“We’ll make them arm wrestle,” Echo teased.

  The door opened just then, admitting Mattie and Kumar.

  “Looks like both of you are pathologically punctual,” Missy greeted them. “Come sit down.”

  Kumar and Mattie looked at each other, confused, but sat down, each immediately curious about Jasmine, who was sitting in Echo’s lap, chewing on her fist.

  “I’ll go get Kaylee,” Missy headed for the kitchen.

  “How old is she?” Mattie cooed, waving at Jazzy, who waved back and smiled.

  “Thirteen months. Her birthday was in February,” Echo said proudly, kissing her daughter’s soft copper curls.

  “Can I hold her?” Mattie reached out, and Jazzy’s chubby little arms rose in response.

  “Oh, she likes you,” Echo smiled. “Here,” she handed over her pride and joy.

  “It’s mutual,” Mattie grinned at the beautiful girl who looked like a perfect doll.

  Kaylee walked out of the kitchen, holding Missy’s hand, and clung to her mother’s side when she sat. Kumar, who was sitting next to Missy, turned to the little girl with a radiant smile.

  “Hello,” he said softly. “My name is Ku.”

  “Coo,” Kaylee said softly, startling them all. The child hadn’t spoken much since her parents died.

  “Yes, that’s right, Ku,” he nodded with approval. “Are you three?” he asked, holding up three fingers.

  Kaylee held up three fingers and nodded. Missy and Echo exchanged an astonished look.

  “Do you like kitty cats?” he asked.

  “Meow,” a smile like sunshine beamed from Kaylee.

  “I brought you a kitty cat,” Kumar reached into his jacket and withdrew a small stuffed kitten with big blue eyes.

  Kaylee’s eyes grew round as she reached toward the toy with one finger and lightly touched it.

  “The cat is soft,” Kumar said, touching it.

  “Cat soff,” Kaylee parroted, never taking her eyes from the kitten.

  “Good job Kaylee,” he approved, flashing his incredibly white teeth. “The cat is for Kaylee,” he held it out to her.

  Kaylee looked up at Missy, who had tears of joy in her eyes.

  “Kayee have cat?” she asked, her innocent eyes wide.

  “Yes love, you can have the cat. Good girl,” Missy nodded.

  Kaylee reached out with both hands, and gingerly took the cat from Kumar.

  “What do you say to Ku, sweetheart?” Missy reminded her.

  “Tank you, Coo,” she said, clutching the kitten to her chest and burying her face in it.

  “That was extraordinary, Kumar. She doesn’t talk much, and particularly not to strangers. You have a gift,” Missy thanked him, her eyes moist.

  “I did some research, Mrs. Beckett. I know what happened to Kaylee in the past, and I think that I can work with her to help her overcome some of her challenges. I’d like to do a research paper on her, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll certainly discuss it with my husband.”

  Echo sat up straight, smiling at Jasmine, who now had her fingers twined in Mattie’s mouse-brown locks.

  “You’re probably both wondering why I asked you to be here at the same time,” she began, folding her hands in front of her.

  They both nodded.

  “Indeed,” Kumar agreed.

  “Well, we have a rather unique situation on our hands. Missy and I really like both of you as nannies, but there’s only one position open…as a nanny that is. I have two shops downtown. One is a bookstore, and adjacent to it, is a candle shop. I craft homemade candles that are scented like Missy’s cupcakes and they sell like crazy. Business has been booming in both shops, and while my manager, Joyce Rutledge is a dynamo, it’s getting to be a bit much for her to handle both shops while I make candles, so I’m looking for help in the candle shop. Joyce is a bookworm like no other, so she has the bookstore covered. I’d pay the same salary that you’d get as a nanny, but you’d be working downtown. I thought that perhaps one of you might want to do that as an alternative. What do you think?”

  Mattie looked crestfallen, but it was Kumar who spoke first.

  “May I propose a solution?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Missy nodded, grateful that someone had an idea.

  “It is evident to me that Miss Mattie isn’t terribly fond of the idea of working in the candle shop. Her expression speaks more than words can say,” he observed.

  Mattie blushed. “I’m just in love with these babies already,” she confessed.

  “Which is good,” Kumar nodded. “As much as I would enjoy the nanny position, I would like to propose that Miss Mattie be employed as your nanny, and that I work at the candle shop. I could study during the breaks between customers, which would actually help me,” he pointed out. “However, Mrs. Beckett, I’d still like for you to consider the paper that I’d like to do, involving Miss Kaylee. I could work with her for a few hours a week and document her progress as part of my research project,” he proposed.

  “That sounds like a win-win to me,” Echo approved. “Missy, what do you think?”

  “That sounds like a perfect solution,” Missy nodded. “But I’ll still want to talk it over with Chas.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Kumar smiled. “I would want both of you to approve, prior to beginning.”

  “Does that mean I got the job?” Mattie exclaimed.

  “Yes, it does, darlin’. Congratulations,” Missy grinned.

  “Cat,” Kaylee thrust the animal toward Kumar with a delighted grin.

  “Yes, cat,” he smiled, as did everyone else in the room.

  It was starting out to be a banner day.

  **

  Buster Brogan liked to present new designs to his special clients after the main store closed, so that he’d be uninterrupted when making his presentation. He wanted his clients to be able to have his undivided attention when he walked them through their design plan. He’d asked Missy to meet him at 5:30 sharp, which would give her enough time to approve the plans and be home in time for dinner. The workload at the Homicide division of the Calgon PD, as well as at Chas’s private investigation agency, had been mercifully light lately, so Chas would be home cooking dinner while she met with Buster, and she was so excited to see the plans that her heart was beating faster than normal when she drove around the back of the building to park.

  Buster’s office had a rear entrance which was kept locked during the day, but which he opened up for his after-hours consultations. Missy got out of the car and trotted excitedly up the steps. When she knocked on the door, she was surprised that it swung inward, and a terrible smell washed over her. Blood. Peeking inside, she saw Buster, lying on the floor by his desk in a crimson pool.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she whimpered, clamping her hand over her nose as she began to gag. “He needs help, poor Buster needs help,” she cried, running back to the car and pulling out her cell phone, her stomach hitching in a most alarming manner.

  **

  Chas Beckett had just put the finishing touches on a beautiful wedge salad, when his cell phone rang in his pocket. With a pregnant wife, and a career in law enforcement, he never ignored his phone, and when he answered it, hearing his wife’s hysterical voice on the other end of the line, his heart dropped.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  Timothy Eckels felt like he should just crawl into a corner and die. His head ached abominably, his stomach flipped and flopped as if he were riding rough seas, and it was all Fiona’s fault. She’d plied him with food and wine and had the audacity to kiss his cheek on his way out. Goodness only knows what might have happened had he stayed for another slice of his incomparable pie.

  Fortunately, he’d been able to lose himself in his work today. Gertrude Gibbons had had the foresight to expire last night, so he’d spent the day tending to her remains while his impudent assistant helped the family select their funeral arrangements. He’d muttered to himself while he worked, but eventually, he’d become absorbed in the wondrous process of bringing a healthy glow back into the lifeless corpse of the dedicated wife, mother and grandmother on his slab.

  Tim so enjoyed the mortuary business, and he was the best at his craft. He’d been asked by Detective Beckett to take the position of County Coroner when the previous coroner had been fired, and he’d agreed, but only with the condition that he’d still be able to run his mortuary. He was fortunate that his capable but mischievous assistant was more than able to roll with the punches. She assisted him at crime scenes and during autopsies, as well as selling funeral packages and performing hosting duties at the mortuary. The enterprising young woman earned a paycheck from Tim as well as one from the county, and why she’d taken such an interest in him, he had no idea.

  Putting the finishing touches on Gertrude’s hair, Tim was annoyed when the object of his disdain came trotting happily down the stairs to his workroom. She’d been ridiculously cheerful all day, irritating him to no end.

  “Hey Timmy,” she chirped, grinning. “We got one,” she waved a sticky note at him.

  “Don’t call me Timmy,” he muttered. “Natural causes?” he asked, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his wrist.

  “Not unless you consider close-range gunshots a natural cause.”

  “So it’ll be messy,” he frowned, glancing at his watch and coming to a decision. “You’re going to have to stay here. I’ll assess the scene alone,” he announced.

  “What? Why?” Fiona demanded, frowning.

  “Because I won’t be back in time for the Gibbons funeral tonight.”

  Fiona smiled like a Cheshire cat. “The Gibbons funeral is tomorrow night. Some of the family couldn’t make it, so they asked me to put it off for a day.”

  Tim blinked at her for a moment. “Fine, is the…?”

  “Yes, the hearse is packed and the bag is restocked,” Fiona played along with Tim’s routine. He asked the same questions every time, and she gave the same answers. It had become a ritual with the two of them.

  “Is there…?”

  “Yes, there’s film in the camera, and gas in the car.”

  “Did you…?”

  “Yes, I locked up the upstairs, so no one can get in while we’re gone.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” he asked, seeming actually confused.

  “Oh, Timmy,” she shook her head, heading toward the garage.

  Tim followed after closing the cold-storage drawer containing Gertrude Gibbons.

  “I’m driving,” she grinned.

  “No, you’re not,” he replied, like he did every time. “Is the…?”

  “Yep, the address is already plotted into the GPS,” she said, climbing into the car.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” he directed, doing the same.

  **

  Chas had instructed that Missy leave the scene immediately, knowing that a killer might be lurking in the area. He called for backup, which arrived at Buster’s shop just before he did.

  “What have we got?” he asked one of the ashen-faced uniformed officers who had gotten there first.

  “Multiple gunshot wounds. No sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle. Looking at the blood, I’d say this didn’t happen that long ago.”

  Chas nodded, swallowing hard at the thought that his precious wife had just avoided witnessing a murder. “Thanks, let me know when the coroner gets here.”

  “Will do,” the cop agreed, moving to help secure a perimeter around the shop.

  Tim and Fiona pulled up barely half an hour later, stepping under the yellow police tape to get to the scene.

  “Eckels,” Chas greeted the pale, quiet man.

  “Hey, Detective,” Fiona smiled at Chas, whom she’d always had a schoolgirl-like crush on.

  “Hello, Fiona,” he led them inside. “This one seems pretty straightforward,” he gestured toward the body.

  “We’ll see,” Tim mused.

  It was his motto that every corpse had a story to tell, and that it was his job to read it. Fiona trailed behind him, with her camera at the ready. Tim would point and she would click. Once they had all the shots they needed without disturbing the body, she’d take pictures as Tim carefully moved it, trying to preserve any potential evidence. Forensics techs stood at the ready, waiting to take samples.

  “There are two gunshot wounds,” Tim pointed out, while Chas eavesdropped nearby. “This one was first,” he identified the shot that had hit Buster Brogan in the left shoulder.

  “How do you know that?” Fiona asked, snapping away.

  “Because there’s no bullet buried under the floor beneath him for one thing. There’s a clear exit wound, and if he was sitting at his desk, facing his computer, it would have landed roughly…there,” he turned his body and pointed out a hole in the wall, where the tail end of a bullet was barely visible. Fiona snapped a picture, and a forensics guy stepped carefully toward the desk, making notes.

  “Powder burns on the hand indicate that, after the initial shot knocked the victim out of his chair, he turned over on his back, putting up his hand to shield himself. The killer either stood very close and bent down or crouched over the victim. The killer then fired, the shot going through the victim’s hand and into his skull in the forehead area, which means that a slug should either be lodged in the floor beneath the victim, or still in his skull, depending upon the weapon.”

  Chas, standing nearby, nodded. “This was personal,” he muttered.

  “Indeed, it was,” Tim agreed grimly.

  “Wait, what makes you say that?” Fiona asked.

  Tim shot her a look of annoyance.

  “Even the first shot was taken at close range, look at the entry point. That means that his killer was able to get close to him without him being worried about them being there. There’s no way that they could’ve come that close without him hearing them, unless he had headphones on, but there’s no evidence of that. Then when he turned over, instead of lashing out at his killer, he put his hand up, almost as if he were trying to plead or reason with them. One wouldn’t typically do that with a stranger.”

  “Oh,” Fiona’s eyes were wide. As usual, she was awed by her taciturn and introverted boss. He might be an odd duck, but his intellect drew her like a moth to a flame.

  “Wanna take over for me at Homicide?” Chas sighed. “We could use a guy like you.”

  “Thank you, no. I have more than enough death to keep me busy,” Tim commented, turning back to the victim.

  Fiona repressed a smile at the detective’s bemused expression. Tim was brilliant when it came to corpses and crime scenes, but his people skills needed a little work.

  “Judging by pooling, temperature and feel of the flesh and lividity, I’d say that the victim expired between four and five o’clock,” Tim noted, checking his watch.

  Chas’ stomach did an uncomfortable flip, knowing that his wife had missed the murder by roughly half an hour. Processing the scene, both before and after the body was removed was going to take hours, so he tamped down his feelings of horror and got to work, directing techs, searching for evidence and sending out a team of officers to search the area surrounding the shop.

  “We good?” Fiona asked finally, after the body had been carefully moved and pictures had been taken.

  “Yes, time to get the bag and gurney,” Tim nodded. “Detective Beckett, we’ll be removing the remains momentarily,” he told Chas on his way out.

  “Thanks for your work, Eckels. Let me know as soon as you get the autopsy results in, please.”

  “Of course,” Tim nodded, heading for the hearse.

  “Any idea who did it?” Fiona asked, when they were finally on their way to the morgue.

  “None whatsoever. It certainly wasn’t a thief, though,” he commented, staring straight ahead as he drove.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I saw the evidence bags on the way out. The victim had money and keys to the Corvette outside in his pockets. He’s still wearing jewelry that we’ll have to send over when we take it off, and his wallet was full of credit cards.”

  “Wow, that’s so weird. You’d think that whoever killed him would’ve had the presence of mind to at least make it look like a robbery,” Fiona remarked.

  “And be caught with personal items belonging to the victim?” Tim raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Well, they could always dump them later,” she shrugged.

  “And risk leaving fingerprints,” Tim shot back.

  Fiona eyed her boss.

  “You know, you think like a criminal,” she observed.

  “Nonsense. I think logically. I see the big picture and dissect it. It’s what anyone of sound mind would do.”

  “So, you think the killer is crazy?”

  “Aren’t they all?” he gave her a look.

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  Matisse sat in the middle of Missy’s living room floor, playing blocks with Jazzy and Kaylee, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a tall, handsome, well-built man who looked to be about her age, appeared in the doorway. She gasped and gathered both girls to her quickly. Kaylee held her arms out to the man saying, “Spess! Spess!” and smiling from ear to ear.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Mattie demanded, managing to keep her voice from shaking as she looked up, way up at the man towering in the doorway.

  “Relax,” the man smiled and held up his hands. “I’m Spencer Bengal. I work for Chas at the Agency. He asked me to come check on Missy. And you are?”

  “Matisse, the nanny,” she still eyed him suspiciously.

  “Spess!” Kaylee continued to struggle to get out of her nanny’s iron grip.

  Spencer knelt down and opened his arms. “Come here, Kaylee girl,” he beckoned.

  Kaylee bolted for him like she’d been shot from a cannon. Enveloping her in a hug, Spencer picked her up and twirled around with her, making her laugh.

  “Spess,” she said again, putting both of her hands on his cheeks.