Apple of My Eye: Tiger's Eye Mysteries

by Alyssa Day

  Then he turned and walked back toward the front room, surrounded by the shimmer of his magic. When he got to the end of my short hallway, he turned his tiger head and winked at me, before padding over to the couch.

  Lou, having decided to forgive him about halfway through the movie, hopped up on the back of the couch and started purring.

  "Traitor," I told her, when she showed no signs of coming to join me in bed.

  She, being a cat, loftily ignored me and began to wash her paw.

  I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, for a long, long time. And then, when I finally fell asleep, swarms of disembodied fingers chased me around my dreams for hours.

  When I woke up, Aunt Ruby was standing at the end of my bed, dressed in her Sunday best, frowning down at me.

  "You didn't return my call, young lady."

  "I don't think the mayor is allowed to break into people's houses and chastise them," I mumbled, brushing my tangled cloud of hair away from my face.

  "I brought donuts."

  "Welcome!"

  4

  Aunt Ruby was a perfect example of Southern womanhood. She was pleasingly plump, had beautiful manners, and always wore a hat to keep her soft skin out of the sun.

  She was also more stubborn than a herd of mules, as I'd learned in my teen years, much to my dismay. She and Uncle Mike had taken over raising me when I was a toddler and my parents left me alone in the world—my mom by dying of cancer and my dad by losing himself at the bottom of a bottle.

  "What kind of donuts?"

  She held up a bag from Mellie's Bakery. "Is there any other kind? Mellie has this nasty cold that's going around, so her cousin Vern is helping out. Nice boy but not particularly great in the retail department. He was getting everybody's order a little bit wrong." She shook her head. "And you know how seriously Dead Enders take their donuts."

  That was definitely true. Especially me.

  "Gimme!"

  "You get dressed and come into the kitchen. I'll make coffee, and you can tell me why Jack is back and you didn't tell me."

  If that's all she wanted to know, then Susan hadn't reported in on the box/finger/ring situation yet, and I was deeply grateful. I was going to need a lot of coffee for that conversation.

  I took a quick shower, deliberately not thinking about apples or eyes or amputated fingers, put my long red hair up in a twist, and slipped into a blue sleeveless dress and low heels. A quick swipe of mascara, and I was ready to go. September was still way too hot to bother with much makeup, not that I usually did, anyway. I tucked my tinted lip balm into the Kate Spade clutch I'd taken in pawn and then been unable to resist when the owner never returned for it. And I was ready to go.

  Or at least ready for donuts.

  I followed the sound of Jack's low laughter to the kitchen, where I found him back in human form, Lou on his lap, charming my aunt, who should know better.

  "And then I told them that it might be a great breakfast, but it couldn't hold a candle to breakfast at the home of the new mayor of Dead End," he was saying when I walked in.

  Aunt Ruby blushed and fluttered, and I rolled my eyes.

  "Suck up," I whispered as I walked past him to the coffee pot.

  Jack just grinned and grabbed a cream-filled donut off the blue-and-white plate in the middle of my old wooden farmhouse table, leaving only five.

  I happened to know that Aunt Ruby had never bought less than a dozen donuts in her life.

  "How many did you eat?" I narrowed my eyes. "You'd better leave some for me."

  "Now, Tess," Aunt Ruby said. "He's a growing boy. He's only had five. I had one."

  "Which would mean there should be six left," I pointed out. "Ahem. And where's Shelley?"

  "She went to spend the weekend in St. Augustine with Eleanor and her grandson. They're having a great time." Aunt Ruby gave me a funny look. "Didn't she text you pictures of the beach last night?"

  Oops. I'd ignored my phone after the excitement.

  "I must have misplaced my phone. I'll find it before we leave for church. Hey! Jack, move away from the donut!"

  Jack demolished the donut in two bites and reached for another. "You snooze, you lose."

  "You can't eat seven donuts!"

  "Watch me." His evil grin lit up the room, but I was not falling for his charm when he was plowing through every donut in the house.

  Aunt Ruby handed me the cream. "Behave, you two. Tess, how are you feeling? Any sniffles?"

  I put the cream and my coffee mug on the table, snatched a donut off the plate, and then looked at her. "Fine. Why?"

  "Oh, that cold I told you is going around. My assistant at the mayor's office is out sick, and the sheriff must be sick too, because she hasn't been answering my calls this morning." She frowned and brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off the immaculate jacket of her favorite pink skirt suit.

  Jack and I exchanged slightly guilty glances over the donuts, and then his gaze went to the plate.

  "No, I feel fine." I pulled the plate toward me and glared at Jack. "Bad kitty!"

  His grin lit up his gorgeous green eyes until they seemed to glow. "Fine. I'll leave you here with your donuts, and I'll just wander home, alone and starving, and see what's what. I came straight to the shop when I got into town yesterday, so I haven't been there yet."

  Aunt Ruby patted his shoulder. Luckily, he was sitting down at the table, or she wouldn't have been able to reach it. "Now, don't you worry. You're invited to Sunday lunch. We'll see you at noon, okay? We'll feed you right back into shape."

  I blinked. His shape looked pretty good already, to me, not that I was having lustful thoughts on a Sunday morning, because that would be wrong, but wow. In the morning light, his bronze hair gleamed, and his broad shoulders with their muscles were… and…

  "Tess!"

  Both of them were staring at me, Aunt Ruby with indignation, and Jack with something that looked a little bit hungry.

  And not for more donuts.

  I gulped.

  "Sorry. Daydreaming. Yes, lunch. See you then, Jack."

  "Okay. I fed Lou for you and gave her fresh water."

  It gave me a warm feeling that he would think to do that, but I didn't pause to examine it. "Thanks."

  He bent to kiss Aunt Ruby's cheek, and she blushed.

  "Now, go on with you. We need to get going or we'll be late. The pastor's wife always takes the hymnals out of our pew if we're not early." She glanced at me ruefully. "It is a joyful noise, Tess, don't you worry."

  I sighed.

  Then I drained my coffee mug, grabbed my purse, kissed Lou on the top of her head, and we left. I locked my door on the way out, something I'd never bothered to do before Jack's uncle Jeremiah's dead body had been dumped at the back door of my pawnshop.

  Small town life had been getting more and more dangerous, and I wasn't talking about the cutthroat pecan pie competition at the upcoming Swamp Cabbage Festival, although we'd all wondered for years exactly when and where Mrs. Lee (she'd owned a restaurant in Tampa for forty years, before she retired) and Mr. Charpentier (he was French and a chef, as he so often told us) would come to blows.

  "Is Uncle Mike meeting us there?"

  "No, he's feeling a little bit under the weather too, and Bonnie Jo is off her feed, so I told him to stay home and take care of himself and her. He'll be glad to see you. You always had a way with that horse."

  I loved Bonnie Jo. I'd told her all my secrets when I was a child missing my mother and not understanding why my father wouldn't come home. It hurt to think she might be failing. She was a very old horse, after all.

  She dug out her keys. "Should we drive together? No, on second thought, I'll meet you there, because I need to stop at the office for a minute or two after church," Aunt Ruby said, bustling out to her car.

  Oh, boy.

  I really needed to tell her about the box.

  Not now, though. After church. Maybe I'd follow her to City Hall and tell her in the privacy of her new
office, so her shrieks wouldn't terrify the kids in Sunday school.

  I sighed. The Big Book of Southern Manners held no chapters on ways to tell your aunt that somebody had left a human finger on your doorstep.

  I climbed in my new Mustang (early birthday gift from my grandmother the banshee) and drove the five miles to church, hoping God had some answers for this dilemma, because I was fresh out.

  I loved our little church. It had been built in 1844 by a family of Domovoi—Slavic house spirits—who'd been escaping persecution in New England. For some reason, even though Domovoi were generally about three feet in height, one of their nephews or grandsons or something had almost been six feet tall, so it was a normal-sized building. The family had moved back to Russia sometime in the 1920s, after a dispute with a police officer about whether or not Prohibition applied in Dead End, according to a plaque on the front of the church. The plaque had a bullet hole in it, which lent it a certain credibility.

  The church itself was one-story, painted white, with stained glass windows and a tiny bell tower, whose bells were ringing to call us to services now.

  Pastor Nash, who was in his early forties and reminded me of a shy chipmunk with his inquisitive stares and slightly pronounced overbite, stood on the front porch, chatting and shaking hands and welcoming people. I was almost positive I caught him flinching when he saw me, but he was a man of God, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  "Hello, Pastor."

  "Welcome, Tess. Mayor Ruby is already inside."

  I put my hands behind my back to avoid touching him and leaned in to whisper a few words.

  "Psalm 100, Pastor. Joyful noise."

  His eyes widened, and then he burst out into a true belly laugh. He was still laughing and wiping his eyes when I moved past, my spirits already lifted. I really needed to make it a priority to attend church more often.

  Aunt Ruby was in the front, chatting with friends, or so I thought until I got closer.

  "Mayor Callahan, you need to do something about that stop sign on the corner of Daffodil Drive and Tulip Lane. Those Peterson boys keep shooting at it," Mr. Haraldsson demanded.

  Aunt Ruby put her hands on her hips. "Olav, I've known you for fifty years. If you call me Mayor Callahan again, I'm going to tell your mama."

  He winced. "I'm sorry, Ruby. Don’t do that. She's still mad about the goldfish I put in the water glasses at her fancy dinner party back in 1973. Swears Odin himself will punish me for that one."

  It was incredibly hard for me to imagine the serious and slightly pompous president of Dead End First National Bank being afraid of his mama, but I enjoyed the visual my imagination painted for me. Especially when I remembered the ordeal he'd put me through when I bought my house. I'd spent a solid week compiling those documents.

  Everyone milling around settled into the pews, and I noticed that Aunt Ruby put a protective hand on our hymnals when Mrs. Nash came scurrying by.

  "Keep walking, Henrietta," Aunt Ruby told her. "Just keep walking."

  The pastor's wife pasted a not-very-sincere smile on her face and continued up to her place at the front of the church, casting a slightly despairing glance back at me as she went.

  I sighed. "Does everybody hate my singing that much? I can just not sing. I'll stand here silently when everybody else sings."

  "No, you will not," Aunt Ruby said sternly. "The Lord gave you that voice, and you will sing his praise."

  The Howards, sitting next to us, scooted away, trying to be surreptitious about it, at least, but sweet little Amalie, age two, gave me a big gap-toothed smile. In front of us, Mr. Russell gave a deep sigh and took out his hearing aid.

  I leaned forward. "So that's how we're going to play it, Mr. Russell?"

  He pretended not to hear me.

  Then Pastor Nash called for us to stand and sing, and I compromised by singing quietly. Sighs of relief were heard all around, but—frankly—I thought Mrs. Howard's "Praise the Lord" was a little over the top.

  The service was one of my favorites, about loving thy neighbor, which made me think about Jack, which made me think about our date, which made me wonder what on earth I could wear, since he'd already seen The Dress, and, half-listening to Pastor Nash and half-daydreaming, plus quietly singing when the opportunity arose, I spent a lovely hour and a half and reminded myself, yet again, to be a more regular attendee.

  Mr. Russell's handshake at the end of the service was just a little bit too vigorous, so I gave him a wicked smile.

  "I noticed your hearing aid must not be working, since you took it out, Mr. Russell," I said loudly. "I'll have to turn up the volume on my singing next week."

  He turned pale, and I grinned at him.

  Aunt Ruby elbowed me.

  "That wasn't nice," she hissed. "Funny, but not nice."

  I just smiled.

  When we finally made our way out of church, after chatting with everybody, Aunt Ruby headed for her office and I climbed in my car to go out to her place. I wasn't dressed to hang out in the barn, but I always kept a few spare pairs of jeans and some flannel shirts and T-shirts at their place, plus a pair of barn shoes. I'd shoveled out my share of stalls over the years and, as Uncle Mike liked to say, "Being a fancy business owner doesn't mean you're too good to get your hands dirty."

  He wasn't wrong.

  I cranked up the music and sang as loudly as I wanted all the way to their house.

  Joyful noise, indeed.

  5

  After I'd changed into barn clothes, I headed out to find Uncle Mike and Bonnie Jo. They were out in the yard, and a quick glance at our old horse confirmed my fears. She looked like she'd lost thirty pounds since I'd seen her a few weeks before.

  Uncle Mike didn't look great, either. He wore his usual "I left corporate America behind" uniform of flannel shirt and ancient blue jeans with his barn boots, but he looked tired and too thin. I reached out to give him a hug, but he held me off.

  "No, honey, not too close. I've got that cold that's going around, and I don't want to give it to you."

  "I never get sick," I told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Now, how is my favorite horse?"

  I reached out to stroke Bonnie Jo's neck. She leaned toward me, but her entire body was slumped, and my fears turned into a lump in my throat.

  "What's wrong with her?"

  "I think it's just that she's old. She's not eating. Hasn't touched her food in a few days. Still drinking water like a champ and her temperature is good, so Doc Cahill isn't worried yet, but she's old, Tess. She's turning twenty-seven this year, like you. We knew we wouldn't have her forever."

  My eyes started burning. "Maybe not, but I'm not ready to lose her now. I'm going to grab a couple of apples and some carrots and see if I can tempt her."

  Uncle Mike gestured to a basket on the ground by the tree. "You were always good with her. Maybe you can get her to eat something. She wouldn't for me."

  I spent the next twenty minutes coaxing Bonnie Jo to eat two of the apples and several carrots, and she finally lifted her head and seemed to perk up a little. When she wandered off to munch on the grass around the tree, I let out the breath I'd been holding.

  Uncle Mike put a hand on my shoulder. "Good job, honey. We'll keep a close eye on her. It would be good if you could come out and visit more often, until she's feeling better. She always responds to you."

  There wasn't a hint of criticism in his voice about me not coming to visit him more frequently. That wasn't his way. Uncle Mike was, and always had been, the steady support at the center of my life.

  He'd retired from a long career as an engineer, and he could fix absolutely anything. Cars, farm equipment, faulty faucets, you name it, he'd get his handy tool belt out and make it work again. There's no way I could have restored and maintained my little house without his help and supervision. He'd always insisted on teaching me how to do the things I asked of him, which I'd been impatient with in high school but was grateful for, now.

  Spe
aking of fixing things…

  "What's the big project you're working on?"

  Uncle Mike got a secretive look on his face and brushed his thick white hair back from his brow, probably to avoid the question.

  "I'll let you see when the time comes."

  "Come on," I wheedled. "I won't tell Aunt Ruby."

  "Nope. And you're terrible at keeping secrets. Remember when you were a kid, and you'd go shopping with Ruby, and I'd say 'I know you got me a boat, Tessie,' and you'd get all indignant and say 'It is not a boat, it's a red coat!'" He grinned at me. "Ruby would get so mad at me."

  "I'm way better at secret keeping now. Just wait until you hear about it," I said glumly.

  He raised an eyebrow, but I just shook my head. "May as well wait for Aunt Ruby, so I can tell it all at once."

  We talked a bit, and I managed to get Bonnie Jo to eat a little more, and then we heard the sound of cars approaching. Jack and Aunt Ruby arrived at the same time, and Uncle Mike took one look at Jack's truck and flashed me a wounded look.

  "Really? You didn't think to mention that anything had happened? Like, for example, the sometimes-furry bane of my existence was going to show up to eat me out of house and home?"

  A twinge of guilt tightened my stomach into knots. Jack showing up was the least of what I hadn't mentioned.

  Aunt Ruby jumped out of her car, slammed the door, and marched over to meet us.

  "You didn't think I'd want to know about the dead body somebody left at your house, addressed to you?"

  By the time she got to the second "you," her voice was so shrill that all the dogs in three adjacent counties were probably howling.

  Jack, just now getting out of his truck with an armful of grocery bags, winced.

  I threw my hands in the air. "It wasn't a body. It was only a finger!"

  The expression on Uncle Mike's face told me I hadn't scored any points with that.

  "Look." I sighed. "Let's go inside and figure out lunch, and we can discuss it after we eat."