Coconut Chocolate Murder (A Maple Hills Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 5

  Nikki forced a smile to her lips. Lidia was still dressed in a pair of pink pajamas, and Tori was wrapped in a blue robe that dropped down to a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers. “I have work to do,” she explained.

  Lidia didn't fall for Nikki's smile. “We're getting dressed.”

  “Good idea,” Hawk agreed. “You and Tori need to relocate yourselves to the police station today. Remember, you're both still under investigation.”

  Tori looked at Hawk. With his eyes, he told her to listen and not speak. Lidia immediately understood Hawk's expression. “Okay, okay, already—don't remind us,” she fussed and grabbed Tori's hand. “Come on, dear, let's go get dressed.”

  Nikki walked to the coffee pot and unplugged it. “I was thinking,” she said without disguising her voice, “that if the person who killed Jane Bates is in Maple Hills, then a good place to start will be the courthouse. I need to check the public records.”

  “For what?” Hawk asked curiously.

  “I'm not sure yet,” Nikki confessed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Hawk, drop me off at the courthouse on the way to the police station, okay? I'll be a while. In the meantime, you can continue investigating the murder of Mrs. Grove.”

  “Are you sure?” Hawk asked.

  Nikki tossed a quick wink at Hawk. “I'm sure. It's always safe to be in a public facility on a day like this... on a day that a killer prefers.”

  “Sure thing,” Hawk said, even though the idea of leaving Nikki alone at the courthouse didn't sit well with him. Picking up his cup, he drained the rest of the coffee and aimed his eyes toward the living room. “I'll go warm up the jeep. You hurry those ladies up for me, okay?”

  “I will,” Nikki said. As soon as Hawk walked out of the kitchen, she closed her eyes. “I'm... beginning... to remember...” she whispered as the bright, shiny object swung back and forth in front of her eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  An hour later, Nikki walked into a warm, single-story building that smelled of pine and cinnamon. Shaking sleet off her thick, green, wool coat, she hurried up to a glass window, walking across a beautiful brown carpet in her wet boots. A young woman in her late twenties spotted Nikki approaching and put down a magazine. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Nikki continued to shake the sleet off her coat and spoke in a polite, calm tone. “I need to access your public records, please.”

  The young woman stared at Nikki coldly. Aware of who was asking to see the public records, she debated with herself whether to deny the request or allow it. Of course, if she denied Nikki access to the public records, she would be violating the law and might, as a result, risk being canned from her job. She brushed a piece of lint off the blue sweater she was wearing and then checked her short brown hair. “My mother doesn't like you,” she told Nikki.

  Nikki ignored the insult and signed her name on a guest registry form attached to a brown clipboard sitting on the counter under the window. “Which way to the public records room?”

  “No one likes you,” the young woman continued in a hateful voice.

  “I wasn't that popular in high school either, sweetie,” Nikki replied in a sharp voice. “Now, either you tell me which way to the public records room, or I ask to see your supervisor. You are a public servant. Your job is to assist the public, not harass them. The cell phone in my purse has been recording our conversation. Shall I ask your supervisor to take a listen?”

  The young woman glanced at the white purse Nikki had sat down on the counter. “Through the main door, fourth door down on the right,” she said. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean—”

  “Save it for the courts,” Nikki said coldly and grabbed her purse.

  “Have a nice day,” the young woman called out, hoping to sound authentic. Nikki rolled her eyes and hurried to the heavy wooden door and pulled it open. She stepped through it and walked down a long hallway lined with doors. When she saw Oliver Bates standing in front of the door leading into the public records room, she paused. Be strong, she told herself.

  Oliver waved at Nikki. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Bates,” he called out.

  Nikki approached him cautiously. “I have work to do,” she said angrily. “I don't need you micro-managing my every move.”

  “I intend to watch,” Oliver warned her in a stern tone. “I don't need you to withhold any new findings you might... accidentally... discover.”

  “Fine,” Nikki said and pushed past him. Stepping into the public records room, she was disappointed to find that the room had no windows. Instead, it was cramped, lined with old metal filing cabinets and a single, wooden table on a dark brown tile floor. Oliver stepped in behind Nikki and closed the door. “Don't get in my way,” Nikki said and placed her purse down onto the table.

  “Surely not.” Oliver smiled hideously.

  Nikki carefully watched Oliver remove his gray coat and then a gray fedora. Methodically, he placed his coat onto the back of a wooden chair and then neatly put his hat down onto the table, next to Nikki's purse. “Such horrible weather to walk an animal in, isn't it, Ms. Bates?” he asked. “This morning I learned that my poor dog isn't fond of this weather, poor thing.”

  “I wouldn't know. I don't have any pets,” Nikki replied. Hesitantly, she turned her back to Oliver and studied the metal filing cabinets. “What year would you say the killer arrived in Maple Hills?” she asked.

  “That's for you to discover,” Oliver replied. Sitting down, he patiently watched Nikki approach the filing cabinets. “And what are we looking for in particular?”

  “If you want me to find the person who killed your wife I will need all the assistance you can offer. What year would you say the killer arrived in Maple Hills?” Nikki asked again.

  “I can't answer your question because I do not know,” Oliver explained.

  “Fine,” Nikki said as her eyes roamed from one filing cabinet to another. “Mr. Bates, you have been watching my home, so you must know by now I am aware of the chemical inserted into the chocolate that killed Mrs. Grove.”

  “Yes,” Oliver said in a steady voice, “I am aware. This is to be expected, though. Why do you ask?”

  Nikki turned and faced Oliver. “It's possible you are playing a game with me. Perhaps you even killed Mrs. Grove to frame me, to coerce me to find your wife’s killer.”

  “The games we play are always composed of uncertainties, now aren't they?” Oliver said as he narrowed his eyes. “The outcome will become clear when you find Jane’s killer. Now get to work.”

  Nikki removed her coat and plunged into the filing cabinets with skilled hands and a sharp, focused mind. But slowly she grew distracted as her mind kept grabbing at the image of the shining object, swinging back and forth in front of her eyes. Sitting down at the table across from Oliver, she put down a brown file. “My daddy never mentioned you to me,” she said casually.

  Oliver watched Nikki open the file and begin investigating the contents. “I was, as they say, the black sheep of the family, Ms. Bates. Your grandparents adopted me, this is true. But it wasn't long before they also deserted me.”

  Nikki sensed bitterness in Oliver's voice. “Why?” she asked, reading a tax record belonging to man named Ronald Botterman.

  Oliver's eyes flashed with anger. “Why?” he asked, allowing his voice to ring with the anger that was welling up in his chest. “Why?”

  “Yes, why?” Nikki asked again.

  “Because your father was the perfect one, and I, Ms. Bates, was the horrible creature who needed to be hidden beneath the bed. I could never please my adoptive parents, no matter how many attempts I made to do so. Your father was a miserable child and a filthy young man. He smoked, stole, and committed crimes. Did he ever suffer the consequences? No. But if I so much forgot to make my bed, I would face certain beatings with words and hands.”

  “My daddy was a wonderful man,” Nikki objected. “You make him sound as if he were a monster.”

  “Wasn't he?” Oliver hissed.

  Nikk
i shrugged. “We're all a little mischievous when we're young. I remember taking a candy bar from a store when I was ten years old because a friend dared me to. That doesn't make me a monster.”

  “That makes you a thief, Ms. Bates. We must not romanticize our crimes.”

  “Sure, I was a thief,” Nikki agreed, “but I was also very young and silly. We grow out of those childish stages in life, though.”

  Oliver stared at Nikki with hateful eyes. The woman had simply, with very little effort, swatted away his powerful convictions about his stepbrother. “Why are you looking into this man's records?” he asked, determined to remain in control.

  “Ronald Botterman moved to Maple Hills soon after your wife was found murdered,” Nikki explained, examining the records. “I'm trying to compile a list of people who moved to Maple Hills in the timeframe your wife was murdered. Is that okay with you?”

  “Very well,” Oliver said, granting Nikki permission to move forward. “But I do not see pen or pad?”

  “I make mental notes,” Nikki assured him. “I never forget a single detail.”

  “Really?” Oliver asked and then grinned. “I might say that is vain, Ms. Bates.”

  Nikki closed the file. “Nah,” she said and stood up, “I'm pretty good at remembering stuff... except where I put my car keys.”

  Oliver watched Nikki walk back to the filing cabinet from which she had removed the file. “You are a lovely woman. It's such a pity that your husband filed for divorce.”

  “It happens,” Nikki replied, feeling a sharp dagger dig into her heart.

  “Does it?” Oliver asked. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  Nikki removed another file and walked back to the table. Sitting down, she quickly glanced into Oliver's soulless eyes. “It's difficult for me to believe that a man like you could love a woman,” she said in a curious voice. “Your wife must have been some woman to put up with the likes of you.”

  Oliver grinned at Nikki's insult instead of becoming enraged. “Jane was a terrific woman. She never tolerated my... foul habits.”

  “I bet,” Nikki said. “Is that why she ended up dead?”

  Oliver quit grinning. “Pardon me?” he asked as his face went flat and cold.

  Nikki looked across the table at Oliver. “I'm just implying that she might have crossed someone, you know? It's obvious she had an enemy, Oliver. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that much out.”

  “Oh...yes, of course,” Oliver said and forced his mind to calm down. “But I haven't the slightest idea who could have wanted Jane dead.”

  “Maybe it wasn't Jane the killer was after,” Nikki suggested. “Have you ever considered the killer was after you? Let's face it, you didn't sell off your stocks and investments and fake your own death because you were popular at work.”

  “I do not appreciate your accusations, Ms. Bates. Remember, I control you.”

  Nikki slammed the file in her hands closed. “And with a few clicks of a mouse, every social media outlet in the world will control you,” she fired back. “Let's get this straight, okay? I'll find your wife’s killer, and then you take a hike out of town after you provide me with the evidence you promised.”

  Oliver narrowed his eyes and stared at Nikki with vicious hatred, yet he decided not to walk into a battle of words with the woman. Nikki's punishment would come at the end, he reminded himself. “I have considered that I was the killer's target instead of my wife, Ms. Bates. That does not mitigate my responsibility to track down the person who committed the crime.”

  “Okay,” Nikki said and unclenched her mental fist, “fair enough. Today I'll make a list of possible suspects and then go home and research each person online. I should have a few leads by tomorrow.”

  Oliver leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “I do not like your detective friend. I want him to stay away from you while you are employed in my services.”

  “No way,” Nikki objected, “Hawk and I are a team. Hawk stays at my side.”

  “Detective Daily is such an... ignorant man,” Oliver stated in disgust. “Men like Hawk Daily sicken me. They are arrogant and prideful, crude and plain stupid. You could do much better than that man, Ms. Bates.”

  Nikki looked up into Oliver's eyes. She knew she had to protect Hawk from the deadly man. “Hawk's okay. I'm not planning to marry the guy or anything. Truth is... I want to use Hawk to make my ex-husband jealous.”

  Oliver grinned. “I see,” he stated in a delighted voice. “How wonderful a plan.”

  Nikki shrugged her shoulders. “I have to be patient. My husband is going to visit at Thanksgiving when my son comes back for his college break. I have until then to make it appear that Hawk and I are really serious. I like Hawk... he's a good man, and I hate to play with his heart, but I want my husband back.”

  “Excellent,” Oliver said, not realizing that Nikki was manipulating him. “I assumed you despised your ex-husband.”

  “Hearts never stop loving,” Nikki sighed and focused on the file in her hands.

  “Perhaps,” Oliver agreed.

  Nikki felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Bracing herself, she eased forward with extreme caution. “Could I dare to ask you who you worked for, Mr. Bates?”

  “You could,” Oliver replied. “I will make it very simple for you, if you wish.”

  “Nothing is simple, but please try.”

  “I worked for the Center for Disease Control,” Oliver explained. “My position will not be revealed, but I will state that I was a very powerful man. Early last year, I came to realize that my services at the Center were being questioned by a certain group of people in Washington.”

  “In other words, you were about to be eliminated,” Nikki said.

  “Yes,” Oliver replied.

  “I never had any dealings with the Center for Disease Control,” Nikki admitted. “I'm afraid I'm not educated in that department, but I suppose you must have dealt with some very deadly diseases.”

  “Not dealt with... created,” Oliver corrected Nikki. “Before my services were terminated, I made certain, shall I say, deals to obtain certain... items.”

  “I don't need to hear that,” Nikki scolded him. “My job is to find a killer and clear myself of a murder. I just needed to know who you worked for to help me. It seems that if you were going to be eliminated by force, then it's possible that the person who killed your wife was sent to kill you. Now that I think about it, I'm sure of that.”

  Oliver sat quietly for a minute. “Perhaps,” he finally answered in a disappointed tone. “I will leave you alone, now, Ms. Bates. I will be in touch tomorrow.”

  Nikki didn't say anything in reply. She watched the man put on his coat and hat and leave the room. “The games we play,” Nikki whispered. “Okay, Jane Bates, you may not be in these files, but your parents might be. All I have to do is locate them while making Oliver think I'm searching for your killer. At least Oliver showed up on time and took the bait.”

  Chapter Nine

  Rolling up her dress sleeves, Nikki went to work. Going through file after file, Nikki searched through one record after the next with a determined mind. When Hawk walked into the records room, she barely noticed. “Hungry?” he asked, examining all the files scattered across the sitting table.

  “Huh? Oh, hi Hawk,” Nikki said wearily.

  Hawk closed the door behind him, shook the brown coat he was wearing, and then ran his hands through his damp hair. “How are things here?”

  “Oliver showed up like I expected. He was actually waiting for me,” Nikki explained and began rubbing her neck. “I managed to squeeze some juice from that lemon, but not much. I have to admit, I was terrified the whole time. That man has done something awful to me and I don't know what. But I will. Until I do, I have to play his sick game.”

  Hawk walked over to Nikki and began massaging her shoulders. “I did some digging for you, Nikki. Oliver Bates worked for—”

  “The CDC, yeah, I got that muc
h from him,” Nikki said.

  Hawk nodded. “The man was in charge of the Contagious Diseases Research department. Mr. Oliver Bates began his career with the CDC after leaving the Navy in 1976. Now here's the kicker. Are you ready?”

  “Oliver Bates was originally assigned to the Vermont CDC, not the Atlanta CDC,” Nikki told Hawk, “and that's how he met his wife, Jane, who is from Maple Hills.”

  Hawk sighed. “Well, you popped my balloon.”

  “Not really,” Nikki explained. “I've been searching for confirmation of my theory. I'm trying to locate Jane's parents to confirm that she once lived in Maple Hills. It would help if I had the woman's maiden name.”

  Hawk beamed. “Funnel,” he announced proudly.

  Nikki turned in her seat and looked up into his eyes. “You've been on the job,” she said, impressed.

  “My fingers are more exhausted than my mind,” he admitted.

  Nikki smiled. “You’re great.” Standing up, she ran to a filing cabinet and pulled out a property tax file that belonged to a man named Lionel Funnel. “I've got an address.”

  “So do I,” Hawk said, “and a graveyard. Nikki, you know Jane Funnel's parents are dead by now, don't you?”

  “Oh, of course,” Nikki said, “but I also want to see who is living in her old home.”

  “The house you're looking for is owned by a local rental company,” Hawk explained. “After lunch, I was going to find out if anyone was renting the house.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Nikki said and turned to face Hawk. “I believe Mr. Oliver Bates may be the current resident, Hawk.”

  Hawk patted the gun hidden under his coat. “Yep,” he said.

  Nikki looked past Hawk toward the table. “Thanks for your help, Hawk. I don't know why I didn't call you to begin with. Silly of me, really, to make all this mess when a simple phone call could have saved me time and trouble.”

  “Maybe you just needed time to think,” Hawk suggested. “When my mind is tangling with a problem, I become distracted, too, and end up going around my elbow to get to my thumb.”