Death Benefit: A Small Town Cozy Mystery (The Desert Pines Mystery Series Book 3) by Julie Titterington

Author:Julie Titterington [Titterington, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Julie Titterington
Published: 2024-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Mr. & Mrs. Stubbs

The whole story spilled out soon enough, aided by a pot of strong black tea and the ice cream sundae Daria ordered and shoved under Cecil’s nose as soon as he stopped crying. Fortified by Darjeeling and hot fudge, he told them everything.

“I grew up in Albany, like Daria said,” he began. “I wanted to get out of that town more than anything in the world. And so did Betty. We married in ‘89, and moved to London. I got work there in the theater. Betty missed home, though. We separated in ‘94.”

“Separated. Why not divorced, Cecil? Or—would you prefer I call you Kyle?” Joe asked, a trifle coldly.

He was taking it hard. Never meet your heroes, Jane thought, ruefully.

“Hey! Call him Cecil,” Daria ordered, and her tone was equally chilly. The first shock was over and she was back on Cecil’s side and swiftly closing ranks. “Or Mr. Wentworth. Kyle Stubbs is just a name on a piece of paper. And his marital status is none of your business.”

“A Desert Pines citizen is missing. That makes it my business, Ms. Khan.”

Cecil waved a weary hand in Daria’s direction, as though telling her to stand down.

“No, Detective. We never got divorced,” he said. “I couldn’t see the point.”

“What if you had wanted to marry again?”

“Why would I want that?”

Joe paused, unsure how to continue.

“I still love her,” Cecil went on, as though stating an obvious fact. “There’s never going to be anyone in the world for me but Betty.”

Jane made a skeptical noise and tried to cover it with a cough. The idea that an animated sea cucumber like Betty Stubbs could inspire emotion stronger than mild liking was implausible enough—to believe she was the long-time beloved of a handsome leading man was impossible.

“I didn’t know she was in Desert Pines, or I would never have come here.”

“Does she feel the same way? Enough to leave town if she knew you were coming?”

“I don’t know,” Cecil said, devastated at the thought.

The waitress came by to refill the teapot and Daria ordered Cecil another hot fudge sundae. Chocolate is as good an antidote to heartache as anything, Jane thought, ordering one for herself.

“Does Betty know about your allergy?” asked Joe, once he deemed Cecil had eaten enough whipped cream to take the edge off of the question.

“Of course she does!”

“Everyone knows about it,” Daria said. “That’s no clue.”

“Betty wouldn’t hurt me. She doesn’t care about money.”

Joe made a frustrated sweeping motion with his right hand, narrowly missing Jane’s sundae.

“You haven’t seen the woman in thirty years! You don’t know what she cares about now. If she assumes—correctly—that she’ll get everything when you die, that gives her a pretty tight motive.”

Jane tried to bring up every memory she had of Betty; every word, every story. There wasn’t much to go on. She pictured Betty’s face, now. Beady eyes, doughy cheeks—the woman always looked exactly like an underbaked raisin bun.

“I’ve known Betty a long time,” she volunteered, “and I can’t bring myself to believe she cares about money.

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