Traveling Town Mystery Boxset

by Ami Diane

  “Wait—” she protested, but he was already pulling the Chevy from the curb and couldn’t hear her whine about the early hour. The air rumbled as he made a u-turn and ambled towards the docks.

  “Where are you going?” Stan’s counterpart suddenly said behind Ella.

  She whirled around, realizing that it was the first time she’d heard the woman speak.

  Stan shoved his clipboard into her chest. “Get what you can. Don’t take no for an answer.” His shoes seemed to float as he hurried up the sidewalk.

  The woman’s shrill voice broke the morning air. “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “I have to take care of something! I’ll be right back.” Stan the Mole Man’s loafers pounded over the sidewalk in the direction of the park.

  Ella frowned then looked back at the woman. Her overly bleached blonde hair hung in a sheet down her back.

  “Hey, Blondie. Get lost. I don’t want you here harassing the customers.”

  The woman sneered at her. “I have every right to be here. And you don’t own this place.”

  Ella straightened her spine, adding a pinch of height to her five foot five frame. She wished she’d worn heels. Then again, it was hard to kick someone’s butt in anything but sneakers.

  “I suggest you get out of here before I call Sheriff Chapman.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” She threw her hair over her shoulder and marched down the sidewalk. Ella watched her go, wondering who she was, where and when she was from, and how she’d gotten involved with Stan. And also what hair products she used because her hair was shinier than a shampoo commercial.

  By the time the bell jingled over the door to Grandma’s Kitchen, Ella was five minutes late. It had just opened for the day and being right outside, she knew there were no customers. But it was still unprofessional.

  Slipping into the kitchen, she spotted the cook Horatio already at the grill. The smell of pancakes and french toast beckoned her forth.

  “Morning,” he said. He caught her expression and nodded at a plate with two slices of banana hazelnut French toast the size of her face, topped with fresh strawberries and whip cream.

  Ella smothered them with maple syrup. The first bite sent her reeling and singing his praises.

  “Who’s your wife? Can you divorce her and marry me?” She shoveled another bite into her mouth. “You see our guests outside this morning?”

  He frowned at her. “No, I came through the back. Who was out there?”

  She filled him in on Stan and his lady friend’s antics.

  His thick brows knotted, and he waved the spatula around like a weapon. “I do not like that man. You did the right thing sending her away.”

  His Italian accent, put a soft lilt to his words and made her miss her work. Before being stranded in Keystone, she had worked as a TA at the local university in the linguistics department while simultaneously working on her master’s thesis. As far back as she could remember, she’d been drawn to different languages and the people who spoke them. While she wasn’t a polyglot, she was conversational in a smattering of languages.

  “Is that his wife? Or was his wife the one beside him at the meeting? You know, looked like a body builder. Not the kind you’d want to meet in a dark alley. That sort of thing. Oh! Wife and mistress. How scandalous.”

  The cook rolled a shoulder in a half-shrug. “What did she look like?”

  Ella described the woman collecting signatures alongside Stan. His expression never changed from one of confusion. He had no idea who she was, but the one beside Stan at the meeting had been his wife.

  “Mistress then.”

  “Hey, that’s gossip.” He pointed the spatula at her, causing her to wonder if it was fused to his palm.

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I said it. Since when are you reluctant to gossip?”

  “Just because I’m naturally curious, doesn’t mean I gossip.”

  “Then, why aren’t you naturally curious about her? She’s not Stan’s wife. Why is she helping?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe she wants more electricity for the town. I am more worried about Wink. That was quite the meeting last night, no?”

  The diner’s front door rang. Shoving the last bite of banana hazelnut French toast into her mouth, Ella scooped up her order pad and swept through the kitchen door. Her uniform swished around her legs.

  Once the first customer in the slumbering village awoke and went to Grandma’s Kitchen, it usually seemed the rest of the town followed suit. Within the hour, the lunch counter was full of patrons, as well as half the booths.

  Ella flitted from table to table, refilling coffee and taking orders. Her eyes returned to the clock every time she flew past it, wondering where her boss was. A man and wife complained about their scrambled eggs, claiming they’d ordered them sunny side up, despite Ella writing, “wreck ‘em,” on her ticket.

  Ella blew a strand of hair out of her face, wiped her forehead, and was on the verge of losing it when Wink finally rolled in two hours past opening. She apologized but didn’t offer an explanation for her tardiness. Instead, she pitched in, grabbing platefuls from the passthrough and delivering them to tables.

  When the morning rush died to a pre-lunch lull, Ella swept into the back where she found Horatio dabbing at his sweaty forehead and Wink pulling out a fresh batch of scones.

  “Whew. Quite the crowd this morning,” the cook said. “That’s the bad thing about these town hall meetings. They get people all riled up, then they have to come in to gossip the next day.”

  At the mention of the meeting, the lines in Wink’s face tightened. Ella nudged her. “I’m sure your property will be fine. There’s no way Stan will get enough support.”

  She bit her lip, considering telling Wink about the duo in front of the diner that morning but thought better of it. As much as she wanted to tell her boss how she’d chased off the snobby woman, Wink didn’t need the added stress.

  “Thanks, dear. But I’m not so sure. Seems everyone’s divided evenly on the topic.” She let out a slow breath. “But no matter what happens, I won’t let him destroy my home.”

  “Destroy your home? Can’t the turbine sit on your lot beside your house?”

  “Not enough room. It’s the best location for two or three.” Wink’s eyes hardened, making it clear the topic was no longer open for discussion.

  Before she could forget, Ella asked to come in a couple hours later the next day. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be at the docks with Will, but it seemed like a safe estimate.

  When Ella explained why she needed to come in late, Wink sighed wistfully. “Aw, young love.”

  Ella rolled her eyes before tossing her cleaning rag at Wink. It landed with a splat in the middle of Wink’s chest, leaving a wet design on the front like an abstract painting.

  “Aren’t you interested in him?” Wink asked as she attacked the spot with a towel.

  Ella’s lip caught in her teeth as she pondered the question. Her stomach fluttered every time the inventor was nearby, and when he got too close, she struggled to breathe in a way that had nothing to do with his aftershave.

  But it was also not a great time to start a new relationship. She was transitioning into her new life; mourning the loss of her family, friends, and all she left behind; and living in Keystone was proving to be a drastic change. Most importantly, she was still learning who she could trust.

  In the end, Ella settled for giving Wink a non-comital shrug.

  Ella traipsed up the stairs in her grease-stained dress. She flopped onto her bed, not bothering to close the door.

  The click of heavy paws told her that Fluffy had heard her come home. A moment later, he leaped onto the bed and head-butted her. The mattress dipped under his massive weight, the feline roughly the size of a small dog.

  He burrowed his pink nose deep into her shirt.

  “Smells like burgers, huh?”

  In the hallway, a figure crept past Ella’s open door, hunched over, a tin foil cone
atop her head.

  “Flo,” Ella greeted her.

  “Ella.”

  Flo shuffled past, holding a device up with twinkling lights and something that went whir. Ella didn’t bother asking.

  When the reflection of the flashing lights faded, Ella rolled her head towards the window, trying to summon enough energy to change out of her uniform. Outside, the dull gray sky had turned ominous, with deep shadows of clouds on the horizon.

  Ella frowned and hoped they weren’t in for too bad of a storm. The last thing the town needed was to lose power. She had no doubt Stan would twist the outage around to his advantage, blame it on a lack of generators or taxing the grid or some such nonsense.

  Instead of getting out of her gamy uniform, she pulled out her cell phone, noting the dwindling battery power. She opened the notepad app and scrolled with her thumb until she found a memo titled, Keystone Village.

  If she had any hope of ever returning home, she needed to solve the mystery of the traveling town. Since being stranded, or rather gracing the town with her presence as she liked to think of it, she had begun a casual, discreet investigation.

  So far, she’d discovered most of the inhabitants were reluctant to discuss the jumps, which made getting information about as easy as filling out a tax form. She didn’t get the impression they were hiding anything, but rather that the flashes were a sore subject. She was digging through an old wound that had festered.

  But from what she was able to pry out, life had been rough during the first few jumps. Confusion and chaos reigned. People frantically searched for answers, clinging to hope they could return home.

  But no answers came. And the dust settled, flitting through time became their new normal, and hope withered.

  Now, mention of the topic, those first few years, and life before the first flash was salt on an open wound. A bitter twist of the knife of what they’d lost or left behind.

  The bright screen came into focus. The only points she’d written so far were, First jump in 1951. Then, dome of purple lightening. She considered taking the latter descriptor out but figured every bit of information helped. Later, she could collate the data, weeding out irrelevant information.

  After a hearty pep talk, Ella managed to change into her usual t-shirt and jeans, adding a spritz of perfume from the dusty bottle left on the dresser from some previous boarder. The goal was to cover the smell of burgers and fries since she didn’t want to draw water for a bath. The perk of living in an old manor-turned-inn was the lack of modern upgrades, like showers.

  The spritz turned into a cloud which turned into a hazard zone which should’ve involved the CDC and quarantine of her room. Ella hacked until she was sure a kidney would come up. Covering her nose, she threw open the windows and did her best to fan the noxious gas outside.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, causing Fluffy to scamper under the bed. She considered dragging him out, unsure how hazardous the air in her room was, but decided to leave the windows cracked instead.

  Out in the hall, she tested the air, sure she’d burnt several nostril hairs. From deep in the shadows at the end, Flo swore.

  “What died?” The flicker of lights on the crazy woman’s device drew near, and the older woman’s nose nearly lifted her glasses clean off. “My God. Is that coming from you?” She hunched near Ella’s sleeve then sprang back like she’d been shot. “Lord have mercy. What is that? Smells like decaying flesh. Are you dying? If you’re dying, can I have your phone?”

  “It’s perfume.”

  “No it’s not. It’s the burning souls of the dead.”

  “Don’t you have something you should be doing?” Ella’s gaze flitted to the cone-shaped hat of tin atop Flo’s head.

  Turning on her heel, she hiked down the grand staircase, second-guessing her decision to bathe.

  After several minutes of searching empty rooms, she located Jimmy and Rose in the parlor. Jimmy bent over the hearth and prodded tired embers with a poker.

  “Did you add kindling?” Rose had her hands on her hips, hovering over him.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Because it won’t burn if you don’t have kindling.”

  “I know, dear.”

  She started when she heard Ella. “Oh, Ella. I was just about to pull a casserole out. Are you hungry?”

  “Does the Pope pee standing up?”

  A pregnant pause followed.

  “Uh, sorry. Crude joke where I’m from.”

  “How else would he urinate?” Jimmy asked, more curious than sarcastic. “Do the men in the future not stand to use the bathroom?”

  Rose tutted.

  “Actually, there’s this thing you can wear for stadiums and games and such—” Ella caught Rose’s expression. “Know what? Doesn’t matter. Yes, I’m very hungry.”

  Rose looked over the room. “I was thinking we could eat in here, tonight. It’ll be warmer. These old homes…” Her blonde pin curls quivered as she shook her head in disgust.

  The windows along the exterior walls lit up as bright as day, followed a few seconds later by a clap of thunder that pressed against Ella’s chest.

  The lightbulbs flickered, and rain pattered against the windows.

  “Dinner by firelight it is,” Ella said. She offered to help carry dishes and utensils into the parlor.

  As they walked down one of the dimly lit, interior hallways, Rose’s nose perked up in the air. “I think Jimmy forgot to take out the garbage.”

  Ella put space between them. “Huh, I don’t smell anything.”

  “Strange.”

  “Yes, very strange.”

  Back in the parlor, Ella laid the informal dinnerware on a card table Jimmy had brought up from the basement of horrors.

  As they settled into their seats, Ella jostled elbows with Edwin around the cramped space, but she didn’t mind. The old man was sweet and reminded her much of her grandfather.

  Flo joined them, tin foil still wrapped around her beehive like a homing beacon. As the older woman’s bones creaked into a chair, Rose did a double take at the head covering. Ella leaned sideways and made sure to whisper loud enough for Flo to hear.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it’ll attract a bolt of lightning. Could you imagine what that’d do to her hair?” Her hands made explosive motions by her head. “Marge Simpson, anyone? No?” To her credit, Edwin chuckled, but she was pretty sure it was to be polite.

  “At least I don’t smell like the walking dead,” Flo huffed.

  “Good show,” Ella murmured.

  A hallway and room over, the front door opened, and Wink’s voice called out.

  “In here, Wink,” Rose hollered.

  The diner owner walked in bearing two loaves of freshly-baked banana bread under her drenched raincoat.

  She had no sooner set the loaves on the card table than Ella and Edwin were tearing into them.

  “For goodness sakes, you two,” Rose chided, “at least use a knife.” When she turned her back to help Wink out of her jacket, Jimmy joined in the fray.

  Wink sniffed the air. “I think you may have had another raccoon die in your crawlspace again.”

  “Yes. I was just going to ask Jimmy to have a look tomorrow.”

  Ella coughed. Flo stared at her, saying loudly, “Yes, it does smell like death, doesn’t it?”

  Ella scratched her nose slowly and pointedly, making sure to only use her middle finger.

  Wink settled at the table. Folding her hands in prayer, Rose looked around at the several mouths already chewing food. “Grace?”

  “What about her?” Flo poked at a chunk of meat that had fallen out of the casserole. “Is this horse?”

  The innkeeper’s pale cheeks flushed to the color of her lipstick. “Florence Henderson, when have you known us to ever eat horse meat?”

  Ella nearly choked on her bread. “Oh my God! Your name is seriously Florence Henderson? Really? Oh, that is so great.” She wiped the tears already forming at the corners of her eyes.
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  Crazy Flo blinked at her. “I’m not sure why my name’s so funny.” She turned back to Rose. “Well? What is it, then? Squirrel? Oh!” Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling delight. “Is this Chester? Did someone finally put an end to that varmint?”

  While she’d been talking, Ella was quietly humming the theme song to the Brady Bunch, earning several confused glances.

  “What’s your problem with Chester?” Wink leaned in, chin set, ready for a fight.

  “He bit me. And he smells. Not as bad as this one, mind you.” Flo replied jabbed a thumb at Ella.

  Meanwhile, across the table, Jimmy globbed butter onto his bread. “Seems he has some sense in him, after all.” Rose shot him a dark look but followed it with a wink when Flo wasn’t looking.

  Another flash of lighting filled the room with bright light, and a boom of thunder followed on its heels, rattling the windows. The lights flickered then blinked out for good.

  Rose released a lady-like sigh while Flo swore loudly.

  Now their sole source of light was the flickering flames in the fireplace, dancing shadows along the walls.

  “Well, this is cozy,” Ella said. “It’s a good thing the lights went out. They were really throwing off the vibe in here.” She made a noise with her mouth. “Yep. I was just thinking how much I wanted to wander a big house in the dark.”

  “We have candles, dummy.” Flo poked at her food again before testing it with her tongue. She must’ve figured out it was decidedly not squirrel or horse because she devoured it a second later.

  While they ate the remainder of their meal by firelight—and candlelight once Rose returned—they discussed the expansion of the wind farm and the overfishing of the lake.

  When the topic of Twin Hills came up, Wink became conspicuously quiet and stared at the fire. The light deepened the shadows around her eyes, aging her ten years.

  Once plates were cleaned and chairs pushed back, there came a lull in the conversation. Ella seized the moment.

  “I’ve been thinking… since I’m new and all, and still getting the ropes of the town, it might be kinda nice to know the boundary line for Keystone. You know, so I don’t accidentally end up on the other side right before a flash.”