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

by Belle Knudson

  “Oh,” said Marcy, letting out a sigh of relief that Kate found chilling. “Is there any way you can handle this discreetly?” she asked Scott when he lowered the phone.

  “Discreetly?” He snorted. “You’ve got a dead woman in your coat room.”

  “It’s not my coat room,” she objected.

  “If I were you,” he went on. “I’d make sure no one leaves.” As Marcy slinked toward the door, he added, “Including yourself.”

  Kate touched Scott’s arm and grimaced, and then joined Marcy in the corridor.

  “How am I supposed to prevent two hundred people from leaving?” she asked. “As soon as the guests see an ambulance the entire mansion is going to be in a fright.”

  “You could call the guard at the gate,” she said dryly. “That’s one way to do it.”

  Kate felt eyes on her and glanced down the corridor to find Hans Geoffrey staring at her from around the corner. There was something about the look in his eye—the intensity. He didn’t look concerned or alarmed or even curious about why the Police Chief had disappeared into the coatroom. He looked mad and as he slipped around the corner for the ballroom, Kate caught sight of him lifting his cell phone out of his pocket.

  Cautiously, Kate trailed after him.

  When she rounded the corner, she spied him cutting through the crowd, but he was nearing Dean Wentworth.

  The mayor was dressed in a black tuxedo and his hair was slicked back. Hans took hold of his arm and said something in his ear, and then guided him away from the guests into a corner. Kate kept watching them as their private conversation ensued—Hans whispering in Dean’s ear, Dean’s brow furrowing the more he heard. In the next instant, Dean abruptly lifted his head and his eyes widened with what looked like shock.

  If Kate didn’t know any better, she would guess that Hans Geoffrey had just told Dean that there was a dead woman in the coatroom.

  But how would Hans know that?

  Unless...

  Dean broke free from the billionaire and started toward the corridor. Not to be seen spying, Kate whipped around and scurried out of sight, rushing down the corridor toward Marcy who was hunched with her cell phone against her ear and pacing anxiously.

  From behind her, Dean said, “Kate!”

  She turned to find him nearing her.

  “What on earth is going on?” he demanded, having caught sight of Scott walking out of the coatroom and closing the door.

  “Try not to panic,” she warned him, but the advice only seemed to rattle his nerves.

  “Just tell me what’s going on,” he insisted.

  “There’s a dead woman in the coatroom.”

  All of the color rushed out of his face, and to Kate it looked as though he had stopped breathing.

  “Scott is handling it.”

  “Handling it? How? By calling in the cavalry?”

  “I don’t believe he knows how she died,” she said to reassure him. “It could’ve been natural causes.”

  “How does a healthy twenty-year-old woman die of natural causes?” he challenged, his emotions running so high he hadn’t realized his error until three seconds after he’d asked the question.

  Kate cocked her brow, studying his face. “How do you know that the dead woman is twenty?”

  “What?” he said, stalling. “I-I don’t. Someone said... Everyone is going to find out about this!”

  His anger had quickly replaced his lies and to Kate he suddenly looked like a stranger.

  “This is political,” he went on, thinking out loud. “Someone’s trying to defame me. They want me out of this race and they’ll stop at nothing to ruin me.”

  “Dean,” she began in a firm tone. “Do you know who the woman is?”

  He locked eyes with her but said nothing, though she sensed he was about to reveal the identity of the dead woman.

  His effort was interrupted when a pair of medics rushed down the corridor, pushing a gurney. As they passed, the guests began gasping and murmuring and soon word was spreading throughout the ballroom.

  “Goddamn it”—Dean threw his arms up—“on the night of my fundraiser.” He then pointed his finger in her face. “This was planned. And your husband better get to the bottom of it and quick. I’ll not have my name smeared through the mud.”

  He paced away, plowing his fingers through his hair as though he were coming undone. When he calmed it was only by a fraction, but it was enough to send him walking off down the corridor toward the ballroom.

  Kate turned and continued down the corridor and entered into the coatroom behind the medics. They pushed the gurney alongside the bed and were extremely careful about lifting the body and laying it on the gurney.

  Four uniformed officers entered the room once the medics had rolled the mysterious dead woman into the hallway.

  Scott told them, “Bag everything. This room is a crime scene and the entire mansion might be as well.”

  Nearing him, Kate asked, “Do you know that she was killed?”

  “I know what my gut is telling me,” he said. “But I’ll need the medical examiner to confirm.”

  “What’s your gut telling you?”

  “That we’ll find drugs in her system, a lethal amount, and that it’s going to be a hell of a challenge proving she didn’t do this to herself.”

  Chapter Three

  Kate stepped out of the bright, morning sunlight, pulling the entrance door of Bean There open and pushing Josie in her stroller inside.

  The coffee shop was quiet, though a few customers were scattered throughout the tables.

  Carly was seated at their favorite table near the window and when she lifted her eyes, Kate waved then motioned for the counter.

  She rolled Josie over and Molly Parker, the new owner of Bean There, leaned over the counter to smile at the baby. When she straightened up, Kate noticed a campaign pin clipped to her shirt, which said, It’s time for change and Celia Demblowski is it!

  “Large coffee?” asked Molly, and the question snapped Kate out of her inner thoughts—Molly was voting for Celia?

  “Ah, better make it a small. I’m still watching my caffeine intake.”

  “You got it,” said Molly, twirling around to pour her a cup. When she set it on the counter, she asked, “You were over at the mansion last night?”

  Kate knew exactly where this was going, but said, “I was.”

  “I’d keep your head down, if I were you. The Rock Ridge Tribune is having a field day and those reporters are trying to interview everyone who attended Dean’s fundraiser.”

  Of course they were, thought Kate. And then it suddenly occurred to her that Celia Demblowski had been running the Tribune. If Dean got dragged through the mud solely based on the fact that a woman had died at his function, whether or not he had been involved, no one would benefit more from his slander than Celia...and her paper was at the helm of covering the story?

  Kate handed her cash and when Molly gave her the change, she dropped it into the tip jar. “Let me ask you,” she said. “You’re voting for Celia?”

  Molly shrugged. “I think it’s time for change. Dean has done well as mayor, but if you look at the economy over the past four years, everyone has been struggling more and more.” She leaned across the counter as though they were close friends. “And that amusement park of his is a total failure. Think about all the taxpayers' money he used to get it built. It didn’t create the jobs he had promised. It isn’t bringing in tourists and helping to boost the economy. He needs to go.”

  Kate couldn’t fault her argument, but still she wondered... “What makes you think that Celia will do a better job?”

  The barista tucked her wavy, blond hair behind her ear, and considered the question, which told Kate that she didn’t exactly have a clear idea of her answer.

  “You might not think it’s very well thought out,” said Molly, “but I think this town is ready for a woman to be in charge. Did you know that we haven’t had a single female mayor, and I mean eve
r. Can you believe that? In the history of Rock Ridge, not one woman has run this town.” Again, she shrugged, concluding, “It’s a good enough reason for me to get behind her.”

  Kate wasn’t sure that gender was a good enough reason for anyone to be hired to do anything, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she thanked Molly for the coffee and began pushing Josie’s stroller over to Carly’s table.

  “There’s my big girl,” said Carly, shining a big smile at Josie.

  Carly’s affection for Josie always made Kate smile.

  “You’re so pretty,” she went on in a singsong voice. “And your hair is getting so long!”

  Kate scooted her chair closer after sitting down and savored the first few sips of her coffee then asked, “How are things working out with Rock Ridge Roses?”

  Carly rolled her eyes, straightening up from Josie. “Lance was always so mild mannered around Amelia, but I’ll tell you, that’s not at all how he really is.”

  Kate was sorry to hear that the owner of the flower garden and nursery—where Carly had been buying flowers at a wholesale rate to resell at her flower shop, Sunshine Florist—was proving to be a difficult man to work with.

  “But I can’t complain,” she went on. “Business has been good, not as good as it was eight years ago, but still...things are all right.”

  Kate was about to tell her that she was glad to hear it, but when Carly’s eyes fixed on the counter behind Kate, she turned to see what her friend was looking at.

  Celia Demblowski had just entered the coffee shop.

  “Can you believe what she’s doing now?” said Carly under her breath. “It’s not like Dean could be mayor forever. Why couldn’t she wait to run until the next election?”

  Kate didn’t have a clue, but it suddenly occurred to her that Celia might run again, whether she won or lost this time around. What was becoming of Rock Ridge? What would it be like in two or three years down the road if billionaires like Hans Geoffrey moved in and a woman like Celia ran the town?

  Carly said, “Don’t look now, but she’s coming this way.”

  Kate stiffened, but it didn’t alert the woman to avoid their table.

  Celia marched right up and confidently set a pamphlet on the table, exclaiming, “Vote for Celia Demblowski.”

  “Hi, Mom,” said Carly, annoyed.

  “Can I count on your vote?”

  Carly’s eyes widened and Kate tried not to make too much eye contact.

  “Oh, come on,” she said, towering over them. “Carly, you have to vote for your own mother, and Kate, you’ve known me since you were a young girl.”

  “You were married to a man who went to prison for aiding and abetting a drug kingpin,” Carly pointed out.

  “Oh that,” said Celia, waving her arm as though the truth of the matter was insignificant. “At least I don’t have any dead hookers turning up in my bed.”

  “What?” asked Kate, stunned.

  Carly looked shocked as well.

  “You didn’t hear?” Celia challenged, staring down at Kate. “You were there last night. Your husband worked the crime scene.”

  “What is she talking about?” Carly asked, but Kate didn’t have a chance to respond.

  “A scandal like that,” Celia went on, “doesn’t bode well for getting re-elected.”

  Finding her voice, Kate asked, “You don’t seriously think Dean had something to do with that?”

  “I don’t know what to think except that it isn’t good. Whether he killed that poor woman or not—”

  “He didn’t,” Kate asserted, though she was unnerved that she honestly couldn’t be certain. Dean had been acting strangely last night.

  “As I was saying,” said Celia, reclaiming the floor. “Whether he killed her or not, someone that he associates with did. That girl didn’t die on her own. And if Dean is collecting money from a corrupt billionaire who likes murdering prostitutes, well... I think we all know what that will mean for his campaign.”

  “And it’s your newspaper that’s covering the story,” Kate shot back.

  “As well as others. This will be national news in a matter of days.” She made a point to smile at each of them before stating, “Vote for Demblowski!”

  Celia started off and soon disappeared through the entrance door.

  “What the hell happened at the fundraiser last night?” Carly asked when they were finally alone.

  Kate sighed and took a long sip of her coffee. As she set her cup down, she said, “I didn’t know she was a prostitute.”

  “So a woman was killed?”

  “We don’t know that, not yet. Scott is still waiting on the medical examiner’s findings, but it’s possible.”

  “Oh my Lord...poor Dean.”

  Kate wasn’t sure how poor Dean was, but he certainly didn’t deserve Celia using this unforeseeable tragedy to the benefit of her own campaign.

  “Scott hasn’t identified her either.”

  “Well, if she really was a prostitute, it won’t be easy. It’s not like there’s a red light district in Rock Ridge. She could’ve been from out of town.”

  “Could she have?” Kate wondered. “Why would a working girl be at the mayor’s fundraiser? The mansion is walled off and has a wrought-iron gate with a guard house. No one was allowed to drive up to the estate unless they were on the list.”

  “Then she was on the list.”

  “Not according to the event coordinator,” she countered.

  Carly leveled her eyes on her longtime friend. “Everyone lies, you know that.” She went on, thinking out loud. “An event coordinator? She probably has a sense of everyone’s dirty secrets, but it’s her job to keep it all under wraps, you know, keep up appearances and make sure the event runs smoothly.”

  “She was the person who found the body,” Kate said, falling into deep consideration. She should take another run at the woman, see if she might be able to pressure Marcy into disclosing what she was really doing in that room.

  “Isn’t that the rule?” Carly asked, and then clarified, “Last seen with the victim or first to discover the body equals guilty.”

  “It’s not a hard and fast rule,” she countered. “But it is grounds for suspicion.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kate drank the rest of her coffee and suddenly craved a pastry, but her vibrating cellphone interrupted the urge. “It’s Justina,” she said, swiping her thumb over the LCD screen to answer the call. “Hey,”

  “Hi, Kate, sorry to bother you. I know you were dying for a day to yourself, but the police have turned the mansion upside down. Plus, Hans Geoffrey’s own furniture is arriving, and I need the rentals from Corey’s Cabinets out.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t need you to move the furniture, I have movers, but they’re so clumsy. I really need you to go to the mansion and check that the furniture we rented isn’t in any way damaged. I have insurance with the movers and with Corey and if anything is scuffed or scraped in transit, I need to hold the right party responsible.”

  Kate sighed, debating. “You just need me to examine the furniture?”

  “It shouldn’t take too long.”

  Carly leaned over the table and started mouthing, “No,” as if the thought of their breakfast being interrupted pained her.

  Kate winced apologetically, but told Justina she’d help out.

  “Ugh,” Carly groaned, as Kate returned her cellphone into the front pocket of her overalls. “I was looking forward to catching up.”

  “We’ll get together soon,” she promised, getting to her feet and maneuvering Josie’s stroller around.

  After giving Carly a hug goodbye, she started off for her truck, which she had parked along the curb directly in front of the coffee shop.

  She couldn’t very well work with Josie in tow, so she gave Maxwell a quick call, clamping her cell between her ear and shoulder as she settled Josie into her car seat and collapsed the stroller.

  “Hey, can I get you to watc
h Josie for a few hours?”

  “Sure...now?”

  “Yeah, sorry for not giving you any notice. I need to tie up a few strings at the mansion.”

  Maxwell seemed pleasant enough about helping her out, and ten minutes later she met him in front of her house. After handing Josie off to him and setting her stroller on the ground, she thanked him again and drove off to the east side of town.

  Even as she neared the wrought-iron gate at the edge of the massive estate, she could see police cruisers in front of the mansion. The guard eyed her ID for a very long time before opening the gate, and as Kate drove through she made a mental note to ask him about the young woman in a black, slinky dress. If she had gotten into the event last night, then surely the guard would remember her.

  She parked her truck just shy of the grand entrance door, grabbed a clipboard that she kept tucked in the pocket behind the passenger’s seat, and climbed out. She would note any scuffmarks or scratches on the furniture, not that she thought she’d find any. If anything, she thought she’d note that there was no superficial damage and that way, if Corey discovered any, they would know that the movers were responsible.

  Inside, she found a few police officers milling around outside of the coatroom, which was still considered a crime scene. She smiled and nodded at them as she made her way into one of the downstairs guest rooms.

  There, she began examining the four-poster bed, the dresser and settee, the chair and all of the furniture she had rented from Corey’s Cabinets, noting on her clipboard that there was no damage.

  She was kneeling in front of one of the end tables with her back to the door when she heard a man say, “You look different in overalls.”

  Startled, she sprang to her feet and turned to find Hans Geoffrey leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets and his eyes traveling the length of her.

  “I’ll be out of your hair shortly,” she told him.

  But instead of wandering off as she’d hoped, Hans took a few steps into the bedroom and closed the door all but a crack.

  It made her nervous.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  He grinned at her and said, “Have you ever fantasized about leading a more”—his gaze locked on her rugged overalls, as he continued—“glamorous life?”