by Jessica Berg
“You okay?” Phoebe asked from the next room.
“Yup, everything’s peachy.”
She toed the dead door on the floor. This won’t be hard at all. With the sledgehammer and a little elbow grease, she soon had over half the cupboards disassembled.
Thump. Crack.
Her hair stood at attention on the back of her neck. With a strained whisper, she called Phoebe’s name. In seconds Phoebe appeared in the doorway and crouched next to her. With a finger to her lips, Grace pointed toward a gaping hole in the still remaining cupboard.
There was no mistaking it now. Phoebe’s flushed face drained of color, and her eyes rounding to huge spheres. Both stepped backward and stopped only when the exterior wall halted farther retreat.
“What is that noise?” whispered Grace.
Phoebe bit her lip and cowered in the corner. “Go check it out.”
“What? You want me to check it out? Are you nuts?”
Scraaaaaatchhhhhhh!
“Holy crap, we are going to die.” Phoebe covered her eyes.
Something clawed its way between the walls. Sporadically, a hiss emanated through the plaster walls. She hugged her arms tightly around her middle. In spite of the strong urge to run for her life, she crept closer to the wall. It approached the opening.
“It’s coming,” Grace whispered, glancing back at Phoebe for support. Phoebe shook her head and squealed again. “Sissy!”
Grace stared at the opening, praying what came out wasn’t supposed to be dead and wasn’t rabid. It tore out of the hole with a demented hiss, and oddly, a meow.
“Mrs. Sloucombe.” She grabbed for her cat and got rewarded with a scratch to the face. “Bad kitty! What were you doing in the wall in the first place?”
Mrs. Sloucombe, a fat ball of raised grey fur, responded with a meow and struggled to free herself.
“Fine, leave. No one wants you around anyway.” She put the cat on the ground, and it sashayed away, fluffy tail in the air.
“Phoebe, where are you?”
“Outside waiting to die.”
“It’s Mrs. Sloucombe. Nothing to be afraid of.”
Phoebe tiptoed back into the house and peered around the corner. “What was your cat doing in the wall in the first place?”
“Beats me. Probably hunting for mice.”
“Yeah, right,” Phoebe muttered as she watched the cat curl up on the steps.
Grace had hoped Mrs. Sloucombe would become a cat for once in its life and catch mice. So far, its victims included an old sock, a piece of yarn, and an old chewing tobacco tin. She wiped her brow and had a strong hankering for a Snickers Blizzard. “Need another trip to town?”
“Does this trip include ice cream and maybe a trip to an antique store?”
“You bet!” The ladies left Mrs. Sloucombe to her own devices and loaded up in the rented truck.
Chapter 4
Leo Muldoon laughed to himself as he inhaled another drag from his cigar. Andrew Carnegie, indeed. A hell of a lot better than the name his mother had given him. Gone was the shy cowboy Grace and Phoebe had encountered at the diner. A killer’s face now studied them as they pulled in front of an antique store.
“My, my, ladies. What do we have here?” He pulled a drag from his cigar and let the smoke swirl in his mouth, wisps curling from his lips. It’d be a pity to kill such beauty, but nothing Jeremiah Wallace brought into this world would survive if he had anything to do about it. He chuckled at the memory of Jeremiah’s shocked face when he realized death was at his door. And the absolute fear in his eyes priceless when he told him his precious daughters were next.
His mouth curved back into a malicious grin. “Yes, ladies, you are next. But not yet. I’m enjoying this little cat and mouse game, and Leo wants to play.” He sat back and let loose another smoke stream.
* * *
Grace and Phoebe parked in front of Annie’s AntiCues, conveniently located next to the Seed-n-Feed on the outskirts of town. Annie’s AntiCues, with its log cabin façade, looked odd next to the farm and implement businesses surrounding it. A hitching post ran parallel to the entrance, and a wooden sign advised visitors to never squat with spurs on.
“Need a salt block?”
Grace glanced at white salt blocks stacked in a pyramid outside the Seed-n-Feed store. A sign promised a Buy One, Get One Free offer. “Trying to cut back.”
Phoebe glanced around, licked her finger, swiped a salt block, and stuck her finger in her mouth.
“Could you try to be civilized. What would mother say if she saw you doing that?”
Phoebe swiped more salt off the block. “Which is the reason I left Colorado, my dear sister. Mmmm. This is tasty. Are you sure you don’t want a swipe?”
Grace rebelliously ran her finger along the salt block and licked off the salty residue. She froze as her cell phone chirped. “She knows.” Grace paled as the caller ID confirmed her worst fears. Swallowing her salty saliva, Grace swiped the keypad. “Mother.”
“Grace.” Grace cringed. Her mother always said her name as if she were simply pointing out a tree or a rock. “I trust everything is fine with you and Phoebe.”
“Yup. We’re peachy, Mother. Never been better.”
“I have some news.” Grace’s heart lurched. Her mother rarely called. This had to be important. But what could possibly be more important than Mother’s endless societal engagements? Maybe there was a break in the case of her father’s murder? She put the phone on speaker so Phoebe could hear the news. “I’m getting married.”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t shout, Grace. I hate that despicable volume. A lady must never shout.” Grace rolled her eyes and pictured her mother with her manicured hand, tapping the crystal glass encasing her mother’s best friend—scotch.
Mother would always be Mother. Grace didn’t even bother to inquire as to the new fiancé. She knew the man would either be half her mother’s age or double her mother’s age. “Sorry. I was taken by surprise.”
“It is time to move on. Your father’s been dead for over a year. Besides, this ranch house is a little too big for one person.”
Grace fought the rising bile. Anger blinded her, and the temper she’d inherited from her father threatened to lash out. Phoebe’s hand on her upper arm stopped her tongue from spewing forth ugly irretrievable words. “Yes, Mother. We’ve all had to make sacrifices.”
“Don’t speak of sacrifices like you know them. You don’t know what I suffered. What I still suffer. Being stuck on this insufferable ranch is killing me.” Her mother inhaled a deep breath. “Which is exactly why I’m selling the place.”
The horror in Phoebe’s eyes must have mirrored her own. “You what?”
“Again with the shouting. It’s just a piece of land. What you’re upset about?”
“Dad’s ranch is more than a piece of land. It’s a piece of him. Of me.” Grace squeezed Phoebe’s hand until it faded to white. Phoebe never once flinched. “You can’t sell it.”
“You are too much like your father. If you knew what was good for you, you’d come back to Colorado and apologize to Kevin.”
“Me apologize to Kevin? For what?”
“Why leaving him, of course. He’s devastated.”
Grace snorted. “I bet. Mother, I’ve got to go. Phoebe’s making out with a salt block.” She ended the call to her mother’s shriek.
“What the—” She ripped her hand out of Grace’s iron grasp. “Why did you have to throw me under the bus? That was not nice.”
They jumped when Phoebe’s phone buzzed. Phoebe snatched it from her purse, paled at the number, and ignored the call.
Still horrified by her mother’s news, Grace pushed through the doors, cool air and the smell of age and leather greeting her. Leather products, guns and ammo, china and glassware, dolls and toys, furniture, knick-knacks, and jewelry each dominated a particular part of the store. Each section divided by the period and price.
Grace packed away her
anger for another day. She was becoming an expert at storing her emotions into the crevices of her heart. Sooner or later, I’ll be out of places to stuff my feelings. Some will have to come out. She prayed it wouldn’t destroy her.
“Come on, Grace, let’s hunt around.” At Phoebe’s urging, Grace started to wander the orderly and efficient little store, looking for items she had to have. Several “Holy craps,” “How cutes,” and “You gotta look at this” later, she met up with Phoebe, who spread her arms to a walnut buffet and matching china hutch, both in the Victorian style they were looking for. The expensive price tag did nothing to dash their hopes of these two pieces eventually calling their bed-and-breakfast home.
“Can I help you?” A plump and cheery-looking looking woman beamed at them, showing off slightly discolored but straight teeth. Graying hair framed a face etched with wrinkles from sun and smiles. Creases crinkled around her aquamarine eyes, and freckles adorned her nose and cheekbones.
Grace extended her hand. “My name’s Grace Macintyre, and this is my sister, Phoebe Wallace. We bought the old house on the hill two miles east of town.”
“My name’s Annie, and as you can guess, I am the owner and the sole employee.” Annie peered at the two women. “So, you’re the two lovely ladies who bought the old Hamlin place. You two do look familiar.” The short woman tapped her index finger on her bottom lip. “Your name sounds familiar too.” She peered harder at Phoebe. “Must be a sign of old age. I once knew little girls with your names, but that would be impossible, wouldn’t it?” Grace opened her mouth to respond, but Annie had waddled off excitedly. She glanced at Phoebe, who shrugged her shoulders.
Annie soon came back, huffing and puffing. “Looky what I have.” She brandished a picture.
Grace took the picture and froze, grabbing for Phoebe’s hand. Grace found her voice first. “That’s us.” In the faded photograph, a little Grace and Phoebe, dressed in matching dresses, sat in front of a flower garden. Grace had an arm protectively around Phoebe’s shoulders. Neither smiled.
“Oh my.” Annie crushed Grace and Phoebe to her. “I can’t believe you are standing here right after all these years. You two were never far from my thoughts or prayers. I often wondered what happened to you two.”
“How did you get a picture of us?” Grace asked before Annie could catch her breath and chatter again.
“Well, after that nasty man was killed in a shootout with your daddy, I volunteered to take you girls in ‘til all the bureaucratic red tape was finished. I was a social worker at the time and got to keep you blessed children for two days. Your daddy wouldn’t let you out of his sight for long, but he trusted me. I bought you those dresses.” Annie brushed a stray tear off her cheek. “Even though I only had you for a short time, you two stole my heart. Such sweet little things. I still can’t believe you’re standing right in front of me after all this time.” Annie cocked her head to the side. “Why did you come back?”
“Let’s just say we have some skeletons in our closet that need to be cleared away. We figured we’d start at the beginning.” Grace cleared her throat. “Our father was murdered a year ago.”
Annie’s face fell and, for the first time, was struck speechless. “Oh, my dears.” Again she pulled them to her. Phoebe raised an eyebrow at Grace. Grace peered the top of Annie’s head. It was awkward having this stranger murmur comforting words into their chests.
Finally, Annie released them. “I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man.” She wiped her eyes. “You two are trying to rebuild your lives, yes?” At their nods, Annie smiled. “Well, how can I help you?”
“We need to furnish and decorate the house.” Phoebe pulled a sucker from her purse. “We’d like to keep it in the Victorian style as much as possible.”
“Perfect. I’m glad you are looking into that style. The old Hamlin place wouldn’t be the same. Can you believe the other owners, a husband and wife, were going to turn it into a cowboy retreat? ‘Lord, have mercy on my soul,’ I prayed when I found out about it. Providence took over when the husband and the school superintendent got to liking each other.” Annie petted the china hutch. “This style has always been one of my personal favorites. I keep a bit of that style in stock. Right now, however, these are my only two pieces of furniture. As for the glassware and plates, though, I do have plenty in the style you’re looking at.”
“Thank you for your help now and for your support so long ago. I’m sure you were a little ray of sunshine for both Phoebe and me.”
“I tried my best, my dear, but you two were the little rays of sunshine for me.” Annie reached for their hands. “I’m glad you are here now. If you need anything, let me know. Annie will fix you up.”
“We are happy to find someone here who knows us,” Phoebe exclaimed as she clasped Annie’s proffered hand. “But we’d appreciate it if we could keep our identity a little secret for a while. We don’t want —”
A door slammed, and random curses emanated from the back of the store. What sounded like file cabinets being opened and shut with violence peppered the once calm interior of the store.
Annie gave an apologetic shrug. “That’d be my husband. I don’t suppose you’d remember him. He keeps an office in the back.” She cringed at an especially crude word. “He tends to get a little excited sometimes.”
Grace glanced at Phoebe. She had heard that voice before.
Mr. Wisel yanked open the door leading into the store and peered around it. “Pookey-pants, have you seen my …” His bottom jaw dropped at seeing Grace and Phoebe towering over his wife. “Holy balls and buckshot. How did you find me? You signed the papers. There’s no going back on the contract. No refunds.”
Mr. Wisel’s shirt, a faded and worn green polo, barely contained his protruding belly. A perfect outline of his bellybutton and perky man boobs gave evidence to one too many frosted doughnuts. Remnants of powdered sugar still clung to his ample bosom. Two fat-creased knees peeked out between the bottom of khaki shorts and the tops of white knee socks. Dusty black shoes completed the ensemble.
“Looking good, Mr. Wisel,” Grace stated with a straight face.
Mr. Wisel preened. “Well, it’s not much, but —” He wiped at the powdered sugar.
“It’s too late, dear. I’ve already seen the sugar. You promised me you’d cut back on the doughnuts in the mornings.”
Mr. Wisel studied the tips of his shoes. “Well, it was just one …” At a glare from his wife, he amended his statement. “Or two. That’s all, I swear. Two.”
Annie sniffed in her husband’s general direction. “Dear, have you been smoking again?”
“No. I had to run into the bar for a … diet Coke … and well … you know … people are smoking in there so …”
Grace wondered at Annie’s inability to make out the pack of cigarettes bulging from the left front pocket. “Okay, dear, I want you to be around for a long time. Don’t be dying on me and leaving me to find a bet … different man.”
Grace leaned over and whispered, “How can this woman put up with him and not kill him?”
“Maybe she likes his hairy bellybutton and knee socks.”
Annie stage whispered behind her hand to Grace and Phoebe. “Richard can sometimes be a little rough around the edges, but he doesn’t mean any harm.” She scolded her husband, “Richard, you shouldn’t scare these girls. Do you remember —” At Grace’s loud cough, Annie blushed. “Nothing, dear. These girls are potential customers of mine. Be a gentleman.”
He scowled, caught his wife’s head shake, smirked. “How’s the house coming?”
“The house is coming along fine, thank you. We got Dominick Carson getting us some estimates.” Grace glanced at her watch. “Well, we’ve gotta get going.”
Grace shook Annie’s hand and promised to come back. With a half-hearted wave to Richard, she nearly ran for the exit, Phoebe hot on her heels. As the door shut, Annie scolded Richard for such poor behavior and asked if he were raised by a pack of wolves.
She didn’t get Richard’s reply, but she would’ve placed money on the possibility that he was.
Phoebe jumped in the truck cab and jumped back out. “Hot.” She poked at the back of her thighs.
Grace leaned over the passenger seat, opened the glove compartment, grabbed napkins, and spread them on the seat. “There, now you won’t burn your butt.”
Phoebe sat on the spread-out Dairy Queen napkins. “I always knew Dairy Queen would go straight to my hinder.”
Grace chuckled. “This was an enlightening trip. Can you believe Annie is the lady who watched us? I don’t remember her, just as I don’t remember anything from those few horrible days, but still … it’s pretty cool to meet her. She seems nice. I like her.”
“How can she be married to such a moron? Maybe there’s one small redeeming quality. I mean, there’s got to be something about him because Annie’s still married to him, and as you said, she seems normal.”
“Keyword is seems. She’s a little flighty. Maybe she stuffs her pets after they die.” Grace stopped at the only stoplight in town. “But who am I to judge?” She pulled into the 7-Eleven parking lot and grabbed some cash out of her purse. “Want anything?”
“Diet Coke, please.”
Bells jingled when Grace entered the gas station. Her mouth watered at the aroma of freshly-made pizza. Ignoring the craving for pizza, she grabbed two Diet Cokes, a Snickers bar, and Mike and Ikes.
“Screw it.” She grabbed a personal size extra cheese pizza on her way to the cash register.
“Hungry?”
She whirled around and smacked into pectoral muscle and stared into Dominick’s melted chocolate eyes. A tiny smile played on his lips.
She pushed away and hugged her snack food to her chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a person. It’s rude.”
His smile spread into a wide grin. “I saw your pickup outside and figured I’d drop off your estimate.” He made a grab for the pizza. “You don’t want to eat this, considering who made it.”
