a way she didn’t like. She turned to Kilroy and asked, “Can we make her disappear? Make it look like she left town?”

  “This is bad, Amelia,” he said.

  Kate wondered if she could play off his moment of clarity. Thinking fast, she said, “If you let me go, if you give me Josie and just let me go, I won’t say a thing to anyone. No one has to know.”

  “I’m not buying it,” said Amelia.

  “You don’t have any other options.”

  “I have plenty, and they all end with you dead.”

  Kate locked eyes with Carter and said, “She was going to kill you. Don’t help her.”

  But Kilroy swung his gun around, aiming it at Carter. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Carter lifted his hands in the air, but Kate wasn’t deterred.

  “You can do this, Carter. You can run out of here, go to the police.”

  “He’ll shoot me,” he whimpered.

  Amelia lashed out, saying, “You’re an idiot for even considering it. Of course he’ll shoot you.”

  “You did all of this so that you could add a few more stops on your murder tour?” Kate asked her, glaring up at the innkeeper whom she had once considered a close family friend. “After everything you’ve been through with your daughter, Becky, you really have no conscience about taking lives for a lousy profit?”

  Amelia stared at her but said nothing.

  “You know you’re going to get shut down,” Kate pressed. “You’re not even going to have a tour much longer.”

  “There won’t be a vote,” she hissed. “Dean’s in jail, remember?”

  “There will be another mayor, another vote. It’s all over for you and you know it.”

  Angered, Amelia charged toward Kilroy and snatched the gun right out of his hands, juggling Josie on her hip. She aimed the gun at Kate and fired again and again and again, as Kate hunched forward, cowering.

  But not one single bullet hit her.

  As Amelia calmed, she said over Josephine’s screaming, “I don’t have to miss, you know. Now keep your mouth shut!”

  Kate’s ears were ringing from the gunshots and as she straightened up and glanced over her shoulder, she saw bullet holes in the wall.

  Decisively, Amelia ordered, “Carter, you do it. Now,” and offered him the gun.

  “You haven’t paid me for the others yet,” he objected.

  “Just do it!”

  Holding the gun, Carter’s hands began shaking, and when Kate glanced at Kilroy, he looked nervous.

  “Carter,” said Kate. “You have all the power. You can end this.”

  “But...” he whispered.

  “You can end this, Carter,” she insisted.

  “But I killed them,” he said softly, as he aimed the gun at her head. “I’d only go to prison.”

  Suddenly, a loud thud came from the front door and before Kate could process what the sound meant, Scott was spilling into the living room with four police officers, all with their weapons drawn.

  “Freeze!” he yelled, and Carter dropped the gun. “Everyone down on the ground!”

  Before they lowered, however, he rushed to Amelia and took his daughter in his arms, as the police officers swarmed Carter and Kilroy.

  “Whoa!” said Kilroy as if he could convince them he was innocent.

  “Don’t play me, Kilroy,” said Scott. “I know exactly what your role has been.”

  As the officers carted them out of the house, Scott untied Kate with one hand, being careful to hold Josie securely.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t,” he said. “911 got a call about gunshots and we raced over. We didn’t know what we’d find.”

  “It was Amelia all along,” she said, getting to her feet now that she was freed. She took Josie in her arms and kissed her head. “I’ve given it some thought,” she said, staring up at him. “And I really think we need to find Josie a babysitter.”

  Scott laughed, pulled her in for a hug, and kissed her before saying, “It’s about time. I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  ROOFTOP KILLER

  Chapter One

  Kate gently set her daughter, Josephine, down into the playpen and snapped the cup of her bra back into place, pulled on her gray t-shirt that she’d draped on the arm of the couch, and glanced out the living room window at the landscape.

  Rolling hills unfolded with luscious green grass. The forest in the distance was thick, each tree a plume of healthy leaves. The sky overhead was stark blue and cloudless.

  Though the air conditioner in the living room hummed noisily, Kate felt hot just looking outside. It was early July but felt more like the height of August, every summer coming on stronger than the last. She wasn’t looking forward to the day ahead since she was scheduled to work outside.

  She would much rather stay home with her five-month-old daughter. But after Scott had arrested Amelia Langley and t
aken down her grim murder tour, and he’d charged Detective Kilroy and Carter Davie for the conspiratorial murder of Eddie Jackson, Scott and Kate had agreed that it would be best for Josephine to stay home with a babysitter until she was old enough for day care.

  For Kate, being separated from her daughter all day wasn’t easy.

  Sitting on the couch, she watched Josie examine a yellow rattle. Her hair had been growing in. No longer fine wisps, her hair was now tufts of bright red waves just like Kate’s, though Josephine had Scott’s eyes. She smiled, waving the rattle, and then tossed it against the mesh siding of the playpen.

  The doorbell chimed, Kate checked her wristwatch and thought to herself, right on time.

  After crossing through the living room and foyer, she opened the door to find Maxwell slinging a backpack over his shoulder from where he stood on the front step.

  “Morning,” he said with a crooked smile.

  Inviting him in, she asked, “Coffee?” and led him into the living room.

  While Kate still wasn’t drinking regular coffee due to breastfeeding, she had developed another kind of craving—offering dark roast—which gave her a vicarious thrill. She liked to brew coffee, smell the rich aroma, and watch her friends drink it.

  “Sure,” said Maxwell. “I’ll have a cup. Cream and sugar?”

  As Maxwell got settled in front of Josie’s playpen, Kate padded into the kitchen, grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker, and poured her babysitter a mug, which she doctored to his specifications.

  Maxwell had been an excellent contractor, and she had needed his assistance during her pregnancy. When the time came for Scott and her to find an appropriate babysitter, Maxwell had surprised them, volunteering for the job. At first Kate hadn’t known what to make of it, but the fact of the matter was that she trusted him and no other applicant had made as much sense.

  Kate handed him the mug as she sat beside him on the couch.

  “I just fed her,” she explained. “And her diaper is still fresh. I pumped several bottles so you’ll find those in the fridge the next time she gets hungry.”

  He shot her a teasing glance, which Kate was all too familiar with. Every time Maxwell showed up in the morning she had a tendency to go over every detail of Josie’s needs as if it were his first day. She stopped herself from elaborating further and said, “You know. I know you know. I’m just being thorough.”

  “She’s in good hands,” he said, lifting Josie out of the playpen and setting her on his lap. “Five again?”

  “I’ll be home by five, yes. Five or six,” she said with a sigh, already dreading the hot conditions she would be working under.

  “How’s the roof coming along?”

  “It’s coming,” she said, rising to her feet. “I agree with Sandra that those roofing shingles need to be replaced, but I think we saw the last of the rain in June.”

  “Sunscreen and water,” he suggested. “That’s how you’ll get through the ninety-degree heat.”

  “It’s going to be in the nineties again?” she asked, alarmed.

  “According to the weather report.”

  Kate reminded him to call her if anything happened, even though he knew to do that already, and then kissed Josie goodbye. When she reached the foyer, she called out, “Want me to set the alarm for you?”

  “Just lock up,” he countered. “I’ll set it in a minute.”

  “Have a good one!”

  As soon as Kate was on the other side of the door she listened out for the sound of her daughter fussing, but Josie had gotten quite used to Maxwell and rarely cried after Kate left for the day.

  It caused her mixed emotions.

  On the one hand, she was glad her daughter was finding independence. It gave her and Scott a long leash of freedom, and they had been finding time to go out more, just the two of them. But on the other hand, Kate felt a strange sense of loss, as if she was missing out on the adorable day-to-day of her daughter’s life.

  More and more she thought about hanging up her tool belt for good. She hadn’t discussed the possibility with Scott, doing so would make the idea far too real and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. But she did like the thought of being a full-time mommy instead of a full-time handywoman. Scott’s income at the precinct was comfortable enough that technically she didn’t have to work. Her twin boys were adults, their college loans having been paid off long ago.

  Rather than get sucked into the notion yet another time, she put the idea to rest, at least for today, and started for her truck. The truck bed had a box of roofing shingles, the last of three she had carted over to Sandra Conway’s house, the roof of which had been leaking with every rain for the last month.

  Kate climbed in behind the steering wheel and turned the engine. Once it settled into a healthy idle, she cranked the air conditioner and angled the vents at her face. She backed out in an arch, threw her truck into gear, and started off down the long and winding driveway.

  Sandra Conway’s house was a split-level Homestead set in the middle of a block in the most suburban part of Rock Ridge. In Kate’s mind, she called the area “cookie cutter,” because every house looked exactly the same and the blocks were on a grid where every fifth block had a dog park, mailbox, and chain coffee shop, which Kate happened to despise.

  Nevertheless, it was good for business that Kate had infiltrated this neighborhood. The houses weren’t especially well built and since most of them had been around for over a decade, things were starting to fall apart.

  She pulled her truck along the curb in front of Sandra’s house, climbed out, and slid the box of roofing shingles off the lip of the bed, hoisting it against her hip so that she could carry it one-handed. Lastly, she grabbed her tool kit and made her way to the front door where she rang the doorbell.

  It chimed faintly inside the house and a moment later Sandra swung the door inward, exclaiming, “Please tell me this is your last day. I can’t take the banging.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Kate with a smile as Sandra led her through the house and out the back door.

  Sandra worked as a writer, managing a number of projects, which ranged from blogging, ghostwriting non-fiction, and working on a novel. She worked from home and as far as Kate could tell, she was extremely sensitive to noise.

  Outside, Kate set down her tool kit and box next to the ladder that rested against the back of the house, while Sandra hovered in the doorway. “I’m going to keep this closed so the AC doesn’t escape.”

  “No problem,” said Kate.

  “If you come in to use the bathroom or get a drink of water, would you please be quiet about it?”

  Kate couldn’t recall ever being noisy in Sandra’s house, but she agreed and the forty-year-old writer quickly disappeared, closing the door and grumbling to herself.

  It was times like this that Kate missed Maxwell, she thought as she stared up at the ladder and then down at her box and tool kit. The last thing she needed was to break her neck climbing up one handed because she was juggling a box.

  She grabbed her tool kit first and started her ascent. Taking the rungs carefully and watching her step, she inched her way up the ladder, set her tool kit on the flat roof, and quickly shuffled down again.

  The box wouldn’t be quite so easy, but she set it firmly against her side, holding it with her right hand, and began climbing once again.

  When she reached the roof, leaning against the ladder, she gingerly set the box beside her tool kit, and then shimmied a few more rungs and stepped onto the roof.

  Before assessing her progress, she glanced out at the many houses, the many roofs in all directions. It was bizarre, a wealth of identical houses. She was glad she lived in the rural part of town. Her house was unique and there were no others around. If Sandra Conway was so hell-bent on things being quiet, Kate wondered why she’d chosen to live in the middle of the most suburban area in town. But she figured the mortgages on these split-levels were far cheaper than a house on five acres w
ould be.

  Kate grabbed her tool kit and stepped lightly across the roof, mindful that Sandra could hear her every step. She kept on the toes of her sneakers and kneeled when she reached the section of the roof that needed replacing. She had left a modest stack of shingles out yesterday so she reasoned she would start with those and then drag the box over.

  She found her hammer and a box of nails in her tool kit then plucked a starter strip from the pile. Once she had laid the strip, she set a new shingle over it and began nailing it down so that it overlapped its neighbor. After she completed the row, she grabbed a piece of chalk and a ruler from her tool kit, and began marking where the next row of shingles should align.

  The sun was beating down. Sweat formed across Kate’s brow, but she wiped her forehead dry with her arm and continued nailing the shingles.

  “Kate?” called Sandra, who had just stepped out onto the back yard.

  She cringed, expecting the writer to accuse her of being too loud with her hammer, but when she tiptoed to the edge of the roof and glanced down at Sandra, the writer explained, “I need to go out for printer ink. I won’t be long.”

  “No problem,” she said, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand.

  “I’m going to lock the front door, but I’ll keep the back door open in case you need to use the bathroom.”

  “Thanks, see ya soon.”

  As Sandra walked out of view into the house and shut the door, Kate returned to her line of shingles and wondered what Maxwell and Josie were up to. It was a little after ten, which meant Josie could be napping or maybe they were playing with one of the educational toys Scott had bought for her. Or were they watching a Disney movie. Josie loved Beauty and the Beast, and though she wasn’t yet talking, she had an ear for music and waved her arms and vocalized whenever the songs were playing.

  Kate sighed, lowering to her knees and reminding herself to focus on this roof. The sooner she finished up, the sooner she could get back to her daughter. And for the first time in her life, the fact that she didn’t have another fix-it job lined up after this one was a huge relief. Maybe she could schedule a week off before her next job and really spend a lot of time with her daughter. Crime in Rock Ridge had been virtually nonexistent so maybe Scott could take a week off as well.