Whispering Bay Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Maria Geraci

  “Huh?”

  “Lunch, silly! All best friends have lunch together.” She snaps her fingers at Ginny. “Check my calendar and see what day I have free next week. Oh, Lucy, we have so much to talk about!”

  We do?

  Ten minutes later, I walk out the door in a daze with plans to meet my new “best friend” for lunch next Wednesday.

  Lunch with Brittany on Wednesday and book club with Betty Jean on Thursday. I’m still trying to wrap my head around my new social calendar when Paco comes bounding through the clinic door to greet me. He wags his tail and jumps up and down.

  The vet tech goes over Paco’s discharge instructions, then I head to the front desk to face the music. It’s a good thing my credit card has a healthy limit. Otherwise, I’m not sure how I’d pay the enormous bill waiting for me. The figure at the bottom of the paper makes me queasy. When I hand the receptionist my credit card, she informs me that the bill has already been charged to my card since it’s on file and that she’s mailed the receipt to my account.

  “My account?”

  She nods. “I mailed it to the address we had for the dog.”

  “Oh, okay, great. Thanks.”

  I really hope I hear from The Cooking Channel soon. That ten-thousand-dollar prize money can’t come fast enough.

  I put Paco in the car, and we head home. After everything that’s happened, I just want a quiet night in. My cell phone buzzes. It’s Will. I put him on my car speakerphone, then I take a deep breath and try to pretend that my little outburst from this morning never happened.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “I went to see Brittany this afternoon.”

  “She told me. You didn’t have to do that, Lucy.”

  “Yes, I did. So…everything still on for tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.”

  “What about you? How are you doing?”

  I glance over at Paco, who’s watching me expectantly. It’s like he knows what’s at stake here with my answer. “I figure the town is going to have to forgive me or else find another way to get their muffin fix.”

  He laughs, but it sounds off.

  I gulp. Have I ruined our friendship forever?

  “Seriously, Cunningham, I’m fine. I have Paco sitting next to me, and we’re going to order pizza and watch T.V.”

  “Sounds like fun. I’ll swing by tomorrow morning and get him.”

  “Or I can drop him off. Whatever works for you.”

  “Sure. And, Lucy? Thanks for making things okay with Brittany.”

  “Anytime. You know you’re like a brother to me.”

  24

  Paco and I swing by Tiny’s Pizza and get the anchovy and mushroom special. Will hates anchovies, but since I’m doing pizza night solo this week, I can get whatever I want.

  I take a long hot bath, open a bottle of wine and settle in on my living room sofa with Paco and my pizza. I’ve reheated it in the oven, so it’s bubbly hot. This is another thing Will and I disagree on. He thinks nuking pizza is perfectly acceptable, but I prefer to take the extra time to heat it back up the right way (which is always the oven).

  I flip through the channels.

  I’ve watched just about everything on Netflix, and the Hallmark Channel has already begun it’s Christmas programming, which I’m totally into, but the movie they’re playing is one I’ve seen three times already.

  I scroll back to the main channels and lo and behold, America’s Most Vicious Criminals is starting. It’s a new episode featuring all their unsolved cases, including Will’s favorite, The Angel of Death. He’s going to kick himself for missing this. I hit the record button on my DVR so that he can watch it later.

  I wonder if Jim Fontaine knows about this special episode. I wish I had his number so I could call him. Maybe I should let Travis know so he can call his dad. Except Travis and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms the other night. So, no. Bad idea.

  The opening credits begin. I love the theme music to this show. It’s so wonderfully eerie that if the subject matter didn’t already spook you out, the music alone would do it.

  I finish off my first slice of pizza and only give Paco the teeniest bit of the leftover crust. “Just this one time,” I say as he eagerly gobbles it down.

  “Welcome to a special edition of America’s Most Vicious Criminals.” The male host’s deep somber voice adds another layer of creep to the experience. “Tonight, we’ll be revisiting cases involving our most notorious serial killers. The one thing they all have in common? They’ve never been caught.”

  Oh, I can already tell this is going to be epic.

  A younger Jim Fontaine appears on my screen. “Detective Fontaine, what do you think the Angel’s motive was to commit murder?” asks the show’s host.

  Jim rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “That’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot over the past year, and honestly, the only thing I can come up with is that she or he thinks that what they’re doing is for the victim’s good. It’s what I refer to as a God complex. The Angel thinks that they’re helping ease a patient from their suffering, but no one has a right to take anyone’s life. Not under any circumstances.”

  They show some pictures of the Dallas hospitals where the Angel struck.

  “Our killer may or may not have been a nurse, but they definitely had enough medical knowledge to know how much morphine to use to overdose a patient, and how to administer it,” Jim says.

  As I’m watching, something Deborah Van Dyke said flashes through my head. She said she was grateful that her sister died quickly of a heart attack instead of lingering with the pain of cancer. It seems oddly similar to these cases. Only a morphine overdose wouldn’t cause a heart attack. Would it?

  And then I’m reminded of something else she said right after I told her that Abby had passed.

  I had no idea Florida was so dangerous.

  At the time I thought it was just a boorish observation, but now…

  Both Abby and Susan died of heart attacks less than a week apart. Both women knew each other. And both women had links to Cornelius.

  She was on all sorts of pain killers for her cancer. Aurelia was a wonderful nurse. She handled all of Susan’s home regimen…

  This was never released to the press or featured in the T.V. show, but our Angel left a note each time they struck… R.I.P…

  Yes, poor lamb… She makes the sign of the cross… May her soul rest in peace…

  Rest in peace?

  Could Aurelia be some sort of copycat killer?

  Only Jim said that the police never revealed the R.I.P. notes, so that part doesn’t jibe.

  My mind is whirling with a million possibilities when my cell phone rings. It’s the Gulfside Veterinary Clinic. Shouldn’t they be closed by now? Then I remember it’s a twenty-four-hour emergency facility.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Lucy McGuffin?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Hi Lucy, this is Emily, I’m the night receptionist at the veterinary clinic. I was just going over today’s charges when I saw that we accidentally sent your receipt to another account. But no worries, your credit card number wasn’t on the statement. Just your name and address and the final amount.”

  “Oh. That’s weird.”

  “Yeah. I’m so sorry. This has never happened before, but since the dog was in just last week, we assumed the account was the same.”

  I still. “You mean, Paco was at the clinic last week?”

  “Yeah, only his name wasn’t Paco then. But it’s definitely the same dog. Those I.D. chips don’t lie.”

  “His former name was Cornelius.”

  “Mmmm, according to our records the dog was named Fido.”

  Fido? “Can I ask who brought the dog in?”

  “The name on the account is Jane Smith.”

  “Let me get this straight. A woman named Jane Smith brought a dog named Fido into your clinic. Doesn’t that s
ound strange to you?”

  “A little,” she admits.

  “Can I ask you what he was brought in for?”

  “Dog bite.”

  “He was bitten by another dog?”

  “No. He bit his…well, I guess she’s not his owner since you have the dog. This is all pretty confusing. It reads here that a woman by the name of Jane Smith brought the dog in last week for a rabies test. She said he’d bit her, and she wanted to make sure that he wasn’t rabid. The chip I.D. said that the dog was registered to a woman named Susan Van Dyke and he was current on all his shots, so that was that. But we always open up an account for every client who comes in the door.” There’s a pause. “Uh-huh.”

  “What?”

  “Whenever a dog bites a human, we’re required to report it to the city, in case the dog has a history of aggression. Since the owner, er, this Jane Smith person seemed okay, we let her take the dog home, but there’s always a follow up. There’s a note at the bottom of the record stating that when animal control went out to the address she’d given, it didn’t pan out. It was an abandoned lot.”

  “Did this Jane Smith pay with a credit card or a check?”

  “Cash.”

  “Which makes her basically untraceable.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Do you remember what she looked like?”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t here. But like I said, no worries about your credit card being compromised. Oh, hold on. Dr. Brooks might remember her.” In the background I hear Emily and Dr. Brooks exchange a few words.

  “Lucy? This is Dr. Brooks. How is Paco doing?”

  Paco is currently wolfing down a piece of pizza that he’s stolen off my plate, anchovies and all, but I think I’ll omit this piece of information. “He’s doing great, thanks.”

  “Emily told me about the mix-up with the account. So sorry about that. I knew I remembered seeing Paco, but the circumstances were just so different, it didn’t come to me until now.”

  “Did you see the person who brought him in? This Jane Smith person?”

  “I remember she was pretty upset about being bitten, and the dog seemed so hostile toward her. He kept barking and snarling. It really worried me at first, but when we got him alone, he was the sweetest little thing. We checked him out, and he was fine. But we still had to report it to the authorities.”

  “What did Jane Smith look like?”

  “Let’s see, I’m so bad with faces. I’m much better with dogs, you know? But if my memory serves me right, she was probably in her late thirties, maybe early forties. Long blonde hair with some gray. Yes, that’s it. I remember now thinking how much younger she’d look if she washed the gray out.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I can’t get off the phone fast enough. My hands are shaking.

  Holy wow.

  I’d bet my spot on Muffin Wars that Gloria Hightower is the mysterious Jane Smith.

  I think back to the morning that she came into The Bistro with Victor and Phoebe and Paco went crazy barking. I’d assumed his hostile demeanor had all been for Phoebe, but now in hindsight, I realize it must have been Gloria he was barking at.

  But why on earth would Paco bite Gloria? He’s the sweetest dog ever.

  Except when someone he cares about is being threatened.

  Could Gloria have done something to Susan Van Dyke to cause her heart attack?

  I have to tell Travis ASAP. Except, Travis thinks I’m crazy. He’s never going to take me seriously. But Jim will. I quickly put on my sneakers and grab a jacket. I might not have his phone number, but I know where he lives.

  “I’m going out for a few minutes,” I tell Paco. “You be a good boy and stay put. No getting into any of my medication—”

  My mind jolts back to something Gloria said to me the other day while she was here.

  I imagine it’s hard to get away from your job what with the restaurant just downstairs. Deliveries at all hours, that kind of thing.

  How does Gloria know that we get deliveries after hours?

  Sarah said that Tony was here a couple of days ago to make a delivery, but that no one was home. It was the day that Paco got into the Benadryl. Could Gloria have driven by and seen the delivery truck in our parking lot? Or maybe it was just an innocent comment inspired by parking lot view from my apartment window.

  Except, the only window from my apartment that looks down on the parking lot is the one in my bathroom, and Gloria was never in my bathroom. Unless…

  I didn’t leave the Benadryl out! I didn’t leave the cap off the bottle.

  I’m not the worst dog mother ever.

  Gloria broke into my apartment (okay, so I made it really easy by leaving the back door unlocked). She then deliberately gave Paco the Benadryl and tried to make it look as if it was due to carelessness on my part.

  But why?

  My entire body goes cold as the pieces all fall together into a neat little pile.

  The first victim was probably someone important to her. A patient or family member she cared about and didn’t want to see suffer anymore, so she slipped them a little extra morphine.

  I run down the stairs, grab my car keys off the rack near the kitchen door, and—

  Whack!

  The back of my head explodes.

  The last thing I see before everything goes fuzzy is Gloria standing over me with a syringe in her hand.

  25

  I wake up with a massive headache and a mouth that feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

  What am I doing lying on the floor in The Bistro kitchen?

  Then I remember that I have to tell Jim about Gloria Hightower. I try to get to my feet, but my hands are bound together tightly at the wrists, making it difficult. I grab the edge of the counter and slowly pull myself up.

  “I was beginning to think that frying pan to the head did you in.”

  I whirl around. Ugh. Not a good idea. My stomach feels like a volcano that’s about to erupt. Gloria stands just a few feet away, calmly holding a syringe in her hand.

  My gaze darts to the kitchen door. I need to make a run for it. Under normal circumstances, I’m pretty confident I could outrun her, but with my hands tied and my head swirling, I’m not so sure.

  Does she plan to inject me with that thing?

  What’s in it anyway?

  “I take it you plan to overdose me with morphine? Or something that will make it look like I’ve had a heart attack?”

  “Take a deep breath, Lucy. You’re hyperventilating.” Her tone is smug and condescending.

  “And you’re the Angel of Death.”

  She raises a brow. “All those fancy FBI people and Dallas detectives. None of them could figure it out. But you did. It really is too bad. I’m going to miss you. But I’m going to miss your muffins more.”

  As far as offhanded compliments from psychopathic killers go, I could do worse.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not going anywhere, Gloria.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid you are. I can’t have you running around telling everyone who I am, can I? And in case you’re wondering, it was potassium that I gave Susan and Abby. Too much isn’t good for the heart, I’m afraid.” She lifts the syringe up to the light to admire its contents. “This isn’t potassium, though. You’re much too young to stage a heart attack. Don’t worry, Lucy, I’m not going to let you suffer. I’m not a cruel person. Just the opposite. I made sure there’s enough morphine here to put you to sleep. Once you’re out, I’ll knock you on the head hard enough to do the trick this time. It’s really shocking how Whispering Bay has become so dangerous. Someone broke into the kitchen intending to rob the place. You came down and caught them… Use your imagination. Everyone will be terribly sad, but believe it or not, life will go on without you.”

  The casual way she describes my murder makes my skin crawl.

  “How do you get it? The morphine and the potassium? I mean, you just can’t walk into a drugstore and get those.”

  “
Didn’t I tell you I was in the military? I guess what I didn’t tell you was that I was a medic. I stayed in the reserves for almost a decade after getting out. Yes, ma’am, every other weekend I marched myself off to do my civic duty.”

  “Gee, thank you for your service.”

  “Your sarcasm isn’t very patriotic.” She shrugs. “Oh well. Where was I? The potassium was easy, but the morphine? That was a little harder to pilfer. I’ve had the vials for almost five years. In case I needed them, which I did. I’m pretty sure this stuff stays potent long after the expiration date. At least I hope so. For your sake.” Gloria glances toward the door that leads up to my apartment. “Now, before I put you to sleep, where’s Cornelius?”

  A chill runs down my spine. She’s not going to stop with killing me. She’s going to kill Paco too. “He’s not here. He’s still at the veterinary clinic.

  “Bull.”

  “It’s true. You did a good job almost killing him the other night. He’s still on IV fluids and medications.”

  She studies my face like she’s trying to figure out if I’m lying or not. Good thing she doesn’t have my special gift. Of all the lies I’ve told in the past week, this one is the most important.

  “You don’t have to hurt him, Gloria. He’s not a threat to you.” Please, Paco. Please stay upstairs and keep quiet. I chant this over and over in my head. I don’t for one minute believe that he’s any kind of ghost whisperer, but he does have a strong intuitive nature, and for some reason, he’s bonded to me. Stay upstairs, baby. Save yourself. Hide under the couch.

  “Don’t look at me that way. I never meant to hurt Cornelius. He’s an exceptional dog. So talented. Unfortunately, that was his downfall. The little minx saw me inject Susan with the potassium and he bit me.” She raises her pants leg to show me a red bite mark about an inch above her ankle. “Thank God I didn’t need to get a rabies shot. I’m afraid of needles.” She laughs like this is funny.

  I discreetly try to wiggle my wrists to try and loosen the slack on the rope. I have to keep her distracted so she doesn’t notice what I’m doing. The large heavy frying pan staring at me from the counter is a hell of a motivation.