Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) (4 page)

I flew to the window and bellowed, "We're up here." It was more to save me from the embarrassment of hearing what might be uttered after that, as I stood next to the handsome stranger, than to actually let them know where we were.

Mom waved her arm erratically, motioning me toward her. "Grab my makeup case and the toiletries bag from under the sink and come on down, honey. I'll show you some of the computer stuff so we can leave bright and early."

I grabbed the cases in question. Mal and Cris followed me down the stairs and across the drive. I left the cases and Mal with my father to talk shop, the closet being the first thing on the agenda, from what I overheard.

I expected Cris to come with me. When I reached the back door, I glanced back toward her as she stood, seemingly enthralled with the guy talk. "Cris?"

She spun toward me, almost losing her footing in her heels on the gravel. "Oh, you go on. I'm learning a ton of things about carpentry." She winked, waggled a brow, and then turned back toward the men.

I really shouldn't have been as surprised as I was.

I came into the back living area as Mom was closing the basement door, a large basket of clean laundry at her feet. She smiled. "Ready for a computer lesson? I'll fold these in the RV later."

A computer lesson from my mom? I should probably have filmed it.

Following her through the employee area and into the lobby, I swiped a dinner roll from the counter as we passed by.

Mom waved a hand toward the leather chair behind the computer. "Have a seat, and I'll show you what you need to know."

I followed her orders, knowing in my heart there was pretty much nothing about that computer she'd be able to teach me. She was a tech-no kind of person. It was just an extension of her cell phone nonetiquette.

"Push the little button thingy on that box there."

"You mean the computer power button?" I tried to keep a straight face. Obviously, I didn't try hard enough.

Mom crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "Wipe that smirk off your face right now, young lady. Do you want my help or not?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I believed she was the one needing
my
help so they could run off, but I refrained from spewing that bit of information back in her face. Instead, I pushed the
little button thingy
just as she'd asked.

Once the computer booted up, Mom reached over my shoulder and pointed to the screen. "Use the mousy and click on that striped box in the corner."

"The icon that says Time Clock?" I could practically feel her glare boring into the back of my head as I clicked on it.

She walked me through how to track employee time and help anyone who might actually be less technologically inclined than my mother to clock in, though I doubted that person's existence as we moved on to the
doo-ma-floppy
that ran credit card payments and worked seamlessly to the
roundy
-
thing
that encoded the room key cards. Thankfully, as she was rattling off instructions in mother-ese, I was able to figure most of it out for myself.

"Payroll is outsourced, so everyone will get paid as long as they clock in and out. No worries there. Malcolm keeps his receipts in a folder and tracks his time. He gets paid when he turns everything in to us. We will cut him a check when we get back." Mom waggled a finger at a folder titled
Important Numbers
. "All employees and local businesses are listed. The bakery number is in there, in case someone with food allergies stays. They're okay with special orders."

My stomach growled at the thought of delicious pastries as I devoured the roll in two bites. It was sort of a small roll.

Mom spun my chair to face her, leaning toward me with her hands on the armrests. "Sheila, the staff manager I was telling you about earlier, quite frankly does most of the work around here. She comes in at six in the morning and knows how most of this works too." She waved a hand slowly around the computer monitor like it was magical, and she didn't want to anger the computer gods. "Her number is in the folder on here."

Dad appeared through the door behind Mom. "How is the computer training going?" He winked at me over her shoulder.

Mom spun around and linked her hands behind his neck, stealing a quick kiss. "If I can do it, anyone can."

Truer words had never been uttered. Mom had many, many talents, like baking, knitting, and taking care of my brother and me. Anything that had to be programmed made her eyes roll into the back of her head. Those were her exact words once.

Dad gripped her waist and nudged her back far enough to look into her eyes. "Honey, that's great." He glanced over her shoulder at his watch, then looked into her eyes again. "What do you say we grab a quick bite at the Smugglers' Tavern and get to bed early?"

Mom broke free, giddily clapping her hands. "Sounds perfect!"

"Wait, what about—" I started to protest as fear stabbed at my stomach and buzzed through me, momentarily threatening to evict the biscuit I'd inhaled. Part of me wanted to beg my parents to stay or take me with them. My ego had taken enough hits recently. I wasn't sure it could take failing as temp B&B owner too.

But Dad waved my concerns off before I could even voice them. "Relax. We'll be back before you know it. I trust you implicitly. The freezer and fridge are all stocked with pizzas and easy stuff to fix, too, so I know you won't starve."

"You don't mind folding the laundry for me, do you, Bree?" Mom called as Dad dragged her out of the room.

I looked down at the pile. Swell.

*   *   *

The next morning I was awakened by the sounds of my parents singing "Livin' on a Prayer" as they loaded clothes and food into the RV. Cristal had cleared enough room on the bed in the apartment for her to sleep for the night, but I'd ended up sleeping on the couch in the back living room. Initially I'd been waiting on my parents' return to ask about a zillion more questions about running a B&B, but I'd been exhausted enough from the long drive that I'd fallen asleep under my dad's quilt, in my jeans and all.

I made my way across the drive, ignoring the off-key singing, and trudged up the stairs to the apartment, stretching and rubbing my bleary eyes.

One shower, a couple of muffins, and three parental power ballads later, I was standing outside the massive recreational vehicle, hugging my parents good-bye and trying once again to tamp down the panic at being left in charge. Alone.

As though reading my mind, Dad said," Don't worry. You're not alone. You've got your friend here for moral support. And Mal can help out with anything that comes up."

I had to admit that the handsome Scotsman might be a welcome distraction. "Will he be here today?" I asked, looking around.

Dad chuckled, pointing toward Mal's truck and trailer at the curb. "Already here. Cristal dragged him and his sledgehammer up to the apartment while you were getting breakfast."

So much for moral support.

"Mal said he could spare a few minutes to poke a hole in the closet wall to see if there's enough room to expand," Dad continued. "If he can build it, it'll get more of your mom's stuff out of my way, so I'm happy to pay for it."

Mom and Dad took turns kissing my forehead and hugging me before getting into the RV.

Mom actually looked wary as she hung out the window. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

The fact that she was finally acknowledging, however slightly, how nervous I was gave me a tiny bit of comfort. I actually felt like I could at least wing it for a few days. Maybe.

I nodded. "Have fun."

A smile consumed her face. "Oh, we will. I'll kiss your dad for you when we get backstage," she teased.

I watched as they drove away, waving until I couldn't see the vehicle any longer, then wandered up the stairs to the apartment. I opened the door to find Cristal trying on a pair of safety goggles. She had them off and tossed back onto Mal's things before I could get my phone out for a picture. Dang it.

Mal grabbed the sledgehammer and swaggered to the bedroom door with the heavy monstrosity propped easily against his strong shoulder. "I'll give the wall a good wallop and see what's back there. That way I'll know what other tools I need to bring." He grabbed the pair of safety glasses that Cris had just abandoned and went into the bedroom to assess the closet.

He knocked on the wall near the corner, just like I had the night before. "Seems like you might be right, Bree. Sounds a wee bit hollow."

I bit back a smart remark about him taking note that I
was
always right and it would save him time in the future, but I just nodded with a knowing look instead.

He swung the sledgehammer back and heaved it at the center of the back wall, busting through the Sheetrock. As he pulled back, he brought a huge chunk of drywall with him, but his sledgehammer was stuck against a wall brace.

He walked out to his stash and grabbed another pair of safety glasses and some work gloves, then handed them to me as he came back in. "Would you mind pushing on that support beam there while I yank on my sledge so I don't pull down the whole wall?"

"Wait," Cris whined, fists balled on her hips. "I can help."

I looked over my shoulder at her and snorted at the thought of her actually doing anything close to manual labor.

Her glossed lips puckered in an angry pout.

I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to mask the laugh. "I've got this."

I slid on the safety glasses and attempted to keep my hands inside the overly large work gloves. Pushing against the beam, I stared into the rather large space behind the wall. Wedged between the support beam I was pushing on and the next one over was a dark blob of something I couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, it was big enough to practically fill the area. I was just about to voice my concerns when Mal decided to jerk his sledge free, bringing down the remnants of Sheetrock and the blob.

Right on top of me.

I sputtered and coughed through the drywall dust. When everything settled, I was looking up at a decaying man's blank stare, his nose pressed at a harsh right angle against the heavy plastic he was wrapped and sealed in, blue masking tape wound tightly around the neck area on the outside of the material and most of the rest of his skeletal form. I wanted to scream, my entire body quaking with the horror of the situation, but all I could eke out was, "Is that…"

Cris finished my sentence with a shriek. "A body?"

Mal tugged the heavy plastic-covered mummy from me, rolling the poor guy onto his back. "Looks like it. We should probably call the police." He finally stopped looking at the chunk of plastic, turning his wide-eyed gaze to me. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" He ripped off his gloves and brushed some dust from my face, his thumb lingering at my lips.

I blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. "Never better."

Cristal dropped to her knees next to me, tucking my hair behind my ears, a lopsided grimace distorting her face. "At least you know there's room to expand if someone could fit a big ole guy like him in there."

Still lying on the floor, I turned my head toward the lifeless, beady eyes next to me. "Gee, thanks for the silver lining, Cristal."

I didn't know the town of Danger Cove had one cop car, let alone two. The nearly midday sun glinted off windshields, adding an almost patriotic glimmer to the red-and-blue flashing lights. There was also an ambulance adding to the not-so-serene ambiance in the driveway, though I was pretty sure
they
were a little late to this particular party. At least the sirens were quiet now, giving way to chirping birds and the rhythmic sounds of crashing waves in the distance.

I swiped on my cell phone and tried calling my parents again.

Just like after calling 9-1-1, there was still no answer and still no voice mail.

One day, maybe I'd stop being shocked about it. I looked around for Cristal, but the older of the two cops had already cornered her by a tree and was feverishly writing down every word she said while she straightened his tie and collar. The woman didn't know how
not
to flirt.

The EMTs brought the body by on a gurney, this time in a regular body bag rather than the heavy plastic. I brushed myself off once more, like I'd done at least two dozen times since he'd fallen on me, out of habit now more than anything else. I still didn't feel clean and honestly couldn't imagine ever feeling that way again.

I stepped in their path, bringing them to a stop with a raised hand. "Wait."

The older, portlier of the two men huffed an annoyed sigh. "Can we help you, ma'am?"

"Do you know who this person is? What happened? When it happened?"

He offered me a wide-eyed, irritated look. "Why does it matter to you?"

"You know, a girl kind of wants to know these things about the men who fall out of walls on top of them."

"Ah." His expression softened a bit, and he shrugged. "We have to get him down to the medical examiner's office to know any specifics. Best I can tell is that he's been in there a while. He was probably about mid-thirties, large build, and sustained a single gunshot wound to the head. Sorry I can't tell you much more than that. You can call Ms. Cooper's office, the medical examiner, when she's had a chance to look him over."

"Thanks." I watched as they made their way to the ambulance and loaded the body, wrapping my arms around myself and allowing the shudders of disgust that I'd been holding back.

A young Barney Fife-looking officer approached me and flipped open a notepad. "Good morning."

Not really.

He was an all-American looking guy, but you could tell he was still green by his wide-eyed, go-get-'em expression. His uniform was a little big on him too, kind of like he hoped to fill it out one day.

He nodded in my direction. "I don't think we've met. I'm Officer Faria."

I nodded back. "Bree Milford, daughter of the Ocean View owners."

For a split second I was pretty sure he smiled. "I've heard so much about you from your parents." He turned his attention back to his little notepad, flipping to an empty page. "I'll need to take your statement. Can you tell me what happened this morning?"

I told him in great detail about the events that'd just happened. I relived all of the stuff that would probably give me nightmares for life, acting out the sledgehammer part as I told him about it, and doing my best to re-create my shock and disgust at a deteriorating, plastic-wrapped body landing on me, though I wasn't quite sure why I was so chatty and animated, other than nerves.

"Did you know the man?" He intently studied my whole face as he waited for my reply.

"Uh, the dead guy or the sledgehammer guy?"

"Both of them," he stated in more of a question.

"I could only see the eyes and squished nose of the dead guy. He was all wrapped up in that heavy construction plastic and had masking tape wound all around, too, like a blue makeshift mummy. He must've been sealed pretty tightly, because I couldn't smell anything."

"So, that's a no?"

"How about a
probably not
, since this is the first time I've even been in this town?"

He nodded, scribbling in his pad. "And the carpenter?"

"I just met him. Seems like a nice guy though." I shrugged.

He just looked up and blinked a few times, obviously unimpressed with me as a character witness for Mr. O'Connell. "Okay, I think that's all I need from you right at the moment. I'll need to speak with your parents now. Would you mind getting them for me?"

"They're, uh, not here. I'm in charge. They won't be back for a few days." I glanced around at the growing crowd of curious and nosey neighbors, avoiding eye contact with the officer in hopes of dodging any questions about my parents.

"Can you tell me where they are?"

Like that one.

I shook my head. It wasn't a lie, really. I knew they were somewhere along the coastline headed to San Diego, probably only a little way outside of town at this point, but as for their whereabouts at that exact moment, his guess was as good as mine. If I could get them to answer the damn phone so they knew what was going on, I would have elaborated.

His blond brows scrunched into a single unibrow of confusion. "They left you in charge but didn't tell you where they were going? I find that highly suspicious." His voice grew bolder, and his posture straightened with each word until he was standing at attention.

See, now he was asking outside of my comfy gray area. I scrambled for an answer. Instead, the slutty neighbor I'd seen through the kitchen window saved me.

"I knew those two were trouble when they first rolled up in that tacky recreational vehicle of theirs after buying the place.
Finally
, this ought to get rid of them," Patricia, the haughty neighbor lady, squabbled from her side of the drive, grabbing the officer's attention. Well, the short silk robe that was open to her navel, showing that she had nothing much on underneath, probably had something to do with catching his eye too.

Officer Faria scurried toward her and patted her hand. "You don't need to worry your pretty little head, Mrs. Koch. You just let me do my job, okay?"

"They obviously had something to do with all of this!" Patricia bellowed.

"Wait just a minute," I yelled, closing the gap between the officer and me. "What about the people who sold this place to my parents?"

Mal wandered off the porch and into the yard, walking up beside me. "That's true. Renovations had started up there before they bought the place."

The officer turned his attention to Mal, invading his personal space, but Mal didn't back away. They were about the same height, but Mal outweighed him by about fifty pounds of muscle. Seemed like our young cop felt he had something to prove.

"Was your company responsible for the earlier renovations?" Officer Faria snapped, his gaze narrowing on Mal's.

"No, sir. It wasn't my team at that time."

Patricia crossed her arms over her ample bosom, a sneer wrinkling her upper lip, directing her anger at me. "How dare you point the blame at a sweet, defenseless old couple? They were pillars of this community for decades."

The officer backed away from Mal, pivoting toward Mrs. Koch yet again. "I understand, but we'll have to look into them as well, if this information is true."

She flounced off toward her house in a huff, her kitten heeled, feather-encrusted slippers clacking on the sidewalk.

A man I'd seen lurking off to the other side of the bed and breakfast finally walked toward me. A burly older guy with well-kept dark hair, probably in his mid to late forties, and dressed in perfectly pressed khakis and a purple gingham buttoned-down oxford with paisley cuffs, extended his hand with pinky aloft.

As we shook hands, he introduced himself. "Nick Lafollette, your kinder, gentler neighbor. Don't you worry a bit about that cranky cougar on the other side of you." He flipped a hand in Mrs. Koch's direction, complete with a sassy snap. "Her hiss is much worse than her scratch. It's kind of sad really. If her hubby would just pay a little bit of attention to her, she wouldn't have to expose us all to her crankiness." He peered over my shoulder and shuddered. "And girly bits."

"That was quite an outfit to be parading the sidewalk in." I nodded, and he joined in with me with quite a bit more emphasis.

He rolled his eyes. "She has that robe in every color, so you'd best get used to it. I'm sure some people enjoyed the display. It was all undoubtedly for that hunky contractor of yours. Patricia still has a chokehold of a grudge ever since he picked finishing your mom's renovation first over hers. Not that I'd blame the guy." His dark brows arched under his perfectly styled bangs. "Your mother is a hottie and quite the hoot and a half, or so I'm told."

"So, you know my parents pretty well, then?" I asked, hoping for a good character witness if things circled the drain with the dead-guy accusations.

"Well," he drew out, pausing to straighten his shirt cuffs and inspect his perfectly manicured nails. "We don't have tea or go shopping or anything, but they're very busy little bees, so that's no surprise. If they aren't working around here, they're off in that fun little RV of theirs."

So much for my witness.

"Ms. Milford?" the lanky cop yelled to get my attention, motioning me over to him. "We need to get some contact information from you, please."

Nick pulled my hand into his, patting it gently. "If you need anything at all, honey bunches, you just march your pretty little red head over here and ask. Okay?"

His kindness melted through the stress and horror the morning had produced. "That's very thoughtful of you. I might have to take you up on it. You've been warned."

He tossed me a harmless, playful wink along with a genuine smile as he backed toward his house. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it." He fluttered his fingers in a little wave and turned away, disappearing up his walkway.

I needed to find Mom's emergency wine stash. It was five o'clock somewhere, right? I wasn't much of a drinker, but this was a special occasion of the not-so-good variety.

Not to mention, a hell of a way to meet your neighbors.