by January Bain
He turned and strode from our cubicle. Finally. I took a deep a breath. It beat passing out.
I slumped onto a lawnchair, absently picked up the folder with the sheaf of papers hidden inside and began fanning myself.
“Charm! I need you out here. Right now!”
The panic in Tulip’s voice about stopped my heart.
Chapter Seven
I threw down the folder. Stumbling out from behind the curtain, my legs getting enmeshed in the fabric in my wild dash, I expected to see Tulip being held up at gunpoint. Instead, Auntie T.J. stood beside her like a Siamese twin, all righteous indignation.
“What’s the problem?” I looked from my auntie’s horrified expression to Tulip’s imitation of an owl.
“I ran over as fast as I could.” Auntie T.J. was huffing and puffing. My heart squeezed.
“What is it? Is Granny all right?” Please, let it be so.
“What? Yes, of course.” She shook her head and my heart quit bleeding.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I was walking over to the fairgrounds, down my usual path past the café—”
“The short version, please. We have customers.”
She shot me an instant glare that I was too strung out to react to before she began fessing up.
“A bus broke down.”
“Okay. Then what?” I prompted her, not at all surprised. Our roads are infrastructure pay-no-minds when it comes to repairs. Sometimes whole pieces of machinery are lost to the boggy bits in springtime, never to be seen again.
“Well, you’ll never believe who’s on the bus.”
“Try me.”
Auntie T.J. leaned in as if her news was too potent to speak aloud. In the periphery of my vision, the crowd gathered at our booth leaned in as well, their faces filled with interest.
She stage-whispered right in my face, her hair crackling with as much indignation as her tone was. “A busload of…of…loose women. You know, strippers for hire. The kind of women who go from town to town and make trouble for the rest of us goddess-fearing women. Parading their wares to entice and entertain and nab all the attention and money of our local men.”
Apparently, there was no bigger crime.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my head, where pain was blooming. I had too much on my plate for this. I had a possible murder to solve and a hot Mountie to keep in the dark.
“Well, I’m sure, soon as their bus is repaired, they’ll be on their merry way.”
“No! That’s the thing. They’re broke, according to Darcy. Went in brazen as can be and asked him for work at the Boots & Lace to pay for parts.”
“And what did he say?”
“They’re doing shows all weekend.” The lament had to have been heard at the farthest reaches of the festival.
“Well, they need to make money, same as the rest of us.” I used my eyes to point out the customers still waiting.
“But…but…”
“Don’t take it so hard, Auntie.” I patted her shoulder. “I’m sure things will settle down fine soon as they’ve made their money and are observing Snowy Lake in their rear-view mirror. Only two days. Surely you can manage.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me, missy! I changed your diapers and made sure you had a warm bed at night. Sang you lullabies and everything. I’m paid my dues. No Highfalutin’ women are coming into my town and taking over, if only for two days.”
“Nothing to be done about it. I’m sorry. You’ll just have to turn the other cheek.”
“I’ll give them cheek all right! Why—”
“Tegan Jane, I need to speak with you. In private,” Granny Toogood’s strong voice intervened. No one ever ignored the call. Halleluiah.
I gave Granny a smile of thanks and stepped up to the sea of customers, trouble over. “Now, who’s first?”
Two busy hours later and the lines had dwindled to a few stragglers. More than half our wares had gone. I sighed. We’d be busy tonight, baking a ton more. I checked the time—five minutes until my own D-Day, the dunk tank.
I’d been so busy I’d only managed a few quick, longing glances at the crowd obscuring Constable Ace Collins when he took the position of honor on the platform. Of course, we’d declared a truce—for the moment—but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have hooted and hollered as someone else did the dirty deed. All that hot man flesh revealed by a bath of cold water…
The head honcho for the festival, George Simmons, his toupee barely up to the feat of staying on his perspiring scalp, came hotfooting it across the field. “Charm! There you are! It’s your turn. You ready?” He nearly slammed into our booth, right out of breath, and held on to the edge of the counter as if his life depended on it. Where does he expect me to be? Maybe hiding out of sight to avoid the inevitable? I mean, who really ran toward getting dunked as though it was going to color their world bright and happy? Per—lease. I said the word to myself like I was some kind of diva.
“Been here all along, Mr. Simmons. I’m ready to be sacrificed for the good of our town now. Lead away.”
His pasty, sweat-covered face didn’t morph into a smile, but instead remained less than pleased.
“You accepted the invite, Charm. Not like you had to.”
Yeah. Right. With Auntie T.J. behind the nomination, I’d had a snowflake’s chance in hades of avoiding it.
I took baby steps out from behind the counter, fussily arranging things for Tulip to continue her shift alone. Tulip gave me the thumbs-up. Easy for her.
“We need to hurry. The people are getting antsy for more victims, ah, sorry—volunteers.” He tried false words of encouragement as I made some progress across the too-short distance separating our booth from the dunk tank. It didn’t help that I caught the hot Mountie watching the proceedings with interest. As if I didn’t have enough to do. I still hadn’t had time to read Mrs. Hurst’s banking file. But at least I had five suspects on my hit list.
I took the last ten steps quicker, determined to get it over with.
Sixty minutes later, half-drowned and having gained the dubious honor of raising the most funds of all the victims today, I sloshed back across the fairground to retrieve my keys. It was time for a hot shower and dry clothes. Apparently, it helped when others catcalled the throwers. In my case, it’d made them spend more of their money trying to knock me from my perch. My hit list had about doubled.
A series of snickers behind me made me whirl around, ready to tackle the culprit.
“Good thing I nominated you, eh.” Auntie T.J.’s expression earned her a frown.
“Yes. You’re such a dear.”
“I am, aren’t I? Now, get cleaned up. We have to do something about the strippers ASAP. We’re all gathering at the Boots & Lace to have a talk with Darcy.”
“You mean to string him up?”
“Of course not. Where do you get these ideas, Charm?” But I caught the dangerous glint in her eyes at the suggestion. And maybe it wasn’t just Darcy hanging from a rope she was seeing in her mind’s eye. “Now hurry. Time’s a-wasting.”
“I’m not going with you to harass Darcy. He knows what he’s doing, just trying to help out some stranded women.”
“I’m with Charm on this,” Tulip piped up, busy packing a small box of assorted cookies for a customer. She gave me a wink.
Our auntie’s expression imploded, her lips pursing and her eyes squinting, half-shut. “You’ll regret this, I promise you both. And to think of all the things I’ve done for you.” And with that she turned on her dressy platform heels and stomped away.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’m heading back to clean up, check on Granny and make sure we have supplies for more batches of cookies. We’ve been just about cleaned out today of peanut butter delights.”
Tulip nodded, her hands occupied making change.
I slipped behind the curtain and found a plastic bag for hiding the banking folder, thrusting it inside. I’d have to read it in bed tonight at this rat
e.
Squishing my way across the parking lot, I almost missed Sean Blackmore coming toward me. Perfect opportunity.
“Hey, Sean.” I tried for a fetching smile, though not certain I managed it with my teeth chattering from the chill of being wet.
“Charm McCall. Been in the dunk tank, I see. Still, can’t hide all that beauty. In fact, your clothes being wet seems to have brought out a couple of your—ahem—best assets.”
Eww, did he just say that? Sean was at his slimiest when he ran across a woman alone. He was dressed in too-tight dark-hued jeans, Hawaiian shirt with black and white pineapples stenciled on it and brand-new cowboy boots. His hair was molded into some kind of pointed swirl like the rooster he’d always liked mimicking.
“Well, a gal does what she has to. The town’s always in need of funds for this or that.”
“Hmm, true. I’m always encouraging people to donate for the cause, whatever it may be. I have a cause of my own at present.” He popped one of his trademark mints into his mouth. Double eww.
“I’m sure, man like you. Why, both you and your lovely wife, Christine, are such great town supporters. By the way, Suzanna was saying you were one of the last people to see Mrs. Hurst alive. That you visited unexpectedly just before she left for the day.” I leaned in closer to give a sense of conspiracy to the charge, fluttering my unaided eyelashes at him. No point in wearing mascara in a dunk tank. “I’d love to know what you and Mrs. Hurst have in common that made you visit her? You hiding something?”
“Really? That old lady?” Unease showed in his expression. Good.
“You hitting her up for anything, Sean?”
“Phttt. Mrs. Hurst was nobody’s type. She was a pain in the—”
“Careful, Sean. My granny thinks it unlucky to speak ill of the dead.”
“Well, anyway, no one in their right mind liked her. I gotta go.”
“Why did you visit her then?”
“It was nothing. Christine asked me to stop by. Check up on the old lady.” He looked away, crunching down harder on his current breath candy. The odor of peppermint tainted the air.
“Really?” Christine hated her as much as her adorable hubby did. There’d been a couple of screaming matches recorded for posterity on Main Street. He was definitely lying. Still suspect number one, Sean.
“Well, I gotta go.” He began edging away from me. As much as I wanted to grab his arm, the opportunity was slipping away.
“Yeah, me too. I’d stay clear of the new Mountie if I were you, though.” I found it hard to resist a parting shot.
“Why?”
“He’s looking to question anyone who saw Mrs. Hurst the day she died.”
“Why? Not like it’s a murder investigation or anything.” The look of surprise appeared genuine, though it was hard to say for certain. He’d had a lot of practice at lying—to his wife.
I shrugged. “Jury’s still out.”
“Well, the number of people who hated that old battle-axe would circle around a city block—twice. Could have been anyone.” He gave a snort of disgust. Nice man.
“Well, I’d expect a call from Constable Ace Collins in the near future, if I was you. He seems very interested in the case. Got a master’s in criminology and all.”
“Yeah, well, I heard she visited you that morning. And the new constable’s been seen sniffing around your pasture. You’d best be careful too, Charm.” And with that he slunk away.
Is that a threat? I narrowed my eyes. Then a slight breeze blew across my damp skin, making me shiver uncontrollably. Time to go home.
I cranked up the heater in Thor two minutes later, my body too frozen for heavy-duty thinking. I rubbed my hands together, holding them in front of the forced heat vent. A rap on the window made me jump. Cranking the door handle to roll the misted glass down brought me face-to-face with the man at the root of all my recent troubles, Constable Ace Collins.
“You okay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I saw you talking with Sean Blackmore just now and neither of you looked too happy.”
“I’m fine.” Who is this guy? My new nanny? I’d never had a nanny or a babysitter who looked like Ace.
“Okay. Just checking.”
“How did you know Sean’s name already?” My brain was thawing out along with my body.
He shrugged, resting both hands on the window frame. I glanced at those fingers now, noting how wonderfully made they were, all strong sinew and tan from the great outdoors. “I make it my mission to learn as much as possible quickly. Important factor in doing my job. Blessed with an excellent memory for names and facts as well.”
“Well, I’m fine, Officer. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Of course.” He shoved off with his arms from the jeep and stood watching as I drove away.
I pulled in behind the café again and killed Thor’s motor, hoping to avoid any conflict or Mountie surveillance for ten minutes, or at least long enough to shower and change clothes. And for once, things did go as planned. I slipped up the stairs unobserved.
Entering Tea & Tarot’s kitchen a few minutes later, having hidden the file folder in my nightstand, I got down to the important business of checking supplies. The festival was a real money-maker and I had to be certain to capitalize on the opportunity. Running out of baked goods would eat into profits.
“Ah, you’re back.” Granny entered the kitchen, joining me as I made notes on my famous clipboard I was known to have a hissy fit about if it ever went missing from its assigned spot. I’d gone to the trouble of printing out all our standard supplies by recipe. Sure, I could print it out again, but I only updated the computer program bi-weekly and a lot of information would be lost by someone’s incompetence. “I can see you got this well in hand. Good job as always, sweeting. How’s it going at the festival?”
“Gonna have to bake tonight. We sold a slew of cookies today.”
“I’ll start on that right now. The café’s virtually empty.”
“No, you need your rest, Granny.”
“I’m fine, don’t coddle me.” Her slightly sharp undertone shocked me. It wasn’t like Granny to be short with anyone. Especially me. My entire body clenched with worry. What was up?
“Okay.” I doodled a daisy chain in the border of the page.
“I’m sorry, Charm. I guess the trip took a bit more out of me than I realized. But I’ll have a good sleep tonight in my own bed and be right as rain by morning.” She gave me a cheerful smile and a pat on the arm.
I nodded, unconvinced. “I need to go and get five pounds of butter from the Grab-n-go. Be back in ten.”
I pulled out a couple of twenties from the cash drawer and thrust them into my pocket. After kissing Granny on the world’s softest cheek, I strode out of the back door and took a short cut through the alley to our local food store.
The Grab-n-go was quiet with everyone at the fair and I hurriedly scooped up the necessary pounds of butter. At the till, I paid for the supplies and waited while the cashier placed them in my green and black Grab-n-go recycle carry bag.
“Hello, Charm.” My friend Emma Hurst came toward me. She looked sad today, her gray eyes red-rimmed. Even her shoulder-length red curls looked droopy, and I suddenly realized that in all the things I’d been doing, I’d forgotten she’d just lost her aunt. Maybe one she despised, but, still, I should have been there for her.
I took her into my arms, hugging her tightly. She was a foot taller than me and thin as a rail. My arms circled her easily, too easily. She needed to eat more of our cookies.
“I’m sorry about your loss, Emmy. It sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.” She pulled back and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know no one liked her. But still, she’s gone and it feels weird. I think I feel worst because she wasn’t well liked. I mean, who’s going to go to her funeral?”
“I’ll be there at your side. And others will go. You’ll see. Do you need anything, for the w
ake or the funeral service?”
“Probably some food, I guess.”
“I’ll take care of it. Sandwiches and cookies? Lemonade?”
“Sure. You know, I saw her the day she died. She looked fine too. Full of it as always.” Emmy shook her head, tucking her red curls behind her ears. “How can one die so quickly?”
“Must have been a stroke or heart attack.” Or poison? The thought rose unbidden in my mind, but no way would I speak it aloud. We’d know one way or the other soon enough. But my money, from the vibes I was getting today, was on the latter.
I noticed the book bag slung over my friend’s arm. “Shoot, I gotta renew my books. They’re due today. We’ll catch up later. Okay? I’ll be up baking half the night, so come by if you feel like it.”
“I’ll see. Thanks.”
I took the bag of butter from the clerk and hurried from the store, half running down the street to our local library, my third most favorite place in town, right after Granny’s house and the Tea & Tarot café. The cozy chairs Miriam, the town’s librarian, had strategically placed about the inviting space were just made to curl up in and read a good story. The overhead skylight let in sunbeams that warmed body and soul. So many happy memories called to me here. I had spent most of my childhood haunting the place and pestering Miriam. I pushed open the large glass door and hurried inside. Aw, the lovely smell of musty books.
“Hey, Charm, thought you’d be tied up at the festival today.” Miriam looked up from sorting through some volumes, giving me a quizzical look. She was a short woman, nearly as broad as she was tall, blessed with the biggest heart and smile of anyone in town.
“I am, but I didn’t want to pay any fines, so I’m here to renew until next week, okay?”
“Sure. And that reminds me, I’ve gotten something in for you from the Bookmobile today.” She began rummaging around a cart, checking the titles on book spines.
I had a sudden inspiration. “Do you happen to have Sparkling Cyanide by Agatha Christie on hand?”
“Funny you should ask that.”
“Why?”
