Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe

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Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe Page 29

by Lindy Spencer


  * * *

  Joe woke slowly. For a few seconds he forgot where he was and waited expectantly for Billy to run in and jump on the bed. Waited for it. Instead, reality took over and his current situation crashed back in. Deep sadness overwhelmed him, and he let it, for just a minute. As he took stock of his surroundings, he counted his belongings. Everything was here that should be, and nothing extra. Thank God. He didn't need another surprise like the last one. The stranger, then the cat tracks, the blood trail, the food. He felt for the container. Still there.

  Cautiously he sat up. The pain in his ribs had dulled to an ache, and he was able to take a breath without too much trouble. Probably not broken, then. Good news, but aspirin would sure be nice, he thought as he tugged off the worn glove and pulled the corner of the plastic lid up. Keeping it inside the sleeping bag with him seemed to have worked; the potatoes were thawed, as were the veggies. Using his fingers as a fork, he made short work of the leftovers. It wasn't until he'd licked the last remnants from the inside corners that he realized he hadn’t retrieved the turkey leg. Though he would have liked to have it for later, he wasn't going back to where he'd found the rest in search of the leg. No telling what else he might find, and Joe was no fool. Some things were better left unseen.

  With a full belly, the thought of aspirin floated back to the surface of his consciousness. Maybe Thomas at the gas station a couple blocks over would be kind enough to give him a couple pain relievers. Wouldn't hurt to ask. He could also wash his hands in the restroom, if the last person had left the door unlocked. Thomas ran the one station left in town that had the bathroom door on the outside of the building. Not many people used it, and Joe always left it cleaner than he'd found it, so Thomas looked the other way and didn't give him grief about it.

  Joe rolled up his bedding and lifted it slowly, hyper aware of his rib, and placed it on top of the cross beam to hide it. Less visible meant less chance he'd come back to see it gone. Joe tucked the empty container into his bag, slung it over his shoulder and made his way carefully down the embankment. Falling now wouldn't be good. In fact, when the temperatures warmed back up he might think about digging the cement chunk he'd fallen against out of the ground and getting rid of it.

  Traffic was much heavier today. Joe stuck to the shoulder of the road until he got to where the sidewalk began. Not many walkers, lots of cars. Some portions of the sidewalks had been shoveled — probably by the owners of the houses they were in front of — while others were still hidden under snow and ice.

  Thomas was behind the counter when Joe walked in. He raised a hand in greeting before finishing with the customer at the register. Joe turned down the closest aisle in search of aspirin.

  When he'd finished and the customer was out the door, Thomas came out from behind the counter. "Joe, haven't seen you in a few days. How's it going?"

  "Alright, thanks. Everyone at your place good?" Joe knew Thomas had his grown daughter and her young son temporarily living at home, and they'd talked about his one-bedroom apartment and the challenges of adding extra people to the mix. Family or not, it was still a cramped situation.

  "Yeah, the same. Angie is working at the café, and Loretta is watching Toby while she does. She should have enough saved up soon to get their own place. Eyes on the prize."

  "Eyes on the prize, for sure. Hey, do you mind if I use the sink in the back? I've got this bowl thing I want to wash out before I return it." Joe set his bag down and reached in to pull out the container, wincing as he stood.

  "Yeah, sure." Thomas looked Joe up and down. "You're holding your side. What happened?"

  Joe didn't even realize he'd been doing it until Thomas said something. He dropped his hand and looked at the shelf in front of him, suddenly very interested in the athlete's foot cream found there. "Oh, I had a visitor. We disagreed, and I found my way to the bottom of the hill. Met a chunk of concrete on the way down. I'm a little sore." At the last minute his pride kicked in and he changed his mind about asking for a handout.

  Thomas looked at him until Joe lifted his eyes and met his gaze. "Old Doc Swenson would see you for a story, check you out. Have you been by there?"

  Joe shook his head. "Honestly, I'm sure it isn't broken."

  Reaching across, Thomas pulled a bottle of acetaminophen from the shelf. "This doesn't belong here. It's taking up too much space. You'd be doing me a favor by getting it out of here for me." Turning, he stalked down the aisle to the end and opened the refrigerator door. "There's really no room for this, here, either. I'm sure I quit carrying it," he said as he removed a large bottle of water from the lowest shelf. "Yeah, I remember now, I did quit carrying it. That delivery guy must have forgotten to pull it when he took his stock back. Here." He held the bottle out.

  The bell above the door rang, indicating a customer had come in. Thomas patted Joe's shoulder as he walked past, tucking the bottled water in the crook. "You know where the sink is, feel free. It's good to see you, Joe. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

  Emotion clogged Joe's throat and kept him from answering. He picked up his bag and made his way to the back room. Before anything else, he opened the bottle of pills and the water, downing a couple pills. Tucking the pain reliever and water bottles into his pocket, Joe got down to business. There was dish soap next to the faucet; he made quick work of the cleaning duties. He took a quick sponge bath while he was there and dried off with nearby paper towels. Once he'd finished and packed his bag back up, he headed out through the front, catching his eye and lifting a hand. Thomas nodded and smiled. "Come back soon," he called as Joe pushed through the door.

 

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