A Vintage Death

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “You also had chocolate cake.”

  “But you have common sense. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Callie smiled. Hank used to compliment her looks, but she liked what Brian said better. Though she doubted she could have always claimed that quality, she was proud of the recent changes she’d made in her life and the good people she’d surrounded herself with. But that hadn’t solved all the latest problems before her.

  She sighed. “Sometimes I just wish I could read what’s going on inside people’s heads.”

  Brian grimaced. “I doubt you’d really want that. Sounds like more of a curse than a blessing, to me. But,” he added with a slight lip twitch, “it could come in handy, once in a while.”

  The next morning Callie heard from the garage, who said they might be able to have the damage fixed and her car ready by the following day. “Need a loaner in the meantime?” they asked.

  “No, I can manage as a pedestrian for that length of time,” she told them. There were definite advantages to living close to your job, as she’d already realized. On top of that encouraging news, customers had reappeared in Keepsake Cove, and she relished her return to the soothing calm and quiet of the music box world.

  “What’s the story behind this one?” a woman wrapped in a red sweater-coat asked after Callie had hung up the phone.

  “Ah, I love that one,” Callie said, walking over. “It’s a Reuge, made in the 1960s. Charles Reuge began making music boxes in Sainte-Croix back in the 1860s, and the family has carried on the business. Their music boxes are very well regarded. My aunt, who established House of Melody, found this one at an estate sale. It had been brought back from Paris by the seller’s grandfather when he was in the army.”

  “I was attracted by the painting on its lid. The young girl surrounded by hills reminds me of my daughter.”

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it? According to my aunt’s notes, the music is from a French opera. But I’m afraid she didn’t name it.” Callie opened the lid of the small jewelry box to play the tune.

  The woman smiled. “I’ll take it. A good friend of mine teaches music. I’m sure she’ll be able to track it down.”

  Callie carried the little music box to her counter to pack and ring up. Shortly after her satisfied customer left, Tabitha arrived, dressed in a navy blue shirt and trousers that, with her hair pulled severely into a bun, had the look of an official uniform. Callie saw she’d added a few medal-like pins to the shirt’s chest pocket which looked impressive until a closer look identified a couple of them: Girl Scouts of America and Animal Planet K9 Cop. Callie lifted an eyebrow inquiringly.

  “I didn’t have a lot of choices,” Tabitha said, shrugging. “But after last night I’ve been feeling like an Honorary Junior Policewoman.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I was doing an in-home show of my jewelry last night. I love doing those. You meet all sorts of cool people that way. One of them—I picked this up when everyone was chatting—has worked at the Foxwood Inn.”

  “Really? Who was that?”

  “Her name’s Kelsey Jones.”

  “Kelsey? One of the maids?”

  “Right. She said she took the job to earn tuition for beauty school. But she didn’t stay long. I only managed to talk to her for a minute, but I think she might have a story to tell. I asked her to come here today to talk to you. She doesn’t live that far from here and hasn’t found a new job yet, so she has free time.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her.” As Callie watched Tabitha stash away her purse, grateful that her assistant hadn’t added a holster and fake gun to her outfit, she told her about the accident.

  “Ohmygosh! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. My car, unfortunately, had to be towed.”

  “And the other car never stopped? Wow, that’s scary. I mean, what if it’d hit you head on?”

  “I try not to picture that. But it didn’t, so that’s all that matters.”

  “You know, I had a feeling … ”

  Uh-oh. Tabitha hadn’t mentioned her Tarot cards in a long time, not since the days following Aunt Mel’s murder. Callie had almost forgotten about her assistant’s more esoteric interest. She tried to divert the subject.

  “I sold that pretty Reuge music box just before you came.”

  “Great.” But Tabitha wasn’t to be distracted. “I’ve been checking on things, especially after the second murder. The cards weren’t giving me specific warnings about you, but there’s been a few ominous hints.”

  Callie was touched at Tabitha’s concern and never wanted to make light of her assistant’s trust in her cards. She might put a little more credence in them herself if the hints were spelled out a lot more clearly. As it was—

  She was spared any need to comment when a young woman entered the shop.

  Twenty-Six

  Kelsey!” Tabitha cried. “Great! You made it.”

  Kelsey, a slim young woman who looked to be in her late teens, smiled at Tabitha. “Hi!” She pushed aside a loose curl of shining blonde hair whose striking style managed to look effortless, as though she’d simply run her fingers casually through it that morning. Callie was sure it had resulted from meticulous work and that Kelsey had a good future ahead of her in cosmetology.

  “Kelsey, this is Callie Reed,” Tabitha said. “I told her about how you used to work at the Foxwood Inn.”

  “Hi, Kelsey,” Callie said. “Thanks for coming by. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” The girl glanced around at the shop. “Wow. Neat place. Did you make all of these?”

  “No, I just sell them.” Callie thought Kelsey looked a little nervous, so she showed her around, raising a few lids to play tunes and talking about music boxes in general.

  “Today we have iPods, but a few centuries ago the only way people could hear music was when it was performed live. The invention of the music box brought it into people’s homes.”

  Kelsey smiled. “But then records came.”

  “Right. That came much later, and it changed things tremendously. But music boxes not only survived, they took their place as their own art form.”

  “These are pretty special,” Kelsey agreed.

  “So,” Tabitha said, having lingered quietly in the background, “did you want to tell Callie about your time at the B&B?”

  “Sure. That’s what I came for. Tabitha said you’ve been looking into Mr. Ashby’s murder?”

  “I have.”

  “Well, I can’t help you with that, but I can tell you what a creep he was.”

  “We’ve been getting that impression,” Callie said. “What’s been your experience?”

  Tabitha had pulled out the stools from behind the counter, and she waved Kelsey toward one. All three sat down. Callie glanced at her front windows but saw no one approaching to interrupt. She would have loved to turn her lock and pull the shades but thought that might be too unsettling for Kelsey. Best to keep things low-key.

  “I started working at the Foxwood Inn in August. The family I was kid-sitting for went away for a long vacation, and they wouldn’t need me after school started. So I saw the ad for a housekeeper at the inn and thought, I could do that. I’m hoping to start at the Azalea Beauty Academy in January and need tuition money.”

  Callie nodded encouragingly, and Kelsey went on.

  “Everything was fine at first. Jackie showed me the ropes, and pretty soon I was doing rooms on my own. It wasn’t bad. Change sheets, vacuum and dust, and clean the bathrooms, stuff like that. Most people’s rooms didn’t need much work. Once in a while, though … ” She rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the slobs some people are. And then they step out looking like Princess Di or something. Anyway, it was mostly okay, until Mr. Ashby started getting friendly.”

  “He hit on you?” Tabitha asked.

/>   “Yeah.” Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t so bad at first. Just a little too talkative. Well, a lot too talkative. It was holding me up from getting my work done, and I could see Paula was getting annoyed. But I didn’t know what to do! He was my boss, and I couldn’t just walk away, could I?”

  “And I bet his chats were getting more and more personal, right?” Tabitha asked.

  “Uh-huh. First it was just telling me about the inn and stuff. Then he said he hoped the work wasn’t too hard for me, which I thought was nice of him until he mentioned my slim legs and how they must get tired from going up and down the stairs a lot. I didn’t like that or the look in his eyes when he said it, so I started making excuses not to stop when he was around and just avoided him as much as I could. But one day I was cleaning the Wye—”

  “The Wye?” Tabitha interrupted.

  “All the rooms have Eastern Shore river names instead of numbers,” Kelsey explained. “Wye is the corner back one.”

  That was George’s room, Callie remembered.

  “Anyway, I was scrubbing the sink when I suddenly hear this voice behind me saying, ‘Those pretty little hands should have better things to do,’ in a creepy kind of way, you know? And the look on his face? Scared the bejeezus out of me. I didn’t hear him come in. It was like he’d popped up out of nowhere. My first thought was, I’m trapped!”

  “Geez!” Tabitha cried.

  “But my next one was, he’s gonna get a faceful of this cleaning spray if he comes any closer.”

  “And did he?” Callie asked.

  Kelsey shook her head. “Paula called from downstairs. She didn’t know where he was. She was just trying to find him because there was some kind of important phone call. He turned around and left, and I ran over and locked the door as soon as he was out. I finished up that room double fast, believe me.”

  “So you quit because of that?” Callie asked, and Kelsey nodded.

  “It wasn’t easy. I needed the money. But I didn’t want to face that kind of thing again. Then the day after I quit, I heard he was murdered. It was weird. Scary, but weird.”

  She looked at Callie for a moment. “I was shocked, ’cause that kind of thing just doesn’t happen to people you know. But I didn’t feel bad. That makes me feel kind of guilty, like I should feel sorry for him. But all I can feel is sorry for the person who did it. I keep wondering what Ashby did that made someone do that to him.” She paused, then added quietly, “I’m just glad I got out of there before it was me.”

  “Whoo!” Tabitha said after Kelsey had left. “Strong stuff.”

  “Yes.” Callie had taken Kelsey’s contact info in case she had more questions. But she also intended to keep her eyes open for any job possibilities for the girl. “I wish she could have helped us with clues to Ashby’s murderer, but at least we know more about the man himself.”

  “Despicable. If we didn’t need to clear Dorothy, I’d almost be glad to let his murderer get away with it.”

  “Not a good idea,” Callie said, though she knew Tabitha was simply reacting to Kelsey’s story. “And Dorothy absolutely has to be cleared. She can’t go on like this, knowing that she’s being thought of as a murderer.” She’d barely finished speaking when her phone rang. It was Laurie Hart.

  “There’s some trouble at Stitches Thru Time.”

  “What’s happening?” Callie asked, fearing the worst.

  “Two people, a man and a woman, have been shouting outside the shop, calling Dorothy awful names and demanding that she get out of Keepsake Cove. Bill’s gone over to try to stop it, and I’ve called the police.”

  “Oh, gosh. Are they anyone you know?”

  “What? What’s happening?” Tabitha asked, and Callie held up her hand to say hold on.

  “I never saw them before,” Laurie said. “I don’t know why they feel in charge of deciding who belongs in Keepsake Cove! Uh-oh. Now they’re turning on Bill. Wait! I see a patrol car coming.”

  “That should end it. I hope they get arrested,” Callie said, though she was pretty sure the horrid couple would just be moved along.

  “Oh, dear,” Laurie said.

  “What?”

  “Jerry Moore just showed up.”

  Callie winced. “What’s he doing?”

  “Talking to the patrolman. Not shouting, at least. But he looks mad, and he’s gesturing toward Dorothy’s shop.”

  Callie’s stomach sank. “Any sign of Dorothy?”

  “No. Wait. There she is! She’s coming out.”

  No, don’t, Callie said silently, wishing she were there to stop her.

  “She looks calm,” Laurie said. “Angry, but calm. And she’s talking to the patrolman. I think she’s asking him to take care of this situation, or, as I would have phrased it, get these idiots out of here!”

  Callie waited as Laurie watched through her window, debating if she should head over or not. Would it help or just add to the problem? When Laurie said that others had started gathering and arguing, she decided to stay away.

  “The patrolman just got Dorothy back into her shop,” Laurie said. “She’s pulled down her shades and probably locked up. Good. Now Bill’s coming back, and others are leaving.”

  “What about Jerry?”

  “Looks like he’s still arguing. No, he’s leaving, but he looks pretty steamed.” Laurie paused as Callie heard her husband saying something. “Bill just said the loudest ones were threatened with citations for disturbing the peace. That quieted them down in a hurry. Ah! The two that started it all are leaving, too.”

  “I’d like to know who they are,” Callie said, “and why they decided to do this.” A grim addition to her statement occurred to her after she’d hung up the phone: How many more will there be?

  Twenty-Seven

  Delia came into House of Melody about an hour later, her forehead creased with concern. “I’ve heard from a few people that Jerry is taking Renata’s death very hard.”

  “That’s unfortunate if it’s true,” Callie said. “But the day I went to The Collectible Cook, I saw two sides to the couple: an ingratiating public side and a nasty, bickering private side. I didn’t pick up much love between them.”

  “Sometimes loss makes you appreciate a person.” Delia seemed determined to be sympathetic.

  “From what Dorothy and Jane have told us, there wasn’t a lot to appreciate in Renata,” Callie said. “I’ll grant you that Jerry might be sincerely grieving. But from what happened earlier today, he seemed more angry than sad.” She told Delia about the scene that occurred in front of Stitches Thru Time.

  “Oh! I hadn’t heard about that.”

  “He’s been calling for Dorothy’s arrest,” Tabitha said. “Like he’s out for revenge or something.”

  “Well, that makes me feel differently,” Delia said. “And poor Dorothy!”

  “Yes, she’d just decided to brave it out and keep her shop open,” Callie said. “To show that others’ opinions didn’t matter to her as much as the facts. I don’t know what she’ll do now.”

  “Maybe it’s just a one-time thing,” Delia said, though she looked more hopeful than convinced.

  “Mob mentality has a way of spreading,” Callie said. “I think Dorothy might be in serious danger if it escalates.”

  “She should leave Keepsake Cove,” Delia said. “For her own safety. And Jane’s, too. I’ll call and strongly urge that.”

  “I don’t know that she’ll listen, but you can try,” Callie said.

  “She won’t,” Tabitha agreed. “Would you? Wouldn’t it feel like it’s admitting guilt to run away?”

  “Not necessarily,” Delia said, though weakly. She looked determined to do something helpful for Dorothy, so Callie didn’t discourage her. But she knew what she intended to do. Work harder to uncover the facts of Ashby’s and Renata’s murders. With that in mind,
she started working out her next plan.

  “Like to see a little more of the Eastern Shore tonight?” Callie asked when Lyssa picked up her call.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Easton, a nice town, from what I hear. And that’s where Jerry Moore’s brother lives.”

  “Ah, the brother-slash-alibi. What did you find out about him?”

  “He has a real estate office there. You’ve been thinking of buying a house there, haven’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Lyssa agreed, laughing, “it’s been on my bucket list. This would be a perfect time to look into it.”

  “I thought so,” Callie said with a smile. “I made an appointment for you at six thirty. Can you pick me up? I don’t have a car at the moment.” She told Lyssa about the accident.

  “Holy crap! Why didn’t you call me when it happened?”

  “You were probably in bed by then. Brian helped me out. And I reported it, though it won’t accomplish anything. The other car was out of there in a flash, which is about all I saw.”

  “I know that place you described. I’ve seen those small crosses when I’ve driven by. I’m glad there wasn’t a reason to add a third one farther down the road.”

  Me too, Callie thought. Me too. “So,” she said, getting back to business, “can you be here by six?”

  “Absolutely. Am I Lyssa Hammond, by the way, or Tracy Hamilton?”

  “You’re Lyssa. I didn’t see any need not to be. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. And who knows, I might actually buy a house. Not tonight, of course, but sometime. Tracy Hamilton would have a little trouble getting a loan. See you soon.”

  On the drive to Easton, Callie caught Lyssa up with what had happened in front of Dorothy’s shop, including Jerry Moore’s ongoing accusations.

  “Who were the people who started the fuss?” Lyssa asked.

  “Laurie Hart didn’t know them, and she probably knows everybody in and around the Cove.”