Two Scoops of Murder (Felicity Bell Book 2) (10 page)

F
elicity put
down her novel and squinted through the delivery van windshield. She was starting to get a little worried. Alice had hopped out to see when Jack Hudson was opening the gun range and still hadn’t returned. Though Felicity had assured her this was absolutely unnecessary, Alice had insisted. And when Alice decided something, it was quite fruitless to argue. So Felicity simply sat back and decided to read the final chapters of the latest Jennifer Boiler bestseller.

Star Rush told the story of Jack Rush, a famous movie star who comes down from Mount Olympus—or rather Mount Hollywood—to mate with a mere mortal—a bakery girl to be precise. Love at first sight ensues and the ending, she hoped, would be a happily-ever-after affair. But first a great many hurdles were thrown in true love’s path, like the woman’s stalker ex-husband and the Hollywood hunk’s evil manager who wanted him to marry a conniving socialite.

The moment the stalker ex showed up at the heroine’s doorstep, Felicity suddenly remembered the gun Alice had dumped in her lap. Perhaps her friend had been right after all. There was a killer on the loose in Happy Bays, and it wasn’t such a bad idea to have some protection at hand.

She reached for her purse and unearthed the gun from its deep pockets.

She stared at the thing for a moment. It was huge, and the steel felt cold to the touch. Gingerly, she closed her fingers around the handle and lifted it. It felt quite snug in her hand, as if it was made for her. She sighted down the barrel at an indistinct point in the darkness, then gently put pressure on the trigger, the way one does.

Kaboom! The deafening roar of the blast rocketed through the small space and took out the passenger window.

Felicity jerked up and away and knocked her head against the rim of the door before letting the gun fall from her hand. Aghast, she stared at the big hole in the van window, freely cursing Alice for putting bullets in the gun!

Who does that?!

And she was still reeling from the shock of the unexpected discharge when the car door was wrenched open and hands grabbed her from behind.

Now, your ordinary young woman may perhaps be undone when suddenly hands reach out of nowhere and start dragging her from cars, but not Felicity Bell. Felicity had grit, and when attacked hit her attacker right back. And that’s what she did right now. With an annoyed grunt she slammed her elbow into her assailant’s gut, making sure she put some serious swing in her effort. The effect was that the grip of the culprit slackened, freeing up her arms to whirl around and put in a good swift jab to the bastard’s nose. Ka-pow!

“Fe! No!”

It was Alice’s voice, and this gave her pause. She stared at her attacker. The man had given up the struggle and stood doubled over, grabbing a hand to his nose, uttering strange oaths under his breath.

“Get behind me, Alice,” Felicity ordered. “I’ve got this guy’s number.”

But instead of getting behind her, Alice rushed to the attacker’s side and put a soothing arm around the man’s shoulder. This puzzled Felicity a great deal. Why would her friend join the enemy camp?

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alice demanded.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to take down this maniac!”

“He’s not a maniac. He’s Reece Hudson!” Alice cried, and Felicity frowned.

When you admire a movie star from afar it’s hard to accept the fact that he may be flesh and blood and not merely pixels on a movie screen. She blinked. As the man was still clutching his nose, and they were some distance away from the nearest streetlamp, it was hard to detect in her attacker the godlike features of Reece Hudson, every woman’s dreamboat.

At first she thought Alice was kidding, but then she remembered her friend mentioning something about Reece visiting his dad Jack Hudson.

The man looked up, pique in his eyes, and Felicity heaved a gasp of shock. He now looked exactly like he had on the poster for Crunch Time 2. The glare, the blood, the cowlick… He even looked as if on the verge of uttering that immortal phrase ‘Hot potato!’

Alice was right. It was Reece Hudson! And she’d just irrevocably damaged his hallowed features.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried, reaching out a hand in comfort. The gesture, though well-meant, didn’t go over well, for Reece Hudson, at the sight of her incoming fist, reeled back as if struck.

“I thought you were the killer,” she said by way of explanation. Alice was still clutching the man’s arm, and she frowned. How had this happened? She remembered the bet. Had Alice been secretly seeing something of this hunk of all hunks? It hardly seemed feasible. When would she have found the time?

“I heard the gunshot,” said Reece, speaking like a man whose nose is busted, which, coincidentally, it was. “So I figured you were in grave danger.”

At the recollection of the gun, Felicity’s annoyance returned. She planted her hands on her hips. “What did you have to load that gun for?” she demanded. “I could have shot someone!”

Reece’s eyes went wide. The thought of Felicity handling a gun seemed to affect him powerfully. “
You
fired that gun?”

“Yes, but only because I didn’t know it was loaded.”

“Sorry about that,” said Alice with quiet exasperation, “but that still doesn’t explain why you attacked Reece.”

“I told you—I thought he was the killer.”

“Killer?” asked Reece, who had a hard time keeping track of the conversation. “What killer?”

“There’s a killer on the loose in Happy Bays,” explained Alice, “and Fe and I—this is Fe by the way, Felicity Bell, my best friend and roomy—”

“Hi, Fe,” said Reece nasally.

“—are trying to catch him, which is the reason I got her the gun.”

“I don’t need a gun,” said Felicity, not wavering on that point.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Reece, who’d been following the altercation with a puzzled frown, held up the hand that was clutching his nose and Felicity now saw that he really was Reece Hudson, cinema’s golden boy, now slightly dented. “Ladies, please. Whether Fe needs a gun or not is not the issue right now. Is it true that there’s a killer in Happy Bays?”

Both women nodded. “Yes, there is.” Then an owl, out of nowhere, gave tongue—or beak—by hooting loudly, as if wanting to add his voice to the choir.

“I can’t believe it,” he said.

“He’s already killed Alistair Long and who knows when he’s going to strike next,” said Alice with pretty concern. She was still holding onto Reece’s bicep, though Felicity failed to see why, for apart from some blood trickling from his nose the man seemed perfectly fine.

“Alistair Long. Happy Bays Inn Alistair Long?”

Alice squeezed his bicep in affirmation. “One and the same.”

“He was killed yesterday,” added Felicity. “Shot at point blank range.”

Reece whistled through his teeth, something Felicity had never seen a man do before. It reminded her of Hunk, Reece’s breakthrough hit movie, where he’d whistled each time he needed his horse. Hunk was a western. “That’s bad.”

“Pretty bad,” agreed Alice, kneading the man’s bicep appreciatively.

Felicity frowned. It seemed to her Alice was doing her utmost to win the bet and she was going nicely. Not that she begrudged her this. Far from it. And neither did she begrudge her a lifelong supply of donuts, but she very much doubted whether this man would break off his engagement to Dorothy Valour and choose Alice instead. Life rarely mimicked a Jennifer Boiler story. She decided to spare her friend the heartache and settle matters once and for all.

“Where is Dorothy?”

Reece’s eyebrows rose. “Dorothy?”

“Your fiancée?”

“Oh, that Dorothy,” Reece said, as if he knew a dozen Dorothys. “I’m just visiting my father. Dorothy decided to stay in New York. Too much on her plate.”

Alice’s hand released its grip on the Hudson bicep at this introduction of the fiancée theme and her face betrayed dismay. Conveniently, it seemed to Felicity, she’d forgotten that there was still another woman in Reece’s life.

For a moment, silence reigned, only interrupted by the soft hooting of the owl. “I actually came down here to practice shooting,” Felicity said. She gestured to her friend. “Alice thought it was a good idea to learn how to defend myself, what with this killer on the prowl.”

“Fe is a reporter,” Alice explained. “She’s doing an article on the killing.”

Reece’s expression went through a marked change. Until now he’d been chatting amiably, like one of the boys, or one of the girls, but now he suddenly got a hunted look in his eyes, like most movie stars when they discover a reporter nearby. His eyes flitted about Felicity’s person. “A reporter, huh?”

“Yes, well, actually I’m a baker. Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room? But in my spare time I like to write for the Happy Bays Gazette. I have a baking column.”

“Flour Girl,” added Alice. “Perhaps you’ve seen it? We even have a YouTube channel where we post baking videos. I’m the director and Fe stars.” She sounded hopeful, as if this put her on equal footing with the Hollywood hunk.

He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. Though I know Bell’s, of course.”

He appeared more at ease, though still shifty-eyed. Felicity thought she knew what it was. She held out her hands. “I don’t have a camera, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Reece’s face broke into a smile of relief. “How did you know?”

Fe grinned. “I’ll bet you Hollywood types are hounded by paparazzi all the time, right? Trust me, I’m not that kind of reporter.”

Reece’s smile widened. The wattage was blinding, and both Felicity and Alice reeled with the effect of it. Christ, the man’s charisma was a lethal weapon!

“Why don’t we go inside,” he suggested. “Dad will be wondering what’s taking us so long.”

As Reece started in the direction of his dad’s gun range, where the lights had finally come on, Alice hissed, “Back off! He’s mine!”

Felicity, taken aback for a moment, hissed back, “No, he’s not. He’s Dorothy Valour’s!”

Alice’s only response was a look so dirty Fe had trouble keeping a straight face. This was going to be an interesting night, she decided.

“
I
t’s
the first time I’ve talked about this to anyone,” said Mary as she cupped her mug of hot tea. In spite of the fact that it was early spring she was chilled to the bone and the heat from the steaming hot mug felt good. She picked up another cinnamon cookie. She and Bianca Bell were seated in the cozy living room of the Bells, above Bell’s Bakery.

“It’s good to let it all out,” said Bianca, who’d been a good friend of Mary’s for a long time. In fact the two women only differed a couple of years and had been in high school together, though they’d been in different grades and had never met socially at that time.

Mary nodded. “It’s such a great loss. Not just to me personally but also to the community.” She felt the absence of her husband keenly—the loneliness of suddenly losing her best friend. “I don’t think…” Her voice broke. “I don’t think I can go on without Alistair, Bianca. He was my best friend.” She broke down again, the tears flowing down her face.

Bianca made a soft soothing sound. “If I were to lose Peter I don’t think I could go on either. But then I have my daughter to think about and this place…”

Mary nodded. “You have Felicity and your sister and the kids. I have no one.”

She’d had her first meeting with Rob and Ruth that afternoon. She’d been putting it off, but then Suzy told her they arrived and she decided to get it over with. Rob had been morose, as usual, not a hint of compassion or grief in his manner. He’d never cared for his father and the fact that Alistair was murdered hadn’t affected his attitude.

And then there was Ruth, who did seem touched and had given her a warm hug, then asked if Daddy had suffered. She’d merely shaken her head, not trusting her voice, but then the conversation had turned to more practical arrangements: the funeral, the paperwork required, invitations, and the matter foremost on Rob and Ruth’s mind: the will.

She had refused to discuss the matter, intending to leave it all to the executor, but Rob had insisted and decided to drive the point home. He wanted both the inn and the land sold.

Mary hadn’t budged. She and Alistair had plans for the inn and the land, and now that he was gone…she needed time to think. To decide for herself what she wanted.

“Maybe I should simply sell and get it over with,” she said, taking another sip and gazing before her. Outside, darkness had fallen and the street lanterns had been lit, casting their diffuse light over the rain-spattered streets below. She liked this time of day. The darkness lent her a certain comfort.

“I don’t think you should decide right now, honey,” said Bianca, patting her hand. “You’re grieving. Now is not the time to make these important decisions. At least wait until after the funeral.”

She nodded and kept thinking about the murderer. “Why did this happen to us?” she asked. She knew that Bianca, like her sister Bettina, dabbled a little in the spiritual. “Why do you think the universe decided to take Alistair away from me now? I mean…” She waved a hand ineffectually. “If it is true that there is a reason for everything that happens, then why him? Why now? Why make me a widow? What—” She broke down, a sob escaping her throat.

“I don’t know, honey,” said Bianca softly, placing a soothing hand on her arm. “Only time will tell. I do know that when the answer comes, it will come to you alone and it will comfort you in your suffering.”

Mary nodded. She knew that Alistair hadn’t been an angel. Many people thought he was grumpy and unfriendly, and he had certainly slighted people in his life. But he didn’t deserve to die like this. “Do you think whoever did this will…” She swallowed. “…will kill again?”

Bianca pursed her lips. “I’m sure the police are doing everything in their power to catch the murderer and make sure this doesn’t happen again. It’s simply unimaginable that something like this has happened in the first place. Not in Happy Bays. Not to one of us.”

Mary nodded. If Alistair had died from a heart attack she thought she could have borne it better. But to die a violent death like this? It made it that much harder to bear. She checked the hands on the clock over the Bells’ mantel. Eight o’clock. “I better get back now. I need to help Suzy with dinner.”

“If you need to talk to anyone, honey, you’re always welcome here, you know that,” said Bianca softly and the two women hugged. At least one good thing had come of this, Mary thought. She’d never realized before what a good friend Bianca was. She and the other Bells had been sweet to her, as had other members of the Happy Bays community. She wasn’t alone, she realized. She might have lost her best friend, but the tragedy had brought her closer to her other friends.