Beach Town Trouble (A Port Grace Cozy Mystery Book 2) (4 page)

“
H
ey
, Chief. I just stopped by because I thought you all might want some relief from watching Cupcake,” said Georgia, leaning into Crimbleton’s office wearing a black and pink workout ensemble. “I’m going for a run on the beach, and I thought I’d take him with me.”

“Be my guest, honey,” said Crimbleton with a shake of her head. “That dog’s got too much energy for me. Hold on good and tight to his leash.”

“You got it.”

“You actually like that slobbering thing?” said Rutherford through a mouthful of cheese Danish.

“He’s a heck of a lot cuter than you, Rutherford,” said Georgia, making Peak choke on his coffee. As he hacked and sputtered through his laughter, Georgia knelt down to unlatch Cupcake’s cage. “You want to go for a walk, sweet boy?”

Cupcake barked and wagged his tail. As soon as Georgia freed the latch, Cupcake flew out and jumped on Georgia, knocking her out of her crouch and onto her butt. He covered her face in kisses.

“All right, all right. Down, boy,” she said in as stern a voice as she could muster through her smile as she pushed him off and hooked on his leash.

The front door to the station opened and a gray-haired man in a white lab coat came in, looking flushed. Cupcake’s tail went crazy at the sight of a visitor, and he lunged against the leash. Georgia was ready for him, though, and kept him in place.

“Cupcake, sit,” she said, snapping and pointing a finger at the floor.

Cupcake looked back at her and whined, but his butt plopped onto the floor.

“Good dog.”

“I need to speak to the chief right now,” said the man.

“Coroner Jenkins?” said Crimbleton, coming out of her office. “What is it?”

“Tim Skimmerhorn’s body is missing! His son came to collect it for the funeral—did you know he had a son?—and I pulled open the drawer and it was empty! I looked everywhere.”

“Somebody stole the body?” said Crimbleton, looking like she might puke.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Rutherford, you go down to the—”

The wail of a fire engine right outside the station cut Crimbleton off. She watched it go past, and before she could recover, the phone rang. Peak answered.

“Good Lord,” he said into the phone. “You know what started it? Yeah, okay.”

He hung up and turned to Crimbleton.

“The woods are on fire just off Blair Road. Fire department is asking for assistance.”

“Let me guess,” said Georgia. “There are only three firefighters around here, too?”

“Five, actually,” said Crimbleton.

“Chief, that’s not all,” said Peak. “The motorist who called it in said they saw a crazy old lady dancing around in the woods near the fire.”

“Oh my God,” said Georgia. “Camila! Chief, I’m coming with you.”

“Then put the dog back and hurry your skinny butt up.”

Georgia coaxed Cupcake back into his crate with pats and sweet words.

“I’m so sorry, buddy,” she said as she closed the cage door. “I’ll be back, don’t worry. We’ll go on a walk.”

Instead of taking multiple cars to the scene of a fire, they all crammed into the police cruiser—Georgia up front with Crimbleton and the two deputies in the back. They could see the smoke almost as soon as they pulled out of the lot. Crimbleton followed it, and soon the fire engine came into sight. They parked next to it and got out.

“I still don’t see the fire,” said Georgia.

Crimbleton got in contact with the firefighters on her car radio.

“This way,” she said, rejoining them. “They said follow the path. Hanson said to get our handcuffs ready.”

The path led them to a clearing in the woods with a couple picnic benches set up in it. In the center was an ugly, makeshift pyre spouting up flames almost as high as the trees. Something was in the center, wrapped in blackened, smoking cloth. Georgia squinted into the flames and made out a hand. She looked away with her hands on her knees, feeling queasy.

“Oh my God! She’s burning his body,” she said.

Camila was dancing around the pyre, or at least she was doing what passed for dancing at eighty years old, seemingly oblivious to the commotion she was causing.

“She acts like she can’t hear us,” said the fire chief. The name on his uniform was Hanson. “The blaze is contained, so I didn’t touch her or anything else. I thought you needed to see it for yourself.”

“Thanks, Hanson,” said Crimbleton.

“What are you talking about?” said Georgia, incredulous. “Put it out! It’s destroying evidence on the body.”

“Honey, I think this is about all the evidence we need, don’t you?” said Crimbleton. “Seems you were right.”

Georgia stammered for a moment, still shocked by what she was seeing.

“I guess so,” she said, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths to ease her heartbeat.

“Camila,” said Crimbleton, approaching the old witch slowly with one hand outstretched, “you need to stop now, okay? I need to talk to you.”

Crimbleton caught Camila by the arm in the middle of a slow, rickety spin, and Camila froze, blinking at Crimbleton.

“Camila? What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“Burning Tim’s body,” she said, smiling.

“Yes, I can see that,” said Crimbleton weakly. “But why, Camila?”

“He wanted me to,” said Camila. “He spoke to me from beyond.”

“He what?”

“He appeared to me in a dream and said he wanted to be one with nature in death to make up for his destruction of it in life. It was his wish to be burned.”

“Camila, it was his wish to be cremated. You said so in the coroner’s office when you identified the body, remember? There’s a big difference. You can’t steal a body from the morgue and burn it out in the open.”

“No. This is what he wanted,” said Camila, pulling her arm free and glaring at Crimbleton.

“Why do you even care what he wanted, Camila?” said Georgia. “He was terrible to you.”

“You wanted to cover up evidence, didn’t you?” said Crimbleton. “That head of yours isn’t entirely cracked. Don’t try to play me, Camila. You’re going to have to come with me to the station and answer some questions.”

“I have to finish the ritual, or he won’t be put to rest,” said Camila.

“Camila, we’re putting the fire out and you’re coming with me,” said Crimbleton, turning Camila around so she could handcuff her.

“No! You have to let me finish!” said Camila, tugging against Crimbleton.

Rutherford rushed in to hold her still while Crimbleton secured the cuffs.

Camila screamed and tugged all the way to the cruiser, where she was crammed in between Rutherford and Peak in the backseat.

Georgia drifted off into her own thoughts. She should feel vindicated. She had been right all along. Why else would Camila steal the body and try to burn it? Still, she did not feel triumphant. She decided she would feel better once Camila had been interrogated and either confessed or revealed enough to prove without a doubt that she had done it.

Georgia’s phone rang just as they pulled back into the station. It was Julie.

“Georgia, I hate to worry you with all you have going on over there, but I thought you would want to know,” said Julie.

Georgia could hear the rushing sound of the highway over Julie’s voice. Crimbleton looked to Georgia questioningly, one hand on Camila’s arm, and Georgia signaled for her to go on ahead.

“What is it?”

“I’m on the way to the vet right now. I think Mittens is sick.”

Georgia felt a punch to her gut.

“Oh, poor baby. What’s wrong with her?”

“I think she’s having trouble breathing. It started out of nowhere, but don’t you worry, Gee-Gee, I’ll take care of her. I’m pulling into the vet’s parking lot now. I’ve got to go. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay,” said Georgia weakly, feeling tears threatening to form in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Georgia,” said Julie.

The line clicked off. Georgia stayed in the parking lot for a few minutes, trying to pull herself together. When she made it into the station, Rutherford was on the phone.

“Yes, you heard me correctly,” he said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but with her it’s not too far of a stretch. Yes, sir. Okay, but if she doesn’t ask for one, we’re going to keep questioning her until your man arrives. Thank you for being understanding. Yes, you too, sir.”

“Who was that?” said Georgia.

“Skimmerhorn’s son, Tim Jr.,” said Rutherford. “He’s a little shocked to say the least.”

“I bet,” said Georgia. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“He says he’d still like to hire her a lawyer so that she gets fair representation.”

“That lawyer’s going to be too late,” said Peak, emerging from the interrogation room. “Crimbleton just got her to admit that Tim left her another threatening message a day before his murder. Apparently he told her he was going to take her house. The old bat’s so turned around and sideways that she doesn’t even understand she’s incriminating herself. Crimbleton will have a confession out of her within the hour. I guarantee it.”

Georgia smiled, but it was half-hearted. She felt sick. She told herself it was because of Mittens, but Camila’s easy admission of the voicemail had gotten her thinking. It was too easy. If she was smart enough to think to burn the body to destroy evidence, then wouldn’t she be smart enough not to admit things that would incriminate her so easily?

Georgia’s eyes found Cupcake, and she smiled for real this time. A long run on the beach with the enthusiastic Cupcake might help her clear her head. She grabbed his leash off Peak’s desk and knelt in front of his cage.

“I believe I promised you a walk,” she said, reaching through the bars to scratch his head.

He barked and started his butt wagging.

“Come on, boy,” said Georgia, warding off his love attack as she opened the cage door. “Let’s go have some fun.”

O
n her way
to the beach, Georgia called Ryan and asked him to meet her at the pier near the bed and breakfast for a run and a debrief of what had just happened.

She parked the car at the first beach spot with free parking and got out with Cupcake. He immediately started throwing himself against the leash, wheezing in his struggle against the collar as he tried to lick everyone in sight.

“I should have told Ryan to pick up some dog treats,” she said, and Cupcake turned to look at her at the word ‘treat.’

She took the Rottweiler’s head in her hands and held his gaze as he panted happily in her face.

“Cupcake, I need you to chill out and concentrate on me, please,” she said.

He sat down in the sand and wiggled his stubby tail.

“Good boy.”

She spoke too soon. When she straightened up and tried to start walking, Cupcake lunged at a woman in a red bikini, barking and whining to be petted. The woman rushed away.

On a hunch, Georgia said, “Cupcake, treat!”

Cupcake instantly sat down and looked up at her. She laughed.

“I wonder how long that will last if I don’t actually give you a treat.”

Cupcake stuck his tongue out in a goofy, lopsided grin.

“Cupcake, treat!” said Georgia, acting as though she was holding something in her hand.

He fixed his eyes on her, and she began a steady jog. He bounced along beside her, matching her pace with his tail wagging furiously.

They jogged that way all the way to the pier. Once, he nearly pulled her arm out of its socket trying to get at a group of feeding gulls, and he barked at people as they passed them, but they made it without any serious incidents. Ryan was waiting for them in jogging shorts and a T-shirt.

“Wow. Sometimes I forget you own other clothes besides button downs and your trench coat,” said Georgia.

Before Ryan could reply, Cupcake jumped up and put his paws on Ryan’s shoulders and attacked his face with his tongue. Ryan hugged the big dog right back, scratching behind his ears.

“Hey there, buddy. Take any patio tables along for the ride yet?”

“Nope. Watch this,” said Georgia. She winked and added, “Try to keep up.”

She held an invisible treat in her hand, and Cupcake snapped to attention.

“Cupcake, treat,” she said.

She and Cupcake took off at full speed, and Georgia heard Ryan laughing behind them. When Ryan caught up, Georgia settled into an easier pace, Cupcake trotting alongside them with his eyes fixed on Georgia.

“So, Camila really burned up Tim Sr.?” said Ryan.

“It was terrible,” said Georgia. “I never want to smell anything like that again.”

She launched into a more detailed story of the day’s events as they jogged. By the end, they were halfway back to the place Georgia had parked her car, and she was noticeably out of breath.

“So, Crimbleton says we were right all along,” said Georgia, slowing to a walk, “and Peak thinks they’ll have a confession by the end of the day. So…woohoo, I guess.”

“It’s not sitting right with you, is it?” said Ryan.

Georgia sighed. “No. I’m just not convinced that she can be calculated enough to steal the body and burn it to destroy evidence and then turn around and let it slip that he left her a threatening message the day before he died. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Also, how did an eighty-year-old woman who can’t weigh more than one hundred pounds move the dead body of a man who weighed at least three times more than her?”

“She’s a witch, duh, Ryan,” said Georgia, looking at him with a straight face.

He stared at her for a second and then threw his dirty-blond head back in a belly laugh. Georgia laughed with him, and Cupcake jumped up on them both, desperate to get in on the good time.

“You’re right, though,” said Georgia once Ryan had wiped the tears from his eyes. “First, she would have to be stealthy enough to sneak into the morgue. Then, she would have to at least move his body onto something with wheels. She would have to put it in her car, then drive to the woods and build a pyre, and then get the body through the woods and onto the pyre. She would snap like a twig.”

“And even if she was somehow strong enough to get all that done, it would have taken some serious time and effort, and she doesn’t exactly blend in. Somebody would have taken notice.”

“Speaking of taking notice,” said Georgia, “there’s another thing that’s been bugging me. Rutherford said a motorist called in the fire and said they saw an old woman dancing around it. Now, the first part I believe; you could see the smoke from the fire from miles away. But you couldn’t see the actual fire from the road. We had to walk into the woods to a picnic area to see the actual fire and Camila. So how did the tipster see her doing her weird dance from the road?”

“Hmm,” said Ryan, a hand to his chin, “that is weird. But could we really have gotten it so wrong? I mean, she had so much motive, and it wouldn’t take much strength to push him off the cliff. And, I mean, she burned the body for goodness sake—right out in the open. Something is definitely off with her.”

“I’m not saying we were wrong,” said Georgia. “I’m thinking maybe we missed something. I think maybe she had a partner. Maybe pushing Tim Sr. off the cliff wasn’t done in the heat of the moment. Maybe she and a partner planned it.”

“Who are you thinking? The son?”

“Tim Sr. was yelling at Camila for talking to his son in that voicemail.”

“The son has no real motive, though,” said Ryan. “And he doesn’t seem too fond of his aunt. It seems unlikely he would be working with her.”

“You’re right,” said Georgia, disappointed. “We need to dig into her life and find out who she was close to.”

They had made it to Georgia’s car. Georgia took Cupcake to the doggie water fountain next to the foot-washing hose and shower at the edge of the beach and the parking lot.

“You know, I think you’re right about a partner,” said Ryan, “but it sounds like there is also someone working against Camila.”

“What do you mean?” said Georgia, handing Ryan the leash so she could rinse the sand off her feet.

“Somebody called in a tip that got her arrested.”

Georgia’s eyes grew wide. “It had to be the partner! Whoever she was working with has turned on her. Otherwise, how would the caller have known what she was up to, since we know they couldn’t have seen her from the road like they said?”

“So the partner must stand to gain something from Tim Sr.’s death, too,” said Ryan. “It wasn’t just to help out Camila. Why else would they turn on her?”

Georgia’s head was buzzing.

“I hope Crimbleton knows what she’s doing and can get a confession out of Camila,” she said. “I’m dying to know who the partner is.”

“You want me to do what I do and dig into Camila’s life?” said Ryan, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah, and humor me, would you?” she said, her brow creased in contemplation. “Look into little Timmy Jr., too, while you’re at it. Something tells me he’s not a squeaky clean as he looks.”

“Sure thing. You mind giving me a ride back to the bed and breakfast so I can get working?”

“Yeah, but I have to drop Cupcake off first.”

Georgia tried to relegate Cupcake to the backseat, but he inevitably ended up in Ryan’s lap in the passenger seat, much to Georgia’s entertainment. When Georgia pulled up in the police station parking lot, Cupcake barked happily at arriving at their destination…right into Ryan’s ear. He rubbed it crossly while Georgia, laughing, extracted Cupcake from the car.

“I’ll wait here,” said Ryan.

When Georgia entered the station, she caught Rutherford and Peak with their ears pressed to the interrogation room door.

“Hey, boys,” she said, making them jump.

Peak blushed, and Rutherford scratched at his mustache.

“Lawyer kicked us out,” said Peak, pointing a thumb at the door.

“He’s here, is he?” said Georgia.

“Yeah, and he’s expensive,” said Peak. “You should see his suit. He thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips, too.”

“Crimbleton get a confession before he got here?”

“No,” said Rutherford sourly, “but we have plenty on her anyways. She’s admitted to taking the body from the morgue. We can lock her up just for that.”

“She says she did it on her own?” said Georgia.

“Uh, yeah,” said Rutherford. “Who else would be crazy enough to go along with that plan?”

“Right,” said Georgia, figuring explaining her theory would just be a waste of breath with these two.

So, Georgia wrangled Cupcake back into his cage, but not before she’d given him a goodbye kiss on the nose. But doing so reminded her of Mittens, and she felt a lump form in her throat. She bid the deputies a speedy goodbye and hurried back to Ryan.

J
ulie called
the next morning while Georgia was brushing her teeth.

“Yeah, Jules, how is she?” she said, foamy blue toothpaste still lining her lips.

“She’s totally fine,” said Jules in her usual sunny, carefree tone. “It turns out it was just a really big hairball.”

“A hairball?” said Georgia, anger suddenly flushing her cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, Jules, something’s wrong! You called me to say Mittens was having trouble breathing yesterday! How long did it take the vet to tell you it was just a hairball? Ten minutes? You should have called right back! I’ve been imagining her staying overnight at the vet, hooked up to a breathing tube!”

“Well, geez, Georgia, I don’t own a cat. How was I supposed to know all the hacking and wheezing just mean she was going to hack up a big, gross ball of fur?”

“That’s not the point, Jules! You should have let me know she was okay as soon as you found out.”

“You’re right, Gee-Gee. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Truth is, I got distracted.”

“With what?”

“I called Cooper right after I called you. I was freaking out, and you were far away, and he had told me to call if I needed anything. But by the time he showed up, Mittens was already free to go, so we started talking about…you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, and Ryan. It was the first time I’d seen Cooper since we had lunch the other day and he found out that Ryan was with you. He was asking me what I knew about the two of you, why you would ask Ryan to come down there instead of him—stuff like that. He’s totally smitten with you, Gee-Gee, and having you alone with Ryan was making him a little…paranoid. He’s, uh, coming down there.”

“Down where?” said Georgia, her stomach feeling as though she’d missed a stair. “To Windy Cove?”

“Yeah.”

“To what? Check up on me?” said Georgia, miffed at the very idea.

“I guess so. I tried to tell him it wasn’t a good idea. When I finally gave it up as a lost cause, I had to get back to work at the office, and I just didn’t think about calling you and I should have. I’m really sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” said Georgia. “But Cooper’s getting an earful when he gets here. When is he coming?”

“Today,” said Jules, sounding a little worried for Cooper. “I don’t know what time.”

“Thanks, Jules. Sorry I yelled.”

“Sorry I’m a scatterbrain.”

Georgia laughed. “Love you, scatterbrain.”

“Love you, too. Mittens says hi, and we’re sorry we scared you.”

Georgia went down to breakfast with Matthew and Ryan.

Matthew presented her with a giant folder and said, “I’ve looked at every available place in town—there aren’t many of them, by the way—and none come close to Skimmerhorn’s place. But that’s everything I’ve got on every available property, and I’ve made detailed lists of pros and cons for the client about all the features.”

Georgia flipped through the folder and said, “This is great work, Matthew. I think it’s safe to say you’re ready to be a full-time agent. No more training needed. Thank you for all your help here. You can head back to Port Grace now. I’ll call my sister and tell her to get your new office ready.”

“Wow. Thank you, Miss Mason!”

“Please call me Georgia.”

After Matthew had chugged the last of his orange juice and run upstairs to pack, Ryan leaned in conspiratorially, munching on a piece of bacon.

“Turns out you were right, but then again, you usually are,” he said. “It turns out that little Timmy isn’t so squeaky clean. I found three different mug shots. I had to dig deep. He tried to cover them up. He got arrested at a casino each time. Twice it was for fighting with casino staff. Once he got accused of counting cards, but they couldn’t prove it.”

“Wow,” said Georgia. It wasn’t quite what she had expected. “So our boy likes to gamble?”

“With all that money he’s got, he can afford to, but he doesn’t really seem to have the temperament for it.”

“Great job, Ryan.”

They fell into silence, each coming up with their own questions and theories while they wrapped up breakfast. Georgia’s phone rang just as she ate the last bite of her blueberry muffin.

“Miss Mason, it’s Chief Crimbleton.”

“Did you get Camila to confess even with her new lawyer there?” said Georgia.

Ryan leaned in to press his ear to the other side of the phone.

“No. In fact, we’ve had to release her.”

“What? Chief, she stole the body! Surely her lawyer isn’t that good.”

“She will face charges for the theft and desecration of the body. I’m working on getting a court date now, but we got a call from a local man who owns a fish shop, Darrel Winston.”

“Oh, yes. We spoke to Darrel during our investigation.”

“News spreads fast here, and Darrel is usually one of the first to spread it. He found out we were looking at Camila for the murder, and he called to tell us he caught her picking fish bones out of his dumpster around the time Tim was murdered. He drove her home himself. There’s no way she did it. She wouldn’t have had time.”

“Well, that just supports the theory I’ve been working on,” said Georgia. “I think she had a partner. There’s no way she could transport—”

“Miss Mason, let’s not grasp at straws here,” said Crimbleton. “You were right about looking for other angles, and you came up with a great suspect, but I think it’s pretty obvious now that Tim’s death was an accident, and I think we both know who did it.”