Red Hot Velvet Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 32 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Read online

  “Or I’ll find another charter captain,” was the mild but firm reply as the younger man stepped into the boat.

  “To heck with you,” the captain replied with a dismissive wave, still bent over. “You can clean up after ‘em. I’m going home.”

  “Sounds like a plan, man,” Andrew was unfazed by Marco’s seemingly unwarranted hostility.

  He stopped short when he got to the deck. He’d expected to see fish guts strewn from port to starboard, which is what typically happened when inexperienced people tried to be helpful, but encountered quite the opposite. There had been a total of five fish caught – he could tell immediately, because there were five fish heads lined up neatly beside one another, sorted by size. In their own row beneath the heads were the tails and fins, cut off so precisely that there was no wasted skin or flesh attached. Below the fins and tails were the entrails, sorted into separate piles of organs by type. The skeletal remains of the fish were lined up below the piles of organs, and what minimal blood had been spilled was in one small pool.

  Aside from the gruesome organization, the deck was spotless. Andrew lifted the lid of the Styrofoam cooler that was still on board and found ten perfectly cut filets lined up on the ice, looking as perfect as if they’d just come from the seafood shop. Stepping into the Head, Andrew confirmed that it was indeed clogged, and sent a text to his plumber, knowing that if he sweetened the deal with a six pack, the situation would be taken care of, and the boat could be rented again by morning.

  All in all, he’d had to deal with circumstances that made this one look like a walk in the park, and he was a little bit surprised by the surly captain’s reaction to it all. Mopping up the blood, disposing of the fish remains, and spraying down the deck with cleanser, Andrew’s thoughts returned again and again to his former girlfriend, Fiona, and his anger at Marco’s comments about her grew.

  Chapter 4

  Missy hung up the phone at Cupcakes in Paradise with a mischievous grin. Spencer was in the kitchen boxing up cupcakes to drop off at an elementary school for their early Valentine’s celebration, and she’d just taken another order for delivery.

  “Hey Spence, I need to add another delivery to your list, so once we box up this one, we’ll need to do three dozen more,” she instructed, reading from the slip of paper in her hand.

  “No problem,” the Marine said agreeably, not pausing in his task. “Where’s the second one going?”

  “Memorial Mortuary. Apparently, the Funeral Services Rep is hosting a reception for the new owner tonight.”

  “Yuck,” Spencer grimaced, surprising Missy.

  “What’s yuck?”

  “The guy who bought the mortuary gives me the creeps. There’s something…I don’t know…off about him.”

  “I’m surprised at you, Spence, I thought you generally get along with everyone.”

  The Marine nodded. “Generally, I do. There’s just something about that guy. It’s like he’s preoccupied with death or something, it’s not natural.”

  “Occupational hazard,” Missy chuckled. “If you’re too uncomfortable, I can deliver it myself,” she offered.

  Spencer raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. I just said the guy is freaky. It’s not a big deal,” he sounded a touch defensive.

  “Well, good then. Thank you – I appreciate it,” she smiled a secret smile, thinking he’d be pleased that he went, once he saw who the new Funeral Services Rep was.

  **

  Spencer stacked the three large bakery boxes and carried them into Memorial Mortuary, nearly dropping them when he was met by Fiona.

  “Whoa, there, Tiger,” she held her hands out to try to steady the boxes.

  “Where should I put these?” the Marine asked, recovering quickly and without incident.

  “Follow me, there’s a table in one of the viewing rooms that we can use.”

  He trailed along behind her, still marveling at her dramatically changed appearance, setting the cupcakes down on the table that she indicated.

  “You should try the heart-shaped ones,” he suggested. “Mrs. B. created a new recipe just for Valentine’s Day, and they’re pretty amazing.”

  Fiona stared at him for a moment. “I usually don’t eat sweets, but thanks, I’ll recommend those ones to the guests.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be a hit. So…are you doing anything special this weekend?” Spencer asked, enjoying the opportunity to chat with the intense young woman.

  She snorted, which would have been unattractive coming from anyone else, but seemed to be an appropriate response from her. “I’m not really a holiday kind of girl.”

  “Oh, well…my boss is having this party on Saturday, and I thought maybe…” he began, cutting of his sentence when Tim appeared in the doorway.

  The mortician looked at Spencer without any semblance of curiosity or interest whatsoever, and addressed his assistant with a small smile playing about his lips.

  “Looks like we’ve got one,” he said in a low voice. He’d been listening to the police scanner and heard a report of a body found.

  “ETA?” Fiona glanced at her watch, seeming to forget that Spencer was even in the room.

  “We won’t know until the police assess the circumstances of death. I’ll keep you posted,” Tim replied, his gaze shifting momentarily to Spencer, then back to his assistant, as he turned to go.

  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Fiona asked when Tim had gone.

  “I…uh, nothing. Never mind,” the Marine replied, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the cupcakes,” he said, heading for the door.

  The beautiful young woman who had captured his attention had the same gleam in her eyes as the creepy mortician when she heard that they’d have a body coming in – it had chilled the Marine to the bone. He’d seen more than his share of death, and the only response it ever garnered in him was sadness, balanced quite often by a measure of regret. He hoped that the intensity of Fiona’s response had been merely because she wanted to prove her worth to her new boss, but he didn’t know if he’d be back to verify that. He’d met a whole lot of unbalanced women in his short life, and he didn’t care to become involved with yet another one.

  Chapter 5

  “Do we have an ID?” Detective Chas Beckett asked the uniformed officer who was standing over the older man’s body in the bottom of a newer fishing boat.

  “Marco Lansing. According to the owner of the boat, he works as a charter fishing captain.”

  “Who’s the owner?” Chas asked, reaching for his notebook.

  “Andrew Koslowski.”

  The detective nodded. “I thought this boat was one of his. Is he around?”

  “In the guard shack. He wasn’t happy about finding Marco onboard. Apparently they’d had some sort of altercation earlier this evening.”

  “Really?” Chas was surprised. “Andrew Koslowski is easily the most laid-back person I’ve ever met,” he mused, frowning.

  “Yeah, he’s a good guy, but who knows? Even the best of them snap every once in a while,” the officer said quietly. “You want me to go get him?”

  Chas shook his head. “Nah, let’s not contaminate the scene, I’ll go to where he is. Where’s Nichimura?” he asked, looking around for the Medical Examiner.

  “On his way. Word has it that we inconvenienced him by interrupting his weekly poker game,” the cop rolled his eyes.

  “Life’s hard sometimes,” Chas intoned dryly, moving toward the dock.

  **

  “Hey Detective,” Andrew stood and offered his hand when he saw Chas.

  “Andrew,” Chas shook his hand and pulled out his notebook. “What can you tell me about Marco?”

  The young man shook his head. “He was a good captain. He’d been getting crankier and crankier lately, but he still did his job. I didn’t have any customer complaints until earlier tonight,” he shrugged.

  “Complaints?” the detective probed.

  “Yeah, man, he took a co
uple of customers out this afternoon for fishing, and got on their case when this trippy dude fileted the fish on deck and then clogged up the Head. When they came back, the trippy dude was seriously bummed, ya know? He wouldn’t even look at me when he left, I felt bad.”

  “What was Marco’s demeanor when they came back in?”

  “He was righteously peeved, man. I told him that he needed to majorly chill or I wouldn’t hire him anymore, ya know?” Andrew said earnestly, shaking his head.

  “How did he react to that?” Chas asked.

  “Well, he was all uptight, ya know, but he was really, like, out of breath too.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He was like, leaning over with his hands on his knees like he just ran a race or something. I’ve never seen him do anything like that before.”

  “Did his appearance look strange at all?”

  “Well, his face was kind of pale and blotchy, but he drinks sometimes, so I don’t know if he was just hung over or what. He was cranky before they even left.”

  “Tell me about his passengers. Do you have their names?”

  “Yeah, one of them was an ex-girlfriend, and she looked so fine, I can’t even tell you…” Andrew began.

  “Name?” Chas interrupted before the young man went off on a tangent.

  “Fiona. Fiona McCamish. She may look scary, but she’s actually very cool.”

  Chas stared at him for a moment, then shook off his surprise. He’d just solved a case involving the murder of Fiona’s sister.

  “Okay. And her friend’s name?”

  “Dude, it was her boss, Timmy-something-or-other.”

  “Timothy Eckels?” Chas raised his eyebrows.

  “Yup, that was him, man. He didn’t seem like he was too happy to be going fishing either, but I’d go too if it made Fiona smile, ya know what I’m sayin? And the dude was operating on another frequency, but he fileted the heck out of those fish.”

  “Fish?”

  “Yeah, he was like a ginsu master with that filet knife, it was totally righteous.”

  Andrew described the scene that he had found onboard after their return and Chas nodded thoughtfully. He made a note to have the forensics crew test the deck for blood stain residual. For the moment, he was treating the death as a simple “natural causes” event. He’d know more once Nichimura showed up, which had better be soon. The Medical Examiner should have been on the scene more than half an hour ago. He was pushing his luck with Chas as it was, because he’d missed important clues that proved that the last three bodies which had been discovered were murders rather than simple acts of nature. Tim Eckels’ keen observation had led to solving the crimes, putting the M. E. on thin ice from a career standpoint.

  “Seriously dude, it’s been a wicked long day, can I head to bed now?” Andrew asked, stretching up on his toes with his hands above his head.

  Chas noticed a long scrape on one forearm. “Sure, I think we’re done for tonight. What happened to your arm?” he asked casually.

  “Huh?” he followed the detective’s gaze to his forearm. “Whoa, I didn’t even know that was there, man. No idea how that happened,” he shrugged. “So, are you gonna like…take Marco out of there eventually or something? Cuz, like, if I have customers tomorrow, it’d be kind of tough to explain…”

  The detective stifled a smile. “Yes, we’ll take care of the body once the Medical Examiner has made a determination as to the cause and time of death.”

  “Cool. G’night then,” Andrew raised his hand in farewell and headed back to his boat.

  “Good night,” Chas responded. He walked over and told an officer to try to call Stanley Nichimura one more time, and the M. E. walked onto the dock with his phone ringing.

  “Detective,” he nodded at Chas, pulling a pair of nitrile gloves out of his bag.

  “Stanley,” was the stoic response.

  Chas left the M. E. to do his work, returning roughly half an hour later, surprised to see him still bent over the body, and wishing that he could call Tim Eckels in for an opinion – the mortician seemed to have an uncanny ability to find clues in the condition and appearance of a corpse.

  “What have we got?” he asked brusquely.

  Nichimura shook his head. “Inconclusive. I want to take him to the morgue and do further testing.”

  “There’s no indication of the cause of death? It’s a complete mystery?” the detective raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I don’t want to jump to any premature conclusions,” Stanley shrugged. “I’d prefer to take him to the morgue and do some test to give you a solid answer, rather than speculate.”

  Chas’s teeth ground together briefly for a moment, and he sighed inwardly. “Fine. How soon do you anticipate having some results?”

  “Tomorrow at the earliest.”

  “Make it happen, and make it happen as quickly as possible,” the detective directed.

  “Do you want speed or accuracy?” Nichimura snapped.

  “Last I knew, they weren’t mutually exclusive,” Chas bit out. “Make it your first priority.”

  “Will do,” the M. E. replied with a tight smile.

  The detective pulled one of his forensics techs aside.

  “Matthews, keep an eye on the M. E. – make sure that he adheres to proper procedures, and call me if there’s any deviation, no matter how small.”

  “You got it, Detective,” Matthews nodded. “I’ll be here for a while anyway.”

  “I appreciate it,” Chas replied, casting another glance at Nichimura.

  Chapter 6

  Detective Chas Beckett let himself into the velvet-clad interior of Memorial Mortuary, looking for Timothy Eckels.

  “Detective,” a very different version of Fiona McCamish greeted him with a surprised look on her face, walking into the foyer dressed in a navy blue suit and looking more “normal” than he’d ever seen her.

  “Hello, Miss McCamish. I’m looking for Timothy Eckels, is he around?” he shook the young woman’s hand.

  “Yeah, he’s in the workroom downstairs. Go ahead and have a seat and I’ll let him know that you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” Chas replied, choosing to move around the foyer rather than sitting quietly.

  He wasn’t left to his own devices for very long before Tim appeared, dressed in his typically casual clothing, khakis and a button-down oxford shirt.

  “Hello,” Tim’s greeting was a question.

  “Hello, Mr. Eckels. I was hoping that I might be able to ask you a few questions,” Chas said, noting Fiona hovering at the mortician’s elbow.

  “Yes,” the taciturn man replied, turning to head for his office, with the detective falling in behind him.

  Fiona hovered in the hallway uncertainly until Chas slipped inside Tim’s office and closed the door.

  Rather than asking the detective what his visit was all about, like most people would, Tim merely blinked at the man across the desk from him and waited for him to begin.

  “Mr. Eckels, a body was found last night,” Chas began, getting right down to business.

  “Oh?” Now there was a spark of interest from the mortician.

  “The deceased was face-down in the bottom of a boat in the marina. I wish I could have you take a look at the body, because I value your professional opinion, but I’m afraid I can’t do that in this case,” the detective admitted.

  “Why?” Tim cocked his head to the side, baffled and disappointed.

  “Because you were one of the last people to see the deceased while he was still alive, so I have to ask you questions about that, rather than bringing you in to see if there’s anything that we might have missed.”

  “I was one of the…but….who?”

  “Captain Marco Lansing.”

  “The captain died?”

  “Yes, he did. Could you describe the incident that happened onboard between you and the captain?”

  Tim recited the facts as he knew them in his brief, clipped ma
nner, relating exactly the same story that Andrew had given the detective. Chas nodded.

  “Did you notice anything unusual about the captain’s appearance or demeanor?”

  “From a clinical standpoint, his respiration seemed labored, and his color was odd – rather waxy, with random red blotches. If I were offering my professional opinion, I would guess that he probably was gearing up for a massive heart attack.”

  “If he had died from a heart attack, what would his body look like?”

  “His color would be pale, possibly with a blue cast. The areas beneath him that touched the floor would most likely be mottled, with purplish color, where the blood pooled after death.”

  “Is it common for heart attack victims to land facedown?”

  “There’s really no predicting how they’ll fall. If he was dead before he hit the ground, it literally would just depend upon which way he happened to be leaning when he died.”

  “I see. Did he do or say anything that would indicate that he felt like he was in any kind of danger, or was embroiled in any type of bad situation?” Chas probed.

  “I’m not much of a conversationalist, as you may have noticed, Detective,” Tim stared at him.

  “I understand,” he nodded. “So, no indication?”

  “Not that I noticed.”

  “Okay. Thanks for your time and your input, Mr. Eckels. I’d like to speak with your assistant now,” Chas stood.

  “She’s probably standing outside the door listening. She does that,” Tim replied mildly.

  Chas entertained a passing thought that it must be wonderful to coast through life not worrying about most of the social and conversational filters that govern the majority of the population. Tim wasn’t offensive, he was just, like Andrew had so accurately observed, operating on a different frequency. Sure enough, when the detective opened the door, Fiona was hovering nearby.

  “Do you have a moment?” he asked the assistant.

  “Sure. My office is over here,” she pointed down the hall to a room that had a view of the foyer and front door.

  Chas took a seat across the desk from the now-wholesome-looking young woman. Unlike her employer, Fiona didn’t have a reticent bone in her body, and preferred to confront things head on.