Cookie Dough Killer

by Summer Prescott

  “Eckels,” Chas Beckett greeted him with a polite nod. His respect for the odd little mortician was profound.

  “Detective,” Tim murmured, taking in the scene. “When was the victim found?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  Tim nodded and snapped on a pair of blue nitrile gloves. Fiona stood behind him, her camera at the ready.

  “I’ll let you get to it,” Chas said, turning when a young police officer waved to get his attention. “Yeah?” he asked, approaching the cop.

  “There’s a couple outside who asked to talk to you. Said they came by here earlier this morning.”

  “Show me,” Chas ordered, following the younger man from the house.

  Echo waved, relieved when she saw Chas coming down the walk toward them. The police officer in front of her had been staring at her and Blaze as though he wanted to send them to prison, and it was making her more than a bit uncomfortable.

  “Echo?” he frowned, wondering what on earth his wife’s best friend was doing at a crime scene.

  “Hey, can we talk?” she asked, glancing nervously at the police officer looming over her.

  “Yeah,” he led her away. “Thanks, Parsons, I’ll take it from here,” he told the cop as they moved onto the sidewalk in front of the home, away from the hustle and bustle of the investigation. “What on earth are you doing here?” he asked, when they were out of earshot.

  Echo gestured to a very uncomfortable Blaze. “Do you two know each other?” she asked Chas.

  “We’ve met,” the detective nodded, shaking Blaze’s hand. “What’s going on?”

  “We were supposed to have a meeting with Allivia Dunham this morning, and when we came over, no one answered the door, so we came back just now, hoping to catch her at home, and saw all of this,” Echo gestured to the busy scene. “What happened?”

  “You had a meeting with Allivia Dunham? Why?” Chas ignored her question.

  “She’s the head of the planning committee for the Children’s Home Gala. Blaze and I are working on the design aspects and we wanted to show her our design boards. Is she okay?”

  “What time did you come by this morning?”

  “Just after ten,” Blaze answered.

  “Did you happen to see anyone or anything unusual when you arrived?”

  Both Echo and Blaze shook their heads.

  “No,” Echo replied.

  “I thought it was rather strange that her housekeeper didn’t answer the door,” Blaze volunteered. “Even when Allivia isn’t home, there’s usually someone around, taking care of the house and yard.”

  “You know her well?” Chas asked.

  “Not well, but we’ve worked together on several charity events over the years.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have a grudge against her, or who might want to cause her harm?” the detective probed.

  “Are you kidding?” Blaze asked with a wry smile. “The list is long. Allivia is a bit of an acquired taste, and I think most people just steer clear of her. She’s been known to ruffle some feathers.”

  “I’ve heard that about her from a lot of people,” Echo chimed in. “Even really nice people seem to be wary of her.”

  “Do either of you know of any recent conflict that she had with anyone?”

  “Other than the obvious one with Muffy, no, but from what I understand, she has a nasty little habit of negotiating contracts for her artists where she makes more money on their talent than they do. Is she okay? Did something happen to her?”

  “Muffy? Do you mean Muffy Benton?” Chas asked, hiding the sinking feeling in his gut. He knew that Missy was working with Muffy on the Gala.

  “Yes. She had to lobby hard and go to the rest of the board behind Allivia’s back in order to be co-chair for the Gala. Muffy and Allivia have had issues for years,” Blaze explained.

  “Really? I didn’t know that,” Echo commented. “Muffy seems so nice.”

  “Muffy is nice,” Blaze nodded. “Allivia isn’t.”

  “Have either of you heard of any specific altercations between the two of them recently?” Chas asked.

  “Not really, no,” Blaze shook his head.

  “I’ve been too busy to keep up on social stuff,” Echo shrugged. “I didn’t even know that Muffy and Allivia didn’t get along.”

  Chas nodded, distracted. “Okay. I’ll want to get in touch with both of you again soon, to do some follow up. One last thing…when you were here earlier, did either of you touch anything?”

  “My hands were full of design boards,” Blaze replied.

  “The only think I touched was the doorbell,” Echo remarked.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll be in touch. And Echo…if you could check in on Missy for me, I’d appreciate it. Looks like I’m going to be here for a while. But please, don’t mention anything about anything going on here. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “No problem,” Echo squeezed his arm in farewell. “I could use a girls night after all this anyway. But Chas…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is Allivia…?” she let the question hang in the air between them.

  “I can’t comment on a current investigation,” the detective replied quietly. “Hug my wife for me.”

  “Will do,” Echo murmured, her heart suddenly filled with dread.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  Janssen was so lost in his own dark thoughts that Spencer had to clear his throat to get his buddy’s attention, even though he sat not four feet away from him. Slumped in a leather chair on the opposite side of Spencer’s desk, the troubled young man stared into space. Spencer felt guilty intruding into his solitude.

  “Did you talk to her?” he asked quietly, his words shattering the silence in the room.

  “Yeah,” Janssen grunted, expressionless.

  Spencer looked at him expectantly for several seconds, but when it seemed that no other response was forthcoming, he tried again.

  “What did she say?”

  Janssen sighed and ran an impatient hand through his long, unkempt hair. “She said I should do whatever feels right,” he frowned.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Heck if I know,” Janssen gritted his teeth. “Cuz to be honest, nothing feels right. Nothing has since the minute I set foot on American soil. I don’t have a purpose, I can’t feel anything…I’m a waste of a human being,” he shook his head in disgust.

  “Seems pretty clear that you’re feeling something now,” Spencer observed.

  “Frustrated,” Janssen shot back. “That’s what I’m feeling.”

  “Well, that’s…something.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I got so used to just having to survive…always looking out for the enemy, and fighting for what was right…now I don’t even know which way is up. Enemies in the civilian world smile at you while stabbing you in the back and will kill you for a pack of smokes. I got a wife who doesn’t need me, a kid who barely knows me, and a former teammate who fell in love with my girl while I was trying to get my act together. Sounds like I’m my own worst enemy,” he grimaced, his knee bouncing up and down in his angst.

  “How can I help?” Spencer asked simply.

  Janssen stared at him hard for a moment. “If I thought you could help, I would’ve been down here a long time ago,” he said finally, in a manner that was more defeated than accusatory. “I need something to do. Put me to work until I figure things out, but don’t make me work with people. I’m not putting on a suit like you, I’m not shaking hands and being polite. I’ll do dirty, uncomfortable field work and that’s it.”

  Spencer nodded. “Whatever you need.”

  A light knock sounded on Spencer’s door.

  “Come in,” he instructed, puzzled.

  “Mr. Bengal, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Holly, the agency’s receptionist smiled professionally at both men. “There’s a young woman here to see you, and she seems very distraught. Do you have time to speak with her?”

&
nbsp; “Sure, I can see her. Do you know what this is about?”

  “Something to do with a missing person, I believe. She didn’t want to say much to me. Like I said, she’s very upset,” Holly’s voice was full of compassion.

  “Okay, I’ll be out to greet her in a few minutes.”

  “Take your time, sir. I’ll make her a cup of tea and try to put her at ease,” Holly said softly, slipping back out again.

  “I’m so out of here,” Janssen stood abruptly. “Last thing I need in my life is a crying female.”

  “I’ll have something for you either later today or tomorrow,” Spencer assured him.

  When he entered the waiting room, Spencer was surprised and a bit disturbed at the woman he saw sitting there. Her face was familiar, because they’d just done a background check on her.

  “Hello, I’m Spencer Bengal,” he stretched out his hand and she shook it.

  “Kendra Henderson,” she replied in a small voice, her face bearing the telltale signs of recent tears. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed and her nose was irritated.

  “A pleasure to meet you. Won’t you come with me?” he led the way down the hall and back to his office, offering her the chair that Janssen had just vacated.

  She gingerly carried her cup of tea with her, and while she was getting settled, Holly brought in a tray with extra hot water, tea bags and a plate of cookies. The ultra-efficient receptionist deposited the tray on the desk and was gone again before Kendra could even utter a thank you.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Henderson,” Spencer asked, gazing levelly at her across the desk.

  Her lower lip trembled and she took a breath, setting her teacup down with a nervous clatter. “I…I don’t know really. Missy’s husband works here and I didn’t know where to turn, so I just came here, and I probably can’t even afford you guys, but…” she was unable to continue, her voice choked with tears.

  “Take your time,” Spencer encouraged, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Kendra, not for her sake, but because she’d already mentioned Missy by name.

  The young woman drew in a few shaky breaths, trying to regain her composure, and then tried again.

  “My husband is…missing,” she sniffled and dabbed at her nose with a well-used tissue. Spencer handed her a box of tissues from a drawer in his desk.

  “How long has he been missing?”

  “I haven’t heard from him since he left for work yesterday. I’ve tried texting and calling, and he doesn’t answer. He’s never done anything like this before, so I’m really worried that something bad has happened,” fresh tears sprang up in her eyes.

  “Have you thought about going to the police?”

  “I did think of that, but…well, this is going to sound strange but, Brant’s mother has a lot of influence in this town, and last time that he encountered the police, it didn’t go well for him, because she interfered. She still tries to lash out at him every chance she gets, so I felt like going to the police really wasn’t my best option. Besides, I knew how nice Missy was, and I was hoping that her husband might be nice too,” Kendra folded her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast.

  “Do you think that his mother has something to do with his disappearance?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” her tone was bitter.

  “Have you tried contacting her?”

  “No, if she saw my number, she’d never answer the phone. She hates me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

  “And your husband was?”

  “Yes, but she cut him off. Look, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it has anything to do with Brant going missing, but I’m desperate here, I don’t know what to do. Can you help me?” Kendra pleaded.

  Spencer took a moment to answer.

  “Is there any possibility that maybe he just needed a break? Or that he may have left you? I know that these things are difficult to think about, but is it possible?” he asked, as delicately as he could.

  “No. Our lives are perfectly normal. He has a good job, I have a good job, we have our evenings and weekends together usually…we have a good life. There’s no way he’d just run away,” she crossed her arms and shook her head.

  “Have you had any disagreements lately?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m telling you, something is wrong here,” she insisted.

  “Do you have a recent photograph?” Spencer changed the subject.

  “This one was taken a couple of months ago, when we were at the beach,” she handed over a photo, which showed a man who looked to be around Spencer’s age, staring out over the water.

  “What about a description of what he was wearing?”

  “I don’t know exactly, because he was gone before I got up in the morning, but he almost always wears khakis and a button-down shirt, with boat shoes.”

  “Does he usually leave the house before you’re awake?” Spencer asked.

  “No, not usually, but sometimes I’m just so exhausted that I sleep right through his whole morning routine.”

  “What kind of work do you do?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I run an in-home daycare. Sometimes those kiddos just wear me out,” she smiled faintly.

  “And you’re closed today?”

  “Well, technically no. I called all of the parents and told them that I had a family matter to attend to and asked them to do early pickups. I felt bad leaving them in the lurch like that, but it was just driving me crazy.”

  “I see. Let me speak with Mr. Beckett about this, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, I’d suggest calling his friends, checking with his boss and coworkers, anyone who may have had contact with him. If we do take on the case, one of the first things we’ll need to establish is who saw him last and where. You might also show a copy of that photo to anyone involved in transportation. Charter boats, bus station attendants, cab drivers. If we can pinpoint his last known sighting, it’ll be that much easier to determine his current location.”

  “You don’t think anything bad happened to him, do you?” Kendra’s voice shook.

  “I don’t know. Did he have any enemies?”

  “Just his mother,” the bitter tone was back.

  “Then you might want to check into that too,” Spencer advised, standing to signal that their meeting had come to an end.

  “Thank you for the tea, and for listening,” Kendra said, seeming deflated.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll let you know if we’re able to take on your case.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  * * *

  “Hey, did you get a call from Kendra today asking you to come get Jasmine right after lunch?” Missy asked Echo.

  The two friends were sprawled on the couch, watching movies and eating snacks. Missy’s diet seemed to consist largely of pretzel crisps and ginger ale these days, so Echo brought along her own bag of goodies and they munched while they talked. Jasmine snored softly in her portable crib, which Echo had set up in the guest room, and Kaylee had gone to bed hours earlier.

  “Well, I missed a call from her because I was working on some things, but she called Kel and he picked up Jazzy.”

  “She said that she had a family matter to attend to. Don’t you think that’s kind of strange, knowing what we know about her family?” Missy wondered, reaching down to scratch between the ears of her beloved golden retriever, Toffee. Bitsy, her vivacious maltipoo, sat on Echo’s lap, hoping for a dropped snack.

  “No. Family stuff happens all the time,” Echo shrugged, visions of the police lights in front of Allivia’s house flashing through her head. Chas didn’t want her to tell Missy about whatever had happened there, so she wasn’t going to mention it.

  “Yeah, I suppose so. The timing of it just freaks me out a little bit. Must be hormonal. Did you feel this…fragile when you were pregnant?”

  “The first three months I was paranoid a
bout everything,” Echo chuckled. “I wanted to eat, but I couldn’t, then when I did, I wished that I hadn’t. I had weird dreams, I drove poor Kel crazy with cravings and random fits of tears, poor guy.”

  “So, being a mess is normal?” Missy asked hopefully.

  “Absolutely. I’m headed to the kitchen, want some ice cream?” her friend tempted her with what normally would be her guilty pleasure.

  “No, I don’t think that would go over very well with the finicky little person living inside me,” she sighed. “What I’d really like is a glass of wine.”

  “Yeah, that’s definitely not happening,” Echo smiled.

  “I know. It’s so crazy…at a time when I could really use the relaxation from a glass of wine, I can’t have one. But actually, I miss coffee way more than I miss wine.”

  “Be strong, little camper, you only have six more months to go,” Echo called over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

  “Six loooooong months,” Missy muttered, eyeing her bowl of pretzel crisps.

  “How’s your design stuff with Blaze coming along?” she asked, when Echo came back in with fresh lemon water for both of them.

  Echo seemed to choke on her water briefly.

  “You okay?” Missy asked.

  Echo nodded, her eyes watering.

  “I think we’ve done a good job, even with the weird theme,” she answered, when she’d recovered a bit.

  “I think a circus theme could be fun. It’ll be colorful at least,” Missy shrugged. “What does Allivia think of the design?”

  “I don’t know. She uh…hasn’t seen it yet. I can never seem to get in touch with her,” Echo was suddenly fascinated with picking unpopped kernels of popcorn out of her bowl.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of weird. We were supposed to have a meeting this morning and she wasn’t home.”

  “Wait, you had a meeting with Allivia this morning? When?” Echo fought hard to keep her tone neutral.