Traveling Town Mystery Boxset

by Ami Diane

  “Sh!” Ella broke in. “Do you hear something?”

  They stood still, straining their ears. It wasn’t what they heard, but what they didn’t hear. Six’s shouts—which had up until now been a constant accompaniment to the crickets—had gone silent.

  “We need to get out of here.” She turned to find Flo had already deserted them. “I see how it is.”

  Wink pushed Ella into a jog. Within a minute, they’d caught up with the old coot.

  Ella took the lead, glancing over her shoulder. It was too dark to see much, but Flo’s Darth Vader breaths assured her she was still there, although the distance between them was growing greater by the second.

  “Wink?” Ella called, trying to keep her voice down.

  “I’m here. I can’t run in these shoes.”

  “So take them off.” Ella paused so Wink could kick off her heels, telling Flo to keep going.

  Her hands on her hips, Ella stared out into the orchard, trying to pierce the veil of darkness and branches. A moment later, she heard the sound of hooves pounding over the ground off to their right followed by Six’s verbal commands for Duke to run faster.

  Ella wrenched Wink’s elbow forward, and they broke into a run.

  “Flo!” Ella said when they came astride of her. “He’s coming!”

  “Hide in the trees!” Wink ordered.

  With surprisingly strong hands, Wink shoved them towards the orchard. They each took a tree and ducked behind them.

  Ella pressed her body against the bark and listened for Duke over the sound of Flo’s wheezing. She couldn’t tell which direction Six was headed.

  “I think he’s moving away,” Wink whispered.

  Ella nodded then remembered they couldn’t make out the movement in the dark. “Let’s wait it out another minute, then get going.”

  They stood quietly, listening and waiting. Ella scratched at her poison oak rash, wishing she’d applied more of the homemade remedy.

  A tree over, Flo sighed for the fifth time. “Can we go yet?”

  “Hey, Flo, remember that time you were too winded to talk? Happened, like, a couple minutes ago?” Ella said. “Remember that? I miss that. That was a good time.”

  Before Ella could hear whatever great comeback the crazy woman had, Wink said, “I think it’s safe. Let’s get out of here.”

  There was a rustle of twigs and leaves as they emerged from their cover.

  Ella set the pace to a brisk walk. “So, what are the chances Six knows it was us?”

  “I’d say pretty high,” Wink responded.

  “Yeah, but he didn’t see us.”

  “Still high.”

  Flo elbowed Ella out of the lead, forcing her to walk “downwind” from them.

  When they passed Twin Springs, Ella felt safe enough to turn her flashlight app on. The small light illuminated her ruined clothes and a rather disheveled looking Wink.

  What surprised Ella the most was that Flo’s hair appeared to still be intact. She couldn’t be certain, but if she had to guess, the woman used one part glue, one part cement for her beehive.

  She watched her struggle with the Tommy Gun. “Flo, I’m no firearms expert, but I’m pretty sure, you’re not supposed to have your finger on the trig—”

  The rest of Ella’s words were cut off by the rapid succession of gunfire. The end of the barrel lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Even if Flo had been ready for the gun to fire, Ella wasn’t sure she had enough muscle to control it.

  Flo’s one-handed trigger pull sent the submachine gun firing in an arc. She toppled backward in slow motion, the weapon firing all the way down like it was glued to her hand.

  When Flo’s curvy backside hit the dirt, it wrenched the gun loose. A sudden silence took over, but Ella barely noticed over the ringing in her ears.

  Nobody moved. Flo’s chest pumped up and down, her arms and legs spread akimbo. Even the crickets were silent.

  Ella cleared her throat. “You think Six heard that?”

  Wink didn’t bother responding. She grabbed a handful of Flo’s clothes and dragged her a foot before Flo found her footing and stood. They took off sprinting.

  Ella scooped the antique gun up and ran. As if they had one mind, all three jumped into the orchard and kept running.

  She ducked through row after row, hoping the shortcut would get them to Main Street faster, as well as provide the necessary cover needed to outrun Six.

  More than once, she stumbled over clumps of dirt or tree roots. She had thought it dark at the rock flats, but even the faint starlight was swallowed by the orchard.

  It wasn’t until she spotted the warm glow of the street lamps that she realized she’d lost sight of her friends.

  Her shoes squished and pounded onto the sidewalk. Ella collapsed under the nearest light, gulping for air, and waited for the other two to emerge.

  Shortly after, Wink rolled out of the branches, breathing heavily. Ella patted the grass beside her.

  Sweat beaded down her forehead. She swiped it with her glove, then realized she’d just spread manure and mud over her skin.

  They waited ten minutes before they climbed to their feet and began pacing the tree line. Another five minutes elapsed before Flo crawled out of a row, hunched over, her lungs making a concerning whistling sound.

  Without a word, Wink pulled one of Flo’s arms over her shoulder while Ella grabbed the other. Together, they dragged their feet down the sidewalk, the Tommy Gun swinging beside Ella.

  CHAPTER 23

  ELLA SLEPT IN the next morning. When she awoke, she rolled onto her back, took stock of her sore muscles, and stared at the ceiling.

  Despite it being well after midnight when she and Flo had stumbled up the stairs, Ella had gone straight to the bathroom and taken the longest bath in the history of baths. Up until now, she hadn’t minded that the old bathroom didn’t have a shower, but last night had proved to be a chore, digging out manure from every nook and cranny.

  She let out a long-suffering sigh. It was Saturday, and, mercifully, Wink had told her she could take a later shift.

  This was her seventh day in Keystone Village. So many events had been packed into the week that it felt like she’d lived in the town for months. The inn was already beginning to feel like home. Heck, she’d even experienced two different seasons in the span of a few days.

  Her thoughts drifted to what she’d seen at Jesse’s the night before. What was in those folders that was so important? Those scraps of journal papers were Kay’s. Had she mentioned Six’s still? But why not just burn them if there was something incriminating? Also, there was still the issue of Kay’s missing clothes.

  Ella felt like she was putting a mental puzzle together but the pieces didn’t all fit. She was missing something.

  She’d hoped to find something that took the spotlight off Rose and put it back onto Jesse. The folders and papers did that, but now there was the problem of how to tell the sheriff without explaining how she knew.

  Ella slipped into her running clothes for the comfort and the fabric’s amazing ability to wick away sweat rather than for any ambitious plans to go for a run. She’d had her fill the previous night. Besides, her running shoes were currently outside on the stoop in their poop-covered glory, baking in the sun.

  In the kitchen, after she’d rubbed the late night from her eyes and poured a cup of coffee, she picked apart one of Wink’s gooey apple cinnamon rolls.

  She had just poured cream into her second cup when she noticed Jimmy outside the picture window. He sat under the towering oak tree, staring at the glassy lake, his shoulders slumped.

  Pain pierced her heart, and she felt the sudden urge to unburden her conscience. She took a couple of steps towards the back door then stopped. He had a right to know she was the reason his wife was in jail, yet, she couldn’t gather the courage to face him.

  “I’ll fix this,” she whispered.

  Slowly, she turned on her heel, laced up her less-than-white c
anvas shoes, and walked out the front door. She mentally added cleaning shoes to her list of things to do as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She didn’t feel like running, but a long walk would loosen her muscles and clear her head.

  The desert sun had long since crested Twin Hills, and she could tell it was going to be an especially hot one. As her feet found a rhythm, she strolled through the heart of the town, passing the library and the sheriff’s office. She tried not to think about Rose huddled in her cell inside.

  She needed to figure out a way to tell the sheriff about Kay’s files in Six’s cabin. If she could think of a reason to get him to search the place, he’d come across them himself.

  Already, Ella’s lungs burned. She chose to believe the desert was at a higher elevation than she was used to and the lack of oxygen was why she gasped for air and not because she had put on weight.

  Veering off the sidewalk, Ella followed the trail circling the lake. A couple of fisherman on the docks waved at her as she passed. Beneath them, water lapped at the pylons, and she listened to the steady sound fade as she passed.

  A quarter of the way around the lake, the serenity was interrupted by loud, angry voices. Ella slowed her steps, homing in on the cacophony. Two male voices came from one of the small cottages, booming and overlapping each other, one of them sounding familiar.

  “They’re dead because of you!”

  “I didn’t do nothing!”

  Ella’s shoes stuttered to a stop. Who was dead?

  “I pay you to fertilize my fields, not kill my livestock,” the familiar voice said.

  “I used the same stuff I’ve always used! It’s safe, I tell you.”

  The first voice swore then said, “I’m not paying you.”

  “You have to! My family and I will starve if you don’t!”

  “Not my problem.”

  Footsteps sounded, and the screen door on the cottage burst out. Ella jolted and resumed her walk, hoping she succeeded in making it look like a late morning stroll and that she hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

  When she felt enough time had passed to be nonchalant, she looked back in time to see a flash of a gray suit before the bushes lining the bend in the trail hid the person from view.

  Ella pumped her legs as she resumed her trek around the lake, all the while playing the conversation on a loop in her head.

  Back at the inn, she chugged down a glass of water then changed into her last pair of clean clothes. Her fingers brushed over a sweater, the one piece of clothing she’d packed that wasn’t a t-shirt, sweatshirt, or running gear. She’d have to ask where people shopped in the village.

  She remembered seeing a sewing machine in one of the rooms downstairs, and her stomach tightened. If the residents made their own clothes, she was out of luck. If her attempt at sewing a dress was anything like her one and only attempt at making a pillowcase, then she suspected it would come out with an extra sleeve and an unintentional a-line… much like the pillowcase had.

  Since Rose was in the slammer, Ella’s choices for wardrobe advice on where to shop were limited to Crazy Flo or Grandma Wink. She shivered. Maybe she’d wait for Rose.

  When finished changing, she tossed dirty clothes atop the Mt. Everest-sized pile in the corner. If she put off doing laundry any longer, the patrons at the diner would complain about the stench.

  Speaking of stench, she thought, looking over at a bag in the corner that held her clothes from last night. She didn’t have much experience with manure—virtually none—so she wasn’t certain how well it washed out.

  Since the town had a finite supply of clothing, Ella decided to try to salvage the outfit. She left her pants and shirt soaking in the bathtub, the task taking twice as long with one hand since the other was occupied plugging her nose.

  When Ella stepped out into the hall, she noticed Flo’s door was cracked, a single eye peering out.

  “Flo,” Ella said by way of greeting.

  Flo spoke through the crack. “That was fun last night.”

  “You have a very messed up idea of fun.”

  “I want my gun back.”

  Ella hesitated, wondering if the town was safer with the woman down one less weapon. “Under my bed.”

  She left Flo to her lurking and headed downstairs. After grabbing a couple of soft chocolate-chip cookies from the cookie jar, she settled into a chaise in the library.

  Warm sunshine poured through the windows, melting the chocolate chips and blanketing her. After she’d licked her fingers clean, she began to nod off.

  An hour later, Ella descended the grand staircase, gingham dress swooshing from side to side like a bell with each step. She’d managed to smear on some mascara and lip gloss, as well as gather her hair into a high knot. She felt pretty put together. Not Rose put together, but presentable.

  In Grandma’s Kitchen, a couple of lone customers sat at the lunch counter and a family with two small children occupied the corner booth.

  Ella found Wink in the kitchen, elbows-deep in suds, scrubbing dishes.

  “Don’t you have a dish washer? I mean, not a dishwasher, but like a person to do that?”

  Wink’s lips puckered with effort. “I do. But I like to take a turn every now and then. Keeps me young.”

  Ella eyed the woman with blue hair up and down. If she started behaving any younger, the years might peel right off. Actually, maybe that wasn’t a bad idea, and she should have a turn.

  “Did I see you walking around the lake earlier?” Horatio asked from the fryer. A burger patty sizzled on the grill next to him.

  “Yeah. Hey, do you know who lives in that green cottage over there.” She pointed in the general direction of the place. “It’s got a large lilac bush in the yard and a picket fence.”

  “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, that’s Tom’s place.” Wink let the dish fall in the sink. “That’s as good as I’m going to get it.”

  “I’ll take a turn.” Ella elbowed her out of the way then attacked the caked-on cheese with a scouring pad.

  “I thought that was the Millers’ place.” Horatio waved a spatula at Wink, sending drops of grease spraying over them.

  “No. The Millers’ house is that gaudy purple. Why anyone would paint their house that color—”

  “But they got a picket fence.”

  “So does half the town. Do the Millers have a lilac bush in their front yard?”

  The cook’s face scrunched up. “I am not sure what a lilac bush looks like.”

  Wink rolled her eyes as she scooted out of the kitchen to check on the customers. After she left, the door swung back and forth on its hinges several times.

  Ella asked, “So, who’s Tom?”

  The spatula scraped the grill, and the sizzle of the burger filled the air.

  “Farmer.”

  “A farmer who’s got a cottage by the lake?”

  “Well, he was a farmer from his time. He’s a—what’s it called? Transplant? He’s like us. Wasn’t any farmland available for him here, so he took what he could. I think he’s hoping one of the families will leave, and he can buy some property.”

  Ella churned the words over in her mind as she laid a plate next to him then set to work prepping the fixings for a Belly Buster. “What’s he do?”

  “Oh, he still helps out where he can. Either on the Bradford dairy or the ranch south of town.”

  “Keystone has a South?”

  The cook laughed. “Good point. For us, Main Street runs north and south.”

  Ella nodded. It was similar to how she’d orientated the town. “So, Twin Hills is northeast then?”

  “Yep.”

  “Except when the sun sets behind it.”

  “Yeah, it gets confusing. But you’ll get used to it.”

  Ella appreciated the confidence, however misplaced it might be. “So, this Tom, does he fertilize the fields around Bradford Farms?”

  Horatio shrugged, slapping a patty down on the bun. “Probably. I don’t really know.”
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br />   His hands worked like a machine. She’d barely blinked and the burger sat before her, dripping with blue cheese and crisp strips of bacon.

  He handed it to her. “Why’re you so curious about him, anyhow?” His face lit up, and he wiggled his thick eyebrows. “He’s married. But I got another friend who’s single and would suit you. About twenty years older, but who can be picky in this town?”

  Ella grimaced. “I’ll keep that in mind. Your buns are burning.”

  Horatio looked over his shoulder, yelped, and frantically freed the buns from the toaster. She whisked out of the kitchen before he tried to fix her up on a date.

  Another customer had set up at the counter, and Ella was surprised to see it was the mayor. His suit jacket spilled over the sides of the swivel seat. He leaned forward on his elbows, tie bathing in his coffee, as he talked animatedly with Wink.

  Ella kept one eye on them as she placed the Belly Buster in front of the man in the corner booth. Wink’s typical smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her body language conveyed that she had better things to do besides listening to him drone on.

  After refilling the family’s cups of waters, Ella wandered over to the counter to see if Wink needed rescued.

  “Ah, Ella. Nice to see you again.”

  Mayor Bradford’s hand shot out and pumped hers in a hearty, sweaty shake—most of the enthusiasm on his part. The moment he released his grip, she discreetly wiped her hand over her skirt.

  “You going to the potluck tomorrow?”

  She shot Wink a confused look. “I thought the town hall meetings were every other week?”

  “Oh, they are,” he answered for the older woman. “But we have a potluck the other Sundays.”

  “So, a potluck every Sunday?”

  The Mayor’s face scrunched up, and he looked to Wink for help.

  “Ella,” Wink said, “that wasn’t a potluck after the meeting.”

  “Then what do you call that spread? Looked like a freaking buffet to me.”

  Wink shrugged. “That was just some post-meeting refreshments.”

  Ella wasn’t certain she’d put glazed ham and homemade ice cream in the refreshments category, but who was she to judge?