Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Read online

  Mrs. Fix It Mysteries

  Books 1-15

  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

  HAMMERED

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Twelve

  SCREWED DOWN MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  A VENEER OF MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  DRILLED IN MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  CHISELED

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  NAILED DOWN MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  PAINT IT DEAD

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  CLAMPED ON MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  TOOL KIT CLUES

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  WRENCHED IN MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  KILLER FOUNDATION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  DEAD AS A DOORNAIL

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  BODY ON THE BALCONY

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  ROOFTOP KILLER

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  MURDER AT THE MANSION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  HAMMERED

  Chapter One

  Kate Flaherty pulled her secondhand truck into the parking spot in front of Grayson’s Hardware Store on Main Street. The store had been there so long that no one even remembered who Grayson was. Perhaps he’d been one of the original founders of Rock Ridge, her hometown in central Pennsylvania.

  Those from out of town asked for Mr. Grayson when they wanted to see the manager. Kate had never given it a thought; having grown up here, she’d just taken the name for granted.

  Kate always began her day here. Today, she was scheduled to fix a hole in some drywall. That meant buying spackle and a new piece of Sheetrock. She hoped the job would be simple. Part of her wanted to know how the hole happened. She was always curious about these things, but most of the time customers were not forthcoming with the information.

  What she wasn’t looking forward to was running into her customer. The new police chief in town, Scott York, was a nice enough man. At least he had been in high school when they’d had a bit of a romance. But then he’d left for college and never called her again.

  She should be past it. She’d clearly moved on; she married and raised two boys who were currently in college. No, what bothered her was that she had been left alone. She had remained unattached until she met Greg Flaherty, the man who would become her husband. But then he had suddenly disappeared five years ago, leaving her alone once more.

  Until she knew where he was and what had happened, her love life was on hold.

  She had a sneaking suspicion that Scott might have different ideas. Still, she’d agreed over the phone to fix the hole in his wall. She didn’t ask how his wall came to have a hole in it. Sometimes the less she knew the better.

  Since she was the only handywoman in town, she learned things about people that she didn’t necessarily want to know. Kate could be the soul of discretion, but most of the time she went out of her way to forget what she knew.

  Everyone had secrets, and those were tough to kee
p in a small town.

  The usual hardware-store flies were buzzing around the cash register talking about baseball—hardware-store flies were like barflies, but sober. Usually, they only hung out at the hardware store during weekdays. When Kate first started her business, they had been full of unnecessary advice. Trying to help out the lady carpenter, she supposed. But Kate’s father had taught her everything she ever needed to know about the business before he moved away.

  Several of the guys were retired and one was out of work. They’d learned to accept her, so her presence in the store these days was barely a blip on their radar. Once in a while they even greeted her.

  She knew what she needed and where it was, so she didn’t bother Clark Stadt, the owner. He was busy recounting his latest fishing trip. The men were enthralled. Ah, life in a small Pennsylvania town.

  As she walked past, he held his hands out three feet apart, earning the nodding admiration of his audience. She smiled and kept on her way. When she’d gathered the necessary items, she waved a hand at Clark.

  “On my tab?”

  “Sure sweetie,” he said.

  After this job, she thought. I will pay down my tab a little. A little. Her savings were beginning to run out and the boys had another tuition payment due soon. Otherwise, she might have paid it off in full.

  She knew that Clark hoped that she would be his daughter-in-law someday, but nothing was happening until she found her husband. That hole in her life couldn’t be filled until she knew what had happened to him.

  As much as she tried to blot it out, the memory of that Monday afternoon continued to haunt her. Greg had called her before he left the office to let her know he’d be home soon. Then he never arrived. No trace of him or his car was found. Shaking off the memory, she braced herself for the job ahead.

  She parked in Scott’s driveway and noticed that his car wasn’t there. She was relieved he wouldn’t be home to make her time there awkward. His house sat in the middle of a block of ranch-style houses. His had a porch on the front where he’d placed two rocking chairs. How quaint. As if he’d have time to just sit on his porch, passing the time.

  Prior to his appointment, Rock Ridge had been without a police chief for six months. Scott would have to catch up on paperwork, and that alone would have him at the station until late at night.

  A wreath hung on the door which seemed to Kate like a feminine touch. She had heard that he’d divorced his wife, and that was why he was back here taking the open spot at the police department.

  Not her problem. Kate just wanted to do what she’d come to do and leave. She kept her head down and her nose clean. No need to get into anybody’s business.

  At least that was her intention these days.

  Did Scott leave a key?

  She glanced at her phone and realized he’d sent her a text.

  Called into work for a traffic accident. The key is under the fake rock to the left of the door.

  “Not very creative,” she murmured.

  But then there wasn’t a lot of crime in Rock Ridge. There wasn’t a lot of anything in Rock Ridge, but that suited her fine.

  She retrieved the key, and then opened the door with trepidation. He’d just moved back to Rock Ridge and Kate wondered if he’d had time to make the house his own yet. In a way, she felt she was invading his personal space.

  “Stop, Kate. That was a long time ago,” she whispered to herself.

  They’d been high school sweethearts until he’d broken her heart by going off to college and not looking back. She’d attended the local community college where she met her husband, Greg Flaherty, a professor of Middle Eastern studies. Both she and Scott had lived their lives and were in different circumstances now.

  The hole in the wall was as obvious as Scott had said. She cut a larger square around the damaged area then measured it. This would be a two-day job because of the spackling.

  She patched the hole with a new piece of drywall and then put the spackle onto the edges. It would take all day to dry, so she packed up her tools.

  She headed down the hallway toward the kitchen in search of the bathroom. As she washed her hands in the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror. She studied the wrinkles on her face.

  Don’t be so vain, Kate. He isn’t back for you.

  Her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw it was Scott.

  “Hello?”

  “Kate.”

  The deep voice of Chief Scott York boomed out of her phone and echoed in the small bathroom. He was a big man with a big ego. But you always knew exactly where you stood with Scott.

  “I patched the hole and spackled it. I’ll have to sand it tomorrow and, if necessary, spackle again. You need me to paint it?”

  He chuckled. “Right down to business, I see.”

  “Well, this is business. You needed repairs done, that’s why you called me.”

  She hoped she didn’t sound as petulant to him as she sounded to herself. “Oh, Kate. Always a spitfire.”

  Must be the red hair. At least that’s what her mother had told her time and time again. For a moment she missed her mother dearly. She’d died not long after Kate first married Greg. Her father had moved to Florida a few years ago. He’d hated the Pennsylvania winters and now Kate only saw him once a year at Christmas.

  He was busy with his new life.

  “Kate?”

  Darn. He must have asked her something. “Sorry. What?”

  She left the bathroom and stood in the hallway, hoping this conversation wouldn’t take long. She had to fix an outside faucet at Old Man Evans’ house. He’d made it a point to remind her that he couldn’t water his petunias until she did.

  “Can I buy you dinner?”

  “Uh, I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said. She was still married even if she didn’t have a clue where her husband was.

  “We’re old friends.”

  He’s going to use that line? They hadn’t been friends. They’d been teenage lovers. And boy had she fallen hard for him. It had been a stupid move that reflected her immaturity at the time—a mistake that she was not going to repeat now.

  “We were more than friends, Scott. I’m a married woman.”

  “I see. So a dinner between two old friends can’t happen? Just two friends, catching up?”

  The Rock Ridge grapevine would not see it that way, and all of those people were her customers or her potential customers. She couldn’t afford to alienate anyone.

  He was flirting, and as much as she was flattered, she was uncomfortable. She paced away from the bathroom into the kitchen. That’s when she saw a foot.

  “Oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hold on.”

  She walked around the kitchen table to see a blonde woman on the floor. She didn’t move, and her lifeless eyes stared up at Kate. A chill ran through her.

  “There’s a woman on your kitchen floor, Scott.”

  “Is she alive?”

  Kate knelt down to feel for a pulse. Nothing moved underneath her fingers. The body felt cold. “No.”

  “Get out of the house.”

  “Why? No one’s here. I’ve been here for an hour,” she said. It was a knee-jerk response to being given orders. But she quickly realized this wasn’t a point she cared to argue further.

  She rose to her feet and backed out of the kitchen. She couldn’t do it fast enough. Having raised boys, she wasn’t squeamish, but a dead body was more than she could handle.

  “Go sit on the front porch until I get there, Kate. Do you recognize the person?”

  “No, I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

  ***

  Kate rocked on one of the chairs on Scott’s porch. Various vehicles occupied the street and driveway along with her truck. Hers was the only one without a light bar. She couldn’t have left if she tried since the police cars and ambulance had her blocked in. Lucky me. They’d probably need to question her anyway.

  Scott
had arrived minutes after their conversation. He’d immediately entered his house and he hadn’t come out yet.

  She couldn’t help but notice that he looked good—better than she’d have imagined even—with his snow-white hair and light brown eyes. He’d glanced at her briefly, and asked her to stay put.

  He probably didn’t mean to be so brusque, but she had the sense that she was a dog that had just been asked to stay. As if. But since the vehicles weren’t to be moved any time soon, she opted to do as he asked.

  Half an hour after she’d settled on the porch, a neighbor, who introduced himself as Charlie, brought her some lemonade. The day wasn’t yet hot, but warm. The summer humidity hadn’t settled in yet. But it would, and then there’d be no porch sitting. She gratefully sipped the beverage, and Kate had the distinct feeling that Charlie was being so kind because he wanted to know what happened.

  Despite his hospitality, she didn’t reveal what was going on. It wasn’t her concern. She’d called Old Man Evans to tell him that she might be late getting his faucet done. As far as she was concerned, her obligations ended there.

  Another car careened onto the cul-de-sac. It was too early in the day for people coming home from work. Who could this be?

  Crime scene tape stopped anyone from entering the house, but no one stood guard on the property. She watched a young girl stride up the driveway with a camera and tablet in hand.

  Beth Chance, reporter for the local weekly rag, stopped on the top step. The cop that was standing just inside the door shook his head. “You aren’t getting in, Beth. It’s a crime scene.”

  “At least tell me what happened.”

  “You’ll get an official release from the chief,” the officer said.

  The problem with living in a small town was that everyone knew everyone. Beth had been two years ahead of Kate’s twin boys in school. Kate remembered meeting the girl when she was little and picking a book out at the elementary school book fair.

  My, how time flies.

  Beth turned to Kate, but Kate put up her hand. “I have nothing to say.”

  Beth’s face fell and she sat on the top step of the porch. She must have just graduated and gotten a job at the Rock Ridge Sentinel. Kate felt sorry for her, but she didn’t want to get involved with the press.

  The Sentinel had not been kind when her husband first went missing. They’d intimated that he’d met foul play and that she’d had something to do with it. This was when Beth was probably still in high school so it wasn’t her fault, but still, Kate had no fondness for reporters.

  In fact, she didn’t even advertise in the local newspaper for her small business. That’s how far her dislike of the newspaper went. Kate advertised on bulletin boards, and most of her jobs came via word of mouth.