S'more Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 19 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

  “Oh good, you’re not on the phone anymore,” he remarked with a smile. “Listen I just wanted to talk to you about this afternoon…”

  “Well, let’s see,” Echo interrupted. “You have an installation at 2:30, so you’ll want to start getting ready for that, you have a meeting with the downtown development committee at 4:00, so put a reminder in your phone, and then you’ve penciled in studio time from 6:00 – 9:00. I’ll be heading out around five and I’ll lock up when I go. For now, I’m going to run out to get office supplies while you’re still here, but I’ll be back before you have to leave for the installation,” she said, popping up from her chair and grabbing her purse.

  “You can’t avoid me forever, you know,” Kel called after her as she rushed for the door.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” she replied breezily, not bothering to turn around.

  **

  Echo bit back the tears as she walked the four blocks to the office supply store to purchase supplies that the gallery didn’t actually need. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t care – tried to tell herself that this man was her boss and her friend and had never been anything more, but she still had to work on breathing normally and not dissolving into tears in public.

  Pulling herself together somewhere along the way, she made her purchases, taking long enough that she’d pass Kel on his way out when she returned, and headed back to the gallery at a steady pace. When she got within a block of the elegant building, her heart dropped to her knees at the sight of Carla’s flashy little red sports car. Not willing or able to face the scheming barracuda, she cut down the alley behind the building, coming in the back door to the gallery. Slipping up the back stairs to her office, she looked at the clock and saw that it was already after 2:00, so she texted Kel.

  “I’m back from the office supply store. I have some things to get done, but don’t forget your 2:30 – thanks! ~E~

  Taking a deep breath, she reached for her desk phone and dialed the number of an overseas client whom she knew had tons of questions, so that she’d be tied up for a while and thus unable to talk to Kel before he left. Her breath caught when she heard the front door bell ring as he exited, followed by the roar of Carla’s engine.

  Chapter 9

  “Well, how would I go about finding her again?” Missy asked Chas, after telling him about the strange encounter with the young woman named Sarah.

  “I don’t know, sweetie, but she’s not a stray dog – you can’t save everyone,” he reminded his mate gently. “She’s an adult, she can handle her own life.” He loved the tenderhearted side of his wife, loved the fact that she cared so much and that she wanted to nurture every wandering soul that she met with food and kindness.

  “I know,” Missy said. “She just seemed so sad and alone.”

  “Some people thrive on sadness and solitude.”

  “She didn’t seem to be thriving,” his wife worried.

  “Look at it this way…she knows where you live. If she needs you, she’ll come to you. In the meantime, just trust that she can take care of herself, because really, that’s all that you can do at this point,” Chas pointed out realistically.

  “I know you’re right, it’s just hard to hope without knowing how she’s doing. You didn’t see how thin and pale she was.”

  “Sweetie…”

  “I know. I can’t help it,” Missy shrugged, leaning her head on his chest as they snuggled on the couch.

  “You know what might help…” he began.

  “Yes, I do,” she giggled, heading for the kitchen to create a new recipe.

  **

  Clad in her usual black, Sarah opened her back door, peering out into the early morning gloom. She stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her, having no idea that her every move was being tracked. The breath of her watcher was silent as he slipped into place, following in her footsteps, sometimes far enough away that he barely saw her, sometimes so close that he could practically reach out and touch her hair. As though she sensed him, she’d occasionally reach back to the nape of her neck and pat down the hairs that had sprung up in response to a shadow that she didn’t yet know existed.

  Her life was all about stealth, and fear and hiding, so a few hairs springing up on the back of her neck was not unusual in the least, and she took the feeling of being watched in stride. Her skin crawling and her pulse throbbing in response to everyday occurrences happened more often than not, so she merely shook off any premonitions of doom and continued on her way, entirely unaware of the watcher stalking in and out of the shadows.

  Arriving at the coffee shop a full ten minutes before her shift started, Sarah came in the employee entrance, stopped at her locker, and made her way to the bathroom before any of her coworkers spotted her. Once locked safely inside, she quickly slipped out of her funereal skirt and shirt, donning a pair of comfortable but stylish jeans and a soft, short-sleeved sweater in baby blue. She pulled off her heavy, clunky boots – the ones that had nearly taken her to the bottom of the ocean, if it hadn’t been for the intervention of that seriously handsome man – and slid her feet into simple ballet flats that were so comfortable her feet almost never hurt after her shift.

  Folding her black clothing neatly, and placing it in the bag that her “normal” clothes had come out of, Sarah opened her purse and took out a tiny makeup bag, quickly putting on lip gloss, light eyeliner and mascara, with a spot of powder dabbed on her nose to control the shine. She tossed her long, black hair up into a messy bun, and hurriedly put away the makeup bag, dropping the black clothing off in her locker and dashing to get to her spot behind the counter right on time.

  The watcher in the shadows narrowed his eyes, not accustomed to being fooled.

  **

  Spencer Bengal was starving. He had to pick up some parts for the swimming pool heater today, and had headed out without breakfast. Cupcakes in Paradise wasn’t open this early, and the guests in the inn had requested a later breakfast, so Maggie didn’t have anything prepared either. Spotting a bustling little coffee shop along the way, he made the snap decision to pull over and grab a bagel and coffee to go.

  The young Marine stood in line, his stomach complaining rather loudly, and gazed up at the sign which detailed the food and drinks that were served in the establishment. Having decided what to order, he stepped up when it was his turn and stood open-mouthed for a moment, staring at the cashier. He glanced down at her name tag to be certain, then said, “Sarah?”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” she pointed to the name tag with a polite smile. “What can I do for you?”

  He gave her his order, and while she was ringing it up, he quietly asked if she was okay.

  “Umm…yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” the young woman who looked so much like the nymph he’d pulled from the ocean replied. He must’ve been mistaken, this very normal-looking young lady was nothing like the morose woman in black that he had encountered.

  “Oh…uh, yeah, sorry about that,” he shrugged. “I thought you were someone I’d met before. My mistake,” he smiled politely, handing her a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change – thanks,” he said, moving down to wait for his drink and “Everything” bagel with fresh chive cream cheese.

  “Have a nice day,” the young woman smiled professionally and then addressed the next customer, obviously thinking nothing of the interaction.

  “You too,” Spencer said half-heartedly, not noticing that she kept stealing glances at him while he waited for his order.

  Chapter 10

  “Morning Kel,” Missy greeted the artist with a smile. “I think you’re going to love the new cupcakes that I’ve created,” she enthused, offering him a light orange-colored cupcake topped with white fluffy frosting and a drizzle of what looked like caramel sauce.

  “Undoubtedly I will, fair Missy,” he smiled, accepting two of the delectable-looking goodies. “Where’s your trusted sidekick this morning?” he asked, referring, of course, to Echo.

  “Poor
dear wasn’t feeling well, so I took her some soup and magazines and told her to rest.”

  “Oh my…her malaise may very well be at least partially my fault,” Kel sighed.

  “Really? How? Are you sick?” Missy stepped away unconsciously.

  The artist grinned. “No, dearest. I wish it were that simple. Please, sit, and I shall regale you with the tale of a complete misunderstanding that I fear may have caused our mutually beloved friend to take to her bed.”

  Missy sat, reaching for a cupcake and taking a long sip from her mug of coffee, while Kel filled her in on what had happened at the restaurant, and later at the gallery.

  “Oh…poor Echo,” she murmured.

  “Indeed,” the artist nodded. “She won’t take my calls and has yet to reply to my good morning text,” he said gravely.

  “So she has no idea that the meetings with Carla were completely business-related,” Missy sighed.

  “I’m afraid not,” he frowned.

  “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry,” she assured him. “But I have a question for you.”

  “Fire away, fair lady,” he replied, taking a massive bite of his carrot-ginger cupcake with vanilla bean frosting and brown sugar/cinnamon topping.

  She told him about Spencer rescuing Sarah from the water, and about the girl’s peculiar behavior. “Do you happen to know anyone in town who fits that description?” she asked. “Chas said that I should just trust that she’ll be able to take care of herself, but I worry about the poor little thing,” she looked hopefully at her friend, who frowned, thinking.

  “That description really doesn’t ring any bells, but I’ll do some checking around,” he promised.

  “Oh, and just one more thing…” she said, suddenly remembering a recent conversation with Chas. “I know I’m probably just being a busybody, who is way too involved in the details of her husband’s work, but solving mysteries is so exciting, I just can’t help myself,” she grinned, blushing just a bit.

  “And?” Kel prompted, amused.

  “And…do you know James Jones by any chance?” she asked.

  “Triple J? I can’t say that I know him, but I know of him. Why do you ask?”

  “Triple J?” Missy was confused. “Why do you call him that?”

  “James Jebediah Jones. He’s quite a character from what I understand,” Kel replied.

  “Really? How so?”

  “He married young. His wife was the Calgon homecoming queen, and he was on track to go to school on a baseball scholarship, but she got pregnant with their first child right after graduation, so he had to give up college and go to work. He eventually got a degree in accounting, and has been crunching numbers ever since, but no one has really seen his wife, Ruth, since the baby died.”

  “The baby died?” Missy’s hands went to her throat.

  “Stillbirth. They say Ruthie was never the same afterwards. They had another child eventually I think, but Triple J is a totally different man than the happy-go-lucky lad who thought he was going to be a professional baseball player, if the rumors are true,” he shrugged. “I’ve seen him quite a bit recently. He doesn’t look particularly well,” he mused.

  “You’ve seen him? How recently?” Missy put down her cupcake.

  “Last night, the night before, maybe even the night before that as well. He’s been hitting the bars lately, for the first time ever, as far as I know.”

  “Kel, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Missy jumped up and kissed him on the cheek, heading for the door. Mind things here for a moment, please. I’ll be right back,” she promised.

  Chapter 11

  The watcher in the shadows had arrived at Sarah’s house long before she did, and was there to see her trudge slowly up the back steps, dressed in black, no makeup highlighting her weary features. He felt a strange kinship with the pale young woman, seeing the same darkness in her eyes that lurked in his own. Hers were eyes that had seen too much, knew too much, as were his. She spent her days hiding behind a veil of normalcy, but it was here, where she lived, that her darkness showed through the cracks. The darkness oozed out beneath the mask that she adopted for survival.

  He waited silently, barely breathing, listening, waiting, when the cool Fall air was split by an earth-shattering scream, and he slipped away, into the night.

  **

  A combination of sensations unlike any she’d ever experienced before ripped through Sarah’s soul. She was horrified at the carnage splayed out on the kitchen floor, but rather excited at what it meant for her new life in the freedom of sunlight…and of course, on the heels of that excitement came the guilt of being excited about something so horrific. She screamed long and loud, gagged, trembled, then screamed again. Tears never flowed, and there was no sense of regret or loss, just the faintest shadow of wondering what might happen next.

  **

  An anonymous call had come in, reporting screams at an address with which Chas had become all too familiar. He’d hunted all over town for James Jones, and figured he’d now find him, lifeless in his own home, the final victim of his wife’s obsessive cleansing. He headed over to the dreary grey house himself, rather than just sending uniforms to do a wellness check, because something in his gut told him that this one was going to be ugly and unusual.

  Detective Chas Beckett pounded on the front door, identifying himself, checked the knob to see if it was unlocked and had begun to consider going around to the back, when at last it slowly creaked open. A pale young woman dressed in black, stood trembling and covered with blood, gazing up at the detective with large, dark eyes. He looked past her and saw her footprints in blood on the plastic runner that led to the kitchen.

  “Are you…” he began, but was unable to finish his sentence as the young woman in front of him swayed and fell to the floor in a dead faint before he could catch her.

  “Call an ambulance,” the detective barked out to the officers behind him as he knelt beside the fallen girl to check for a pulse. “And send two around back to make sure no one came out that way.”

  Leaving an officer to watch over the still-breathing and apparently physically intact young woman, Chas moved slowly into the house, his weapon drawn. Careful not to disturb the bloody footprints in the hallway, he made his way to the kitchen and found Ruth Jones lying in a large puddle of thick, sticky blood on her formerly spotless linoleum.

  “Call the coroner,” he said grimly to the uniformed officer covering his back. The woman’s throat had been slashed too profoundly to even consider feeling for a pulse, so Chas directed his team to check the rest of the house for intruders and did a cursory examination of the crime scene, looking for obvious clues as to what had happened. It appeared, by looking at the footprints, smears and spots, that the young woman who lay unconscious in the front hall had committed the heinous crime, but if she hadn’t, based upon the stains on her hands and clothing, she had certainly handled the body for some reason.

  Hearing raised voices in the vicinity of the back door, Chas paused in his assessment of the scene to go check on this latest development.

  “This is my house and I have every right to enter it,” a man yelled as Chas appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry sir,” the uniformed officer with whom he was arguing refused to budge. “This is a crime scene. No one goes in or out other than authorized personnel,” he explained, blocking the stairs.

  “James Jones,” the detective recognized him and came out the door. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you. I’m afraid I have some very bad news.”

  Chapter 12

  James Jones sat across from Detective Chas Beckett in an interrogation room, head in his hands.

  “How well did your daughter get along with her mother?” Chas asked the distraught father.

  “Sarah is a good girl. She always did what she was told – never talked back. She was quiet and helpful, and did her chores sometimes two or three times if they didn’t pass muster,” James replied, shaking his head.
<
br />   “Would you say they had a close relationship?” the detective tried again.

  “They had a typical parent-child relationship, I suppose. My wife wasn’t an easy person to be close to. I think Sarah was a bit intimidated by her mother,” he admitted.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Ruth was very strict. She had high expectations and her rules had to be followed precisely, or there were…consequences. She was a bit of a disciplinarian.”

  “Consequences? What sort of consequences?” Chas probed.

  James teared up and cleared his throat a couple of times while the detective went over his notes to give the man some time to pull himself together. He took a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.

  “It depended upon what Sarah had done…or hadn’t done. Sometimes she would get locked in a closet, sometimes she’d be forced to eat nothing but half a piece of dried toast, sometimes she’d get scrubbed in a bathtub full of cold water with a hard-bristled brush, or spanked with a switch,” he said shakily, looking down at the table.

  A muscle in Chas’s jaw flexed as he considered the man carefully.

  “And why, exactly, did you allow your wife to treat your child this way?” he asked, fighting hard to keep his tone and expression neutral.

  James looked up, his eyes bloodshot and miserable, and met the detective’s gaze.

  “My wife wasn’t well, hadn’t been for a long time. I thought it was a little strange at first, that she seemed a little too overprotective. She didn’t want to take Sarah outside, because of strangers and germs and all sorts of things that seemed to be dangerous to her. I didn’t know much about parenting, so I trusted her to do the parenting while I earned a living,” he shook his head.

  “Then, when Sarah got older, she’d tell me about things that happened to her while I was at work, and sometimes it just made me sick,” he grimaced.