The Case of the Cupid Caper Read online

  “Should we call someone?” I asked. “It might be a good idea to have backup.”

  “Let’s take a peek inside and then decide what to do,” Dean suggested.

  Approaching the shed on our own seemed like a bad idea, but they were the geniuses, so I followed along behind. The shed was a single room with one small window for ventilation, much too high for me to reach. The brothers weren’t tall enough to see through it either, so they decided to give me a boost up.

  “What do you see?” Dean whispered.

  “It’s Cass. He’s tied to a chair. I can’t tell if he is dead or unconscious. I don’t see anyone else in the room.”

  The brothers lowered me slowly so as not to make any noise. Dean motioned for Martin and me to follow him. “Now would be the time to call for backup,” he suggested.

  “I agree,” I said. “You make the call, I’m going in. It appears that Cass is alone, and it looks like he’s been injured. Or worse. I need to know.”

  “But what if the person who tied Cass up is still around?” Martin asked.

  “Then you can rescue the both of us.”

  Dean tried to argue, but I took off at a run. Looking back, storming into a structure that may or may not have been under surveillance by the person or persons who’d knocked Cass out and tied him up was probably not the best idea, but at that moment, I really wasn’t thinking. As soon as I made my way into the interior of the shed, I knelt down in front of Cass. I put my hands on his cheeks. “Cass?” I shook him slightly. “Cass. Are you in there?”

  After a brief moment of terror, he opened his eyes. “Callie?”

  “Thank God.” I hugged him as the tears I’d been holding at bay found their release. “I was so scared. I thought you were dead.”

  He groaned as I went to work, untying the ropes that bound him. “Not dead, but embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed? Embarrassed, why?”

  “It seems you saving me is becoming a pattern. Are you here alone?”

  “Dean and Martin are here. They tracked your phone. Help is on the way.”

  I helped Cass to stand once I’d managed to work the ropes free. “Who did this to you?”

  “Mark Nixon.”

  “Lissa’s brother?” I remembered that Mark had been the one to bring Lissa to Foxtail Lake. He was also the owner of one of the businesses Frank had been trying to buy. “Mark is our killer?” I took a stab at an explanation.

  Cass nodded. “After he found out what Dale had done to his baby sister, he decided to meet with the man and give him a piece of his mind. The discussion got heated, and Mark ended up shooting Dale with the gun he always keeps on his person for personal protection. After Dale was shot, Mark panicked and left Dale’s residence, but in the end, he felt bad about what he’d done and confessed to Lissa since he knew she’d be upset by the loss of the man she professed to love. And Lissa was upset at first, but in the end, she wanted to protect her brother, so according to Mark, she’s the one who came up with the idea of burning the place to the ground.”

  “So why involve me? Why set the fire during a time when I was expected to show up for a meeting with the guy?”

  “I’m not sure. Mark didn’t say. Maybe it just worked out that way, or maybe they realized that you would provide an alibi of sorts for Lissa.”

  “So Mark must have helped her start the fire and then left. She stayed behind to meet with me and play the role of the terrified girlfriend.” I realized for the first time that Lissa hadn’t had a car when I’d met her at the house.

  Cass nodded.

  “And Frank?”

  “Mark said that Frank had been trying to buy the entire block where he has his hunting and fishing store. He refused to sell, as did most of the others, but then Frank messed up Walter’s deal to sell to the couple from Aurora, and he used that as leverage to get the hairdresser on board. With the option on her property, he controlled half the block. I guess Frank threatened to shut down Mark’s business while he conducted a comprehensive audit to determine if he’d been selling illegal guns. He hadn’t been, but he knew that White would drag his feet, and he’d be out of business even if he eventually passed the audit, so he went to his home to speak to him. Mark said he only intended to talk to the man, but then, as with his conversation with Dale, his conversation with Frank got heated, and he shot the guy.”

  “It sounds like Mark is the sort who shoots first and asks questions later,” I said.

  “So it appears. Personally, after speaking to Mark, I don’t think that either shooting was premeditated, but I do think the man has a trigger finger, and when riled, I think he acts before having a chance to think things through. My job is to make the arrest, which I plan to do as soon as I can catch up with the man. It will be up to the court to figure out the rest.”

  “So, both fires were Lissa’s idea?” I asked.

  “According to Mark, once he confessed to the shootings, she suggested the fires. I guess this isn’t the first time the siblings have covered up a murder with fire.”

  I raised a brow. “Their parents?” I gasped.

  He nodded. “Mark said that Lissa got into an argument with her father when she was twelve and ended up shooting him with his own gun. Their mother was going to call the police even though the father had been abusing Lissa, and the shooting was somewhat justified, so Mark shot her to protect his sister. Lissa came up with the idea of making it appear as if the couple had died in a fire.”

  I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. Both of the siblings were crazy. I supposed I should be grateful that all Mark did was to tie Cass up. Based on his prior behavior, it could have been a whole lot worse.”

  Chapter 19

  Friday 2/14

  “It looks like Ms. Cupid has another success story under her belt,” I said to Gracie as I watched Gabe and Gabby dancing cheek to cheek.

  “They do look happy,” she admitted. “And I do think they make a good match.”

  Speaking of good matches. “So, what happened to Tom? I know I saw him earlier.

  “We came together, but he headed to the bar as soon as we walked in the door,” Gracie shared. “I don’t think red and white balloons, colorful lights that twinkle, and slow dancing are really his sort of thing.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m not surprised. At least you have Hawaii to look forward to.”

  She grinned. “Ten days and counting. I wasn’t sure about your idea at first, but I have to say that I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so excited about anything.”

  “You deserve this break. Tom does too. I hope you both have a wonderful time.”

  “Are you sure you can handle things with Paisley on your own?” Gracie asked as the music changed to a waltz.

  “I’m sure. I spoke to a woman from the cleaning service and arranged for a team to go in twice a week and clean, so Paisley won’t have to worry about that. I also spoke to Anna’s mother, and she’s fine with helping out after school if needed, and she is going to rally some of the other mothers from school to drop off casseroles Paisley and her grandmother can just heat and serve. And I promise to check in with both Paisley and Ethel every single day. It will be fine. You just need to have a wonderful time and not worry about a thing.”

  “Okay.” She visibly relaxed. “I guess I’ll take your advice. I suspect that there will come a time when we’ll need to have a serious conversation about Paisley’s care with Ethel, but maybe with the extra help you’ve arranged, that conversation can wait a bit.” She looked toward the bar. “I think I’m going to go and join Tom for a drink.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  She looked around the room. “Wasn’t Cass supposed to meet you here?”

  “He’ll be here. I guess he had some paperwork to finish up.”

  “I heard Mark Nixon decided to turn himself in,” Gracie said.

  I nodded. “I think he thought that by doing so, Lissa would be off the hook and would be released, but, of course, that
isn’t at all how it worked out. Both siblings are going to prison, but the duration of their stays is unknown at this time.”

  “The whole thing is just so tragic.”

  “I agree. It sounds like Mark and Lissa’s father was a monster. If not for the abuse they had to endure as children, who knows how they would have turned out. They both might have grown to live happy and productive lives.”

  “Maybe the court will take that into consideration when it comes time to dole out the sentences,” Gracie suggested.

  “Perhaps.”

  After Gracie left, I headed toward Hope and Naomi, who were chatting near the buffet. “Are you both here alone?”

  “Unfortunately, we are,” Hope answered. “How about you? I figured Cass would come with you.”

  “He’s supposed to meet me here, but he got tied up after Mark Nixon turned himself in. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely,” Hope said.

  “I’m really excited about working on your project with you,” Naomi added. “Hope and I have been discussing it, and we both think we can come up with a new angle if we work together as a team.”

  “I don’t suppose your Navy Intelligence boyfriend will be around to help out?” I asked Naomi.

  “He may or may not pop in. You know that I never know what he is going to do or when he is going to do it.”

  “I’m sure Cass will help out where he can,” Hope added.

  “He said he would,” I confirmed. “I know that finding even a single clue that hasn’t already been found is a longshot, but it would really be great if we did dig something up.”

  I chatted with Hope and Naomi for a while longer before circulating to get the photos for the paper I was here to take. I wasn’t sure what sort of a turnout I’d been expecting, but it seemed, based on my initial observation, that half the town had shown up for the dance. Dex had loved my story about the origin of the dance as told to me by Lettie, and I really wanted to turn in something as entertaining this week, so once I had my photos, I began to circulate and ask those in attendance about specific memories from past Sweetheart Dances. I found folks who had met here, others who’d gotten engaged on the dance floor, and still others who had stories to tell that had been passed down by parents and grandparents.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  I turned and smiled at Cass, who’d walked up behind me as I was storing my notepad and pen in my camera bag. “I’d love to. I love the suit. I was expecting you to arrive in your uniform.”

  “I had to run out to the lake to take Milo home, so I changed. You look beautiful in your red dress.”

  “Thank you. You look handsome in your black suit. We’ll have to get a photo before the end of the evening.” Cass pulled me into his arms and began to sway to the slow song that was playing. I was hyper-aware of his hand on my bare back, but I tried to act nonchalant and unaffected. “So, did you get all your paperwork done?” I hoped he didn’t notice how shaky my voice had suddenly become.

  “I did. I don’t know what will happen to the Nixon siblings, but I suppose I do admire their willingness to sacrifice themselves for each other.”

  “I imagine having grown up in a violent household, they learned to have each other’s back.”

  “I guess they did.”

  “Are you going to have the weekend off, or do you have to work?” I asked.

  “I am cautiously planning to take some time off,” Cass answered. “The murder cases I’ve been working on are both wrapped up, and so far, the town has been quiet. Would you like to do something?”

  “I’m meeting with Hope and Naomi tomorrow to begin our discussion about Austin Brady’s disappearance. We’re having lunch. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

  He nodded slowly. “I can do that. In fact, after you told me about your project, I did some digging on my own. I may have an angle we can discuss that, as far as I know, hasn’t been looked at to this point.”

  I raised a brow. “Really? What’d you find?”

  He pulled my body against his. “Tomorrow is soon enough to get into the specifics. Tonight is Valentine’s Day. What do you say we simply lose ourselves in the music?”

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  Dreams aren’t real, or at least that was what I’d been trying to tell myself for the past few weeks as the dreams that had been occupying my nights began to seem very real. I supposed the dreams had actually begun this past December after my dad had been in town, but they’d increased in velocity and intensity over the course of the past few weeks to the point where I wondered if it was even safe to go to bed.

  “Tess, wake up.”

  I could feel someone pulling me forward. Not knowing who’d grabbed me in the dark, I fought to get away. Strong arms held me down as I struggled to free myself from my unseen captor.

  “Tess, it’s Tony. Wake up, sweetheart.”

  I felt a weight on my body that pinned me to the mattress until my urge to fight began to dissipate. I opened my eyes. “Tony?”

  “It’s okay.” My boyfriend, Tony Marconi, said as he reached over and turned the bedside light on. “You were having another dream.”

  I took several deep breaths and then nodded as I waited for my tears to cease, and my heart rate to slow. While the dreams had become more frequent as of late, they were always the same. I was a little girl, sleeping in my childhood room. My father would come into the room to tuck me in, although, in reality, it had always been my mother who’d performed this chore. I’d feel safe and warm and oh so happy in my dreams, but then as quickly as he’d entered my dreams, my father would be pulled from my arms. I’d reach for him, but just as my fingers were about to touch his arm, he’d burst into flames and perish in the raging inferno.

  I supposed having the dreams was understandable. For years, I’d believed my dad, Grant Thomas, a truck driver, had died in a fiery crash. When the incident first occurred, I’d had dreams similar to the dreams I was having now, but over time, the pain and fear had faded, and the dreams became nothing but a memory. Of course, looking back, the fact that Tony and I found ourselves smack dab in the middle of something neither of us understood was probably the outcome of a series of events that had been set into place years earlier.

  My dad died when I was twelve. When I was fifteen, I was nosing around in the attic of the house my brother, Mike, and I lived in with our mother and found a letter I believed to be encrypted. That letter had been stashed in a book that had been stored with some items my dad had tucked away before he died. Believing the letter could somehow provide an answer to the questions I’d been dealing with since his death, I decided to try to break the code. After dozens of failed attempts, I realized I had no choice but to enlist Tony’s help. As it turned out, the letter hadn’t been encrypted at all, but our search had led us to uncover some anomalies in my father’s death, which is what I’d suspected all along. We decided to keep our search to ourselves as we continued to dig. It took thirteen years, but eventually, Tony found a photo of my dad that had been taken three years after his reported death. That photo seemed to prove what I’d instinctively known. My dad hadn’t died in a fiery crash as I’d been told but was very much alive.

  Once we found that first photo, Tony and I continued to dig. We found additional photos and proof that my dad was alive and kicking. He was no longer using the name Grant Thomas, and we found evidence that he hadn’t used that name before meeting and marrying my mother. This caused me to question the real identity and job description of a man who seemed to be so much more than just my father.

  As time went by, additional clues began to pile up. The more we learned, the bigger the threat we seemed to pose, and eventually, unidentified men started coming around to warn us away. Of course, that only made me want to find the answers we sought even more desperately than I
had in the beginning, which led to my first face-to-face meeting with my father more than a year after Tony had found that first photo. The meeting had been brief. Mike had been in the hospital, and my dad had shown up outside the building to check on Mike’s status and to warn me to give up my search for the answers I sought. He’d told me that there were men who were piggybacking on Tony’s search who wanted him dead and posed a threat not just to him, but to Mike, my mom, and me as well.

  After that sixty-second encounter at the hospital, I did as he asked and stopped looking for answers. At least for a while. Then this past Christmas, two years after Tony had found the original photo of my dad alive, Star Moonwalker, a woman, who at the time, I believed to be my half-sister, wandered into my life. As it turned out, Star and I weren’t related, but it had been my father who’d been traveling with her mother when she was born, and it had been my father who’d dropped her off at a church after her mother had been shot and killed days after her birth. As odd as the whole thing sounds, things got even odder the more we dug.

  While Star Moonwalker might not have been my half-sister, we were connected. It turned out that the reason my father had been traveling with her mother was because he’d been helping her escape from a billionaire named Layton Henderson. According to what we’d uncovered, Star’s mother, Ivana Kowalski, had worked for Layton Henderson for several years before becoming pregnant with Star. About eight months before she became pregnant and ran away, she was transferred from her job in his import/export business to his facility in Hungary, which presently deals with artificial intelligence, but at that time, dealt with the manipulation of human intelligence utilizing a variety of methods. We knew that Ivana became pregnant and left the facility, and assumed she’d left without permission. She came to the United States using the alias Polly Davis. Once in the country, she traveled with my father, who, interestingly, had been Henderson’s head of security before running off with Ivana.