Cozy Mystery Bundle #1 (South Lane Detective Agency) Read online

  COZY MYSTERY BUNDLE #1

  South Lane Detective Agency

  John P. Logsdon

  Lorelei Logsdon

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  Details can be found at the end of this book.

  Table of Contents

  Diamond in the Ruff

  Framed & Fortune

  A Sound Swing

  A Horse Tail

  Out of Left Field

  DIAMOND IN THE RUFF

  PROLOGUE

  He knew it was here somewhere. It was close, so close he could almost taste it. In the pitch black darkness of the quiet house, he had to tread carefully to avoid detection. If he knocked something over due to his carelessness, he’d be caught and then he’d never get to enjoy the spoils. Every step had to be calculated, purposeful and, most importantly, quiet.

  He’d been waiting patiently all evening for them to turn out all the lights and go to bed. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, necessarily, but he’d learned that sometimes there was no other way. And this was a particularly incredible prize—definitely worth waiting for. As soon as he’d seen it, he knew he had to have it. After all, it’s not every day that such a juicy thing presented itself. And she’d just left it out like it meant nothing to her! Just lying there, he knew, waiting just for him.

  Suddenly he came upon it, almost by accident, and he reveled in his good fortune for just a moment before taking it slowly without another thought. Once it was secure, he stood deathly still and listened carefully, just to make sure he was still in the clear. He heard nothing but some light snoring coming from the bed, so he quietly turned around and left the same way he had come.

  He smiled to himself. He had successfully pulled off one of the biggest heists in history, and no one would ever know it was him.

  A NEW PLAN

  Casey sat slumped over her desk, inwardly sighing and rolling her eyes. Her shoulder-length blond hair created a cocoon around her head, momentarily blocking her view of him. She really didn’t need this aggravation right now. Of course, when it came to her ex, there was never a good time to deal with him.

  “Today's not a good day, Zane,” she said as she lifted her head, trying to come up with a way to make him leave. “I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork.”

  She hoped by mentioning paperwork he would get bored and then would go find someone else to bother.

  “Is that any way to speak to your only investor?” he said in mock surprise, his hand held over his heart as if he had been wounded.

  The move only added to his boyish charm and good looks, his dark hair accentuating his blue eyes, and Casey felt even more annoyed. She let out an exasperated sigh before deciding he wasn’t going to leave until he got whatever it was that he wanted. Usually that meant annoying her until she lost her cool.

  “Fine,” she finally said, wanting to get the encounter over with as quickly as possible. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest, glaring at him. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve finally determined what I want to do with my life.”

  Zane spoke with such assuredness, Casey almost believed him.

  “Is it that time of the year already?” She grinned at her own joke.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Zane said with a frown.

  Casey glanced at her calendar. “Yep, sure enough. I can't believe how time flies.” She sighed and shook her head. “So what is it this time?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m trying to be serious here and, you’re…well…not taking me seriously.”

  “What am I talking about?” His look conveyed he was indeed serious. “Okay, let’s recap. Six years ago you were planning to be a veterinarian. That stopped when you realized there was more to it than merely petting fluffy animals.”

  “Yeah, not a fan of blood,” Zane said, nodding in agreement.

  “Five years back you were going to sail around the world until you realized that there were no shopping centers, movie theaters or restaurants on the open sea.”

  “Your point?”

  “Four years ago you were positive that you were a shoo-in for the PGA Tour, until they handed you a set of clubs and a bucket of balls.”

  “Definitely harder than it looks.” Zane’s shoulders noticeably slumped as Casey continued her countdown. He sat back up and noted, “But I’ve gotten pretty decent since then. Maybe not good enough to be a pro, but…”

  “Three years ago you were going to be an IndyCar racer. You'd even gotten as far as buying a top-of-the-line vehicle and hiring a pit crew, but... Actually, I don't remember what happened with that one.”

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “Gets too hot in the cars and they wouldn't put in air conditioning. Something about slowing the thing to a crawl.” Zane shrugged. “Anyway, I hired on a racer and we showed up in third place overall at the last meet.”

  “Two years ago you wanted to become a professional body builder, but, as I recall, you sulked around for three days after your first workout while claiming that the world wasn't fair.”

  “How was I to know that it would hurt so much?” He rubbed his bicep, obviously reliving the painful memory.

  “And last year you were positive that you'd been called to serve in the Paro Taktsang Monastery in Bhutan.” She glanced away dreamily. “I was hopeful for that one, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, no babes there.”

  “So, again, I ask you: What is it this year?”

  She couldn’t help but wonder what far-fetched, crazy scheme he’d thought up this time.

  “This one is for real, I'm telling you.”

  “Uh huh.” She gave a slow, mocking blink.

  “Honestly, I don't appreciate your lack of faith in me, Casey.”

  “I'm listening.”

  “I'm going to be an author!” Zane took a step closer and sat down on the edge of her desk, picking up some of her papers for emphasis.

  “An author,” she replied dully.

  “Yes.”

  “Uh huh.” She unclasped her arms and grabbed the papers out of his hand and replaced them in the pile on her desk, ironing out the new wrinkles with the heel of her hand.

  “I’ve finally found my calling, Casey,” he said, raising his chin as he stared stoically out the window. “I'm going to write mysteries.”

  “Mysteries.”

  “Correct.”

  He gave her a quick sideways glance before resuming his staring out the window, just to make sure she was watching him.

  “Uh huh.”

  “And that's why I'm here.” He got up off the desk and turned to face her, putting his palms down on her paperwork, wrinkling them once more. He was now staring right at her, and it was unnerving her.

  “Uh huh,” she said. “Wait, what? W-why are you here?” She stammered, then sat up straight, worried about what he was going to say next.

  “So I can get ideas for stories, Casey.” He pressed back up, shaking the papers from his sweaty hands. “South Lane Detective Agency is a haven of ideas, right?”

  He can’t be serious.

  “Not really, unless you think people will be interested in reading books about solving crimes related to lost kittens and stolen paper clips.”

  She was only half-joking. People always seemed to think what she did was exotic and exciting, but in reality it was just a job like any other. Pretty much.

  “That's lame.”

  This time it was Casey who shrugged her shoulders. “That's life at the South Lane Detective Agency, Zane.”

  “Actually, that reminds me, I'v
e always wondered about the name of the agency. Why ‘South Lane’?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yeah. Doesn't make any sense. Actually, wait! Is it because we're in Southern California and your last name is Lane?”

  Casey blinked at him. “If this author thing doesn't work out, Zane, you could try your hand at detective work.”

  “Very funny. Anyway, I need ideas and so I'm here.”

  “Well, I'm busy.”

  If he thought she was going to drop everything and help him brainstorm book ideas, he was crazier than she already thought he was.

  “I own half of this place, Casey.”

  “Forty-nine percent, Zane.”

  “You wouldn't even have this agency if it weren't for my money.”

  “I'm fully aware. You flaunt that fact all of the time. But I've already told you that there's nothing interesting to go on. It's all I can do some days to even bother coming in.”

  A huge grin spread across Zane’s face, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “I think that's about to change.”

  “What did you do?” It came out practically a whisper.

  “Nothing.” His innocent look made it clear he was anything but innocent. “Just made a few calls is all.”

  “What did you do, Zane?” Casey tapped her short purple nails on the desk, waiting to hear what he had done this time to make her life a living hell.

  “Let's just say that I'm looking out for my investment while trying to spark some ideas for books.”

  “Zane?” she said in a warning tone.

  “Oh, fine, I invested a few hundred thousand dollars in top-class ads to bring in some high-profile cases. You can thank me later.”

  “You did what?”

  The sound of the ringing phone cut through the tension, causing them both to stare at it as if they weren’t sure what it was.

  “Hold that thought,” Casey said, leaning forward to pick up the receiver.

  “South Lane Detective Agency, this is Casey Lane.”

  She grabbed her pen and turned over one of the papers on her desk in preparation for taking notes, but then put the pen right back down.

  “No, this is not the Zane Wolfe Detective Agency.” She paused, feeling flustered. “Yes, Zane Wolfe is a part-owner, but... Excuse me? Can you talk to the man of the business? Honestly?”

  “I think they want to speak to me.” Zane reached for the phone, snatching it out of her tight grasp.

  “Hello, there, this is Zane Wolfe. How can I help you?” He looked at Casey and smiled warmly. “Just my secretary.”

  She picked up the pen and threw it at him, narrowly missing.

  “Stolen diamond? Family heirloom, eh?” Zane looked at her and nodded, then pointed at the phone. “Sounds right up our alley. Just give me your address and I'll...” The second pen made contact with his forehead, causing him to wince. “...I mean we will be right over.”

  After repeating the address several times, he hung up and stared triumphantly at Casey, his hands on his hips.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I can't believe I ever dated you.”

  “That's what all the women say.”

  “I'm not surprised.”

  Once again, she mentally kicked herself for ever going into business with Zane Wolfe. He was going to be the death of her.

  AT THE ESTATE

  The huge Mediterranean-style mansion sat atop a hill overlooking the canyons of Southern California. The view was breathtaking, and the house itself wasn’t so bad, either. The house proper appeared to be two levels, with grand archways drawing attention to the front entrance, which sat behind a stone-paved circular driveway complete with a few running fountains. The grounds were meticulously landscaped with bougainvillea, matilija poppies, and various types and sizes of palm trees. In front of it all was a huge natural pool that looked more like a lake than a swimming pool. There were no diving boards or frivolous kid-friendly extras; instead, it was surrounded by large rocks and stones, making it look like it had always been there and that the house had been built around it. Everything about the house was visually stunning, and Casey had trouble keeping her mouth closed since it kept dropping open in disbelief every time she rounded a new corner of the estate.

  Even Zane’s grand home didn’t compare to this luxurious house. Zane didn’t have horse stables, five barns and out-buildings, or a caretaker’s residence. His pool was a regular-size kidney-shape, too, rather than a lake. She had never seen such luxury in all her life.

  “And it's been in my family for many generations,” Maybell Thurston was saying as she sat comfortably on the semi-circular gilded sofa. Her pale-colored dress and white hair made her almost blend in with the Wedgwood-blue fabric. Her hand was unconsciously stroking the gray standard poodle’s head that was on her lap, the rest of his large ridiculous-looking pom-pom-covered body lying out along the sofa. “Why, I'm only a few years away from handing the ring to my own daughter.”

  Casey could see the pride on the older woman’s face, but she couldn’t tell if it was due to the fact that she had such a great item to pass down, or if it was due to the fact that she had someone great to pass it down to. Maybe a little of both, Casey presumed.

  Maybell’s husband’s booming voice quickly took Casey back to the task-at-hand.

  “This is ridiculous,” Belgrave Thurston said, shaking his cap-covered head at Casey like she had used the wrong fork during dinner at a fancy restaurant. “I'm certain that she's merely put it in one of her twelve thousand purses.”

  Once again Casey was left wondering if he was being facetious, or factual. She had no idea how the well-to-do lived. If Imelda Marcos could have a thousand pairs of shoes, Maybell Thurston could certainly have twelve thousand purses. Couldn’t she?

  “I have not, either,” Maybell replied, looking hurt at his implication. “I've cared for that ring for my entire adult life. It's been stolen, and I know it.”

  “When was the last time you saw the diamond, Mrs. Thurston?” Casey asked her, trying to keep an open mind regarding the reason behind the stone’s disappearance.

  “Last night. It was on the nightstand when I went to bed. I always put it in the same place.” She gave Belgrave a stern look, and added, “Always.”

  “I hate to point out the obvious,” Casey said, trying not to sound accusatory, “but could it have fallen and gotten wedged near the wall or under a table maybe?”

  “The tables are all open. Standard four-legged. And the bed is well off the floor. Plus, it's a white rug and the diamond is sharp blue surrounded by glittering whites. I've dropped it before and it stands out like a spotlight on the carpeting.”

  Casey spotted the pride lighting up the woman’s features once more.

  “Could it be that you maybe placed it somewhere besides the nightstand?” Zane offered. “I mean, I know that I always try to put my car keys in the same spot too, but now and then I get caught up in something and end up putting them in the wrong place. Still, the next morning I go to check where they should be and I swear up and down that I’d put them there, only to find where I'd actually put them and then I remember what had actually happened.”

  Belgrave emphatically nodded, his eyes closed and his head bobbing like a bobble-head doll. “Exactly what I would say happened, young man.”

  “I know where I put it, Belgrave, and that goes for you too, Mr. Wolfe.”

  Maybell looked close to tears. She had stopped petting the dog’s head and he nudged her hand to make her start again. As soon as her fingers once again picked up their rhythm over his fur, the dog’s eyes closed in apparent satisfaction.

  “Sorry, ma'am,” Zane said sheepishly. “Just trying to be thorough.”

  “If you want to be thorough, you should just check her purse collection.”

  Casey wrote a note to herself to do just that.

  “Oh hush, Belgrave.”

  “While I'm certain you believe things have happened like you said, would you be willing to
retrace your steps from yesterday so that we can spot any clues?” Casey said. “Sometimes it makes things easier to remember what happened this way.”

  “Do you mean literally go through everything we did yesterday?” Belgrave looked incredulous, and slightly annoyed.

  “Yes, sir,” Casey said with a nod, not understanding the problem.

  “Mr. Wolfe, I'm surprised that you hire people like this,” Belgrave said, indicating Casey with his thumb as he looked at Zane with disdain.

  “It is a constant struggle.”

  Zane shot Casey an amused look out of the corner of his eye, but Casey was not amused.

  “Excuse me,” she said tightly, “but I am the owner of The South Lane Detective Agency, not him.” She attempted to lace the “him” with as much venom as she could muster on such short notice.

  “Technically, it’s my money, so…” Zane started.

  “As per our contract,” Casey interrupted before he could get going, “I own fifty-one percent of the company. So, technically, I am the owner.”

  “Good for you, dear,” Maybell said, tugging up the corners of her mouth in a warm smile directed at Casey.

  “Thank you,” Casey said, thankful that she had at least one of them on her side.

  “You remind me of my daughter,” Maybell said. “She, too, is feisty.”

  “Again, thank you.”

  “Of course, she's also married to a sheikh in Dubai, has fourteen Rolls-Royces, three castles, and her own private airplane.” Maybell’s nose elevated slightly. “So I guess you're not all that similar, when I truly think about it.”

  Casey shook her head in disbelief. “Right.”

  RETRACING THEIR STEPS

  After almost a full day of hanging out with the Thurstons, Casey was ready to concede that a life of wealth was definitely the way to go. The wealthy didn’t shop at the mall, they shopped at the specialty boutiques, where they gave you glasses of champagne and caviar hors d'oeuvres when you walked in. The wealthy didn’t eat lunch at Applebee’s, they ate at a fine restaurant that had a different menu every day, depending on what fresh ingredients the chef had picked up that morning. Casey tried to focus on looking around to see if she could spot the missing gem, but mostly she could only focus on enjoying the newfound, temporary luxuries.