Red Hot

by Cat Johnson

  “Yeah.” Had she found a vintage plaid cape? If she did, that thing was so mine.

  “Like this one?” She bent down and when she straightened, I saw what she held in her hands.

  It didn’t look vintage. In fact, it looked exactly like the one I’d lost.

  I moved over to where she stood and used my flashlight to look at the tag.

  “This is the same brand as the one from my shop.” The one that had gone missing. “Where did you find it?”

  “Right there on the floor. On top of that Coleman sleeping bag.”

  “Sleeping bag.” In an attic filled with more than a century of dusty old furniture, a new cape and modern sleeping bag stood out like a sore thumb. I moved the beam of my flashlight to the sleeping bag and gasped. “That’s from my shop too.”

  “Really? How do you know?”

  “That’s my price tag on it.” My eyes widened as I realized this was what had looked wrong downstairs when I’d searched the store to see if anything besides the cape was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but now it was obvious.

  “What is this stuff from your store doing here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. But I sure as heck would like to find out.”

  After that discovery, the excitement of the sale shifted. I couldn’t concentrate on antiques knowing that I wasn’t crazy. Someone had been in my shop. Things had been taken.

  A certain amount of theft was a given when you owned a store, but this felt different. It wasn’t simple shoplifting.

  “I have to call the sheriff,” I murmured, more to myself than to Harper.

  “You definitely do,” she agreed. “Something is going on in this town.”

  Her eyes widened when she turned back to me.

  “And this is Rose’s old house.” Open mouthed she shook her head. “Again, that woman is smack in the middle of a Mudville mystery. Twenty years after she died.”

  Harper was doing what she did best, taking tidbits and spinning them into stories, but I couldn’t argue with her.

  She was right.

  Something was happening in Mudville. Something mysterious. Whether it involved Rose again or not was yet to be determined. But, like it or not, it seemed I was somehow smack in the middle of it this time.

  SEVEN

  Cash

  “Mother fucker!” I slowed and narrowed my eyes at the deputy vehicle parked in Red’s lot. Again.

  Jaw clenched, I swung my truck down the side street.

  This was my own damn fault. I’d told her about the guy sneaking around her yard. And I’d been dumb enough to not call the sheriff and I’d admitted that to her.

  Of course, she would call herself. Even though I had told her I’d handle it this morning, which was exactly what I was on my way to do.

  The sheriff at her place was just proof she didn’t trust me to keep my word.

  That pissed me off. Until another thought hit. What if this had nothing to do with the creeper in her yard and everything to do with her date, or whatever it was that she had with Carson last night?

  Fuck. That scenario was even worse than her not trusting me to report the incident.

  Whatever was going on, I wasn’t going to let it happen without me being there.

  After cutting the engine and yanking the key out of the ignition, I swung my door wide. I stepped down and glared at the deputy car, parked crooked next to me.

  It would serve him right if I slammed my door right into his car after the shitty way he’d parked.

  Carson must’ve been in a real hurry to get inside to see Red.

  Angry, annoyed, and full of adrenaline, I took the front stairs two at a time and strode through the front door of the shop.

  There, as expected, I got a look at Carson and Red looking cozy, their heads bent close together so they almost touched. His hand was on her hand as they both looked at something on her cell phone.

  Seriously, what the fuck was happening right now?

  I cleared my throat when they didn’t bother to even look up, in spite of the jingling bell and the fact I’d slammed the door pretty hard behind me.

  “Cash,” Red breathed with an air of excitement when she finally glanced up.

  What had her so breathless and excited? The good deputy?

  At that thought my breakfast of bacon and eggs churned in my gut.

  “Red,” I returned her greeting, then unhappily moved my gaze to the man standing much too closely to her. “Carson.”

  He nodded. “Cash.”

  I swallowed. “So, uh, what’s up?”

  I kept my tone casual, so it didn’t reveal what I was really thinking. That being, what the fuck was he doing practically embracing Red in public, in her shop during business hours? Not that I’d have preferred him to do it after hours and in private, but I had to deal with the situation at hand.

  “Remember that buffalo plaid cape that was missing?” she asked.

  Buffalo plaid. I wasn’t even sure I knew what exactly buffalo plaid was.

  “The cape I thought was lost but might have been stolen?” she continued.

  “Yeah.” I remembered the conversation.

  It was the whole reason for Carson being here yesterday. Also the reason for the police report that just had to be delivered in person at Lainey’s bar over hot wings last night.

  Red reached down and then tossed something that was red and black onto the counter. “I found it.”

  That was buffalo plaid? Just big red and black checks? Why not just freaking say that?

  Accepting that I had no control over the world and its oddities, I said, “All right. Good, you found it. So it wasn’t stolen.”

  “Not exactly.” Good old Carson chimed into the conversation, just when I’d been ignoring him.

  “I found it in Rose’s attic.” Wide eyed, Red looked at me as if that should mean something.

  I felt the frown settle on my forehead. “Old lady Rose who’s been dead for like twenty years?”

  “Yes!” she squealed, looking excited.

  “I’m confused.” I shook my head.

  Carson drew in a breath. “Rose’s house is being sold by the estate of the last owner. There’s a big public sale there today. Red was over there for a preview this morning. The cape was in the attic along with another item from her store.”

  “In the middle of all the century old stuff in the dusty old attic was this cape and a Coleman sleeping bag with my price tag still on it. And an empty can of beans. I was showing Carson the pictures of where I found it all in Rose’s old attic.”

  “It’s good she took the pictures. The sale already started and once the public gets in there any evidence will be tainted,” Carson added.

  I was beginning to understand her agitation, even as I breathed a sigh of relief that Carson was supposedly on top of her just to see the photos.

  “Rose’s old place was owned by an out-of-towner. It was empty most of the year,” I commented, putting the pieces together.

  Carson nodded. “Correct. The owner died. Joan from the estate sale company was the first one inside in months.”

  “It sounds like a squatter to me. He needed something warm so he grabbed the sleeping bag and that wool thing to use as a blanket. But that doesn’t make me feel any better that this person, whoever it was, broke into your store.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I wonder if they were in here while I was open. Then just hid until after I locked up. They could help themselves to anything they wanted and then sneak out the back door, locking it behind them. They probably thought I wouldn’t notice. And you know what? If it wasn’t for that specific cape, I probably wouldn’t have.”

  I liked that scenario better than thinking someone was able to break in, but I did not like the thought of Red closing up here, alone, with someone hiding inside.

  “That doesn’t explain who was here last night though,” I said.

  “Wait? What’s this now?” Carson asked. “Someone was h
ere again last night?”

  I smothered my cringe. “I was actually on my way to the department to make a report. I spotted someone creeping around by the shop’s back door last night. I got out of the truck and went after him, but he ran.”

  “You keep saying he. Are you sure the suspect was a male?” Carson asked.

  Knee-jerk reaction was to say yes, but now that I thought about it, I really wasn’t certain. In fact, the shadowy figure wasn’t large. It was on the smaller side. It could have been a female or even a young teen maybe.

  “No, I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I really didn’t get a good look.”

  Carson had his pad out and was jotting down notes. “What time was this?”

  That was easy. I remembered exactly. “What time did Red meet you at Lainey’s?”

  He frowned. “Why does that matter?”

  Because I saw her walk in and couldn’t get out of there fast enough, that’s why.

  I kept that truth to myself and instead said, “I remember seeing her walk in on my way out. I was heading home when I spotted the figure by her shop and turned down her side street.”

  My little white lie, or stretching of the truth, should hold up if he didn’t try to poke holes in it. And even if he did, there was no way in hell I was going to admit I was staking out Red’s place to see if she brought him home with her.

  “Anything else you can remember?” Carson, thankfully, accepted my answer without further question and moved on after jotting down something more in his tiny book.

  I felt like we were in some black and white film. I guess the Mudville sheriff’s department didn’t believe in using the note app on their cell phones.

  “Nope. That’s about it,” I said, hating that, archaic writing devices aside, Carson actually seemed pretty good at his job.

  “All right.” He flipped his little notebook closed and shoved it into his pocket, glancing down at Red. “I’ll go back to Rose’s and see if I can find anything else when the crowds clear.

  “Great. Thanks. I really appreciate all your help.”

  “My pleasure.” Carson grinned.

  I’m sure it was his pleasure. I controlled the grumble of a groan as Carson glanced up at me. “See you around, Cash.”

  “Yeah. See you.” Goodbye and good riddance.

  Finally, when the distracting presence that was the deputy was gone, Red turned to me. “You just stopping by to check on me or did you need something?”

  I needed her to stop hanging out with Carson. But besides that, I was good.

  Dammit. Why couldn’t I come up with a single reason to be here besides the obvious, that I was checking up on her and Carson?

  “Um, just making sure you were okay. After last night with the guy or whoever. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Thank you, Cash. That’s sweet.”

  Sweet. I evaluated how that word made me feel. Was being sweet a good thing? Didn’t nice guys finish last?

  In my experience, sweet guys hooked up the girl’s security system while the other guy got the date at the bar. Sweet guys sat in a cold dark truck and waited to make sure the girl got home safely, while she called the other guy the next morning.

  I didn’t want to be the good guy. I wanted to be bad. To back Red up into that work room and kiss her breathless. I wanted to sweep the junk off her desk, set her up there and pound both of us into a screaming orgasm.

  “So, um . . .” Red hesitated, which was intriguing. If there was one thing this woman could do to excess it was talk.

  I waited, brows raised expectantly. I was always interested in what she had to say, but now even more so, given how oddly reluctant she was to spill whatever it was.

  Finally, she continued, “Would you like to have dinner at my place tonight?”

  My eyes popped wide. Of all the things I might have guessed she would say, that wasn’t one of them.

  “Really?”

  Shit. What the fuck was that answer?

  I should just say yes. Hell, yes. What time? Let’s eat now. Instead I questioned her? Jesus.

  “Yeah,” she continued. “I mean, you did so much work for me on the cameras and would only accept a cup of coffee for it. I would have bought you a beer last night at the bar, but you left so fast. And then you took all that time to walk through with me last night after you saw that person in my yard. I want to thank you properly.”

  Not one to make the same mistake twice, I pocketed anything else I might have wanted to say about that and instead nodded. “Yes. I’d love to. What time?”

  “Um, six?”

  “What can I bring?”

  “Nothing. Just yourself.”

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “Yup.” She nodded. “Gretchen comes in at two-thirty today so I’ll be able to sneak out early and get everything ready.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble for me.”

  Crap. I really was incapable of just letting things go, wasn’t I? Before I knew it, I’d end up accidentally talking her out of the whole dinner idea.

  I needed to keep my mouth shut and be grateful.

  A whole night alone with Red in her apartment. That was even better than hot wings at the bar. My date with her would beat Carson’s hands down.

  Though this was a thank-you dinner. Not a date.

  Fuck it. I didn’t care. When it came to Red, I’d take anything I could get.

  EIGHT

  Red

  “Can you fit me in for a quick trim?” I asked, skidding to a stop on the linoleum floor of Ruby’s hair salon.

  I was out of breath since I’d almost sprinted here the moment Gretchen had arrived for her shift. The beauty shop was just two short blocks away, so I didn’t take the truck.

  Frowning, Ruby took in my breathless, frantic state. “Sure. I’ve got no one scheduled for another hour.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathed, more to myself than to her.

  Cash had just seen me this morning so why getting my hair done before dinner seemed so important, I didn’t know, but it did.

  Smiling, she said, “Wish all my customers were that grateful. Take a seat at the sink.”

  “Thanks.” I tossed my purse on an empty chair and sat in front of the washing sink.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked, tying a cape around my neck before she reached back to start the water.

  I hadn’t been expecting that question. Though I suppose I shouldn’t have run in here like I was desperate if I wanted to pretend this was just a routine haircut.

  “No occasion,” I lied. “You know how it is. Short hair looks great when it’s first cut and has shape. Then one day you wake up and can’t do a thing with it. I’m starting to look like a little boy with bed head, no matter what I try to do with it.”

  Most of that was the truth. I was overdue for a haircut and I’d developed a strange cowlick that I couldn’t tame in spite of how much hair product I used.

  The only thing I was guilty of was a lie of omission. That the urgency stemmed from my sudden date with Cash tonight. If I could call it a date.

  Dinner. That’s all it was. Just two friends having dinner.

  As my heart pounded at the thought, I forced a smile and decided to change the subject. “So, what’s up with you since I saw you last?”

  If there was one thing Ruby was good at, besides cutting hair, it was talking. And Mudville, even with as small as it was, gave her plenty to talk about. Enough to carry us through my wash, cut and blow dry.

  After I paid and left a generous tip for her squeezing me in, I was off again. I ran into the grocery store on Main Street and picked up a few of the things I’d need for tonight’s dinner. I dropped that bag at home, sticking the cold stuff in the fridge and grabbed the truck keys.

  My next errand was too far to walk. I was taking a trip to the farm. Morgan Farm, where there was a good chance I’d run into at least one Morgan family member, whether I wanted to or not.

  The farm stand wouldn�
�t open until spring when the first crops started coming in from the field, but the farm had a little shop—if you could call the eight by ten foot shed that—which they left unmanned and open to the public year-round.

  Inside was a freezer unit filled with meat from their cattle and a refrigerator with milk from their dairy cows.

  Only in a small town would you find this kind of set-up.

  There was a counter with a ledger book and a pen and a cash box. Customers wrote down what they took and how much it cost in the book, next to the date and their name, then shoved their cash for the items into the slot in the locked box that was attached to the counter. All on the honor system.

  It always amazed me, being in retail myself and having experienced more than my share of items walking away right out from under my nose. But the Morgans made it work. I guess what they’d have to pay for an employee to man the little shop would cost far more than what the few dishonest people walked off with.

  In any case, I knew I couldn’t feed Cash a steak from the grocery store or give him commercial brand milk for our coffee either, for that matter.

  I drew in a breath and parked my truck by the shed, hoping that Cash wouldn’t be inside stocking the freezer or whatever. It would feel too weird seeing him now as I ran around like a chicken with no head trying to prepare for our dinner together.

  Pulling open the door, I was faced with a broad back and stopped dead in the doorway. I considered going back out but it was too late. He’d no doubt have heard the door.

  My heart pounding, I waited to be faced with Cash as I bought the steak and cream-line milk for . . . whatever this was. Date. Dinner. I didn’t know, but I wasn’t prepared to decide at this very moment.

  I froze and watched him turn around . . . and finally could breathe again when I saw not Cash, but his older brother Stone.

  Dressed in the heavy Carhart jacket and knit hat, it was impossible to tell the brothers apart from behind.

  “Hey, Red.”

  Trying to calm my racing pulse, I said, “Hey, Stone. What’s up?”