The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse: Books 1-3 (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Box Sets)

by Nic Saint

  “But what happens now that Alan Shaw is in prison?”

  “Well, I guess Neil will handle the sale anyway he sees fit. Why do you ask?”

  Felicity shrugged. “Just my reporter’s brain making overtime I guess. Loose ends and all that.”

  “Yes, don’t you just hate them? Oh, you will cover the mayor’s ball for the Gazette, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  She rapped the door. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to deal with your chair affair.”

  Mabel heaved a tremulous sigh. “Organizing the mayor’s ball is the most ungrateful job I’ll ever do.”

  “You’ll handle it just fine, Mabel. You always do.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, honey. Now run along and say hi to your mom for me.”

  Felicity retraced her footsteps back to the van, not able to dispel the sense of foreboding that had stolen over her.

  Loose ends. She really did hate them.

  Chapter 70

  She went into Armstrong & Tillich Bank and was relieved to find Gemma Weston at the counter. She’d been in school with the fair-haired young woman and they’d always gotten along great.

  “Hey, Fee,” said Gemma, looking up from her screen. Felicity caught a glimpse of the Facebook profile she’d been consulting to wile away the time. “Did you bring me a bagel? Muffin? Croissant?” She grinned, then held up a baggie from Marcel, Bell’s main competitor.

  “Oh, no, you didn’t,” said Felicity.

  “Mom likes Bell, I like Marcel,” Gemma said with a shrug. “I guess it’s a generational kind of thing. I’m sure my kid will love Bell’s with a vengeance.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  Gemma narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. “I say kid you say kids. Do you see something in my future I don’t? Huh?”

  Felicity held up her hands. “Just a figure of speech, Gemma. Though I’m sure you’ll make a great mother—”

  “First have to find a boyfriend.”

  “—and someone a great wife.”

  “Right…” she said doubtfully.

  Felicity cleared her throat. “Anyway. What I came here for—”

  Gemma suddenly sat up and displayed her brisk customer service face. Her manager had just strode in. “Yes, Miss Bell. Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Bell?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I was wondering…” She brought her head closer to Gemma’s and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been working the Alan Shaw case.”

  “Terrible, isn’t it? A mass murderer in Happy Bays?”

  “Terrible is right. And now I was wondering what you know about the sale of the inn.”

  Gemma blinked. “Yes?”

  “I know Neil Domino is executor of the estate, so I guess the money from the sale went through this branch?”

  Gemma eyed her curiously. “Is this going to be in the Gazette?”

  “No, strictly off the record. Just some follow-up I’m doing.”

  “Myes, well…” She glanced over her shoulder and appeared relieved to find that the manager had disappeared into his office. “Twenty million dollars, Fee. Can you even imagine that much money?”

  “Not really,” Felicity admitted. “So you made someone a very rich man, huh?”

  Gemma snorted. “We made a very rich man even richer.”

  “You mean Alan Shaw was loaded?”

  “Shaw? Of course not. The money went into Mr. Domino’s account. And believe you me, I don’t think Alan Shaw will ever see a cent.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  Gemma leaned in. “The entire sum went into Mr. Domino’s personal account.”

  Felicity’s eyes widened. “No account was set up for Alan Shaw? No trust fund?”

  Gemma shook her head emphatically, then hissed, “You didn’t hear it from me!”

  Felicity knew enough. “Thanks, hon. I owe you one.”

  “One of those chocolate croissants will do, the ones with almonds on top.”

  “I thought you preferred Marcel?”

  Gemma wrinkled her nose. “Nah. That’s just to piss off Mom. Secretly I adore Bell’s.”

  “Do you have a sec?”

  The bank teller’s face lit up. “You’re going to make me a very happy woman?”

  A quick hop to the van later she was handing Gemma a paper bag full of chocolate croissants, and left her with a blissful smile on her face.

  Next port of call was the police station, and this time she had a much tougher nut to crack. As she was led into Chief Whitehouse’s office, she held out a bag of vanilla cream muffins as a peace offering. They were the chief’s favorite, she knew.

  He took the bag, glowered at her, unearthed a muffin, took a bite and continued glowering. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he said between two bites. “This—” He waved the muffin. “—won’t win you any points.”

  “I’m not trying to win any points, chief. Just need your attention for five minutes while I tell you a little tale.”

  “Oh, God,” he muttered. “What tale?”

  “The tale of the cold-blooded killer and the puppetmaster behind the stage.”

  The chief’s eyes flickered as he lowered another muffin into the abyss. “So good…” he muttered, then drew his attention back to the present. “I still haven’t forgiven you or that motley crew of nosy parkers for messing around my investigation, endangering lives, corrupting my officers—God this is good—and getting me in bad with the NYPD—how do you even make these?”

  “We did solve a murder case, Chief,” Felicity reminded him.

  “The NYPD would have solved it just fine I’m sure.”

  “I’m sure,” she echoed peaceably. “Now, about my story…”

  “Yes, about your story. Don’t tell me this is going to appear in the Gazette, or, God forbid, in one of those tabloids like my daughter’s pictures?”

  Felicity had to suppress a shudder at the thought of what Alice was going through. “No, this one’s just for me.”

  “Good. It’s bad enough she suddenly decided to spring some Hollywood movie star on me. Did you know about this?”

  “Sure. I was there from the beginning.”

  “Of course you were,” the chief said, as if suspecting Felicity of being responsible for the whole disaster. “Not that I have anything against the boy. I love those Crunch Time movies. Hot potato! But it’s different when he’s dating your daughter.” He peered into the bag and dug up another muffin. “So. You have a story for me? Out with it, Bell.”

  “Yes, sir. Did you know that the Happy Bays Inn was recently sold for the sum of twenty million dollars?”

  “Sure. Everybody knows.”

  “And did you know that the money is going entirely to Neil Domino?”

  The chief shrugged. “As the executor of the estate I guess that’s a given.”

  “Into Neil Domino’s private account?”

  “So?”

  “And that since Alan Shaw is going to be in prison for the remainder of his life Domino will be able to do with the money as he pleases?”

  “So?”

  “So I’ve listened very carefully to the psychological evaluation of Mr. Shaw at the trial, which I followed for the Gazette, and it struck me as poignant that due to his mental illness Shaw was deemed quite incapable of hatching a plot as intricate as the one that took out the Long family.”

  “Poignant, huh?” His steely eyes narrowed into slits. “Don’t give credence to that psychobabble, Fee. The man confessed, remember?”

  “He confessed that a voice told him to do it. The voice of his late wife.”

  “The guy’s a nutcase, honey. They were going to sell his beloved inn, so he snapped and went on a killing spree. End of story.”

  Felicity shook her head. “I’m certain that he was coaxed by a very clever puppeteer. Someone who stood to gain substantially from
the murders. Someone smart enough to push all the right buttons and lead a psychotic mind to seek revenge.”

  The chief snorted. “What are you telling me? That Domino set the whole thing up? Come on, Fee. That’s a stretch, even for a reporter from the Gazette.”

  “I think if you dig deep enough you’ll find that the hired guns brought in to assist Shaw were, in fact, hired by Domino.”

  The chief looked doubtful. “Okay, I admit it’s dubious that a guy like Shaw would go out and hire a pair of goons like Samovar and Cox, but to jump to the conclusion that Domino is involved?”

  She scooted forward in her seat. “Think about it, chief. Domino handed us Shaw on a silver platter. He knew that his work was done and he needed to produce the killer. I think Domino knew that Shaw could be induced to kill the Rafter brothers, but he would never kill his own sister and her husband, so two professionals were brought in, to be taken out when their usefulness expired. Then Shaw only had to do away with Rob and his wife and sister and the road to twenty million dollars lay wide open.”

  Chief Whitehouse fished another muffin from the bag. “Quite a theory, Fee, but I have my doubts.”

  “Just do some more investigating. I’m sure there must be something to connect Domino to the hired killers. He hired them, not Shaw. And that voice Alan Shaw said he kept hearing? I’m pretty sure that wasn’t his wife speaking from beyond the grave but Domino.”

  “Well, he didn’t mean it literally, I’m sure.”

  “But what if he did? What if Domino called him?”

  “Pretending to be the late Mrs. Shaw?”

  “All I’m asking is to check my story, chief. See if it holds water. If it doesn’t—”

  “No more cream muffins for me. I get it.” He pondered for a moment. “I spoke to Jack Hudson. He asked me to cut you some slack. And in honor of my old friend I’m prepared to do so. I’ll do some poking around. See if what you’re saying makes sense. Fair enough?”

  She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Fair enough.”

  “Mind you, I’m not saying you’re right. Just that I’ll look into it.”

  “Thanks, chief.”

  “And in the meantime I want you to stay away from Neil Domino.” He held up a hand when she started to speak. “I know how your mind works, Fee. And I’m telling you right now, stay away. For your own good.”

  “I will, chief,” she said gratefully. She had no intention of coming anywhere near the banker. If her suspicions were correct, the man was the real killer, and not Alan Shaw.

  Chapter 71

  That night Felicity was reading a book while Alice was rattling around in the kitchen. She’d promised Reece that she would prepare him a soufflé when he came back from LA before realizing that she didn’t know the first thing about making a soufflé. So now she was busying herself with preparations, after refusing all help from Felicity. She’d vowed to do this all by herself.

  At five minutes to nine the doorbell rang and Alice shouted, “Can you get that? I’m covered in flour!”

  “Flour? For a soufflé?”

  “Don’t ask!”

  With a chuckle, Felicity walked over to the door and was surprised to find Neil Domino looming before her. The gray-haired banker was dressed in a heavy overcoat, his pale eyes flickering dangerously.

  “Hello, Miss Bell,” he said with a deferential smile. “Is this an inopportune time?”

  “Um, well…”

  “I could come back later,” he said, still smiling.

  “Who is it?” yelled Alice from the kitchen.

  Domino gave her a look of surprise. “Oh, you have company.”

  “No, that’s just my roommate.” Before she finished the sentence she knew she’d made a mistake. Suddenly the banker spirited a small gun from the pocket of his overcoat and pointed it at her heart.

  “Let’s step inside,” he suggested, still speaking lightly, as if he were here to discuss the opening of a new checking account.

  She swallowed away a lump of discomfort as she obeyed the order.

  “Who is—oh!” Alice stared from the gun to the man’s face. “Mr. Domino? What’s going on?”

  “I see you haven’t told your little friend about your suspicions,” said the banker, then pointed to the couch. “Please be seated. Both of you.”

  “I’m not her little friend,” Alice muttered. She hated being called little, even though she was a full head smaller than Felicity. “What’s going on, Fee?”

  “Mr. Domino is the real Happy Bays Inn killer,” Felicity explained. “He set the whole thing up.”

  The banker’s lined face creased into a smile, his bushy eyebrows wiggling gaily. “And how right you are, young lady. You are very bright, aren’t you?”

  “You did all this?” asked Alice.

  “You sound surprised. Don’t you think I’m capable?”

  Alice eyed the man up and down. “Not really,” she finally concluded.

  “How disappointing. However, that’s neither here nor there.”

  Alice and Felicity had both taken a seat on the couch while the banker took the easy chair, loosely pointing the gun in their direction.

  “I already know why you did it,” said Felicity, “but how?”

  “Very simple,” said the banker. “I knew Alan, of course. As a friend of the family I knew he was quite unstable and possessed a homicidal tendency, especially where his wife was concerned. You see, when he killed that man in Vermont it was because he had insulted Alan’s wife, which made him go quite berserk. So I acquired an app that effectively distorts the voice, picked the one that resembled the late Sophia Shaw’s and started giving Alan phone calls, informing him that his dear sister was about to sell his cherished inn without his knowledge and reminding him of the vow he took never to allow it to go out of the family. After that, it was quite easy. The man would have done anything to please his beloved Sophia.”

  “Quite an act,” muttered Alice.

  “How did you know I was onto you?” asked Felicity, unnerved by the sight of that gun.

  “You may or may not know this, Miss Bell, but bank managers do keep tabs on their personnel. When you conversed with your friend Gemma Weston at the bank the conversation was relayed to my manager, who informed me that you were snooping around and asking questions about me. It didn’t take long to figure out where this was headed.”

  “It’s too late,” she said. “I already talked to Chief Whitehouse about my suspicions.”

  “I know. And trust me, he won’t find a thing. You, on the other hand, are one of those nosy parkers, aren’t you? The kind that never stops? So I just figure that with you out of the way this story will end.”

  “My dad will never let you get away with this,” bit Alice.

  “He will when your deaths are so obviously accidental. A gas explosion is such a common occurrence these days it won’t raise too many questions.”

  “This is wrong,” said Felicity. “Give me one good reason why you would do this.”

  The banker chuckled. “Oh, my dear Miss Bell. I’ll give you twenty million. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to focus for a moment. Make sure I don’t gas myself.” And with these words he took out a can and sprayed a noxious substance in Alice’s face. Instantly, she dropped down on the couch, knocked out.

  Startled, Felicity reeled back and her hand found the remote control, wedged between the couch cushions.

  “Mh. Seems to work just fine. Bye bye, Miss Bell. I’d say it was a pleasure, but I’d be lying.”

  And with a devious grin, he held up the can.

  Quick as a flash, Felicity flung the remote in the man’s face. It hit him between the bushy brows and he screamed in pain, dropping the canister. She dove for the device, depressed the button, and hit the banker in the face with a generous dose. He slumped, the pistol falling from his nerveless grasp.

  Panting, Felicity stood over him, the can still in hand, watching her attacker, and fully expecting him to rear up again, l
ike the bad guys in the movies.

  When he didn’t stir, she relaxed.

  Then, suddenly, the front door burst open and a male figure sprang into the room. “Surprise!” Rick yelled, holding out his hands.

  In a reflex action, Felicity whipped up the can and sprayed him full in the face.

  Rick Dawson went down like a ton of bricks.

  Epilogue

  The party was in full swing when Felicity and Rick burst onto the dance floor. The mayor’s ball was always a fun affair and this year even more so, for the menace that had hung over Happy Bays like a pall had been lifted and Felicity felt she could finally breathe again.

  Her article had appeared and had been quite a success. Even Stephen said he couldn’t have asked for a better story, though he still found it necessary to rewrite half of it and change the title from ‘Happy Bays Inn Murderer Caught’ to ‘The Happy Bays Horror: Heroic Baker Foils Homicidal Banker.’

  Well, she had to admit it did have a nicer ring to it.

  Rick had regained consciousness around the same time the police had arrived to arrest Domino and had suffered no permanent damage apart from a slight diminution of the exuberance he’d felt when surprising Felicity that he’d finally returned from Paris.

  And Alice had awakened just in time to find Reece fawning over her. At first she thought she was dreaming, but when she realized this was actually happening, she’d flung her arms around his neck and hadn’t stopped kissing him until her father arrived and coughed so loudly she thought a bomb had exploded in her rear.

  Life had returned to normal, and Rick had even suggested they move in together, as had Reece.

  The two women had told the men in their lives they would think about it. They weren’t ready to stop being roommates just yet.

  “You look wonderful tonight,” murmured Rick into her ear as they were dancing cheek to cheek to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On.

  “Thanks,” she murmured back and reveled in the warmth of his embrace.

  “Have you decided yet?” he asked.