Boston Cream Killer: Book 8 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series by Summer Prescott

owe the pleasure?” Wendell droned sarcastically, taking a slug of scotch straight from the bottle.
    “I think you know exactly why I’m here,” the Marine replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to start talking and you’re going to tell me everything that I need to know, because it’ll get very unpleasant for you if you don’t,” he took a pair of black leather gloves out of a pocket in his cargo pants and pulled them on, flexing his fingers.
    “Now, look… there’s no need for…” the earl began, but was cut off by the reappearance of his servant.
    “You need me to take care of this?” the muscular man asked his boss.
    Spencer smirked.
    “No, Kosta, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Wendell looked irritated. “Just give the man his drink, for goodness sake,” he waved toward Spencer.
    “I don’t want…” the Marine began, but cut his sentence off in a gasp of pain when Kosta tossed the contents of the glass directly into his eyes, making them burn and ooze.
    There had been some sort of chemical agent in the liquid, and Spencer found himself hoping that his vision wouldn’t be permanently impaired. His nose and throat were immediately inflamed, and though he wiped at his eyes, making the pain worse, his vision didn’t improve at all. Coughing and choking, he was aware enough of his surroundings to put up his arms to ward off the blow that he could hear coming, but whatever Kosta hit him with was huge, heavy, and hard, knocking him unconscious. His last thought before blinding pain caused him to succumb, was that even if he failed, Missy and Chas would still have Paddy to protect them.
     

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    “Beckett, you know that I have to search Spencer Bengal’s apartment,” Detective Jim Reubens said quietly.
    “He’s not here to give you permission,” Chas pointed out reasonably.
    Jim sighed.
    “I can go get a warrant if you really want me to do that, but one way or another, I’m going in there.”
    The detective frowned.
    “All right, I’ll take you down there,” he agreed finally.
    “No, I’m sorry, but you won’t,” Reubens shook his head. “You’re specifically required to not participate in this investigation. I’m sorry, Beckett, but this one just hits too close to home,” his response was kind, but firm.
    Chas knew that his colleague was correct. Because he’d known the victim, and evidence existed that made it look like the detective might actually be involved in her death, he’d been relegated to office duty until after the investigation. Never one to sit idly by while others worked, Chas had elected to take a few days off in order to pursue his own investigation. He pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket and slid one of the keys off.
    “Here’s the key to his place. Just leave it with Maggie, the innkeeper, when you’re done,” he handed it over.
    “Good. I need to talk with her before I leave anyway,” Jim nodded. “Where are you going to be? You know, in case I have questions.”
    Chas knew what the detective was doing. He’d obviously been tasked with keeping tabs on his colleague.
    “I don’t know. I have some errands to run, and I might go for a swim,” he shrugged.
    “Uh-huh,” Jim replied skeptically. “Well, keep your phone on you.”
    “Always,” Chas smiled tightly, having no intention of doing so.
    ***
    Jim Reubens unlocked the door to Spencer’s apartment, expecting to find a typical young man’s bachelor pad, with beer cans on the floor, dirty laundry piled up in front of the washer, and dishes in the sink. The sparingly decorated apartment that he entered into was the polar opposite of his expectations. The furnishings were simple, clean-lined and spotless, and nothing was out of place. The faucets in the sink and bathroom had no water spots, and there was not a speck of dust or lint anywhere. The cat box in the utility room was filled with fresh, clean litter, emitting no odor at all, but there was no cat to be found.
    Since