Two Scoops of Murder (Felicity Bell Book 2) (20 page)

F
elicity eyed
the hot milk cake as she took it from the oven. As she was putting the ingredients into the processor she had the distinct impression that the mysterious effect Rick had talked about eluded her. All through the baking process her mind had been a whirlwind of ideas, possibilities and thoughts. Instead of quieting down, her mind had sped up considerably. Then, when she was waiting for the cake to bake, she’d plunked herself down on the kitchen stool, staring at the oven, and had finally experienced a breakthrough.

Whoever had planned these murders had a clear goal in mind. He wanted to stop Mary and Alistair from doing something. And what else could it be but trying to stop them from selling the place? If Virgil was right and the Longs were about to sell the inn, the murderer must have found out somehow and tried to put a stop to it. And if this was true Rob and Ruth were in grave danger, too.

It seemed a very illogical thing to consider. Until now they’d always thought whoever killed the Longs had done so to sell the inn, but what if the murderer was trying to stop the sale instead?

She suddenly sprang from her stool, walked over to Alice’s room, and put her ear to the door. She smiled when she heard her friend deeply engrossed in conversation with Reece. She better not disturb her now. Instead, she picked up her phone and called Marjorie.

“Marjorie. I need to speak to Virgil.”

“I’ll put him on. Though I doubt whether he’ll want to speak to you.”

“Mom!” a voice rang out.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Marjorie asked. “You’re so secretive about this whole police business.” Then, into the phone, she added, “Here he comes.”

“Virgil, I had an idea,” she said without preamble. “You might think I’m crazy but—”

“You’ll tell me anyway, right?”

She explained in a few brief words her new theory and was surprised that Virgil heard her out. “So you see, if this is true we’ve been wrong all along. Instead of wanting to murder the Longs because they were blocking the sale, they murdered the Longs because they were going through with the sale.”

“Go on.”

“Which means that Rob and Ruth are also targets. Since they’re the new owners of the inn and anxious to sell…”

Virgil was silent for a moment and Felicity thought he would simply dismiss her out of hand.

“You may have a point,” he said instead. “I’ll send a man round to the inn to keep an eye on the Longs. Good work, Fe.”

And with these words, he disconnected. Felicity smiled. For the first time she had the feeling she’d actually contributed to the investigation. At that moment the oven dinged. Her hot milk cake was ready.

Alice ran into the room, her face jubilant. “We have a date!” she cried. “Dinner tomorrow night at his place!”

“Yay!”

“And he offered me a part.”

“A what?”

“A part. In this new movie he’s setting up.” She pressed her hands against her blushing face.

“Honey, that’s great.”

Alice picked at the cake and nodded appreciatively. “You have another winner here, hon. Oh, and I told him you wanted in as well.”

She frowned. “Wanted in? In in what?”

“In the movie, of course. Can you believe it, Fe? We’re going to be movie stars!”

R
ob was staring
at the policeman. “Say what?”

The policeman, tall, beefy, and sporting a blond buzz cut, stared back at him, a little perplexed himself. “I’m going to keep an eye on you, sir. You and the lady next door. So if you notice anything suspicious, anything at all…” He jerked his thumb to the corridor. “I’ll be out here.”

“Anything suspicious? Like what? Give me a for instance.”

“Well, if you see a murderer, for instance, you can give me a holler and I’ll make sure…” The policeman’s voice died away, as he seemed to realize how ridiculous this sounded.

Rob did an exaggerated double take. “If I see a murderer?”

“Well, we do have a murderer running around, sir,” the policeman pointed out.

“I know,” replied Rob irritably. “He just
killed my parents
!”

The policeman winced. “Yes, I’m sorry about that, sir.”

“Not as much as I am.” He stared at the police officer for a moment, wondering what was going on. “Who issued these orders?”

“Officer Scattering, sir.”

“Lemme just…” He took out his phone. “Give me his number, will you?” He dialed the number. The phone connected. “Officer Scattering? What’s all this about police protection? What’s going on?”

Officer Scattering cleared his throat. “It has come to our attention that the murderer may in fact be after you, sir.”

“After me?”

“After you and your wife and sister, sir,” the policeman clarified.

“So you have a lead, huh?” He licked his lips. This was good news.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge details of the investigation—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen. I’ve got one of your guys here—” He held his hand over his phone as he addressed the officer. “What’s your name?”

“Officer Wilson, sir.”

“One of yours, I take it?”

“That’s correct. I’ve assigned Officer Wilson to your protection detail, sir, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure, sure. Like the president of the United States, huh?”

“Something like that, sir.”

“Fine—that’s all fine.”

He disconnected, and stared at the man. His own, private policeman. What do you know? “Listen, Wilson, if you see this killer I want you to shoot first and ask questions later, you hear?”

“I can assure you I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, sir,” the officer told him a little stiffly.

“Sure, sure,” he said, looking the giant cop over. He was big enough. With a sentry like this he was certain the killer, whoever he was, would think twice before trying any funny business. “Look, could you do me a favor?”

“Sir?”

“Could you wrangle me up some coffee?”

“That—that’s not really my job, sir.”

“I know, just humor me, huh? Cream and sugar, and add a donut.”

He slammed the door in the cop’s face. Ever since he and his wife and sister had arrived here, room service had refused to accommodate them, what with the staff—and especially that nasty Suzy person—accusing them of trying to offload the inn.

“Who was that, honey?” Maggie said as she popped her toweled head in from the bathroom.

“Nothing important, sweetie. Some cop says he’s here to protect us.”

“Ooh. How exciting!”

“Yeah, it’s a real thrill.”

He took a seat on the bed and checked the website he’d been examining before he’d been so rudely interrupted. Cruises to Hawaii. He could do with a cruise. As soon as this whole mess with the inn was cleared up and the builders came in to redecorate the place, he and Maggie would go for a nice long cruise. When they returned, the inn would be ready to be reopened for business, and he’d be the big cheese for a change. Probably would get some commendation from the mayor for saving the inn too.

He liked that. From now on he’d be someone in life. He’d be Rob Long, owner and proprietor of the Happy Bays Inn. The man up top.

A soft knock interrupted his musings. Great. He was dying for that cuppa joe and that donut.

He yanked open the door. “Hey, thanks, buddy.” But instead of a cup of coffee the visitor pointed a very large, very sharp-looking knife at him. Before he could protest it was thrust forward and disappeared up to the hilt into his chest, eliciting a sharp pain.

He staggered back, and stared stupidly at Maggie, emerging from the bathroom. Her eyes widened in fear and surprise.

“Rob!”

He fell to the floor as his assailant lunged for Maggie and plunged that same knife into her heart. She dropped down next to him, and their eyes locked.

As he felt his life force dwindling, he muttered, “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Rob,” she whispered.

In good times and bad, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. He hadn’t expected that day to come so soon, though.

O
fficer Victor Wilson
balanced a cup of coffee and a donut on a small tray and cursed inwardly. He always got the worst assignments. Now he had to babysit the most hated person in Happy Bays, and run the man’s errands as well.

With a sigh, he knocked on the door of number seventeen and was surprised when the door yielded to his touch. He eased it open, calling out, “I’ve got your coffee, Mr. Long!”

Then, as the door swung open, his jaw dropped when he saw the bodies of Rob and Maggie Long stretched out on the carpet, blood pooling beneath them.

It was a testament to his training that he didn’t drop the tray but had the presence of mind to put it down on the table near the door, take out his service weapon, and carefully proceed into the room.

He moved stealthily and quickly, ascertaining both this room and the bathroom were empty, then noticed that the connecting door to room eighteen was slightly ajar.

With a sinking heart he covered the distance with a few steps, and had to stifle a shiver when he came upon the body of Ruth Long, having apparently suffered the same fate as her brother and sister-in-law.

It didn’t take Officer Wilson long to discover that whoever was responsible for these heinous crimes had fled the scene, and when he called for back-up and an ambulance, he did so with a heavy heart.

The Happy Bays Inn killer had struck again, and this time more brutally than ever.

F
elicity got
the news as she was getting ready for bed. This time it was Virgil himself who called. “You were right,” the policeman said without preamble. “Rob, Ruth, and Maggie Long were murdered. Right in their rooms at the inn.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned. “But didn’t you send someone to keep an eye on them?”

“I did, but Rob sent him to fetch coffee and donuts.”

“The idiot.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Then something occurred to her. “Why are you calling me?”

“Since it was your idea in the first place I just figured you might like to know what happened. And…” He hesitated. “…I thought you might want to come down here and take a look for yourself. Perhaps you will pick up something we missed.”

Felicity was surprised at this. “What about Chief Whitehouse? I thought he didn’t want us messing about in a police investigation?”

“He still doesn’t. But I told him about your idea and he said that perhaps you might come up with another if we let you in on this.”

“Thanks,” she said, bewildered by this denouement. “I’ll be there in a tick.”

When Felicity and Alice arrived at the inn, police lights were flashing, sirens blazing, and cop cars all over the place. It seemed as if every police officer in Happy Bays had turned up. Which was hardly surprising. Three more dead, which upped the body count to seven. The press had also gotten wind of what happened and had arrived en masse. The media vans stalking Reece Hudson had now descended upon the inn.

As Felicity rolled the bakery van to a stop, Alice said, “I don't think Virgil is in charge anymore, hon. Look at this circus.”

It really was a circus. “I don’t even think your father is in charge anymore. By now the higher-ups will have taken control of the investigation.”

“Can you blame them? Seven murders! I don’t think this has ever happened before in the whole history of Happy Bays.”

They got out of the van and walked up to Louise Rhythm, who was standing guard at the entrance. Grim-faced, she nodded them through.

They passed the double doors into the cozy lobby, which was now swarming with guests and staff. She recognized Suzy and gave her a wave. The woman looked as if she was on the verge of collapsing.

Without waiting for a formal invitation, Felicity and Alice trudged up the stairs to the second floor. They were stopped by Victor Wilson, another policeman. According to Virgil he’d been the one to find the victims. The otherwise florid policeman looked a bit peaked. As she glimpsed past the broad-shouldered cop she saw more police personnel milling about, and the medical examiner bent over the bodies of Rob and Maggie Long, lying side by side.

She swallowed, and felt her stomach complaining violently. Even Alice, who was used to seeing dead people, on account of the fact that she worked at the funeral home, got a little green around the gills.

“I’m sorry, Fe,” Officer Wilson said, barricading the door, “but you’ll have to wait downstairs. An officer will take your statement shortly.”

“No, but I was invited,” she said. “Virgil…”

At the mention of his name, Virgil walked up to the door. His face was set and his chin stubbled. “Hey there, Fe. Alice.” He shook his head. “Terrible, terrible tragedy.”

“What happened?”

Virgil looked left and right, as if afraid someone might hear him, and said in a low voice, “Walk with me.”

They followed the lanky police officer and Felicity felt her stomach clench at the sight of Rob and Maggie Long, lying face down on the floor. She quickly turned away as Virgil led them to a connecting door.

“First he killed Rob and Maggie, then he gained access to Ruth’s room, found her on the bed watching TV, and…killed her as well.”

Felicity gasped when she saw the body of the woman sprawled on the bed. They were quickly ushered into the room and back out the door. “They were killed with a knife?”

“That’s right.”

“Same weapon as the last two victims?”

“We don’t know for sure yet, but it seems likely.”

At this moment, a red-bearded detective stepped into the corridor and frowned at the threesome. “Detective Scattering? What’s going on here? Who are these people and what are they doing here?”

“They’re, um, working on the case, sir,” Virgil stuttered.

“Can I see some ID?” the gruff man demanded, holding out a hand.

“Here you go,” said Alice cheerfully and handed the man her Neighborhood Watch Committee card. Mabel Stokely had them made especially for the team and they all wore them proudly.

The police detective stared at it with a puzzled look. “Happy Bays Neighborhood Watch Committee,” he read.

“Yes, we’re responsible for the safety of Happy Bays,” Alice explained, “and we take our job very seriously.”

“I’ll bet you do,” said the man acerbically, then turned to Felicity. “And you? What is your excuse?”

She handed the man her press card and his scowl deepened.

“Happy Bays Gazette.” He handed her back the card and crooked his finger at Virgil. “A word, Detective Scattering?”

Felicity watched Virgil follow the dour-faced detective and felt pity for the man. It was obvious they were right: the Happy Bays Police Department was no longer in charge of this investigation.

“I think Virgil is in a lot of trouble,” Alice commented.

“I believe so, too. Nice of him to let us see the crime scene, though.”

“I don’t think he was being nice. I think he was being desperate.”

They clumped down the stairs. The sight of three dead people had made quite an impression on the both of them, and even Alice was unusually quiet as they arrived in the lobby. An old man caught Felicity’s eye and she recognized him as Alan Shaw.

“Hey there, Mr. Shaw,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

He shook his grizzled head. “It’s a terrible, terrible tragedy. Is it true what they say about Long and his sister? Murdered?”

Felicity nodded. “I’m afraid it is. And Rob Long’s wife too.”

“Three murders!” the man croaked. “It’s too gruesome for words. Who in their right mind would do such a horrible thing?”

They stood watching as an ambulance arrived and the EMTs carried stretchers upstairs.

“Did you notice anything suspicious?” she asked.

“I told the policeman already. I heard nothing. Not a peep. I was in my room reading a book on fishing when it happened.” He stared before him with misty eyes and shook his head. “What do you suppose will happen to this place now that the Longs are gone?”

“I have no idea. I’m sure there will be other relatives.”

“I hope they don’t sell,” said the old man. “I’ve been coming here for forty years.”

“Fishing, right?”

His face cleared up. “That’s right. How did you know?”

“You once took Alice and me along, don’t you remember? Must have been, oh, twenty years ago? You were going to teach us fishing.”

He chuckled. “That’s right. Now that you mention it. That was a nice day, wasn’t it?”

The day had actually been quite terrible. Mom had had this idea that Felicity needed to learn how to fish, so she’d told Dad to take both girls. But Dad hated to fish, so finally Mom had decided to ask Alan instead. So he’d agreed and had taken them. The day had been a minor disaster, as both girls had hated it from the first. They hated the wriggly bait, hated the sharp hooks, and hated the prospect of hurting those nice little fishies swimming in the sea. In the end Mr. Shaw had returned them to shore and had advised Mom never to bother him again.

They watched as the first stretcher was being carried out, the solemn faces of the EMTs an indication of the gravity of the situation.

“Terrible, terrible tragedy,” murmured Mr. Shaw and Felicity agreed wholeheartedly.

She walked over to Alice, who was studying the bulletin board. “We have to crack this case, Alice,” she whispered. “This has got to stop.”

“Look,” said Alice, pointing to a picture that had been tacked to the board.

Felicity stared at it. It was a picture of one of the many activities Alistair used to organize for the guests of the inn. This was a fishing trip aboard a trawler. She recognized Alistair, Mary, and was surprised to see the youthful faces of Rob and Ruth as well. They must have been teenagers when the picture was taken. Her gaze traveled to the other members of the company, but they were all faces she didn’t recognize, except for one. Mr. Shaw, proudly holding up his fishing rod.

“Weird, huh?” Alice asked with a soft voice.

“What’s weird?”

“They’re all dead.” She pointed to a small man with a flat head. “He died only a couple of weeks ago. Hunting accident. Shot himself in the face. I remember because Uncle Charlie told me he’d never had so much trouble making a man presentable for an open casket. And he—” She pointed to the man standing next to Alistair, tall and thin with a stupid grin on his face. “—died last week. Accidental drowning.”

Felicity frowned. “So what are you saying? That everybody in this picture is dead except—”

“Except old Mr. Shaw.”

Felicity stared at her for a moment. “That is weird. I mean, what are the odds?”

“Pretty slim I should think.”

For a moment, they both pondered the mathematical possibility that six people in the same company would all die in the space of a couple of weeks. A tickle in Felicity’s stomach told her they were on to something here. She didn’t know what, but it was definitely something.

“Do you have the names of these people?”

“Sure. I can ask Uncle Charlie. He will know. He buried them both.” She grimaced. “Well, actually he buried four of them. And now he’s going to bury a couple more I should guess.”

“Ask him, will you?”

Alice suddenly grinned. “You know what would be funny? If Uncle Charlie was behind all this. He was complaining that business was slow a couple of weeks ago and now suddenly it’s booming.”

Felicity stared at her friend. “That’s not funny.”

Alice’s face fell. “I guess it’s not. Sorry, just trying to help.”

What would be helpful was if they would find a connection between all these murders, and as far as Felicity knew this was the first real one they’d found. Just then, Virgil entered the lobby, looking like he’d just been chewed out by a member of the NYPD, which most probably he had.

She waved him over. “Psst, Virgil!”

Virgil, slightly tottering, joined them. “Tell me it was worth it,” he said.

“It was,” Felicity assured him, then pointed to the picture. “See that? That might be our first real clue.”

Virgil stared at the picture. “It’s a fishing boat.”

Felicity wondered not for the first time how this man had ever passed the police exam, but before she could ask, Alice had launched into an explanation of the strange coincidence that practically everyone in that picture was now dead.

“Just a coincidence,” Virgil said. “Like so many things in this case. Just one big coincidence.” Then he seemed to pull himself together with a supreme effort and announced, “I’m going home now. Have a good night,” and abruptly walked off, stared after by Felicity and Alice.

“I don’t think we can expect a lot of help from him,” Alice said, voicing a thought that had also occurred to Felicity.

She took a quick peek around the lobby and when she was sure no one was looking removed the picture from the board and snuck it into her coat. “Let’s go and have a chat with your Uncle Charlie.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Alice with a grin.