Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “Are you doing this because of Cliff or just to torture me?” Gary asked.

  Deena sat on Gary’s lap and put her arms around his shoulders. “Now hon, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you...on purpose. And yes, I’m doing this to help Cliff—and Russell, of course.” She pushed his thick hair away from his face. “I want to see if Max Dekker knows any possible suspects in his wife’s murder. Maybe the grief-stricken widower will respond to our sympathetic faces.”

  “You said you’d only be writing a mystery, not—”

  Deena leaped up, causing Hurley to bark at the sudden explosion of movement. “I agree! This could be the plot for my first novel. Consider what I’m doing as research.”

  Gary closed his recliner into a sitting position.

  Deena waited for the lecture.

  His face had lost its usual playful smile. “No fun and games this time. I’m serious. There’s a murderer out there, and I don’t want you getting mixed up in this. Let the police do their jobs, and I’m sure Cliff will be cleared.”

  “Just like they cleared you and me last spring in the Wilde case?”

  “Yes. Exactly like that.”

  Deena tensed and put her hands on her hips. “Have you forgotten that they didn’t do that until Dan and I uncovered the real suspects?”

  “Deena Jo, you’re a stubborn woman. I’m about to turn sixty, and you are aging me more and more by the minute.”

  She dropped her hands and grinned. “Luckily, we have good life insurance.”

  Gary opened his mouth to speak, but Deena interrupted.

  “By the way, did you call your mother? Did she say what day they were coming?”

  “Oh, about that.” Gary rubbed his hands together like a doctor announcing a devastating diagnosis. “Turns out, she’s decided to come a few days earlier than the rest of the family.”

  “What? Did you tell her not to?” Deena stumbled backward and flopped down on the sofa.

  “You know I couldn’t do that. But the good news is that she can make my birthday cake. You’re off the hook.”

  The words caught in her throat. “Are—are—you kidding me? I’m making that dessert, and it’s going to be knock-your-socks-off, blue ribbon, county fair-worthy!”

  “It’s up to you. I know how you stress over family gatherings.”

  She leaned back on the sofa, covering her face with both hands. She pictured the showdown at the O.K. Corral. Her mother-in-law on one side pointing a spatula, and she on the other side brandishing a candy thermometer.

  This was one shoot-out she was determined to win. She stood and stared straight at her husband who had gone back to watching the baseball game. “If you talk to your mother again, give her a message from me: I will be making your birthday cake if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Bite your tongue,” Gary said with a sly grin. “If you get mixed up in this murder investigation, that might actually come true.”

  Chapter 5

  Deena removed her sunglasses and adjusted her eyes to the indoor light of the library.

  Lydia stood by the front desk talking to Nancy with a heaping plate of cookies.

  “Those for Max Dekker?” Deena asked as she walked up to the desk.

  “You mean Maycroft’s newest bachelor?” Nancy cut her eyes toward Lydia.

  “Oh, now...” Lydia’s face flushed to a pale pink. She had on a floral dress and peekaboo pumps. She’d probably spent hours in front of the mirror.

  “Didn’t you have to work at school today?” Deena asked.

  Lydia seemed uncomfortable with the question. “I took a personal business day. All work and no play...” She smiled and turned her attention back to Nancy.

  Deena remembered hearing that Lydia had gotten divorced the previous year. That explained her overzealous interest in Max Dekker. For someone who taught history, she sure was interested in the future.

  Betty walked out of the office area. “Oh good, you’re here. Let me get my things and we can go.” She had on her librarian pantsuit, à la Hillary Clinton.

  Deena felt a bit underdressed in her navy-blue capri pants and nautical print top. “We can take my car,” she offered, as the three women headed to the parking lot.

  “Road trip! Isn’t this fun?” Lydia was acting more like a schoolgirl than a sixty-year-old woman on the verge of retirement.

  Betty, who was riding shotgun, turned to the back seat. “It’s only about fifteen miles. Not much of a road trip.”

  Deena glanced in the rearview mirror. Lydia sat back, an excited grin on her face.

  “It’s creepy to think this is the same route Alexis Dekker took that night she was killed.” Goosebumps formed on Deena’s arms as they got closer to Dead Wally’s Curve.

  “Just make sure you go slow and that your brakes work,” Betty said.

  “Brakes? What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

  “Didn’t you read the article in this morning’s paper?” Betty asked. “It said someone had cut her brake line. That’s why she crashed. I heard they’ve already got a suspect. I can’t wait to find out who it is. My guess is that Max Dekker did it himself.”

  “If you think Max is a killer, why are you taking him a casserole?” Deena asked.

  “Because...” Betty clenched the side of the door and braced herself. “Slow down. Here it comes.”

  As Deena slowly took the curve, she saw fresh breaks in the trees and some debris on the ground. It was a morbid scene. Deena could only imagine how upsetting it would be for Max to drive by there every time he came to town.

  Lydia navigated from the back seat, telling Deena which roads to take until they reached the turnoff for the Dekker property. The smell of sweet pine trees lining the dirt road made Deena long to move to the country. However, she knew her place was in the suburbs. She liked the streetlights and sidewalks more than rattlesnakes and coyotes.

  They made the last turn in the road and pulled up to an area for parking on the side of the house. When they got out of the car, Betty and Lydia stood frozen, dishes in hand. They seemed to be waiting for Deena to take the lead. Reluctantly, she led the way toward the front door carrying the loaf of bread wrapped in foil.

  A large bay window with opened curtains adorned the front of the house. Deena saw the lovebirds first. Max and another woman stood on the other side of the glass, locked in a kiss one usually only saw behind closed doors. Her jaw dropped at the same time that Lydia dropped her plate of cookies. At first, she thought Lydia might have thrown it. Deena stood frozen, as though that made her invisible.

  Betty turned on her heels and headed back to the car, casserole in hand.

  Lydia sprinted behind her just as the merry couple turned to look out the window.

  Deena finally got her sea legs and ran back to the car, got in, and peeled down the road away from the house.

  Once she was back to the main road, she finally took a breath. No one said a word. She wondered if they were all thinking the same thing. Max Dekker murdered his wife to be with that other woman. If that were the case, they may have just uncovered a motive. Worse still, she knew he had seen her before she ran off.

  Her mind raced with the implication of what had just happened.

  “Slow down!” Betty yelled as they approached the dangerous curve.

  Deena hit her brakes and squealed around the curve. She squinted her eyes and shook her head, trying to focus on the road ahead. “Sorry,” she offered weakly.

  “That snake,” Lydia seethed from the back seat. “He’s only been single two days and already has another girlfriend!”

  That remark seemed ironic coming from the woman who was obviously trying to woo the man at his most vulnerable point. Maybe Lydia hadn’t seen him as a suspect in his wife’s murder at all.

  Deena glanced sideways at Betty. Her jaw was set and her eyes glared at the road. If they were right about Max being the killer, they could all be in danger. If they were wrong, they just looked like the biggest idiots in town.
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  BETTY LEAPED OUT OF the car and went back inside the library almost before they came to a complete stop.

  “Wait,” Deena said as Lydia was about to get out of the car. “Don’t you think we should talk about what just happened?”

  “What’s there to talk about?” Lydia asked. “That ridiculous excuse for a man is no more grieving than a cowboy winning the rodeo. All this time he had another woman on the side. He’s a heartless, careless creep in my book, and I hope I never have to see him again!” She reached for the door handle again.

  “Wait,” Deena repeated. “That’s just the point. He does have another woman on the side. That means he might have a motive for murder.”

  “Of course, he has a motive. That seems fairly obvious.”

  “I think we should tell the police what we saw.”

  “The police?” Lydia frowned. “I’m not going to the police.”

  “But this could be important. Maybe Max and that woman killed Alexis so they could be together. We should head to the police department right now.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got to get back home.” She picked up her purse from the floorboard. “You go. Tell them everything we saw. Call me later and tell me what they said.” With that, she got out of the car.

  “Bye...” Deena said to the closed car door. How do I get myself into these messes?

  She needed to think things through before going to the police. Her plan had been to work on her booth after the visit to Max’s house. She drove toward the antique mall, her mind still reeling. Several cars were parked out front. Probably tourists or other sellers working on their booths.

  Facing the owner, Janet, or anyone else she knew right now felt impossible. She had too much on her mind and needed to unload it. Maybe she would go to the thrift shop and talk to Sandra.

  Her thoughts turned to Cliff. Could this be the break he needed to get the cops off his back? She had an idea. She drove several more blocks to Ian Davis’s law office. If anyone would know what to do, Sandra’s husband would.

  Chapter 6

  This was the first time she’d been back there since the Wilde case last spring. From the outside, Ian Davis’ office looked the same as when she had worked for him a whole week as an investigator. The job had been brief but eventful. A tarp on the roof next to the brick chimney actually made the old Victorian house look more dilapidated than ever.

  Deena opened the door and was pleased to see that renovations had taken place on the inside. Walls housed proper offices and the whole place had a fresh coat of paint. The mildew smell and the “Keep Out” sign in front of the staircase were gone.

  “Deena Sharpe. How are you?” Rob stood and welcomed her into the newly created waiting area.

  “Nice to see you,” she said and shook his hand. “So, you’re still here.”

  “Yep. My internship ends in December, and then I’m moving to St. Louis. I suppose you want to see Ian about the Dekker case. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  Being too nosy for her own good, she glanced at the papers and files on Rob’s desk. Nothing about Cliff or Max caught her eye.

  Rob came around the corner. “Head on back. His office is the last one on the left.”

  She passed two offices and what appeared to be the copy room. Ian’s door was open. “Hey, boss,” she joked as she stuck her head inside.

  “Have a seat,” Ian said, in his I’m-all-business manner. “I’m glad you’re here. I need your help.”

  Deena took a step backward. Not again. “I was just kidding about the boss thing.”

  “It’s not that.” He motioned to the chair across from his desk.

  As usual, his light brown hair needed a trim, making him look even more boyish than he already did.

  She sat down slowly. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Looks really professional.”

  “Thanks. We got some money from the state to do renovations. Anyway, I talked to Cliff this morning, and he gave me permission to speak to you and your brother about his case.”

  “Okay...”

  “Seems like Detective Guttman isn’t completely buying his story.”

  “Who is Detective Guttman? Is he new?”

  “Don’t you read the newspaper anymore?”

  She shot him a sheepish grin. “I get all my news from the grapevine these days.”

  Ian rolled his eyes. “Linus Guttman is the county judge’s nephew. No nepotism there, I’m sure.” Ian tapped his pen repeatedly on the desk. “He thinks he’s a hot-shot because he came here from Philadelphia. Word is that they ran him off.”

  “Ugh. Just what we need in sleepy, old Maycroft.”

  “Seems like he’s using this case to try to make a name for himself. Doesn’t understand the people around here. He assumes everyone is rotten to the core.”

  Deena leaned forward. “That’s why I’m here. I think I have another suspect and a motive.”

  Ian lifted an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

  “Max Dekker.”

  “The husband is always a suspect. Motive?”

  She told him about the hospitality visit and what they had seen through the window.

  Ian jotted down some notes. “Do you have any idea who this woman was? What did she look like? Did you see anyone else there? Any strange cars?”

  Before he could go on, she held up both hands. “Hold your horses, counselor. One question at a time. No, I didn’t recognize her. She was short, probably about five-foot-four, and had light-colored hair. It was either blonde or gray. I didn’t get a good look at her face. I only saw her and Max in front of the window. As for cars, it was my first time out there. I know I saw at least one car, but I really don’t remember it.”

  “Give me the names of the two other women who were with you.”

  “Do I have to?” She frowned and shifted in her chair.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I’ve gotten a little used to this murder investigation stuff, but my friends haven’t. What if Max or his gal pal comes after us?” She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t need more enemies.”

  “You said that Dekker saw all of you, right?”

  “I know he saw me. I’m not sure about the others.”

  “Okay, then. Let me talk to Detective Gutt-less and tell him what you told me. He won’t do anything to put you in danger. He knows he has to check out every lead before he makes an arrest if he wants the conviction to stick.”

  “Arrest? You mean Cliff?”

  “That’s the way he’s leaning.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Ian pulled a clean sheet of paper out of his legal pad. “This is the make and model of the car driven by the man Cliff says helped him load the cooler into Mrs. Dekker’s car. Get Cliff to give you a full description of him. You and Russell check all the businesses in that shopping area to see if anyone knows him. That guy’s his best alibi.” He handed the paper to Deena. “We’d do it ourselves, but Amy left a few weeks ago, and I haven’t found a good replacement.”

  “This sounds easy enough. Nothing dangerous. Anything else?”

  “Just one more thing. Cliff’s timeline. It doesn’t add up. There’s a gap of time between him being at the salon and the cemetery. See what you can get out of him.”

  “Will do.” She stood to leave. A queasy feeling swirled in Deena’s stomach. She was getting in too deep again. “And thanks, Ian. I owe you one.”

  “Hardly. I’m the one who owes you. But who’s keeping score.”

  Her phone rang, but she didn’t recognize the number. It was Detective Guttman. He said he needed her to come down to the police station to answer a few questions. She agreed and hung up.

  “You see? News travels fast in this town. One of my friends must have called him about our visit. He probably wants to get my version to corroborate the information.”

  Ian shook his head. “Call me after the interview. Remember, stick to the facts.”

  She nodded her head. “Tell Sand
ra I’ll get by to see her soon.”

  As she walked out to the parking lot, tires squealed from the far side of the building, causing her to jump. She turned quickly, but the car or truck was already gone. Already a little jittery, she tried to tell herself it was nothing. At least she hoped it wasn’t.

  SITTING IN THE INTERVIEW room where she and Ian had talked to their client last spring gave Deena a weird sense of déjà vu. Hopefully, this would go quickly, and she could go to the antique mall to work on her booth. Obviously, Lydia must have changed her mind and called the police. All she needed to do here was corroborate what Lydia told the detective. Her stomach growled reminding her she’d skipped lunch.

  The door opened, and in strolled the detective. His crumpled blue suit appeared a size too large. It reminded her of some of the high school boys who would wear their father’s suit under their graduation gowns. At least they had the sense to wear dress shoes. The detective’s white Nikes drew her eyes to the ground as he approached.

  “Detective Guttman.” He sat down without reaching out his hand as was customary in these parts.

  Deena reached across the table and introduced herself.

  Guttman hesitated before reluctantly returning the gesture. He immediately wiped his hand on his pants leg.

  Either a chauvinist or a germaphobe, Deena surmised. How could either get this far in law enforcement? This boy was going to have to learn some manners if he planned on making it here in the South.

  “I have a few questions for you.” He pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from his shirt pocket.

  “You’re welcome,” Deena said, with her warmest fake smile.

  “What?”

  “Oh, I thought you were going to say, ‘Thank you for coming down here.’ That’s what Detective Evans would have said.”

  “Captain Evans.”

  “Really? I must congratulate him on the promotion. Such a polite man. Good manners, don’t you think?”