Cozy Mystery Bundle #1 (South Lane Detective Agency)

by John P. Logsdon

  She put her coffee down and stretched her arms as she yawned. “A good night’s sleep, a fifty-thousand-dollar paycheck from that horse job, and the fact that it’s been three days since I’ve been in the office.”

  “Ah, yes,” Zane agreed with a grin. “Weekends are fun, aren’t they? Getting away from the work and all.”

  Casey eyed him. “The work... Right, yes, it’s the work that I was glad to be away from.”

  “Yep. So Casey is on top of the world, eh?” He leaned in and winked. “I wonder how long that will last.”

  “I’m wondering the same thing. So—”

  Amber’s voice interrupted their banter, causing Casey to jump. “Mr. Wolfe, there’s a call...” she began, then stopped when she saw Casey. “Oh, good morning, Ms. Lane.”

  “Hi, Amber,” Casey said. “I thought you’d left us to go to France?”

  “Just for the weekend. I’m back now, though.”

  “Yes, I can see that, thank you. But you were with that really wealthy cowboy guy, right?”

  “Bimbo,” Zane said helpfully.

  “It’s not nice to call her that, Zane,” Casey hissed.

  “What?” Zane said, looking confused. “No, that’s the guy’s name. Bimbo. Jack Bimbo.”

  Amber sighed. “It’s Bingo. Jack Bingo.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s it.”

  “Bingo says he likes his women to be independent,” Amber explained, “so he asked me to keep my job.”

  Casey raised her eyebrows. “Huh.”

  “Huh, what?” Zane said.

  “Just sounds a little fishy, if you ask me.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s none of my business, but it seems to me that he’s able to fool around a lot if she’s not with him.”

  Amber laughed and shook her head, her long blond hair swinging around her bare shoulders. “Bingo wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”

  “He wouldn’t?” Zane said.

  “How do you know, Amber?” Casey said, suddenly feeling protective of the girl.

  “Because he said he was a one-woman man. That’s why he marries them all.”

  “I see,” Casey said with a nod.

  “I don’t,” Zane said, still looking confused.

  Casey snorted at Zane. “I’m not surprised you don’t.”

  “Anyway,” Amber continued, “sorry, but there’s been a call holding for Mr. Wolfe.”

  Zane headed for the phone on his desk, turning back to Amber as he sat down. “Who is it?”

  “Mr. Wolfe,” Amber said matter-of-factly.

  Zane smiled at her apparent joke. “No, not who is it for... Who is on the call?”

  “Mr. Wolfe,” Amber repeated a little more loudly.

  “Amber, look, we have...” Zane began, but then his eyes went wide. “Wait, are you saying that my father is on the phone?”

  The girl nodded. “Yes.”

  Zane shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “Uh oh,” he muttered.

  “This should be fun,” Casey said as a giggle escaped her lips.

  She enjoyed watching Zane struggling to compose himself in these types of situations. He was ever the playboy, except when Mommy and Daddy were around. Then he became the dutiful son. Mostly, anyway. Next to his father, Zane was what you may consider... responsible.

  Amber looked back and forth between them before turning back to her desk and sashaying away.

  “Says he has a job for the agency,” she said over her shoulder.

  “What?” Casey and Zane said in unison.

  Uh oh, indeed, thought Casey.

  WINNING A TEAM

  Zane pushed the speaker-phone button and then sat back in his chair. “Dad?”

  “Do you make all your customers wait this long,” Mr. Wolfe said with a grunt, “or just your dear old dad?”

  “Sorry,” Zane said, sitting back up. “I had stepped out of the office for a few minutes to grab a muffin and—”

  “I’m just playing with you, boy.” Mr. Wolfe chuckled heartily. “You gotta relax. You’re always too wound up. Worried about everything. Don’t know where you get that. Probably your mother.”

  “Probably.”

  “What you need is a night with a woman,” Mr. Wolfe continued. “Doesn’t have to be one of those supermodel types either, you know? Just find a girl who’s a bit plain. Like that one you dated in college. What was her name again?”

  “Casey,” Casey offered.

  “Ah, yes, that’s it. Casey. Nice girl. Not hot like most of the girls you dated, but she had brains.”

  “Thanks,” Casey said.

  “You bet. Where’s she at anyway? I’m sure she’s not married yet.”

  Zane cleared his throat. “She’s, uh... Well...”

  “She’s sitting in the office here listening to this conversation,” Casey said.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, boy. You sure are quick.”

  “Dad, you may recall that I invested money in the South Lane Detective Agency so that Casey could get it going?”

  “Nope.”

  “You made me work with her to draw up a business plan and everything, Dad.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sounds like something I’d do.” He laughed again. “Well, she’s working for you now then, eh? Gotta be careful with that situation. Don’t want to get sued for harassment.”

  “Actually,” Casey said proudly, “I’m the majority owner of the business, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Say it isn’t so, Zane.”

  “I never planned on being anything more than an investor, but then I thought it would be good to start working here. I’m planning on being a writer, Dad.”

  There was a long pause while Casey and Zane stared at the telephone.

  “A writer?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, hopefully you’re going to use a pen name.”

  “Why?”

  “To spare our family name, son,” Mr. Wolfe said as though the point should have been obvious. “Either way, I’m glad to hear you’re finally getting your hands dirty. I’ve been getting a little tired of you spending all of my inheritance, you know.”

  Casey was intrigued at his use of that particular word. She had always thought Zane’s father had been the one to make the family fortune.

  “Wait, you didn’t earn that money either, Mr. Wolfe?” she ventured.

  “Depends on your perspective, young lady. My father’s constant complaining about my spending of his inheritance could be considered a job, let me tell you.”

  “So your father also didn’t make all those millions?”

  “Nah. It was my great-grandfather. He’d bought up a bunch of land in Texas and it ended up being full of oil. Then he married my great-grandmother and she laid it out so we were set for ten generations.”

  “Then you still have quite a few years of money left,” Casey remarked, duly impressed.

  Zeke Wolfe let out another chuckle. “I know, but what fun is there to being a parent if you can’t nag your children?”

  “Right,” said Casey as she glanced at Zane.

  “So,” Zane said, trying to take back control of the conversation, “Amber said you had a job for us?”

  “Who’s Amber?” Mr. Wolfe said.

  Zane leaned in closer to the phone. “The receptionist.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, I got something I need a little help with.”

  “What is it?”

  “I was playing a game of golf out in Scotland against Ted Aston a couple months back, and we put a sizable bet down on the outcome.”

  “You’re talking about the owner of the baseball farm team here in town?” Zane said.

  “Yep. Well, I whooped him something fierce and so now I own that damn baseball team.”

  “We own a baseball team?” Zane said, an incredulous expression on his handsome face.

  “We don’t, boy,” Mr. Wolfe pointed out, “I do. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be sure to get you a
couple of passes and coupons for some free hot dogs.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You bet. Anyhoo, the team has been losing terribly ever since the transaction and I’m pretty sure I know why.”

  Zane rolled his eyes and shook his head while staring at Casey. She hated it when he did that. It made him seem almost normal.

  “Because you know nothing about how to run a baseball team?” suggested Zane.

  “I’m sure he has people to handle the day-to-day operations,” Casey chimed in.

  “She’s right, I do. Nope, the problem is that our mascot has gone missing.”

  “As in, ran away?” Casey said.

  “Don’t know if he’s run away, been kidnapped, or what. I just know that he’s gone.”

  “I see.” She thought about this for a moment. “Sorry, but why would a missing mascot make your team go on a losing streak?”

  Zane narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you seriously know nothing about sports?”

  “I know about curling,” she replied defiantly.

  “Curling?” Zane said.

  “What the hell is that?” Mr. Wolfe said, echoing Zane’s question.

  “You know, that sport up in Canada where they push the stone down the ice and a couple of people sweep in front of it to control the angle and distance it travels?” Casey was gesturing with her hands even though she knew Mr. Wolfe couldn’t see her. She hoped it would at least help Zane recognize what she was talking about.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zane said, causing Casey to sigh.

  “Sounds like some form of ice darts, except dumber,” Mr. Wolfe said.

  “Anyway,” Zane continued, ignoring Casey’s failed explanation, “players tend to be pretty superstitious. Losing a mascot means that they’re losing their routine.”

  “And they’re also losing their cheering section,” Mr. Wolfe added.

  Zane nodded. “Half the fun is watching the kids throw peanuts at the guy in the funny suit.”

  “That’s my favorite part,” Mr. Wolfe said as he let out a deep laugh.

  “Okay, I get it.” She understood the premise anyway. “Honestly, I’ll never understand how men have made it as far as they have in this world.”

  “Sounds like my wife talking.”

  “Yep,” Zane said.

  “Look, I gotta grab a bite to eat and get down to the stadium,” Mr. Wolfe stated. “You all going to take the case or not?”

  “Of course we will.”

  Casey put up her hand. “Wait. How much does it pay?”

  “You’re going to charge family?” Mr. Wolfe said as if he were choking.

  “Of course we won’t,” Zane said, giving Casey a warning glance.

  “Good, because...”

  “I’m not family,” Casey said matter-of-factly.

  Zane glared at her. “Casey.”

  “Sorry, Zane, but you’ve pointed it out over and over again that I’m too lenient on setting prices.”

  “Well, yeah, but it’s my dad.”

  “So?”

  “So you don’t charge family,” Mr. Wolfe said.

  “Again, Mr. Wolfe, I’m not family.”

  “How much of that place do you own, boy?”

  “Forty-nine percent.”

  “Fine, take your normal price and knock forty-nine percent off it and we’ll have a deal,” Mr. Wolfe said, as if the matter were closed.

  “Great idea. Thanks, Dad.”

  “You bet.”

  Casey heard the click as Mr. Wolfe disconnected the call. She stood up and pointed her finger at Zane.

  “That’s not how it works, bonehead.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No!”

  “Well, you can’t change it up now. We already made a deal.”

  “No, we didn’t made a deal, Zane.”

  Zane paused, looking at her quizzically. “You don’t seem as happy as you did when you came in this morning.”

  Casey put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side, giving him a look that she hoped conveyed her annoyance. “I wonder what could have possibly caused that?”

  “Not sure,” he replied, grimacing, “but you sure have been moody lately.”

  “Moody?”

  “Yeah.” He tapped a finger on his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “You know, I remember seeing something about this on that show Dr. Bill.”

  “It’s Dr. Phil,” she corrected before jolting. “Wait, you watch Dr. Phil?”

  “I was bored,” he said with a shrug. “Anyway, it could be that your moodiness is happening because you’re going through something called ‘the change.’”

  Casey laughed. “I’m barely thirty years old, Zane,” she said, assuming that would put him in his place.

  “Oh, so maybe you’ve already gone through it?”

  Casey just stared at him, wondering what she’d ever seen in the man.

  “Idiot.”

  THE STADIUM

  Casey could hear the noise from the crowd before they’d even entered the stadium, along with the overpowering aroma of hot dogs, popcorn, and…grease. Her stomach roiled in apprehension. She eyed the field and could see the team warming up at the plate. Then someone familiar entered her field of vision, and she smiled.

  “Master Wolfe, is that you?” Mortimer, Zeke Wolfe’s assistant, said.

  The man was fully gray now, and looked a little frailer than the last time she had seen him, but other than that he was the same Mortimer she remembered from years ago.

  Zane stopped on the stairs to greet his father’s trusted employee. “Oh, hey, Morty. How’s it hanging?”

  “I am well, thank you for asking. And, how is your participle dangling these days?”

  “Participle?” Casey said.

  Zane leaned in and whispered in her ear. “He’s not much for guy talk.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m good. Dad asked me to come down to look into a problem that they’re having with the mascot here.”

  “But the mascot is missing, young sir.”

  “That’s the problem,” Zane said with a wink.

  “I see.” Mortimer lifted his hand and pointed up in the stands. “Your father is up in the owner’s box.”

  “How come you’re not up there with him?” Zane said.

  “Baseball is not one of my fondest pastimes, I’m afraid. I’m more of a curling type of fellow.”

  “No kidding,” Zane said, and then pointed at Casey. “You girls should hang out together.”

  “Miss Lane, yes?” Mortimer said, reaching out his hand and grasping hers.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mortimer.” Casey was surprised he still remembered her name after all this time.

  “Of all the trysts that Master Zane had over the years, you were always my favorite.”

  Casey wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment, but decided to smile anyway.

  “Thank you, Mortimer. Um, that’s very kind of you to say.”

  “I speak only as the heart directs, dear.”

  “You two should get season tickets to one of those squirling things,” Zane said with a laugh as he looked out at the field.

  “Curling, idiot,” Casey said.

  “Whatever.” He looked at his watch. “Well, we should go. Dad’s waiting for us.”

  “Fine. Nice to see you again, Mortimer.”

  “You as well, my dear.”

  Casey and Zane walked side by side through the hallway to the elevators, though Casey almost fell behind a couple of times when her shoe stuck to the floor. She didn’t want to know what it was that she had stepped in. Sleuth or not, sometimes it was better not to know.

  They got in the elevator and once again she was overwhelmed with the stadium’s aroma. She shook her head and looked at Zane, but he appeared completely unaffected. When the elevator doors opened, the guard checked Zane’s identification and let them through to the owner’s box, where Mr. Wolfe was standing with
a bunch of other rich-looking men. Zeke Wolfe stood out from the rest, however, since he was a handsome, older version of Zane. The older man was in great shape, had salt-and-pepper graying hair, and wore a perfectly tailored suit. He looked like he would be right at home no matter where he was.

  Zane walked up to him and smiled at the group before turning to his father.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “You’re late,” Mr. Wolfe said, giving Zane an irritated look as he crossed his arms.

  “We are?”

  “I wasn’t aware that we had set a particular time,” Casey stated.

  “You said you’d come right over.” Mr. Wolfe had his hands up in a what-the-heck gesture now. “Should only have taken, like, ten minutes.”

  Zane nodded. “We took her car, Dad.”

  “The hound thing?”

  “It’s a Honda, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Right, that,” Mr. Wolfe said, turning to Zane and giving him a once-over. “You’re braver than I thought, boy.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Now there were two of them picking on her, Casey realized.

  “Can we get started on the investigation, please?” she said.

  Mr. Wolfe looked at her as he shifted on his feet. “You mean the ‘Detectiving,’ right?

  “Technically, we’re PIs, Dad.”

  “Then why’s the business name have the word ‘detective’ in it?”

  “Casey’s too cheap to change it.”

  “It’s our brand. I can’t just change the brand without...” Casey sighed. “You know what? I don’t need to explain this again. Just let it go already.”

  Mr. Wolfe leaned over to Zane and whispered loudly, “Really does remind me of your mother.”

  “Speaking of which, where is Mom?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Mr. Wolfe shook his head. “Last I saw her, she was heading to France or Greece or something.”

  “Haven’t talked to her in a couple of months,” Zane said. “I should give her a call.”

  “Better you than me.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Casey tried again, “but do you have any clues at all regarding the disappearance of this mascot?”

  “Not much. The security guards looked around the area and such, but they didn’t find anything.”

  “Does the mascot’s suit usually sit in a particular room?”

  “Yeah. Down in the basement, but the suit’s gone.”