Beauty to Die For and Other Mystery Shorts

  Beauty to Die For

  & Other Mystery Shorts

  Featuring

  the Lovers in Crime

  and Mac Faraday (& Gnarly, too!)

  BOOK INFORMATION

  Beauty to Die For & Other Mystery Shorts

  All Rights Reserved © 2012 by Lauren Carr

  Published by Acorn Book Services for E-Publication

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

  For information call: 304-285-8205

  or Email: writerlaurencarr@comcast.net

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ASIN: B00B3CUVZ8

  Designed by Acorn Book Services

  Publication Managed by Acorn Book Services

  www.acornbookservices.com

  acorn.book.services@comcast.net

  304-285-8205

  Cover designed by Acorn Book Services

  Cover Image: Gun and Rose by Pong

  freedigitalphotos.net

  Published in the United States of America

  DEDICATION

  To All Writers, Young and Old, New and Veteran

  Keep On Writing!

  BEAUTY TO DIE FOR

  A Lovers in Crime Mystery Short

  Chester, West Virginia – Rock Springs Boulevard

  In the corner of the northern panhandle of West Virginia, the phone in the master bedroom of the three-story stone house on the corner of Rock Springs Boulevard and Fifth Street woke Joshua Thornton up from a sound sleep. “What do you want?”

  “Did I wake you?” Dr. Tad MacMillan asked with a hint of fear in his tone.

  In bed next to him, Cameron Gates grasped her husband’s arm. Accidentally, she dug her fingernails into his wrist. “Why can’t they leave us alone?”

  Yanking his arm from her grasp, Joshua rolled over to check the time on the clock. “Ah, man! It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

  “Am I interrupting something?” Tad asked.

  “Only if you count sleep.” After three attempts, Joshua found the switch to turn on the lamp on the night stand. “At ten o’clock, Tracy called from New York to say hi. At eleven, J.J. called to chat. And then, at midnight Donny called to say he got to D.C. and found Murphy’s townhouse okay but couldn’t get through to let me know he was still alive. I swear, I didn’t talk to those kids so much when they lived at home.”

  With a groan, Cameron rolled over and buried her head under the pillow. At the foot of the bed, Irving, Cameron’s Maine Coon, which was marked like a skunk, leapt off the bed and scurried out of the bedroom to find someplace quieter to sleep. Seemingly undisturbed, Admiral, the family’s Great Dane-Irish Wolfhound-mix was snoring loudly next to her side of the bed.

  “Why are you calling me at two o’clock in the morning?” Joshua asked.

  After a career as a top JAG officer with the Navy, followed by a career as Hancock County’s prosecuting attorney, all while raising five children alone after the death of his wife, Joshua felt that he had earned the right and freedom to be an empty nester, which he was looking forward to happening when his sixteen year old son would go off to college.

  Now, that wasn’t going to happen.

  In a matter of months, Joshua met, fell in love, and married Cameron Gates, a sassy homicide detective with the Pennsylvania State Police. He brought five grown children and an oversized dog to the marriage. She brought one twenty-five pound cat with separation anxiety and other issues. You’d have issues too if you looked like a skunk.

  Joshua’s cousin, Dr. Tad McMillan explained the reason for his call. “I’m here at Fox’s nursing home with a patient and she’s asking for you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Gina Robb,” Tad answered.

  “I don’t know a Gina Robb.”

  “I doubt if you would,” Tad said. “She lived on a big farm out past New Manchester. Her husband died forty years ago. Keeps to herself. Rarely comes to town. She has liver cancer and is going downhill fast.” His voice softened. “She’s not going home, but before she passes she wants to talk to Frieda Thornton’s boy, the county prosecutor.”

  “That would be me.”

  “Can you come?”

  With a sigh, Joshua looked over at where Cameron was curled up in a ball under the covers next to him. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Tad met Joshua at the door of the main entrance of the nursing home section of The Orchards, a retirement community nestled on the outskirts of Chester.

  On their way to the room at the end of the hall, Joshua asked, “Did she know Grandmomma?”

  “Everyone knew Grandmomma.”

  Tad opened the door to reveal a priest sitting next to the bed. Seeing Joshua in his jeans and t-shirt under a light jacket, the priest excused himself to step outside, with assurance that he would be close by when needed. Tad stepped over to the bed to check the numbers on the monitor for the medical equipment attached to the patient in the bed.

  Waiting next to the door, Joshua tried to think of why the shriveled, wrinkled, gray woman in the bed would be asking for him when she was on death’s door. Ah, man, please don’t let it be a confession to murder on your death bed. The last thing I need is a murder confession on the first day of our vacation home alone.

  “Gina?” Tad raised his voice to break through to where she was drifting—somewhere between deep sleep and unconsciousness. “Can you hear me, Gina? Joshua Thornton is here to see you.”

  Her lids fluttered open to reveal yellowed eyeballs containing spheres of faded brown. “Joshua? Who?” Her eyes seemed to become disembodied while rolling around in their sockets in search of her visitor.

  “Frieda Thornton’s grandson.” Tad gestured for him to sit in the chair vacated by the priest.

  It took effort for Joshua to lay his hand on hers. The long yellowed fingernails attached to her boney fingers made her hands resemble a witch’s claw. “Here I am, Mrs. Robb.”

  She jumped with a squawk at his touch. After lifting her head from the pillow, she turned her head to look at him. With the rest of her body lying inert and her head lifting and turning in his direction, she reminded him of a demon-possessed doll in an old horror film he had seen years ago.

  What was the name of that movie? The doll went around killing people. It was the one that Murphy and J.J. had sneaked out of bed to watch … Think about it later, Josh. You didn’t get up at two in the morning to come here to play What’s That Movie?

  “Thornton? Josh?” She uttered another noise to communicate her surprise upon making him out with her yellow eyes. “Thornton?”

  “I’m Joshua Thornton. My grandmother was Frieda Thornton.”

  “I knew a Johnny Thornton.”

  “That was my father,” Joshua told her. “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was five years old. Grandmomma Frieda raised me.”

  Tad paused in keeping track of her vital signs to explain. “You were asking for Joshua, the county prosecutor.”

  “I remember.” With all the strength she had, she sat up to peer into his face. “Johnny had dark hair.” The wrinkles in her face deepened.

  Joshua ran his fingers through his silver hair. “I used to have dark hair. Raising five teenagers on your own can take a toll on a man.”

  “I didn’t know your family very w
ell,” she said, “but I did know them well enough to know that when a Thornton gives his word, he means it.”

  Joshua replied, “Grandmomma always told me that your word is the most valuable thing you own. No one can steal it from you. You’re value as a human being is directly connected to the value of your word. Don’t give it away lightly.”

  Her eyes grew wide while she pointed a claw at him. “That’s why I told them to call you. Because I knew that if a Thornton gave me his word then—” She broke off into a coughing fit.

  While Tad fed her a drink of water through a straw, they exchanged glances.

  “It’s Billy,” she gasped out after regaining her breath.

  “Billy?” Joshua looked up to his cousin who was watching the heart monitor on the other side of the bed.

  Tad MacMillan seemed to know everyone in the Ohio Valley. If he didn’t know them personally, he knew of them and most likely the story and secrets behind them. “Are you talking about your son?”

  “Billy.” She grasped Joshua’s wrist in a grip stronger than he expected from a dying woman. The cold touch of her hands sent a shiver through his body. “They said he did an awful thing, but he didn’t. A mother knows her son. They made it look like he killed that woman and then they shot him in the head to make it look like he killed himself.” She sucked in a wheezy breath. “Now everyone thinks my Billy was a monster.”

  “Did you talk to the police?” Joshua asked.

  “They know the truth already,” she said. “They let whoever killed that woman and my boy get away with it. They had a conspiracy against my son. They covered it up.”

  Her chest heaved up and down. A tear slid out of the corner of one of her eyes. “Every day I told myself that I was going to do whatever I had to do, to call whoever I had to call, but I didn’t. Instead, I’ve spent all these years wallowing in my sorrow. Now there isn’t any time left. I promised Billy on his grave that I would clear his name before I died and now …” She gazed at him with her yellow eyes. “That’s why I asked Doc MacMillan to call you, Mr. Thornton.”

  Joshua jerked up straight in his seat. “I don’t know, Mrs. Robb.”

  She grabbed his hand into both of hers. Her claws dug into his wrist. “Please, Mr. Thornton,” she begged. “I know that if anyone can cut through the crap to find out the truth and clear Billy’s name, it would be Frieda Thornton’s little boy. Give me your word, please. I’ve never asked for anything from anyone before. I’m a proud woman, but now I have no pride left. Maybe if I had asked for help before … I’m desperate, Mr. Thornton. Let Billy and me can rest in peace. Give me your word that you’ll clear Billy’s name.”

  Her gray wrinkled face reminded Joshua of a witch he had seen in yet another old movie.

  Focus, old man. Stop thinking about old movies and focus, will you? This woman wants you to clear her dead son of a murder that he may or may not have committed. What if he did it? You can’t swear to clear his name if he did it.

  With a stern look in his eyes, Tad was staring at him. Don’t do it, Joshua could hear the doctor telling him telepathically.

  “Mr. Thornton,” she brought his hand up to her face to sob into it. “Please tell me that you’ll help my Billy.” Dropping his hand to roll over to the other side of the bed, she clawed for a canvas bag resting in a chair next to the wall.

  Seeing what she was reaching for, Tad picked up the bag by its straps and handed it to her. When he picked it up, it fell open to reveal that it contained a thick file folder filled with papers.

  Shoving the papers threatening to fall out of the bag back inside, she handed it to Joshua. “Here’s everything you need to get started. Everything that I have cut out of newspapers about the suspects. I also have a letter in there from Deep Throat.” She winked playfully at him.

  “Deep Throat?” Joshua asked.

  “Deep Throat knows the truth.”

  “If Deep Throat knows the truth, why won’t he go public with it?”

  Tears returned to her eyes. “I don’t know. He sent me a letter—It’s in there. He knows Billy was framed and murdered. I tried to bring out the truth, but…I failed. I failed my only son.” Her fingers were once again digging into Joshua’s arm. “Promise me that you’ll do what I failed to do.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.” Tad chastised his cousin when they were alone in the corridor and out of Gina Robb’s earshot. “You gave that woman your word that you’d clear Billy’s name. She’s dying. Do you know what it means to make a promise to a dying woman? What if you can’t clear Billy’s name? What if he did it? Do you want to spend an eternity in hell?”

  Joshua said, “I wouldn’t have promised her on her deathbed that I’d clear his name if I didn’t think that I could.”

  Tad shook a finger in his younger cousin’s face. “You would never have even begun to give your word about something like this five years ago. Ever since your kids have started moving out and you can’t have the end all control over what happens to them—” He paused to catch his breath. “You put yourself in her place. You imagined Billy being one of your kids—”

  Joshua wished he could deny that Tad was right. Sometimes it was spooky the way he could read his mind.

  “Do you even know what Billy Robb was accused of doing?” Tad asked. “Do you know who they said he killed?”

  “Who?”

  “Rachel Burke.”

  “Who’s that?” Joshua searched his memory. Tad’s tone made it sound as if he should know who she was, but the name didn’t ring a bell.

  “Miss Pennsylvania 1996. Gorgeous redhead,” Tad said. “She was found stabbed to death in her beauty salon in 2001—the week before September 11. That’s probably why you don’t know about it. You were stationed in Hawaii then.”

  “Yeah,” Joshua said. “I had other things occupying my mind.”

  “Well, she was the All-American beauty and successful business woman. She was working late in her salon after closing and they said Billy Robb, who had been nothing but trouble since he was born, killed her because she had fired him for being a screw up. They found the murder weapon, a pair of scissors from her shop in his apartment, right next to the chair where he had blown his brains out. Billy had a long record of theft, drugs, and assault.” He gestured at the dying woman down the hall. “How do you think you can possibly prove that he didn’t do it with all that? She’s only got days to live and you promised to clear Billy Robb’s name.”

  “I never thought it would be easy,” Joshua said. “No murder case is.”

  “Do you want to fool around?” Clad in his blue bathrobe, Cameron came up behind Joshua and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him between the shoulder blades and rested her head against his back.

  “Didn’t we do that last night?” he asked with a laugh. While waiting for his bagel to pop from the toaster, he turned around to take her into his arms. She reached up to bring his lips down to hers.

  Perched next to the kitchen counter, Admiral watched with worry that Cameron would make his master forget about the bagel, of which he was expecting the last bite.

  “I do plan on going back to bed.” He opened her robe to see that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “I certainly won’t object to having company.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” After closing up the robe and tying the belt, she took the container of cream cheese out of the fridge and got a knife to spread on the bagel.

  At the sound of the fridge door opening, Irving jumped up in the window sill to get a better view of what they were doing at the counter.

  “What happened at the nursing home?” Cameron asked while spreading the cream cheese over the two halves of the bagel. She handed one half to Joshua while taking the other for herself.

  Admiral belched as if to remind them of his presence. Forgetting to reserve the last bite for him would be a big mistake.

  Sensing that there was something going on that he was missing, Irving jump
ed down from his perch and scurried across the floor to take a spot in between Irving’s front legs. He got there in the nick of time. Cameron tossed one bite to Admiral, which he caught in mid-air, and a second bite down to the floor for Irving to scoop up and take away to devour in private. While she was feeding the animals, Joshua was pouring two mugs of coffee and carrying them over to the table.

  She joined him. “Was it a murder confession?”

  “Nope.”

  “Tell me.” She reached over to stroke the back of his hand.

  Admiring her tousled short hair that reminded him of the color of cinnamon, he shot her a grin. “Do you remember Billy Robb, suspected of killing Rachel Burke, a former beauty queen, in Robinson Township back in the 2001, the week before September 11. Robb was from Chester.”

  “I remember Billy Robb,” she said. “I wasn’t on the case, but certainly heard about it. Rachel Burke had become a name. Local celebrity. Was in the Miss America Pageant. There was a big uproar with the politicians to close the case and close it fast.”

  “And we all know how that works,” he grumbled. “Under pressure to close a case fast and satisfy the public, not to mention the bosses and media, the police would never rush to pin the blame on the first most likely suspect without closely examining the evidence.”

  “Billy Robb was no stranger to the police,” she argued. “He had a history of breaking into stores at night, drugs, and violence. Not only that, but he knew Rachel Burke. She was nice enough to have given him a maintenance job at the salon when no one else would, because she believed in second chances. Thing is, he stopped showing up for work so she had to fire him.” She pointed a finger at him as the thought came to her mind. “If you promised to look into the Burke case to prove Robb innocent, you’re going to end up getting haunted by that old woman because the evidence said he did it.”

  “Donny is coming home from Washington in two weeks. That gives us two weeks to prove Robb didn’t do it.” He reached for the canvas bag on the chair next to him and emptied the contents across the top of the table.

  Without invitation, Cameron dug in with the enthusiasm of a child finding a bag of candy.