Hell Hath No Fury (A Detective Honeywell Mystery #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Matthias Honeywell wanted a romantic getaway with his girlfriend. Driving three hours in a steady downpour to rescue Emma’s drug-addicted sister wasn’t at all what he had in mind.

“Eric’s still not answering,” Emma grumbled, her phone pressed to her ear. “Eric, it’s me again. We’re almost there. Where are you? Call me.” She jabbed the screen, lowered the phone, and pointed ahead. “Take the next right.”

Matthias slowed and made the turn into a community of similar-looking two-story homes with landscaped lots. “Didn’t you tell him we were coming?”

“You know I did.” Her tone was snippy, out of character, which she must’ve realized. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful for you driving me.” She rubbed her head through pixie-short red hair.

He knew she was still feeling the effects of a concussion, one from which her doctor had not cleared her to get behind the wheel.

Instead of mentioning her injuries, she gestured at the Jeep’s windshield with its squeaky wipers. “Through this lovely August weather, no less.”

Matthias reached over and put a hand on her knee. “Don’t apologize. You’ve put up with me when I haven’t been at my best.”

Her laugh sounded forced.

In the few months since they’d met, she’d been abducted more than once, and he’d been shot or shot at a couple of times.

But he was a cop. An Erie City Detective.

Violence came with his job. Emma, however, was a photographer.

Most—but not all—of her run-ins with danger had been a direct result of hanging out with him, including—less directly—the concussion and gunshot wound from which she was currently recovering. He dreaded the day she wised up.

This morning, though, they were 150 miles south of Erie, in Emma’s home turf of Washington County, Pennsylvania, and Matthias was well out of his jurisdiction.

They were on their way to Emma’s long-time friend’s house because he’d phoned her yesterday to say Nell, Emma’s runaway younger sister, had moved into his guest room.

“Make the next right.” Emma pointed. Once he did, she said, “Third house on the left.”

It was a two-story brick box of a house, situated between a pair of nearly identical two-story brick houses. “How can you tell them apart?”

“I couldn’t when Eric first moved here.”

Matthias eased his red Jeep into the driveway.

Emma was out and hurrying through the rain toward the front door before he could turn off the ignition.

By the time he joined her in the minimal shelter of the too-small portico, she had squatted and was reaching for one of the rocks in the flowerbed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I rang the doorbell. No answer.” She stood, pinching a key between her thumb and forefinger. “I know where he hides this.”

“Same place everyone else does,” Matthias grumbled. “Every burglar around likely knows about it, too.”

“Maybe.” Emma unlocked the door and stepped inside, only to stop and finger a keypad. “But they don’t know his security code.”

Matthias surveyed the foyer’s high ceiling, the staircase to a second-floor balcony, and a trio of open doors, the rooms unlit.

Emma disappeared to the rear of the house. “Eric? Nell?” she called out. No one responded. She reappeared through a different arched doorway and moved toward the stairs.

Matthias stopped her. “Wait. Let me.” Either no one was home, or… someone was, but they weren’t able to speak. If the latter was the case, he didn’t want Emma to be the one to find them.

He didn’t know if she comprehended his reasoning, but she stayed at the base of the stairs while he climbed them.

The first room was a bedroom, the bed made, the dresser and bureau tops devoid of any personal items. A guest room.

The next door opened to a bathroom with no toiletries in evidence.

The third and final door led to the master suite.

The bed was made, framed photos perched on a dresser, some pastoral paintings hung on the walls.

The adjoining bathroom’s counters held the usual men’s toiletries: electric toothbrush on a charger, soap and lotion dispensers, a razor, shaving cream, and a hairbrush and comb.

All tidy. Even the towels were neatly hung.

From what little Matthias knew of Eric, he wasn’t surprised.

Matthias descended the steps. “Nothing seems out of order. Except, if he went on a trip, his toothbrush and stuff is still up there.”

Emma shook her head. “He keeps a go bag.”

Matthias was glad he knew Eric was gay. Otherwise, Emma’s detailed knowledge of his living arrangements would still stir the same jealousy he’d felt before learning the guy who looked like a movie superhero was no threat to their budding relationship.

“Was there any of Nell’s stuff in the guest room?”

Matthias didn’t know what “stuff” Nell owned. “It didn’t look like anyone was using it or the guest bath.”

Emma sagged against the newel post.

There was still one more place to look. “How do you get to the basement?”

She led him to an open door. “Down there.” At least she didn’t argue about letting him be the one to check it out.

Unlike the dank cellars in horror films, this one was finished.

A large-screen TV filled most of one wall.

A row of leather recliners faced it, and Matthias recognized the latest PlayStation console in the glass-front cabinet beneath the television.

Another wall held a well-stocked wet bar. Quite the man cave.

He continued through a doorway and into an empty subterranean garage. The rest of the search convinced him that Eric was not in the house.

“Car’s gone,” Matthias told Emma when he returned to the main floor.

She scowled in thought, then wheeled and backtracked, disappearing into a darkened room off the foyer.

He followed when the light flicked on. She slid into a chair in front of a desktop computer and jiggled the mouse.

The monitor remained black. “Huh.” She reached for the tower and pressed a button.

It whirred softly as a power light came on.

“He usually doesn’t power it completely off unless he’s going to be out for more than an hour. ”

As the computer booted, Matthias looked around.

More paintings, similar to the ones in the bedroom, hung on deep blue-gray walls.

He crossed to a set of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and scanned the titles.

Vonnegut, Orwell, Asimov, and other classic sci-fi authors filled one shelf.

Steinbeck and Fitzgerald shared the next with Dickens and Twain.

A third shelf contained a variety of graphic novels.

“Your friend has quite the wide-ranging taste in fiction.”

“That’s only part of his collection. Wait until you see the living room.”

Matthias turned to find Emma keying in a passcode to the computer’s lock screen. “You know his password?”

“He knows mine, too.”

“I don’t know yours,” Matthias pointed out, trying to keep the envy from his voice.

She shot him a wry grin. “When I’ve known you as long as I’ve known Eric, I’ll share it with you.”

Considering Emma and Eric had been friends since grade school, Matthias calculated it would take him over two decades to reach that criterion. “I’ll be closing in on seventy by then.”

The grin gone, she scowled at a calendar she pulled up on the monitor.

“There’s nothing on his agenda for today.

” She picked up her phone, searched for and found a number, and placed a call.

After a few seconds, she ended it. “I tried his office but got a recording. Naturally. It’s Saturday.

They’re closed.” She tapped the phone screen again.

“The last text he sent me was last night. I’d told him we were leaving early this morning.

He sent me a thumbs-up emoji. That was almost eleven o’clock.

Where the hell is he? Where the hell is my sister? ”

Matthias silently hoped Nell had returned to rehab.

“I’m going to call Eric again.” Emma fingered the screen and put the phone to her ear.

Strains of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” from Les Misérables drifted from somewhere in the house.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “That’s Eric’s phone.” She bolted from the office, Matthias right behind.

In the foyer, they stopped. He listened and knew she was, too. “Upstairs,” he said and charged up the staircase for the second time, following the tune as it grew louder. It wasn’t coming from either of the first two rooms. He stepped into the master and scanned the surfaces. Nothing.

Emma slipped around him to stop in the middle of the room and turn a slow circle. Without a word, she homed in on one of the bedside tables, yanked open the drawer, and came up with a cell phone just as the music ended. She choked. “What’s going on? Eric never goes anywhere without this.”

Except, he had. Matthias pivoted and exited the room.

“I want to look at his computer,” he called over his shoulder; he could hear Emma trailing him.

Back in the office, Matthias took the chair she’d been sitting in and studied the open tabs of Eric’s Google browser.

One caught his attention. He clicked on it.

A page for Lakeview Funeral Home in Cleveland, Ohio, filled the screen.

The page featured an obituary for Ezekiel Allen Dyson.

“Zeke,” Emma said from over Matthias’s shoulder. Nell’s boyfriend.

They’d already read it. Eric had sent Emma the link.

Instead of being Nell’s guardian angel, Zeke had apparently fallen off the recovery wagon and taken her with him.

He’d lost his battle with drugs five days ago here in Washington County, but he was to be buried near his family home in Cleveland.

Today. “Could Eric have taken Nell to the funeral?”

Emma considered the option, then shook her head. “Not without his phone, and he knew I was coming. He’d have left me a message or a note. Something.” She scowled at Eric’s phone in her hand, then started searching through it.

The cop in Matthias wanted to snatch it from her, but he resisted. “What was the last text or voicemail he received?”

“That’s what I’m checking.” The creases between her Caribbean blue-green eyes deepened.

“There are a couple of minor business texts from his personal assistant. He replied to one with instructions on how to respond to the client. The other, he said he’ll handle when he gets into the office on Monday.

Other than those, mine are the last messages received, and the last one sent is the emoji when I told him we’d be here early.

” She kept thumbing through the device. “Nothing important in his voicemail. Or his email.”

Matthias held out a palm. “Let me see.” Her idea of “important” might be different than his.

“Give me a minute.” Emma scrolled a moment longer and stopped. “He has Nell’s number here.” She clicked on it and listened.

Matthias half expected to hear ringtones from upstairs again.

Emma exhaled. “Nell, it’s Emma. Please call me. I promise, no judgment. I need to know you’re okay.” She thumbed the screen and held it out to Matthias. “No one wants to talk to me.”

“I do,” he said with what he hoped was a comforting smile.

As he pulled up Eric’s texts, Emma left the room. “I’m going to make us some breakfast,” she said.

A quick search of Eric’s messages confirmed Emma’s assessment. Nothing raised any red flags. Matthias pocketed the phone and went in search of Emma, following the sounds of cabinets opening and closing. He passed through an arched doorway into a massive kitchen and attached living room.

Emma hadn’t been kidding about Eric’s book collection.

One full wall of the living room held bookshelves filled with enough volumes to put some small-town libraries to shame.

A second wall also contained bookshelves, but these shared the space with a massive television.

One look at the kitchen stopped him cold. “Whoa.”

Emma stood before a deluxe coffee system and gave him a weak grin. “Almost as nice as yours, huh?”

“Nicer,” he admitted.

She focused on the coffee maker. “When I’ve stayed here, Eric’s the one who does all the cooking. He never allows anyone else in his kitchen. I have no clue how to even make a cup of coffee with this thing.”

Matthias moved to her side and whistled. “I’ve seen these units online. This is top of the line. It probably costs upward of five grand.”

In his peripheral vision, Emma’s gaze turned to him. “Seriously?”

“Your friend must do very well for himself.”

“He does, but what surprises me is that you’ve looked at high-end coffee machines online.”

“A fella can dream, can’t he?”

“All I want to know is, can you work it?”

“I’m damned sure gonna give it a shot.” He hiked an eyebrow at her. “Get it? Shot? Espresso?”

“I got it. You make the coffee. I’ll make some scrambled eggs. We can decide what to do next while we eat.”