Apple Cider Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 18 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

  “I was in my room, the drunken oaf came in and manhandled me, I kicked him where it counts and screamed bloody murder and he ran away,” she said, looking at a spot somewhere over Chas’s right shoulder.

  “Was your door locked?” the detective asked, bracing himself.

  “What is this? An inquisition? I’m the victim, here. Why are you interrogating me?” she snapped.

  “I have to have more concise information in order to build a case against your attacker,” he informed her coolly.

  “Oh. Well, then. Yes, my door was locked, he must be a burglar too,” she wrinkled her nose.

  “Where were you when the attacker came in to your room?”

  “Where do you think I was at this hour of the night? I was in bed, where all decent people should be,” she frowned.

  “So, he approached your bed. Then what happened?”

  “I woke up and told him to get out, of course.”

  “And then?”

  “He bent down to try and kiss me,” Kendra shuddered.

  “How did you respond?”

  “I pushed him away and told him to get out.”

  “How did he react?”

  “He bit my neck and pulled my shirt open,” she looked away, seeming vulnerable for the first time.

  “Can I see where he bit you?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

  “Right here,” she said, lifting up her hair and pointing to a patch of bruised skin, just below her ear, and Chas snapped a picture of it.

  “Hey, I did not give you permission to take my picture,” she said, her strident tone returning with a vengeance.

  “Just collecting evidence against the perpetrator,” Chas assured her smoothly. “Is this the same blouse that you were wearing?” he asked.

  “Yes, the animal ruined it,” she said. “Look at the tear on the shoulder,” she pointed out, clutching the neck of the blouse together because of some missing buttons. Chas snapped a picture of the tear, but didn’t ask to see the front of the blouse, respecting Kendra’s modesty.

  “Was this the outfit that you were wearing when you were attacked?”

  “Yes, thankfully he didn’t get near my jeans,” she shuddered again.

  “Did you suffer any other physical injuries?” the detective asked, taking notes.

  “Isn’t this enough?? Don’t you dare try to belittle my trauma…” she began what looked to be another tirade, but Chas put his hand up to stop her.

  “I need to mention all physical injuries in my report in order to build the strongest case,” he reminded her. “So if there’s anything else that could count against the perpetrator, I need to know about it.”

  “He grabbed my wrist,” she said, showing the detective a small red area near her left wrist, which he photographed.

  “Were there any lights on in the room so that you could confidently identify your attacker?”

  “Oh, I can identify him alright. It was that nasty Lyle Vance,” she snarled.

  “And what lights were on that enabled you to see him clearly?” Chas asked again.

  “I always leave the bathroom light on with the door cracked when I’m in a strange place. And I recognized his voice too,” she added.

  “He spoke? What did he say?”

  “I don’t remember the words, I just remember that it scared me.”

  “And then you kicked him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you screamed and ran from the room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was Mr. Vance at that time?”

  “On the floor.”

  “Sounds like you know how to take care of yourself pretty well, Mrs. Covington,” Chas complimented her. “Was he in pain while he was on the floor?”

  “Oh yeah, he was,” she preened at the detective’s compliment.

  “How bad did his pain seem?”

  “He was writhing,” she replied, seeming to relish the words.

  Chas nodded, jotting down notes. “What happened next?”

  “I came down here to find help, and your innkeeper sent the soldier with the bad attitude up to find the attacker.”

  “And he was gone by the time that Spencer got up there?”

  “Yes, but goodness only knows how long it took the boy to get up there. He’s not fond of me, you know,” she confided bitterly.

  “I’ll talk with him about it,” the detective promised. “Anything else that I should know?”

  “Well, I think, considering all that I’ve been through on this hellish visit to this primitive town, I should at least receive a refund for the cost of renting out the inn,” she blinked at him.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Chas snapped his notebook shut, jaw muscles twitching.

  Chapter 16

  Missy and Echo were already sitting at their usual bistro table with coffee when Kel came in to join them.

  “Fair Missy, whatever is wrong?” he asked, alarmed by the sight of her puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

  She explained what had happened the previous night with Toffee, and was relieved to report that the beloved pet was out of danger, but would need to stay in the hospital for a couple more days. Chas had received the phone call from the vet first thing this morning, and they had taken Bitsy over, at the vet’s request, to keep Toffee’s spirits up. The weakened animal thumped her tail lightly when she saw her mistress, but didn’t quite have the strength to get up, so Missy kept her visit brief to allow her sweet girl adequate time to rest.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” the artist clucked. “I have some good news that I think may lift your spirits,” he smiled, patting her hand and reaching for the plate of red velvet cupcakes that she had set out.

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Echo chided him gently. “Let’s hear it.”

  “As it turns out, the Mitchells have no ill will toward young Spencer. They even hired him to work for them after the breakup, but their spoiled little offspring caused such a fuss over him being there, that they had to let him go,” Kel explained. “He has neither seen, nor heard from the daughter, Savannah, since, and is still on more than pleasant terms with Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, so the chances of him wanting to take revenge on the family farm, by committing murder on the premises, are slim to none,” he finished with a broad grin. “Your boy is off the hook, in that regard. There’s still the matter of his spit-spat with Mrs. Covington and her late husband,” he sobered.

  “Well, according to Chas, Lyle Vance may have attacked Kendra Covington last night,” Missy confided, in a voice that warned them not to repeat the info.

  Kel snickered. “Is that before or after he ended up lying face down in front of Bad Boyz Bar and Grill?”

  Echo and Missy both turned to stare at the artist.

  “What? What do you mean?” Missy asked, her intuition tickling.

  “Lyle Vance got to BBB&G just after seven or so. He waved when he came in, having recognized me as the one soul brave enough to talk with him during afternoon tea,” Kel began.

  “Wait…what were you doing at Bad Boyz? I wouldn’t have thought it to be your preferred type of establishment,” Echo remarked.

  “Quite right, my fiery beauty,” he nodded. “But their Zesty Wings are to die for, and they were on sale last night because it was Wing Wednesday.” Echo made a face – in her vegan world, wings sounded more like a form of torture rather than something to put in one’s mouth.

  “So, you said Lyle passed out in front of the bar?” Missy brought the other two back into focus. “When was that?”

  “Well, let’s see…the barkeep had just given the last call, so…that must’ve been around 1:30, maybe 1:45. Poor chap staggered out, voided the contents of his stomach on the mailbox out front, and collapsed onto the sidewalk,” Kel wrinkled his nose remembering the unpleasant scene.

  “What happened to him after that?” Missy asked, seemingly in a hurry.

  “I believe our industrious boys in blue shipped him off to the local drunk tank,” he shrugged.
>
  “So, theoretically, he could be in the Calgon jail right now?” she persisted.

  “I would imagine,” was the artist’s reply.

  “Excuse me you two, I have to go make a phone call,” Missy hurried out of the shop, pulling her phone from her back pocket, leaving a very confused Echo and Kel behind.

  Chapter 17

  Detective Chas Beckett waited at his desk to hear back from the lab. He’d put a rush request on a couple of tests, and the results would determine how many charges the murderer of Carlson Covington would face.

  “Beckett,” he barked, when his desk phone rang.

  “Chas, it’s Missy…”

  The detective listened carefully to what his wife had to say, then gave her some instructions that she found hard to accept.

  “Sweetie, you have to trust me on this…I’m about to make an arrest, but you can’t tell anyone what you just told me. Tell Echo and Kel to keep it to themselves as well, and whatever you do, don’t go back to the inn, and don’t eat or drink anything unless you buy it somewhere else. Go back to the tea room and stay put with Echo and Kel, or you can lock it down and the three of you go out to breakfast or something, but don’t return to the inn,” he directed, as the lab tech came in and handed him the folder containing his results.

  “But, Chas, I…” Missy began, totally confused.

  “I’ve gotta run, Sweetie. Please, just trust me,” the detective said, and the line went dead.

  **

  Lyle Vance was still passed out on a cold cement bench in the Calgon holding cell, and at the moment, that was probably the safest place for him to be. Chas gave the jail attendant strict instructions to not release that particular prisoner, even after he sobered up, then jogged out of the building to his car and careened out of the parking lot.

  **

  Spencer Bengal’s jaw was set as he moved through what looked like ordinary tasks with the stealth and practice of a seasoned warrior. If, by chance, anyone saw him, it would look as though he were merely trimming bushes, painting trim, or weeding the gardens, when in reality, he was watching, waiting, and coldly contemplating. No one noticed when the decorated Marine slipped into the inn. None of the breakfasting guests saw or heard the trained sniper who flitted in and out of shadows with poise and purpose, and no one suspected for a moment that there was a killer in their midst.

  **

  Chas was relieved that Missy had called. Now that he knew she was safe, he had to get to the inn before any more victims succumbed to the lethality of a cold-blooded psychotic killer. He sped up the steps leading into the main foyer, opened the door without a sound, and silently closed it behind him, listening. He heard the ticking of the grandfather clock a few feet in front of him, and muted voices from the guests eating breakfast in the dining room. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he whipped it out to look at it. With a determined grimace, he nodded when he read the message and quickly typed in a one word reply – “Now.”

  **

  Every guest who was seated for breakfast at the inn, was startled when Detective Chas Beckett appeared in the doorway that led from the Wedgewood Parlor to the dining room. Knowing the cold and highly physical prowess of the suspect, the detective was ready to charge and tackle if necessary, but for the moment, he stood blocking the exit from the dining room into the parlor.

  “Everyone in this room, stop eating and drinking immediately, your lives may be in danger,” he commanded, in a room where, suddenly, one could hear a pin drop. Spoons and cups were lowered as several pairs of eyes regarded Chas with fear.

  Staring right at the killer, he said, “Kendra Covington, you are under arrest for the murder of Carlson Covington, criminally endangering an animal, unlawful possession of a controlled substance, and making a false report of a crime,” he stated, never taking his eyes from the woman.

  Eyes darting back and forth like a trapped animal, the fitness instructor leaped from her seat and made a beeline for the exit through the kitchen, and she might have made it if the hulking form of Spencer Bengal hadn’t blocked her progress.

  “Not today,” he said through gritted teeth, quickly submitting her with an arm hold.

  “Great work, Spencer – I couldn’t have done it without you,” Chas commended the young man, who had been helping him keep an eye on Kendra from the very beginning.

  “Thank you, sir,” the Marine gave a quick nod.

  Police began arriving in droves, and they soon had Mrs. Covington in the back of a cruiser, after informing her of her rights.

  Chapter 18

  It was a beautifully sunny Fall day in Florida, so Missy left the front door of Cupcakes in Paradise open, in order to watch over her beloved Toffee snoozing peacefully on the porch, curled around her canine friend, Bitsy. She hadn’t been able to let her furry golden baby out of her sight since she had come home from the hospital, and she’d been very grateful that her husband had kept the information from her, that Kendra had poisoned the dog deliberately, until the woman had safely been spirited away in the back of a police car. Missy’s reaction had been profound, and she did not know if it would’ve been possible to restrain her fury if she’d ever set eyes on the evil woman again.

  “So tell us everything…what happened, and how did Chas figure it out?” Kel badgered her, too excited to even look at his cupcake.

  “I’m entirely non-violent, but I want to do unspeakable things to that woman,” Echo fumed, gripping her coffee mug so hard that Missy thought she might break it.

  “Whoa, down girl,” she smiled at her friends’ fierce loyalty. “Thankfully, it’s all over, and the legal system will give Kendra Covington what she deserves.”

  “So…tell us,” Kel prompted again.

  “Chas, for some reason, had suspected Kendra all along, so when she threw the big fit about Toffee having chewed up one of her shoes, he had Spencer pull them out of the trash, and he took them to the police lab for testing,” Missy explained, filling in the background.

  “Testing for what? Echo leaned forward.

  “Well, when he examined the shoes, there was a strange substance on them that smelled like pate, and when he took it in to Maggie, to show her, she said that a container of her pate had gone missing and she had just assumed that one of the guests had helped themselves, even though that practice was frowned upon. When she went up to clean the rooms, he asked her to check the mini-fridge in Kendra’s room, and sure enough, there was a tub of pate in there.”

  “Why on earth would she want to entice Toffee to chew on her shoe?” Echo was astounded.

  “Well, if you remember, Carlson Covington was strangled to death, and they were trying to determine what kind of ligature had been used. The lab analyzed the fibers that were embedded in his neck, along with the weave imprinted at the site, and compared it to Carla’s shoelace…”

  “And it matched,” Kel exclaimed.

  “Yes, it did,” Missy nodded.

  “But, how did she do it?” Echo wondered.

  “Well, she’s very athletic, and apparently, she caught him off guard. All of the witnesses say that she went into the corn maze first, and Carlson went second. She had to have wound her way into the corn, and waited until he walked by to surprise him and jump on his back without him ever knowing what hit him. She was the first one to go into the maze, but was the last one to leave it, and surprise, surprise, none of her monster stamps were filled out, and none of the monsters ever saw her. She was apparently strong enough to pull her dead husband’s body off of the main trail enough to conceal it, then she relaced her shoe and headed for the exit. Her daughter remembered that she tied her shoe right after coming out of the maze.”

  “But, why on earth would she have killed her own husband?” Echo asked, horrified.

  “According to their daughter, Carlson had threatened to divorce her and cut her out of his will if she didn’t start treating Chelsea’s husband-to-be with dignity and kindness. He certainly had no great love for Lyle, but Max makes
his daughter happy, so he supported the marriage,” Missy explained.

  “Well, at least the pompous devil had some sort of heart,” Kel remarked dryly.

  “Kel, don’t speak ill of the dead,” Echo admonished him.

  “Why? They can’t hurt me,” he replied reasonably.

  “Was she ever actually attacked by Lyle Vance, then?” Echo asked, ignoring Kel.

  “No, that was pure fabrication. Lyle was as drunk as a skunk and nowhere near the inn, but Chas knew she was lying even before he heard that Lyle was in the drunk tank,” Missy said proudly.

  “How?” asked Kel.

  “When he was questioning Kendra after she said that she was attacked, she showed him what she said was a bite wound on her neck. He took a picture of it and knew even before he sent it to the lab that she was lying. He said it was clearly a pinch mark.”

  “She pinched herself?” Echo asked. “Ewww…”

  “Exactly,” Missy nodded. “She also tore her own shirt. There were red marks on it that matched her nail polish perfectly, and the size and shape of the bruises on her wrist indicated that they were self-inflicted as well. Not only did she fake her injuries, she made up the rest of the story too. She said she was in bed, but she was fully clothed. When they brought her in to the station, she swore that she was dressed because she had fallen asleep reading, but she had told Chas that the only light on in the room was from the crack in the bathroom door.”

  “Wow, you’d think someone so evil would be a better liar,” Echo mused.

  “That’s not even the end of it. She told Chas that she was barefoot, but had kicked Lyle so hard that it incapacitated him, yet in the short time that it took her to come downstairs and Spencer to run up to check, Lyle had supposedly recovered enough to sprint from the inn.”

  “Well, well, well, it would seem that your Chas is quite the clever sleuth,” Kel remarked.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” Missy complimented the artist. “Because of what you found out about the Mitchells, Chas never suspected Spencer for a second, and was able to trust him to keep an eye on Kendra.”