MYSTERY: BRITISH MYSTERY: Missing Hearts (Amateur Sleuth Suspense Thriller) (Cozy Crime Detective Short Stories) (7 page)

“
D
id she sleep at all
?” Nick asked softly the next morning.

“I don’t know. She was crying for a while.” Emmeline looked toward her guest bedroom, her forehead creasing with worry. Even the smells of bacon and French toast hadn’t tempted Audrey out yet, and it was close to 10 AM.

The woman had said she would drive home, but by the time they reached Nick’s car, tears were streaming down her face, and they all knew she couldn’t drive. Emmeline had bundled her into the guest bedroom with a hot water bottle and a cup of herbal tea, recognizing that Audrey just wanted to be alone, but wanting to help any way she could. She’d lain awake listening to Audrey’s sobs for a while after that, her heart twisting.

“She took it hard,” Nick said. He grimaced into his coffee. “I feel bad for thinking she was a trophy wife. I guess it just always made me think less of
him
, you know? I hadn’t realized it hurt her so much.”

“I’d never thought of it that way, either.” Emmeline cut a bite of her toast and frowned. It didn’t seem right to be eating when there was someone so miserable in the next room; the whole world seemed off kilter. “And of course no one ever said it to her because she was doing so much for the community. She really was just trying to be nice.”

“You know, I met Marvin once or twice around the time I won that big book award.” Nick cradled his coffee mug in his hands. “He was a really smart guy, seemed nice. Lot of interests. Looking back on it, I feel like I should have seen how insecure he was about Audrey. But I see why she loved him—they had a good life together. If only he’d believed her that what she wanted was peace and quiet, not expensive clothes.” He raised his eyebrow. “You know, this is the sort of thing I’d write about, but it seems too close. Too real.”

“You don’t have to let anyone see it,” Emmeline offered. “Just write. Get it out. Writing for you is like baking for me.”

“That’s true.” Nick nodded. “You’re right. Maybe they’ll show up in one of my novels in fifteen years or so. Unless I’ve fizzled out. Awards curse and all that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be falsely modest, it’s not becoming.” Emmeline took a bite of French toast and smiled. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Cooking—another one of my talents.” Nick raised his mug in a mock salute. “You’re going to be late for work, you know.”

“Ugh, yes.” Emmeline looked down into her own mug and drained it in one long gulp. “For once, I’m in no mood to make all those pastries.”

“No?”

“No. I just want to crawl back into bed. But you
know
everyone’s going to want to come in and talk about the arrest. Tea shops are the new bars.”

“Mmm.” Nick grinned and then looked up as the paper thudded against the door. “I’ll go get that. Eat your breakfast.”

“Yes, sir.” Emmeline attacked her toast with a vengeance.

“Well,
this
is interesting.” Nick’s voice filtered back from the porch.

“What is? Close the door, it’s cold.” The mornings were chilly now. Emmeline poured herself another cup of hot coffee and cradled it in her hands until the shivers subsided. She watched as Nick walked back in slowly, reading the front page article. “Spill, what is it?”

“Well, they don’t know about the arrest yet, but it turns out a great many people saw Mayor Galloway go down that hallway alone before James’s body was found. You’ll be pleased to know that a great many people did seem to think, ‘her? Never!’ about you, by the way. One or two of them thought to wonder why Galloway said it was you, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Last night it sounded like even the police didn’t believe him.”

“I don’t think they did. It was just their job to come talk to you and try to work any angle they could to see if you might be guilty.”

“Mmf,” Emmeline said grumpily.

“I’m pretty sure you looked surprised enough that they decided right off it wasn’t you. Galloway insisting it was just set the blame back on him.” Nick sighed.

“What is it?”

“I feel bad for James. He had everything ahead of him. And you know what? In a way, he would have been perfect for Audrey. Both of them were quiet and good with crafts, and maybe he would have believed her about wanting to live a quiet life. I think they would really have hit it off. She tried to hate him for her husband’s sake, and between that and the lies…” He shook his head.

The door to the guest bedroom opened and they turned to see Audrey, her eyes red. She tried to smile, but her chin trembled.

“Come sit,” Emmeline offered. “I’ll get you a plate.”

“I don’t think I can eat.”

“You have to. Everything will just get worse if you don’t have any food or sleep.” Emmeline retrieved some slices of French toast from the oven, piled a few strips of bacon on the plate, and brought out another mug for coffee. “Sit.”

“What’s in the paper?” Audrey was staring at Nick’s hands, still holding the front page.

“Nothing.” He closed it and shoved it off to the side.

“Tell me.”

“They don’t know about the arrest yet,” Nick said grudgingly. “That’s all, really. You should eat.”

Between the two of them, Emmeline and Nick managed to coax Audrey into eating a piece of the toast and all of her bacon, and drinking a bit of coffee.

“Isn’t that better?” Emmeline said encouragingly.

“I have to go
home
,” Audrey whispered, clearly terrified. “All the news trucks will be there, won’t they? And people staring, and…I can’t do it.”

“So stay here today. I’ve got plenty of books, and I’ll make up another pot of coffee. Maybe call your family?”

“That sounds nice.” Audrey gave a smile so grateful, she looked like she was going to cry. “And I just remembered my truck is still in the woods.”

“We’ll go pick it up tonight,” Emmeline promised. “And now I have to go, because I really am late for work.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Nick followed her onto the porch. “Are you okay, Em?”

“I’m already late,” Emmeline said as she buttoned her coat.

“Exactly, you’re already late. People will understand about the scones.” His face sobered. “But you’ve had a hard couple of days. Seriously—are you all right?”

“I am. I will be.” Emmeline shook her head. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight?” Emmeline frowned.

“Steaks and wine, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Emmeline paused. “Look, Nick… I love these dinners, but…”

“But.” For some reason, he looked crestfallen. “I get it.”

“No! I really do, I love them. But don’t
you
have other things to do?” When he frowned at her quizzically, Emmeline waved her hands. “Dates to be going on, maybe?” When he only stared at her, his mouth twitching, she frowned at him. “What?”

“I…oh, screw it.” He ran his hands through his dark hair. “Emmeline, the first time I asked you to come over for dinner, I was
trying
to ask you out.”

“
What
? …Really?”

“Yes!” Nick waved his hands. “Don’t you remember, I had candles, I had wine…and then you said something about it being good to know your neighbors and I just…?”

“You didn’t correct me?” Emmeline demanded.

“I panicked! I thought you were trying to shut me down gently. And then sometimes it seemed like you were flirting, and sometimes it seemed like you were dressing up for our dinners, and I got to know you and I just kept falling for you harder and harder. Every time I told myself I’d be brave enough to ask you out, and every time…anyway, I had plans for tonight.”

“You did?” Emmeline was blushing.

“Yes! Well, last night. I was finally going to ask you out. You know, really.”

“What were your plans?”

“Drink a whole bunch of wine for courage, mainly.”

Emmeline started laughing, and once she’d started, she couldn’t stop.

“What?” Nick asked, sounding aggrieved.

“You mean we could have been dating this whole time?” She sank her face into her hands. “I was so convinced you’d never go for me that I said that about neighbors so you wouldn’t think
I
thought it was a date. And then I kept falling for
you
, but I thought you’d have a girlfriend or something.”

Nick started laughing as well.

“I can’t believe…no. You know what? No more talking.” He pulled her close and his lips met hers.

Emmeline gasped. Her skin was tingling, her stomach seemed to have disappeared entirely, and she couldn’t feel her feet. She realized her arms had come up around Nick’s neck and she pressed herself close as she returned the kiss. She felt tumbled over, as sick with fear as if she’d leapt off a cliff—and at the same time, comfortable in Nick’s arms. She was home.

“You’re going to be late,” Nick muttered against her mouth.

“People will wait for the scones,” she murmured back.

“Good point.” He smiled and pulled her close. “Very, very good point.”

L
acy Mitchell wasn’t looking
for love in all the wrong places. She wasn’t looking for love at all. Self-sufficient and happy love was the last thing she wanted. She wasn’t looking to become involved in a murder investigation either but when you’re the one that finds the body not becoming involved is impossible. Lacy simply wanted to walk the dogs for her clients and snuggle up with her own dog Freddy while watching movies with her best friend Alex.

Fate had more in mind for Lacy, however, and she soon finds herself entangled in a tangle of suspects. Is the murderer a mad man? A disgruntled family member? Or is it the building owner who was so rude to her when they first met. Can she take a chance on the man? Will the murderer be found before he kills again? Lacy has some choices to make, she just hopes her choices aren’t deadly.

“
L
acy
, don’t let Mr. Piddles wander off now, he likes to investigate and can disappear in an instant.” Mrs. Jenkins, Lacy’s neighbor and one of her customers, patted Lacy’s cheek.

The tiny elderly woman’s eyes obviously caused her problems as she squinted up at the much taller Lacy and smiled. “You’re such a good girl, Lacy; I don’t know why you can’t find yourself a man.”

Lacy smiled down kindly at Mrs. Jenkins as she took the tiny Yorkshire terrier’s leash from the woman without revealing how the comment stung. Mrs. Jenkins was a confection of pink and white knit materials from the knit cap on her head down to the knit slippers on her feet and Lacy knew the woman meant well.

“I’ll be sure to keep an extra eye on Mr. Piddles, Mrs. Jenkins. As for men, well, I’m too picky, I suppose.” Lacy said before she walked out of Mrs. Jenkins apartment, needing to collect three more dogs before she could take them all out for a nice long walk. Mr. Piddles and Lacy’s own little buddy, Freddy. Freddy was a black and white Boston terrier, much bigger than Mr. Piddles, and a very observant puppy that thought he was the team leader when Lacy took all of the dogs out for a walk.

Lacy’s only job was dog-walking, which wasn’t very lucrative, but it supplemented the small inheritance she’d had from an aunt, and kept her comfortable. The job also allowed Lacy an opportunity to interact with others, something the quiet blonde rarely took part in and it kept her active. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer but it allowed Lacy a chance to really enjoy her home, New York City, at Christmas.

Lacy loved Christmas but especially Christmas in New York City. The city was always bustling but the decorations, the lights, the couples happily strolling arm in arm just made Lacy smile and feel like there was no better place on earth to be.

Lacy, an average woman in every way, just wasn’t lucky in love. Of average height and build, with average looks, though she had long blonde hair that other women admired, Lacy was just too average in most departments to attract the man of her dreams. She was, however, very intelligent although this sometimes seemed to cause men to look at her as though she were an alien foreign thing that didn’t belong in their realms. No, she hadn’t been lucky in love.

Lacy smiled anyway because she’d learned that sometimes having a nice home to come home to, a few good friends, and a pet that loved you were far more awesome than excruciatingly boring dates and the many offers of casual sex that she had received over the years. It seemed men weren’t picky in that department but they were in the life-partner department. Lacy was also a keen cook that loved spending time finding new recipes and trying new cooking styles rather than chasing after children or doing mountains of laundry. All in all she had a lovely life and Freddy was the child she didn’t have.

Right now, though, Lacy’s favorite guy was being very naughty and wouldn’t stop scratching at the door of the apartment directly across from hers. As she’d left Mrs. Jenkin’s door Freddy had pulled against his leash and Lacy had thought he was just following the routine of heading for the next door but he’d stopped and started to scratch at this door, fighting against Lacy’s gentle tugs to paw at the door.

The hallway was long and looked almost like a hotel, with only plain doors breaking up the walls. There were eight doors on Lacy’s side of the building and she knew all but two of the people that lived on this hall. Lacy walked to the door, noticing that Freddy was still frantically clawing at the thick metal material. An elderly woman with a very noisy Chihuahua lived in that apartment. Lacy had made a few attempts to speak to the woman but the woman would either tell Lacy to buzz off or rudely give her a pointed middle finger and walk away.

As far as Lacy knew nobody in the building really cared for the woman. She was just too rude to everyone. Lacy felt as though someone had just poured a bucket of cold water over her as Freddy, and now Mr. Piddles, started to whine and scratch at the door. She knew something wasn’t right but wasn’t sure what.

Walking up to the door Lacy knocked on the metal door, knowing that she was just being silly and that the woman would probably rudely tell her something rude to do to herself. Lacy stood in the hallway, two dogs on a leash in each hand, and cringed. But no answer came so she knocked once more.

This time the door swung open a little and Lacy stood, wondering if the woman had opened it in invitation or if the door had simply opened under the pressure of her knocking. Taking the open crack between door and panel as an invitation Lacy pushed the door and walked in. The dogs at her feet whined once more but followed as Lacy walked into the apartment.

“Oh what is that? Has something died in here?” That feeling of cold pouring over her once more made Lacy’s skin break out in goose pimples and she threw a hand over her nose as she walked through the living room back to the kitchen. The smell wasn’t so bad in there but was still awful. Lacy had an idea she knew what she was going to find and started to fish her mobile phone from her pocket.

Little Freddy broke away from her as she was distracted and went to a closed bedroom door. Lacy looked down at Freddy with love mingled with disgust and spoke out loud.

“You’ve got me into a mess haven’t you little man?” She asked as she called out a hello to the woman in the apartment. Lacy hoped she was in here anyway. Alive and not dead as the smell seemed to indicate. Lacy walked to the bedroom door and pushed it open, a scream tearing from her throat as she did so.

There was someone in there, someone covered in blood and gore, and the smell was horrendous. Lacy ran out of the apartment, screaming for help as she closed the door behind her. This was not a good start to her day!

Lacy’s knees wobbled as she spoke with the police officer about how she’d discovered the woman and answered his questions. She felt as though her brain was in a fog, and everything was surreal. Her senses were taking in what she saw, heard, and smelled but it simply didn’t seem real, as though she were standing outside of her body and watching all of these things happening to someone else while her body just stood there.

Lacy watched as her long slim fingers, a rather delicate hand, not average at all to any who paid attention to hands, reached out to take the card from the officer, promising to call him if she remembered anything more. Lacy watched as the coroner’s people carted out the gurney with a filled body bag resting on top of it and wondered what the woman had been like when she was in her own world in her apartment, if she had family that would mourn her passing, and if there was anyone that needed to be told. She assumed that was the job of the police to find out and stood in the hall waiting on someone to tell her what she needed to do next.

Normally a very independent person who didn’t need directing in her daily tasks, Lacy, for once in her life, was lost and directionless. Then little Freddy tugged on his leash and Mr. Piddles started to prance around in circles. They were still on their leads, the end clamped firmly in her hands. Lacy took one deep breath and looked down at the dogs.

“Well, it seems everyone in the building has been down here this morning so I suppose the other dogs all know why I’m late, fellas. Let’s collect them and get out for our walk, shall we?” Putting on a determined smile that slightly resembled a grimace Lacy tutted at the dogs to signal that it was time to go and carried on down to the next apartments.

Her cheerful evasion of any and all questions meant that Lacy and her five charges were soon out of the building and into the fresh air. Lacy breathed in deeply, chasing away the smell of death and decay that seemed to permeate even her pores and started to finally feel as though reality was finally returning. The day grew less overly vivid, the surreal feeling passed, and she could finally think about what she’d discovered that morning.

She’d found Mrs. Hartman in her bedroom, blood staining her bed covers and run out of the apartment screaming for help. She hadn’t seen what had actually caused the death of the often sour woman but she’d known she was dead by the glassy stare of the woman’s eyes. She’s screamed until one of the other tenants, a man, came out and called the police while awkwardly patting Lacy’s shoulder, unsure of how to comfort the woman.

Lacy was grateful for even that awkward contact. As a man he was probably terrified of actually touching her for fear he’d get in trouble. Lacy looked at the man, one of the tenants she didn’t know, and smiled gratefully. He’d disappeared when the police finished questioning him but she’d remember his kindness.

Somehow Lacy had gotten through the questions, the curious stares of the other tenants, and had gratefully walked away when the questions had all been asked. The main questions went unanswered, however. Who had done this, how had they murdered the woman without anyone hearing anything? The walls weren’t thin but sometimes you heard things if they were loud enough.

Lacy walked the dogs to the nearest park, letting them sniff and scratch as she went over and over the morning in her mind. All of the dogs did their business and Lacy cleaned up after them before taking them back to their respective homes, giving the expected smiles and reports on how well each dog behaved. Finished with her morning duties complete, Lacy went back to her own apartment and let Freddy off of his leash.

Freddy provided the only real smile of the morning as he ran around the sparsely furnished apartment in joy at being free of the lead. He jumped over her long white couch, through the coffee table, into the kitchen and to her bedroom in a circuit three times before he finally came to a panting halt beside of Lacy on her couch. She gave Freddy some scratches under his chin and a kiss on his head before retrieving her phone. She needed her best friend, even if it was only in the form of a text message.

She typed out a short message and waited for his response. Alex, her very best friend, lived three doors down but he was at work by now. Alex responded, promising wine and sushi for dinner tonight, along with a long chat. Lacy knew he’d come through with his promise and turned the television on to catch the morning news.

She hadn’t expected to be confronted with a news report about the woman so quickly but there was a picture of the murdered woman as a beautiful but almost plastic newsreader reported the death of the woman. Lacy always thought these parts of the news programs were morbid. Not because of the deaths but because the newsreaders seemed unable to stop themselves from giving even the smallest hint of a smile. It was as though they were so programmed to smile prettily that they forgot to stop doing it even when they were reporting sad, horrific news, even as they gave frowns of sadness to the viewers, that smile still lingered in the background.

“Seventy-Two year old Lita Hartman was found dead in her apartment this morning by a neighbor. Police are asking for anyone that has information on the death of the elderly woman to come forward. You can find their number on our website.” The blonde whose face seemed to have actually frozen in some kind of horrific grimace turned to her partner, an over-tanned 40-something man for the rest of the broadcast.

“I bet they’re having an affair, what do you think Freddy?” Lacy asked the snuffling dog as he settled into her lap.

Freddy looked up at Lacy and shook his head in a yes motion as he sneezed and Lacy took it as agreement rather than a physical reaction. She clicked the news off and found a music channel and began the rest of her daily routine with dusting and a rinse of the dishes she’d used for her morning toast.

When thoughts about her morning discovery tried to push through Lacy just thought of two plastic dolls groping at each other and laughed, relieving some of the anxiety of her morning. At lunch time she ate, fed Freddy, and then grabbed her coat.

Freddy immediately started to turn in circles, yipping as Lacy clicked his lead on his collar and stood almost vibrating as he waited for the door to open. Lacy laughed at his antics and went to Mrs. Jenkin’s door first again, putting off questions and concerns by reminding Mrs. Jenkins that she had a schedule to keep. Lacy had picked up all of the dogs and was heading out to the hallway exit when a man walked in.

The man looked like one of those kinds often seen on cop shows, dark suit with a black woolen overcoat, a light blue silk tie the only real color to the man’s clothing. The suit and coat looked expensive as did the haircut that left the man with a short back and sides but a little longish on the top, just enough to be inviting to an admirer’s fingers, Lacy thought.

Lacy fiddled with the dogs’ leads wanting to study more that dark haired man’s face. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with a strong jaw line, olive skin, and piercing light eyes. For some reason she’d expected the man would have dark brown eyes like hers and the effect of the color was breath-taking. He looked like a confident man, a man that was used to being obeyed and Lacy’s knees went a little wobbly for the second time that day as she watched him speaking with the older woman who was following along behind him.

Lacy turned to the wall, pretending to untangle the leashes as the man came close and she heard his voice. A deep warm voice that was the perfect complement to the man’s appearance with a slight southern accent. Lacy felt silly but could feel herself smiling as she listened to him, she could listen to him talking for hours!

“Excuse me miss, are you a tenant in this building?” Lacy heard the woman ask, her tone matter of fact, brisk even. Almost as though the woman expected an answer and quickly in deference to her demands.

“Well, yes, I am. Can I help you find someone?” Lacy asked, a smile on her face as she turned to face the two.

“No, but you have thirty days’ notice to vacate your apartment. Tenants are only allowed one pet per apartment. It’s in the tenant agreement. If you’ll give me your name and apartment number I’ll be sure you receive a proper written notice. Have a nice day.” The woman said as she and the man stood waiting.

Lacy gave her name and apartment number before the couple walked away, heading to the apartment formerly occupied by Mrs. Hartman.