Mrs. Fix It Mysteries, Season 2 (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection) Read online

  Mrs. Fix It Mysteries

  Books 6-10

  Belle Knudson

  Copyright © 2016

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  NAILED DOWN MURDER

  PAINT IT DEAD

  CLAMPED ON MURDER

  TOOL KIT CLUES

  WRENCHED IN MURDER

  NAILED DOWN MURDER

  Chapter One

  Kate Flaherty stared up at the tangle of pipes and wished she didn’t have to hold her flashlight between her teeth. The cabinet under the sink where she was lying on her back smelled like cleaning products and mildew, and nothing she had tried in the past fifteen minutes had worked in terms of stopping the drip.

  “Can I get you anything, Kate?” Marla Zook asked, speaking up in case Kate couldn’t hear, tucked under her sink like that.

  Many tools crossed her mind, but she knew Marla wouldn’t have them readily at her disposal. As a single mother of two teenaged girls, Marla had called Kate for all of her fix-it needs, and it wasn’t because the hard-working woman had a toolkit lying around.

  “No, Marla. I just need to muscle this washer closed and seal it,” she said, angling her gaze out from under the sink by crooking her neck sideways.

  “A cup of coffee perhaps?”

  Well, a cup of coffee went without saying. Kate shot her a crooked smile, wiped her forearm over her brow to brush her red hair out of her eyes and said, “That would be great.” Then she glanced back up at the leaky pipe, examining the crack beside the washer and wracking her brain for a temporary solution. If she could swing by Grayson’s Hardware, she could pick up a new washer of the correct dimensions, along with a bottle of sealant, and fix this drip in no time. However, Grayson’s was already closed, and if Kate couldn’t come up with a quick fix, Marla could very well wake up tomorrow morning with a pond-sized puddle in her kitchen.

  She grabbed the wrench that she had laid beside her right hip, adjusted the dial to widen the wrench’s teeth, then angled it against the washer and tightened the wrench as far as it would go without pinching the washer out of shape. She wasn’t one for silent prayers, or prayers of any kind, but she took a moment—nonetheless—to beg this darn thing into obeying.

  As she worked, she soon heard the melodic bickering of two teenaged girls billow out from the living room. Kate had raised twin boys, who in their teen years had fought just as badly, but the offenses and accusations were entirely different. The girls were arguing about a sweater one of them borrowed without the other’s permission. If it had been Jason and Jared, the grievance would’ve revolved around video games, one of them playing Xbox longer than the agreed upon duration. And they wouldn’t have been shouting. They would have been wrestling across the living room floor, knocking over lamps and vases in the tussle.

  Kate smiled at the thought. Her boys were all grown up now. Two years had passed since her fleeting reunion with her husband Greg, who had been missing for years. Two quiet years since Kate had served as an integral force in shutting down the Anarchist Freedom Network and finally getting the answers surrounding Greg’s disappearance and how it tied into the vast number of murders that had cropped up throughout Rock Ridge.

  She shuddered at the thought and focused on twisting the washer and its bolt as tight as it would go.

  That’s how she handled the overwhelming thoughts that would sometimes creep up in her bones when she allowed her mind to wander into the territory of all that had transpired those years ago. There was no sense in looking back. Things had been going pretty great for Kate since then. Her twins had graduated college and moved back to Rock Ridge. Jared was working in the mayor’s office with Dean, a strong departure from his major in undergrad, but one that made him happy. Jason was working in construction—though in Kate’s opinion he could probably do a lot better. However, his job was making him happy as well—and that’s all a parent could really ask for, wasn’t it? That your child is content in their life’s decisions. Jason was probably as satisfied as he could be with his position as the new construction manager of Wentworth Contractors. Dean Wentworth used to run the company, and often gave Kate smaller fix-it jobs, while she referred her customers’ bigger jobs to Dean. But when Dean had been elected Mayor of Rock Ridge, he put his construction business on hiatus. Then when Jason had expressed an interest, Dean didn’t hesitate for a minute to turn the company over to Jason, trusting him fully by mere association. He was Kate’s son after all. Kate appreciated the vote of confidence.

  “The coffee is brewed,” said Marla from the counter.

  Kate had heard the pot percolate but had slipped into deep thought.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving the washer one last twist before sliding out from under the sink.

  When she got to her feet, she could smell the strong aroma wafting up from the mug of dark roast that Marla was holding out for Kate to grasp.

  Kate took a sip, thankful to be getting a quick boost of caffeine before the long evening ahead, then explained, “It should hold for the night, but I’ll need to come back tomorrow to fix it once and for all. You need a new pipe, and since you called right after Grayson’s closed for the night, I did what I could, but it’s temporary and won’t hold longer than a day.”

  “Okay,” she said, considering the information. “I’ve got to work tomorrow. Can you come around five in the evening? Will it hold that long?”

  Kate took a moment to consider while she drank her coffee.

  “It could go either way. I’d rather get here in the morning, but if that’s not possible, then what you need to do is check it first thing and set a pot under it if it starts dripping. I’m less concerned with the pipes, and more concerned about water damage. Pipes are relatively inexpensive, but if you get a mold problem that could really cost you.”

  “I see,” she said, setting her own mug down on the kitchen table in favor of her checkbook.

  “No need, Marla,” she said as soon as she saw the woman begin to write a check. “I’ll write you up an invoice as soon as it’s fully fixed tomorrow.”

  “Can you give me an estimate?”

  “Sure.”

  Kate lifted her tool kit from the floor and set in on the kitchen table then pulled her estimate note pad from the box and drew up the projections for materials and labor. When she handed it to Marla, the woman smirked.

  “It’s less than I would’ve thought.”

  “I get a pretty good deal at Grayson’s,” she mentioned, closing her tool kit. “Just give me a call as you’re leaving work, and I can meet you here as soon as you’re home. And remember, set a pot under the sink if you notice it dripping tomorrow.”

  “Will do!”

  Marla walked Kate to the front door, passing her teenaged daughters who had finally settled down. They were seated on the couch and flipping through magazines while an entertainment news program murmured from across the room.

  Kate waved at Marla over her shoulder then walked down the driveway. She had parked her truck at the curb, and even though dusk was gradually falling, the brightly stenciled ‘Mrs. Fix It’ lettering across the truck’s side was clear and visible.

  Setting her tool kit in the truck bed, she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her overalls and cued up Scott’s number.

&nb
sp; For a summer’s night, it wasn’t too hot, she noticed, as she climbed in behind the wheel and composed a text message.

  ‘Should I pick up a bottle of wine?’

  It only took a moment for her cell to buzz with his response.

  ‘I’ve got everything here so no need. See you soon!’

  After texting him back with ‘Great, thanks!’ Kate started up her truck and set off towards her quiet neck of the woods, driving along Main Street and cutting through the sleepy center of town before veering east to her windy driveway where her two-story house was tucked deep in the woods.

  Scott had proposed to her a few years ago, right after Greg’s brief and fleeting return to Rock Ridge. The moment she had locked eyes with her husband, it felt like time stopped, and yet, in the next second, he was shot dead. Now she had a new husband, and while she knew no one in this world was more right for her than Scott York—they had dated in high school after all, and she never really stopped thinking about him—being married once again and being a wife who had a man to come home to, was vaguely bizarre.

  Kate had been independent for years and really enjoyed her solitude. And because of this, she still felt like she was getting used to sharing her house.

  After their wedding, Scott had moved into Kate’s home. It had a state-of-the-art security system that a police chief could appreciate, and since Scott had undergone a costly divorce years ago and had been living in an apartment in the center of town, the logical choice had been for him to move in with her. She was glad he had, but at times, she missed coming home to an empty house, a bottle of wine, and the sweet silence of knowing no one was around for miles and miles.

  Kate was lifted from her reverie when she saw a vehicle stopped on the shoulder of the road a mile from her home. Its hazard lights were flashing, and it was parked at such a crooked angle that she instantly got a very bad feeling.

  She slowed her truck, veering onto the shoulder, and as she neared the vehicle, which was a red VW bug, she realized it was Cookie Halpert’s car.

  Everyone in town knew and loved Cookie for her baked goods, which she sold out of Bean There, the local coffee shop. And as Kate came to a stop, leaving her headlights on so she would be able to see, she hoped that nothing was seriously wrong.

  “Cookie?” she called out, as she approached the driver’s side door. “Are you having car trouble?”

  Kate didn’t see any damage to the vehicle, and she noted that the tires on its left side were intact.

  But when she reached the driver’s side window and found Cookie draped over the steering wheel, her long, brown hair spilling over the dashboard and her arms hanging loosely, she got a very bad feeling.

  Cautiously and using as little force as possible, she pinched the door handle then pulled, and the door sprang open.

  “Cookie?”

  The woman was motionless, and as Kate stared down at her back, the epic stillness told her the baker wasn’t breathing.

  Had this been a car accident? Had Cookie hit something in the road and gone unconscious during the impact?

  Quickly, Kate padded around the front bumper, but like the back of the car, she found no damage, no sign of a crash.

  Nearing Cookie again, Kate leaned in and gently grasped her shoulders. Her body felt limp and heavy, but she managed to pull Cookie against the seatback. It was then that she saw that the baker’s chest was covered in blood.

  Kate brushed the brown hair from Cookie’s face then placed her fingers to her throat, checking for a pulse, but there wasn’t one.

  Cookie Halpert was dead.

  Chapter Two

  “What do you mean Cookie is dead?” Scott sounded alarmed, and she could hear Jason and his fiancée, Becky, laughing in the background.

  “I mean I found her car on the shoulder of the road, and she was slumped over the wheel. When I pulled her upright, I saw her chest was covered in blood and she didn’t have a pulse.”

  “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to be a Good Samaritan,” he commented, but she could tell he wasn’t mad, only confused and possibly more so than her. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “I did. I called you.”

  “Alright,” he said, grumbling. “It sounds like she got into an accident and the other driver left the scene.”

  Kate wished that were the case, but she doubted it.

  “I’ll call dispatch and send a cruiser over to check it out. Can you hang on until then? I’ll let them know not to question you. We can deal with that later. You’ve got to get back here, or you’ll be late.”

  “I know. Okay. Good plan,” she offered.

  She was standing in the car door, which was still open, and gazing out at the darkening night. She knew she should be home by now. As well as Scott got along with Jason and Jared—her twins loved him in fact—he wasn’t the best host when it came to entertaining the soon-to-be in laws. All told, she wasn’t either, but together, they made a decent team, chatting up Lance and Amelia Langley—Becky’s parents.

  “Did you happen to see the wound? The cause of the bleeding?” he asked her.

  “You want me to look for it?” she asked, apprehensive. She might be good with a paintbrush and an electric drill, but examining a body made her woozy. She nearly laughed at the thought. She had certainly happened upon enough bodies in her lifetime. Maybe she should be used to it by now, but she wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  “A stab wound will be a slit. A bullet wound will be circular.”

  Hearing just that much caused her legs to turn rubbery.

  “How about you call that cruiser and let them tell you.”

  “I’m dialing on the landline,” he said then quickly set his cell down to talk to the Rock Ridge 9-1-1 Dispatch, relaying the details and location as he understood them. Then he was back on his cell. “They’re on their way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Kate, are you all right? You sound quiet over there.”

  Am I? “Yeah,” she managed to say, but the fact of the matter was that she couldn’t be sure.

  She closed the driver’s side door and walked back to her truck, finding a sliver of comfort in having Scott in her ear.

  This was another drawback of now having a supportive husband who loved her. She had lost her edge, her toughness, and the part of her that could shut down after encountering a body and keep a stiff upper lip. There was something about being fiercely independent that kept her hard, cool, calm, and collected—since she had no one to hold her up. Now that she did, she found she was more apt to be affected by things, both big and small. Not in a bad way, it was just a difference she had noticed that made her wonder. Though it was possible that as her life had eased up, gotten easier, she might have also evolved. Having a husband missing for years, her sons gone year round, and dead bodies cropping up week after week could’ve also been the cause of her toughened attitude. It had been years since anything tragic had happened. And quite frankly, she was no longer used to it.

  She heard sirens blaring and turned over her shoulder to find a police cruiser pulling onto the shoulder behind her truck. When the officers stepped out, she told Scott they were here then relayed it was Gunther and Tolland. Tolland was new to the force, having recently graduated from the police academy. He was the same age as her boys. They had all gone to high school together, and though she felt Jason could do better for himself than work in construction, she was glad neither of her sons had ever considered becoming a cop.

  “Evening, Kate,” said Officer Gunther. “Cookie Halpert had a fatal accident?”

  “I don’t know how much of an accident it was, but she isn’t breathing.”

  “We’ll take it from here,” said Officer Tolland, who offered her a sympathetic smirk. “I’m told you’ve got an engagement party to get to.”

  “So I’m told,” she said, thanking them before stepping up into her truck.

  She waved to them, as she carefully rounded Cookie’s car, making her way into the lan
e, and then drove off.

  Poor Cookie, she thought before a scarier one entered her head. She hoped this wasn’t the start of something big.

  As soon as she started up her long and winding driveway, easing her truck over the bumps and bends in the road, she felt remarkably calmer. Scott would handle Cookie’s death. Hopefully it hadn’t been foul play.

  She parked her truck beside Scott’s and took a deep breath, as she spied through the windows. Jason’s car was parked on the far side of her driveway near the garage, and Jared’s was beside it, but she didn’t see the Langley’s Cadillac, which meant she was still on time.

  Inside, Jared and Scott were in the kitchen, setting an assortment of cheese onto a platter of crackers, and Jason and Becky were canoodling on the living room couch, nursing their glasses of wine and marveling the engagement ring on Becky’s finger.

  “Hi guys,” she said, tiredly, as she padded through the living room and into the kitchen.

  “Mom,” said Jason, catching her attention. “Tell me you’re going to change.”

  “I’m going to change,” she assured him, taking a moment to glance down at her overalls, which she rarely parted with.

  In the kitchen, Scott offered her a glass of red wine, saying, “Take a load off.”

  “You think I can drink this in the shower?” she teased, taking a sip.

  “I think you can drink it quickly,” he countered, then leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Try not to dwell on it. I’ll get to the bottom of things with Cookie.”

  Heeding his advice, she nearly drank the whole glass then set it on the counter, kissed Jared on the cheek—though he was fully focused on making melon balls—and then started for the bathroom.

  Her shower was short and rushed, and she should’ve used the time to figure out what she wanted to wear, but her mind kept going blank. The Langleys couldn’t be more different from her and Scott, who identified as hard-working, blue-collar residents of Rock Ridge. Lance Langley had inherited his family’s mustard business decades prior, Langley’s Best, which was considered an empire. And Amelia ran an inn called Over the Moon on the north side of town. They were nice people, but Kate had nothing in common with them…except that they all loved Becky.