Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) (11 page)

I perched on the dimly lit steps of the police station, waiting for my brother to finish talking with our parents. He was making sure they were okay with the attorney he'd brought for them. I'd never actually been arrested, so I was released but told to stay close after enduring a long lecture about bending the truth. Probably a similar spiel as the one Mal had gotten.

I stared out into the darkness past the streetlights, my mind racing in a thousand different directions, trying to remember any weird behavior from my parents as I was growing up. Well, weirder than what was considered the norm in our house, anyway. Nothing overly shocking came to mind. Absolutely nothing that would even remotely make me suspect either of my parents of murder.

Bradley dropped his duffel bag on the lower step and sat next to me. He brushed his dark bangs from his eyes and pursed his lips in a worried look. The older he got, the more he looked like Dad and absolutely nothing like any lead singer to an eighties band. He wrapped me in his arms and swayed us a bit. "How are you holding up, little sis?"

I inhaled his familiar beachy cologne, closing my eyes and pretending we were anywhere but on the steps of a police station. "Never better, big bro." The words themselves said I was fine, but even to my own ears the tone, however, smacked of needing a stiff drink and a Valium. "Is Mom coming out soon? They didn't find her fingerprints anywhere, did they?"

"Nope, but they're charging her as an accessory. I don't know if they'll be able to make it stick, but it's enough to hold her until their arraignment and even trial, if it goes that far." He squeezed me tighter. "Is there by any chance a room I can stay in at the B&B?"

I snorted. "We have a few rooms left. No one who is staying right now is a paying customer, other than Unc-stable Eddie."

"Who'd have ever thought he'd end up being the upstanding one?"

I laughed, feeling protected. Both felt good. "I know. You can't tell him. We'll never hear the end of it."

"Can you drive me back to Ocean View?"

I leaned back just enough to look in his brilliant-blue eyes rimmed in dark, thick lashes—again, just like Dad's. "I had a
personal escort
here in the back of one of those." I flipped a hand toward one of the black and whites at the curb. "Didn't you drive?"

He bobbed his head back toward the precinct doors. "Rode along with Ashland. Figured you or Cristal could take me home Sunday."

"Really hoping and praying Cristal's driving, right?" Reluctantly, I withdrew from my safe cocoon and stood before him, extending a hand. "Looks like we're walking, then."

He glanced anxiously toward Main Street as he stood, his hand pressed against his ches
t
,
feigning anxiety. He gripped my hand tightly. "We'll get lost in this big city at night." His fake fear morphed into a playful smile as he grabbed his bag and took the steps two at a time, his long legs making it look easy. "I'll race you," he called over his shoulder.

I caught up to him quickly as I rounded the corner and jumped the trolley track on Main Street, but only because he was loaded down with luggage. I laced my arm through his and brought him to a slower gait. "Seriously, though, Mom and Dad are innocent, right?"

His head tilted back with a hearty laugh. As it tapered to a mild roar, he snickered. "Do you even really have to ask? It's Dad, the pants-less wonder who has never, ever even flipped a person off. He's not capable of that kind of evil."

"Yeah, you're right, but I actually saw him get pissed in there. And Mom said he'd gotten rough with a guy for flirting with her. Made me realize that even the most docile people are capable of different things if the situation forces it. What about Uncle Eddie? He even told me that he had ways of making people disappear." I leaned my head against my brother's shoulder as we strolled along the dappled sidewalk, the streetlights fighting to shine through the thick foliage. I was ninety-nine percent sure my parents were innocent, so my mind shifted to our uncle. "I mean, it would be typical Uncle Eddie for the bodies to all show up again."

Bradley sighed, shaking his head. "He's a great storyteller, but I'm pretty sure that's it. Besides, the man is in his seventies."

"Okay, so how do we prove Dad's innocence?"

"Hmmm," my brother mumbled, obviously pondering my question. "It's not like they're established residents of the town. I doubt they've even gotten out to meet many new people, so I'm not sure there would be a lot of character witnesses here or most places we've lived. They're a bit flighty. Or hadn't you picked up on that this week when they ran off?"

"This week? I remember most of our childhood being that way. I dreaded the days when I heard Mom squealing about a new house."

For a moment, I was ten years old again, standing in front of yet another
sold
real estate sign at the curb next to a packed RV and moving van, telling my newest "very best friend ever" good-bye and promising to write. I always did at first, but it never lasted. The list of "very best friends ever" got too long as we moved from one place to another and then another. When one was added to the top, the name at the bottom had to drop off, or I'd have never had time for schoolwork.

As soon as I snapped back to the present, I jumped right back into our conversation. "So, how do we explain the other body and Dad's fingerprints? I mean, if there
really is
another body like they said."

He stopped abruptly and grabbed one of my hands, his handsome features now very somber. "I saw the file. The body is very real, and Dad's fingerprints match up."

"So, if they didn't do it…"

Bradley cut me off. "They didn't. How could they? Let's pretend, just for a split second, that Mom and Dad were killers. They'd have to be paid assassins, because we both know they'd never do anything for free. Wouldn't we have been rolling in the money? Do you ever remember owning anything with a designer label as a kid? I'm pretty sure assassins' kids are spoiled rotten and dressed very well."

I chuckled at the picture he painted of Dad with an Uzi strapped to his back, doling out big bucks to us while Mom was inside cleaning the handguns as she made supper. "Nope, no matter how much I begged." I released a huge sigh of defeat mixed with extreme confusion. "Then who would do this kind of thing and frame them in the process? We have to figure this out. There's no way anyone can defend a case like this when even we can't grasp what happened."

He let go of my hand and clamped his on my shoulder, turning me toward him again. "Ashland isn't much to look at, but he's a real beast in the courtroom. He'll figure something out. Promise. Even if he doesn't, I'm working second on the case. I won't let them down."

"Can you get a copy of the file you saw from him so we can put our heads together and find anything we might be able to use to prove them innocent?"

He spun me under his arm, and we started walking again. "Of course. I'll call Ashland later and have him drop a copy by the bed and breakfast."

The rest of the walk was in silence except for the trilling tree frogs and chirping crickets. This, of course, just gave my mind time to jump off the deep end on a tangent of my mother as a serial killer by night, doting mom by day.

We entered the unlocked lobby with no one around. "I guess I should have been more specific with Mal and had him lock the place before the officer hauled me away. Cris? Mal? Is anyone here?" Nothing. I waved my hand toward the two bedrooms down the hall on the main floor. "Have a preference?" I walked around the desk and turned on the machine that activated the key cards.

"How about the one with the view out back? I would imagine the sunsets are amazing here."

I punched in the room number, swiped the card, and handed it to him. "Done."

"You've done that a lot, eh?"

"You'd think so, but no. Mom was right. It's actually pretty easy." I stared down at the computer, then shifted my gaze to my brother. "Don't ever tell her I said she was right."

"With the dirt you've got on me? I wouldn't dream of it." We shared the same knowing look we'd used since I was in kindergarten and had gotten caught swapping my carrots for a pudding cup. "I'm going to take a shower and put on my sweats. Back in ten."

I laid my head on the desk after Bradley disappeared into his room. My brain was still running in so many different directions trying to process the day's turn of events. I didn't even hear Cris and Mal come through the door. I did, however, hear Mal singing "Summer Breeze" at the top of his lungs as he neared the desk. As loud as he was, the neighbors probably heard too.

I raised my head slowly, trying to process the situation. Even his sexy accent didn't help this time. "This is funny to you?"

He tried to stifle his dimpled grin while dropping the beat of the song down to a more somber tone, probably thinking he was being cute. What tipped me over the edge was Cris linking arms with him and adding a soprano to the mix. They belted out the chorus in fairly good harmony.

I tried a few deep breaths and even counted my blessings that they weren't quoting an old Summer's Eve commercial instead. But they just kept singing, and I just kept getting madder with each verse. Normally, I'd just walk away. There wasn't much of anything normal about my day.

"Cris," I barked loudly enough for her to hear. "Let it go!"

She flipped her hand at me nonchalantly and rolled her eyes, clinging to Mal's arm. With her head tilted back, she laughed as he kept on singing.

I stood, stomping around to the other side of the desk, my hands balled into fists at my sides, my breathing coming in gasps. I was hurt, scared, angry, and sad, which was a very dangerous combination. At least it was for me. The last thing I needed was to be mocked by my best friend, let alone a gorgeous guy I sort of liked but didn't like. Tears welled in my eyes as I screamed, "Fine!"

They both stopped, looking at me as though I'd lost my mind.

"That's right. Look at Summer Breeze like I'm the crazy one. I've had the day from hell. I'm so glad you two are enjoying this." I pointed a finger at Cris. "You brought this on yourself." I waved that same finger back and forth between them. "Malcolm
Dughlas
O'Connell, meet Tammy Loraine Diggles!" I crossed my arms defiantly over my chest, feeling a tiny bit of victory before Cris's expression cycled from shock to hurt, totally killing the mood. She flew up the stairs to her room, a sniffling blur of blonde hair, slamming the door so hard the whole building shook.

Even though she'd started it, I was going to pay dearly.

I knew I was in for the silent treatment the next morning, and a part of me that was hurt from the previous night's serenade actually looked forward to it.

The other somewhat mature part hated it. That part eventually won out when I realized that while she may have joined in on the ridicule, she wasn't the one who actually divulged my full name to Mal. I owed her an apology for that. I was dressed and ready for a run, wanting to work off all of my anxiety, but I just couldn't walk out the door without setting things right.

Cris sat on the couch in the lobby, arms folded tightly across her chest, lips crinkled in a pout, looking at anything but me, her cheery, lime-green jogging outfit a stark contrast to her sullen expression. She must have had the same idea, minus the whole apology thing from me. I'd finally lured her out of her room but only after banging on the door for a few minutes.

Different songbirds harmonized outside the front door as though desperately trying to ease the tension in the room. Not so much.

Leaning back against the desk, I begged, "I said I was sorry. If I could turn back the clock, I'd keep my mouth shut about your name and just scream overtop of your singing about how horrible my day was. And the day was awful, just so you know."

She remained stoic, facing the wall across from the couch with a big painting of the original bed and breakfast. I walked into her line of sight, and she whipped her head to glare out the front door.

"They arrested my mom and dad."

Her eyes shifted, looking at me for a split second, but returned to the door.

"They took me in for questioning and made me ride in the cop car and everything."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, but her pout and gaze stayed fixed.

"There was another body found on the beach."

She actually looked at me for a few seconds, the scowl turning to shock for that brief time. But it switched back as she turned toward the door again.

"This person was killed the same way, wrapped the same way, and even had my dad's fingerprints somewhere," I stated, my voice wavering toward the end of the statement as gut-wrenching fear jolted through me. My eyes brimmed with tears, clouding my vision.

Cris stood slowly and inched toward me, her glowering expression melting into pity. "They can't possibly think John could do something like that."

"My dad is being charged with two counts of first-degree murder and my mom with accessory to the crimes. Their arraignments are tomorrow afternoon," I blubbered as I swiped away the tears.

She reached behind me and grabbed some tissues from the desk, offering them with one hand, her other gripping my wrist. "No wonder you snapped last night. I guess I owe you an apology too. Forgive me?"

I grabbed the tissues, attempting to dry my face, but the tears flowed faster now. "Of course," I muttered in a staccato, snotty whimper.

I melted into her open embrace, my legs turning wobbly as the anger and hurt left, leaving behind the hard reality of what my parents were facing. Outweighing Cris by at least twenty pounds, I was surprised at how sturdy she was and her ability to keep me upright and steady without wavering. She really was a true friend, probably the first I'd ever really had and definitely the longest. I dug deeply inside myself and found a little strength and a lot of sarcasm, the crutch I'd used all my life. Pulling myself from her embrace, I joked, "I'm sure you're probably ready to collapse from my massive girth."

She swatted my arm fairly hard. "You know I hate when you put yourself down."

"Run with me?"

"Absolutely!" She grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door into the brilliant morning sun on the porch.

Where we found the reporter guy standing. This time, he had his nose hitched so high that he'd drown if it rained. "You might want to use our paper as a way to get your side of the story out now. I hear things are looking a little bad for your folks with this new body showing up on Two Mile Beach." He flipped open his notebook but never even looked down at the page. "Oh, and even fingerprints this time. That's insane, right?" His patronizing tone irritated every last cell in my body.

"You want a story?" I walked toward him, backing him against the railing. "How about we do a story about how the local town reporter was pummeled by two girls?"

His chin lowered, and eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me?"

I puckered my lips in a thought-filled frown and shook my head. "Nope, I'm just asking hypothetically if you'd be interested in one."

Cris walked up next to me, hands on her hips. She glanced at him and then at me, waiting for him to answer. When he didn't provide one, she said, "Maybe he doesn't know what
hypothetically
means."

He sputtered, "I know what that means." He stood up straight even though he had very little personal space in which to operate. "I'm just saying that if this was the old days of Danger Cove, they'd be building a platform on Main Street with a trap door and two hangman nooses. You might want to get your side of the story out there."

"Fine. My parents are innocent. What more do you need?"

He snorted. "I'm warning you. This is going to get ugly when the news spreads past our town. This quiet street will be turned into a media circus, and that can't be good for business. I can help you. How do you know they're innocent?"

"Because I know them, okay?" I felt tears well in my eyes again, but I blinked them back. There was no way I'd let this man have the satisfaction of seeing me cry. "Now leave before I give my friend here permission to
adjust
your tie again."

He sidestepped away from us, holding a hand over the knot at his neck. "I warned you."

"And I warned you." I bobbed my head toward Cris.

She stomped a foot out toward him, and he scurried down the steps again, leaving abruptly, like the last time.

Cris dragged me down the stairs and along the sidewalk. "Now, we jog all of his ick off."

As we ran, I used my anger to fuel my steps. We wound our route down the hill, through the downtown area to the crowded pier, up past the lighthouse, and circled back through the outskirts of town. I ran harder than I ever had before. I was focused on the beautiful surroundings, the magnificent ocean, the people we bobbed and weaved through, and the dinging trolley we waited on. But in my head, I was trying to run away from dead bodies, arrested parents, and evil reporters. It didn't really work, because reality was still there when we stopped outside of the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery to do a pulse check. I did feel a bit more able to handle things, at least while endorphins ruled my blood supply. It probably wasn't exactly the ideal place to stop, as my stomach growled at the enticing aromas wafting from the place. For whatever reason, I suddenly remembered my brother and how I'd neglected to tell Cris he was there.

I leaned down to look her in the eyes as she was stretching out her glutes. "Just so you know, Bradley came into town early and is staying at the bed and breakfast. You kind of stayed in your room all night after the whole name debacle, or I'd have mentioned it before now."

She popped up straight, swiping at her sweaty forehead with the back of her arm and adjusting her ponytail. "I can't let him see me like this. You should've led with that while you were banging on my door earlier."

"I wanted you to come out because of me."

A lopsided grin hitched the corner of her mouth. "Understood. Let's get back there, then, so I can clean up and use my feminine wiles to seduce…"

I popped a hand in front of her face. "Ew. Again, that's my brother."

"Right. But you'll still totally keep him busy while I shower?"

"As long as I don't have to use my feminine wiles, I think I can manage. What about your connection with Malcolm? How do you think he'll take to having another man competing for your attention?"

"Bradley trumps Mal. I've been trying to get your brother's attention since I first met him shortly after you moved in with me. He was so caught up in all those books of his back then, though." Her eyebrows raised into her sweaty bangs. "You know, he's the first man I've been interested in who has ever ignored me."

"It's called studying, Cris. He'd just started law school. Now that he's almost done, I guess he's come to realize he can concentrate on more than one thing at a time."

"Like female anatomy?"

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, popping a finger under her chin so she'd look at me. "Again. Brother."

She pulled away and took off in a flat-out sprint. "You know what I mean," she called over her shoulder.

I darted toward her, but she was a woman on a mission and losing me quickly. I slowed down to a manageable pace that didn't make my lungs burn. By the time I got back to the bed and breakfast, I could hear the water running in her room.

Bradley emerged from his, a file organizer in his hands. "Ashland dropped this by, per your request. Want to have a look? I'm warning you right now, some of the pictures are pretty bad."

Still hyped up on the endorphin rush from my run, I popped my hands to my hips feeling kind of invincible like Batman or something. Superheroes sweat when they run, right? "I had a dead dude fall on me. I can handle a few pictures."

He smirked and shrugged his broad shoulders as he made his way to the coffee table. I lugged the huge registry book over to the desk, then joined him on the couch. Bradley fanned the papers from the file.

My invincibility faltered, possibly drying up with my jogging perspiration, as I suddenly came to the very real notion that each of those names was an actual person whose life had been taken by some psychopath. Their loved ones were left behind to mourn without any kind of closure. Both families were also probably being told, as we searched those files, that my parents were undoubtedly responsible. My heart shattered a little more as I read the notes and saw every picture of horrific crime scene shots superimposed next to DMV drivers' licenses of the happy, smiling people they were before the killer had found them. Having the pictures right next to one another brought everything into perspective, more so than my memories as I'd looked at Shaun Burke on the computer screen before. Shaun Burke and this new guy, Michael Mattson, were both very real and now, very dead. I looked up at my brother, unable to process all of the feelings that assaulted me simultaneously.

His expression held everything from confidence to pity. "You have to push through it, sis. They're already gone."

"Bradley," Cris cooed from the landing. "I thought you weren't coming into town until this weekend."

He turned and gawked at her without saying a word. He resembled a starving man eyeballing the first morsel of food he'd seen in weeks. Though, she did look pretty amazing, wearing the very same peach-and-pink striped Kate Spade dress Taylor Swift had been caught in by the tabloids the day before we'd left LA. Cris had been saving it for a special occasion. Evidently, Bradley was special enough for the coveted garment. That put me a little more at ease. I didn't quite feel like I was throwing my brother to a man-eating wolf now.

She sashayed across the room, the short bell skirt swishing back and forth with each step. My intelligent, well-read brother still just stared, not even blinking once. At least he wasn't drooling.

Cris reached over the back of the couch and touched his shoulder. "Hey, you."

Finally, he awoke from his trance. "Hey. You look amazing."

I almost blurted out "duh," but I had the strong feeling my witty derision wasn't welcome at that particular moment. Had we not been chest deep in the most heart-wrenching stuff I'd ever seen, I would've left them to Cris's feminine wiles. Unfortunately for the love-festers, I had to intervene. We were on a deadline.

"I hate to rain on the temptation parade, but we need to focus and look for something that might link these two men together or to someone who might want them both dead. Preferably
not
linking it with our parents though."

Cris skipped around the couch and stood next to my brother, her gaze never leaving his. "Maybe I can help."

I looked back and forth between the two of them. If the sensual tension in the room could be seen with the human eye, it would be a blazing fireball of hormonally epic proportion.

I got up and sat on the floor on the other side of the table, waving grandly toward my desired empty spot on the couch next to Bradley. "Have a seat. We need to scour these files until we find something—anything—to prove our parents' innocence before the arraignment."

She wedged herself between his knees and the table, her hooded, sultry gaze locked with his the entire time. Lowering herself delicately, she kept the skirt of her dress smoothed as she sat. Finally, she folded her hands in her lap. "I'm all yours."

I almost did the "duh" thing again. They just sat there, staring at one another. I was seriously getting more than just a vibe that I was the third wheel. Sliding a few papers toward her, I snapped my fingers and said, "We're looking for anything that connects these guys. Make any notes here." I pushed a blank paper to the center of the table so we could each easily access it. "Okay?"

"Sure thing," she bubbled while still eyeing my brother. When she flipped open the first file and actually looked at it, her whole sexy demeanor crashed into something more resembling a horrified slasher-film victim. Her eyes and mouth formed perfect
O
s, and her quaking hands slid between covering her eyes and her mouth, unable to pick one or the other. She even squealed, her false eyelashes fluttering at hummingbird-wing speed. "Oh em gee," she gasped, finally able to look away from a particularly gruesome photo of the man from the wall after he'd been unwrapped and opened on the medical examiner's table. "What the hell?"