Spencer, Chas, and Missy all stood above the hole behind the caretaker’s cottage, looking bemused.
“What did I miss?” Izzy huffed, jogging up to join the trio as they stared down into the hole.
Hercules immediately went to Missy for some love. She had a way with animals that was almost eerie—they all loved her and followed her, seemingly soothed by her presence. Izzy looked down to see what the others saw and stopped short.
“Oh my goodness,” she gasped, eyes wide.
“The police are on their way,” Chas informed her.
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
Chas tented his fingers under his chin, staring at the top of his desk. The discovery in Spencer’s garden had sent him reeling a bit, but fortunately, since he was a private investigator, he’d be able to look into the matter himself instead of merely relying on the Calgon, Florida, police department. They were a great group of officers, but their resources were limited.
Unfortunately, the former homicide detective was going to be tied up with interviewing receptionists for the agency today, so he and Spencer would have to do all of their preliminary investigating from their desks at the moment. Hearing a soft knock on his office door, the preoccupied PI glanced up and saw a young woman whom he assumed must be his first applicant.
“Mr. Beckett?” the slim brunette clad in a light blue spring suit hesitated in the doorway.
“Yes, I’m Chas Beckett,” he offered his hand, and when she shook it, he noted that her palm was damp. Poor thing must be nervous. “Please, come in, have a seat. I’m assuming you’re…”
“Holly. Holly Meadows,” she supplied, taking a seat in front of Chas’s intimidating mahogany desk and handing over her resume.
“Holly, yes. Of course. Excuse me just a moment. Can I get you a bottle of water or something?” Chas rose and moved to the door.
“Oh, no. I’m fine, thanks.”
“All right then, I’ll be right back.”
Chas headed down the hall of the luxurious office suite toward Spencer’s office.
“Hey, Spence. I hate to interrupt, but I have a candidate for receptionist in my office and I’d appreciate your input,” he poked his head into the doorway, finding the young man staring intently at his laptop.
“No problem,” he clicked the mouse and tapped his computer shut. “How many do we have today?”
“I limited the final candidates to just three, so we’ll meet them and make our choice.”
The two men entered Chas’s office and Spencer sat in the other chair across from his boss, right next to Holly, who seemed more than a bit rattled by his presence.
“Spencer Bengal,” he introduced himself, extending his hand with a smile.
She took it, seemingly tongue-tied. “Oh! I… uh, my… I’m…” she stammered.
“Spencer, this is Holly Meadows,” Chas supplied smoothly, rescuing the poor girl.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Meadows,” the Marine released the clammy hand, which she unconsciously wiped on her skirt, staring at Spencer’s cobalt eyes.
Chas took charge of the very laid-back and casual interview, while Spencer merely observed, which eventually helped the young woman to relax. Shortly after her interview was finished, an older woman came in to vie for the position, followed by a young man. Chas preferred to interview in rapid succession, so that he could compare and contrast the candidates more effectively.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked Spencer, after the last candidate had exited.
“Well, clearly the second woman… Theresa, had the most experience, but she seemed… I don’t know…”
“Dour?” Chas suggested.
“Yes, dour. Exactly. I just don’t know that she’d be able to make incoming clients feel at ease.”
“I’m with you there,” Chas nodded. “What about Ringo?”
“I think he’d be my choice, actually,” Spencer admitted. “Holly was nice, but I just don’t know if she’d be tough enough to stand up to some of the folks that she’d have to encounter occasionally in here.”
“I don’t know… sometimes still waters run deep,” Chas mused.
“She just struck me as flighty,” Spencer shrugged. “We need a cool cucumber in here.”
“Cool cucumber? That’s not precisely how I would characterize Ringo.”
“What he lacks in people skills, he makes up for in the fact that he’s a hacker. We could use that kind of help around here. I’m pretty good, but he’s even better. He’s direct and honest, and if people can’t take that, we may just have to smooth a few ruffled feathers,” the Marine suggested.
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the office door. It opened just a few inches and Holly Meadows stuck her head in just far enough to speak.
“Mr. Beckett, Mr. Bengal, may I come in?” she asked timidly.
The two men exchanged a look.
“Of course,” Chas replied. “How can we help you?”
“I wanted to… apologize for my reaction earlier, to you, Mr. Bengal,” Holly stood with her hands clasped in front of her, composed and professional.
“There’s no need…” Spencer began, but she gave him a look that silenced him.
“What I’m going to say isn’t easy, but I have to say it,” she took a breath. “I lost a brother to the war in Iraq. He didn’t really look like you, but he carried himself the same way, and he had some of the same mannerisms and posture, and when you came in, all I could think about was how much I missed him, and how you reminded me of him.” Holly took another deep breath, refusing to allow the tears shining in her eyes to fall.
“I am a capable professional who can deal with whatever situations get thrown my way, I can assure you of that,” she unconsciously squared her shoulders. “So I just had to come back here to let you know that if you select me for this position, I will perform my duties in an exemplary manner and will be an asset to the organization.” She looked both men directly in the eye, surprising and impressing them both.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Spencer said quietly, his eyes warm and understanding.
Holly gave him a grateful nod.
“Yes, indeed,” Chas agreed. “Thank you for coming back to clarify,” he added.
“My pleasure, Mr. Beckett. It might interest you to know that on my way in, I saw two men lingering in the doorway. They ignored me, but I had a funny feeling about them, and I seem to have an intuition for such things. Take it for what it’s worth. I hope to hear from you soon,” she shook hands with each of them and left.
Chas and Spencer looked at each other, and both rushed out the door to the security monitoring room, where live feed was recorded twenty-four hours a day of the interior and exterior of the building. Sure enough, the men that Holly had mentioned had been standing outside the building when she arrived, but had gone by the time she left. Spencer zoomed in on their faces, but one was in a profile shot, and the other had a fedora on, which shadowed his face.
“Know them?” the Marine asked, squinting at the screen.
“Too unclear,” Chas shook his head. “But I’m inclined to agree with Ms. Meadows’ assessment. They don’t look like they’re here to deliver flowers,” the PI said grimly.
“I’ll go see what I can find,” Spencer reached for his keys.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
Carla Mayhew was at her wits’ end. A guest had complained that his wristwatch had been stolen, and stormed out of the inn in a fury. Forty minutes after his flight had left for New York, Maggie found the missing item behind the headboard of the bed that he’d used. Another guest had been up all night with what they thought was food poisoning from their hearty breakfast at the inn, and had been rushed to the hospital with appendicitis.
There was a wedding party coming in the following weekend, and the busy widow felt as though she was drowning in logistics and details.
“Why don’t you go visit Missy and have a cupcake,” Maggie tactful
ly suggested when the new owner kept rushing about and impeding progress.
“Yes, sugar, that’s what I need,” she nodded, her eyes slightly crazed. “Sugar and caffeine… lots of both,” she blew out a breath and took off her apron, unconsciously draping it over a chair in the breakfast room. Maggie picked it up to put it in the laundry, shaking her head in amusement as she watched Carla make her way to the door.
***
Missy hummed happily as she went about her morning baking. With the worry of supervising the running of the inn lifted from her shoulders, she’d been much more creative and productive in her spotless commercial kitchen at Cupcakes in Paradise. The little shop had been buzzing with business and she was having the time of her life. When Carla came bursting in the front door, wild-haired and looking as though she hadn’t slept in a week, Missy immediately ran from the kitchen to give her a hug.
“Honey, what’s wrong? You look like a gal who needs some serious coffee,” she commented, her southern drawl pronounced, indicating her concern.
“Yes. Coffee. And whatever you’re cooking out there that smells so amazing,” Carla sighed, slumping into a lime green bistro chair in the eating area.
“Coming right up,” Missy promised, heading for the kitchen. “You can be my guinea pig,” she called over her shoulder as she went. “I invented a new recipe this morning. If it gets good reviews I may enter it into a contest down in the Keys later this month.”
“If it has tranquilizers in it, I’ll take two,” Carla drawled.
“It’s only seven in the morning, is it that bad already?” Missy called from the kitchen.
“Yes,” Carla groaned, dropping her chin into her hands, elbows on the table.
Missy came back to the table bearing a tray with two of her latest cupcake creation, Cookies and Crème Cupcakes, which had crushed-up chocolate cookies in the batter, a gooey chocolate center, and marshmallow fluff frosting. The somewhat too-thin new inn owner accepted both gratefully.
“Chocolate is a food group, right?” she groaned, taking a large bite.
“Absolutely,” Missy chuckled and sipped her coffee. “Now tell me all about your morning.”
Carla unloaded her tale of woe, taking comfort from Missy’s assurances that everything would work out, and by the time she had gotten through two cupcakes and four cups of coffee, she was feeling much better. Talk then turned to Missy’s new house, and the former decorator felt as though she was on much firmer ground. The distraction was a welcome one.
“So what’s the challenge?” Carla transformed from overwhelmed inn owner to consummate decorating pro right before Missy’s eyes.
“This is going to sound silly,” Missy mused.
“Try me. I’ve heard it all in this line of work,” now it was Carla’s turn to reassure.
“The house is large and grand and beautiful, and it just doesn’t feel like home. I want to have a place where I can curl up with dogs and friends and family and be comfortable watching a movie or eating pizza on the couch without feeling like I’m violating museum rules, you know?” Missy’s eyes pled for understanding.
Carla nodded. “Sounds to me like there’s not enough YOU in the house.”
“What do you mean?” Missy frowned.
“It’s new and bright and beautiful, and doesn’t have your own special touch in it yet. Have you put any photographs out on tables? Artwork on the walls? Do you have a cute, special place for dog leashes and bowls? These are things that you need to have around you to make it feel like your own special space. The house is just an empty shell, Sweetie. It’s what you fill it with that counts,” she counseled.
“Can you help me? I absolutely loved the feel and function of the owner’s quarters over at the inn… is it possible to do something like that, but on a larger scale?”
“Of course! We can load your new home up with comfy area rugs, wonderfully textured drapes, colors that remind you of the ocean, and lots of dog-friendly furniture and surfaces. How does that sound?” Carla grinned.
“How soon can you come over?” Missy sighed with relief.
“I’m sure Maggie’s ready to get me out of her hair for a while. How about a planning session at the new house tonight after you close up here?” the decorator suggested.
“That sounds perfect.”
“Well, thank you for the sugar and caffeine transfusion, it really changed my outlook,” Carla joked, standing to go.
“You mean it wasn’t my stellar counseling skills and ultimate listening ability?” Missy teased.
“That too,” the decorator sobered. “Seriously, Missy… thank you. For everything.”
“We make a good team,” Missy hugged her friend, then picked up their dishes to take to the kitchen.
Carla had been married to a police officer who eventually became Calgon’s police chief, for most of her adult life, and with that came a certain awareness that she had that many other “civilians” didn’t have. She didn’t worry, but noted in the back of her mind that there was a suspiciously bland-looking sedan parked across the street from the cupcake shop, in which sat two men in suits. It was an odd place for them to be at this time of day, and she couldn’t think of any particular reason that they might need to be there. Making a mental note to keep an eye out for the men, the widow decided that she wouldn’t mention it to Missy and worry her unnecessarily unless there was a repeat presence, or an escalation of contact. Pretending not to notice the car, she used peripheral vision to memorize the license plate on the sedan… just in case.
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
“So we’re agreed then?” Chas asked Spencer after they’d discussed the potential candidates for receptionist at the agency.
“Yep, we’ll take both of them. Ringo the hacker can help us out with his special skills, and Holly can handle interacting with humanity. That way too, if one or the other is sick or out of town, we’ll have backup,” the Marine agreed.
“Exactly. Now we can get back to business, I’ll notify both candidates by phone and bring them back in to do paperwork tomorrow. I know that we need to explore your back yard discovery, but let’s see if we can make any headway on who the two guys were that were hanging around out front,” the PI instructed.
Spencer’s face was grim.
“What?” Chas noted the look.
“I think they’re federal.”
“That was my impression too,” the PI nodded.
“Why would there be two feds outside the agency?” Spencer asked. “I’m not a big believer in coincidences.”
Chas sighed and absently tapped a pen against his leather desk blotter. “I had hoped this wouldn’t happen. I had to pull a few strings to get the new house, and it must’ve come up on their radar.”
“What kinds of strings?” the Marine’s expression was grave. Having been an undercover operative of sorts for most of his governmental career, he knew that certain lines weren’t meant to be crossed, even when one is as wealthy as the Beckett family.
“Nothing big,” Chas shrugged. “The owner of the house is in jail. His assets have all been seized, and most of them disposed of, but the house was untouchable for some reason. No one could get paperwork to go through on it, that’s why it sat abandoned for so long.”
“Any idea why?”
“Seems to me that someone has an interest in it. A powerful enough interest that they were willing to sway local government to act on their behalf.”
“And they’re not only willing to sway the locals, they’re able, which means we’re dealing with someone who has unknown, but substantial resources,” Spencer pursed his lips. “Which makes sense, considering our find yesterday.”
Chas nodded his agreement. “I think we start by finding out who buried that box and why, and it will lead us where we need to go in the investigation.”
“We need to beef up security in the meantime.”
The PI shook his head. “Nope, not an option. We can’t let on to anyone that we realize
that something is up. That could put all of us in a considerably worse position. We play it subtle and continue our investigation.”
“The feds will know that we’ve spotted them. They know who you are, and they know who I am. Being out there this morning was posturing on their part. We might want to consider letting them in on what we found.”
Chas took a breath and paused to think, valuing the opinion and experience of the young veteran. “Let’s hold off… for now. We can take some time to do preliminary investigating, all the while knowing that the feds have our backs, in a way.”
“Providing our extra security without us asking,” Spencer finished.
“Exactly. Let’s work fast on this,” Chas sat up straight in his chair and the Marine took his cue, heading back to his office.
***
Izzy stopped short when she came out of the elevator and saw a professionally-dressed, beautiful young woman with perfect skin, long dark hair, and huge brown eyes sitting at the reception desk in Chas’s office suite, heretofore unoccupied.
“Oh, uh, hi!” she greeted the young woman, clearly surprised.
“Good morning. How may I help you today?” Holly Meadows asked politely, hands folded in front of her.
Izzy stared for a moment. “I actually don’t need any help, I’m just here to see Spencer,” she explained with a smile, recovering.
“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Bengal? I don’t see anyone in this time slot,” Holly frowned at her computer, tapping on the keyboard.
“Oh, no. I’m a… uh… friend of his,” Izzy blushed, feeling more than awkward.
Holly blinked at her for a few seconds. “I see. Is he expecting you?”
“Well, no, not really… I just thought I’d drop by and… you know what… never mind. I’ll just call him,” a fierce blush rose in Izzy’s cheeks and she beat a hasty retreat to the elevator, mentally berating herself for her strange behavior.
Vanilla Bean Killer Page 2
