Little Shop of Homicide: A Devereaux’s Dime Store Mystery

by Denise Swanson

  Gran didn’t look convinced. Then again, neither was I.

  CHAPTER 4

  It had been an awful night, and so far the morning wasn’t shaping up to be much better. I had slept through my alarm, spilled coffee down the front of my last clean Devereaux’s Dime Store sweatshirt, and slipped on the ice running to my car. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I couldn’t afford to lose the income, I would have played hooky and gone back to bed. That was the problem with being the boss—no sick days.

  Regardless of how bad a mood I might be in, the minute I walked into my shop, its old-fashioned charm immediately enveloped my senses and made me smile. I had always loved this store. When I was a kid, my mom brought me to the soda fountain for peppermint stick ice cream after getting a shot at the doctor’s, Dad took me to the candy counter every Sunday for Bonomo Turkish Taffy, and Gran let me tag along whenever she went to buy a bottle of Evening in Paris—her favorite perfume.

  Which is why when I heard that the Thornbee sisters, age ninety-one, were selling the five-and-dime, I immediately put in an offer. The twins’ grandfather had built the shop when Shadow Bend was no more than a stagecoach stop, and the thought of the business being turned into a Rite Aid or a CVS had galvanized me into action.

  While I stood thinking about the store, Hannah Freeman arrived. A senior at the local high school, Hannah worked for me three mornings a week as part of her vocational ed program. Once she and I turned on all the lights, the place began to fill with the first customers of the day.

  Their excited voices created a cheerful hubbub that wasn’t muted by any newfangled acoustical tile or cork matting. Instead, the sound of people socializing with their neighbors echoed off the old tin ceiling and hardwood floors. Although I had doubled the interior space, installed Wi-Fi, and added the basket business, I had tried to keep the character of the original variety store intact.

  Tuesdays, the Quilting Queens and the Scrapbooking Scalawags met here. I gladly provided them with worktables—square footage was cheap in Shadow Bend—and gratefully reaped the benefit of their purchases. Not only did they buy the materials for their projects from me, but they also bought refreshments and any other odds and ends that caught their eye.

  I greeted the members of both groups, then walked through the aisles checking that the wooden shelves were fully stocked and that the other customers had everything they needed. After making the rounds, I took over behind the old brass cash register, allowing Hannah to handle the soda fountain and candy case.

  It both surprised and delighted me that no one mentioned Joelle’s murder or my visit from the Kansas City detective. Chief Kincaid had assured me that Woods and his partner had talked only to Gran, the country clubbers, and me, and if that was truly the case, there was a chance—albeit a slim one—that I could keep my involvement quiet.

  After all, Joelle wasn’t a native, and she had spent much of her time with the new people, those who had moved to our little community from the city and kept their distance from the locals. So, possibly, since Joelle was an outsider, and the born-and-bred Shadow Benders didn’t mix much with the commuters, my involvement could fly under the town’s radar.

  As I offered up a prayer that I would avoid becoming grist for the rumor mill, I could only hope that the fact I hadn’t attended church in twelve years didn’t mean God had stopped listening to me.

  What with the brisk morning business and the lack of gossip, I was feeling a lot better by the time Hannah left to attend her afternoon classes. The hours after lunch and before school let out were usually slow. A lot of days I didn’t see a single shopper from one to three. Which was fine with me, because that was when I generally worked on my basket orders. But today, before I got started on Sister Mary Catherine’s Silver Jubilee Extravaganza, I decided to treat myself.

  The evidence of my fluffy figure to the contrary, I usually stuck to a sensible diet—or at least tried to—but the past twenty-four hours had been hell and I needed the comfort of something decadent. Furthermore, I knew exactly what I wanted—a double-thick dark chocolate milk shake with extra whipped cream and two cherries on top.

  Anticipating the first sweet swallow, I searched for a straw. Where had Hannah hidden them? The teenager was a good worker, but her idea of logical storage and mine didn’t always mesh. Finally I gave up, grabbed the glass, and took a huge gulp.

  As I was relishing the taste of the rich chocolate and the smooth sensation of the silky ice cream sliding down my throat, the sleigh bells above the entrance jingled and an incredibly gorgeous man strode in. He was at least six-four, with the type of powerful, well-muscled body produced by hard work rather than hours in a gym.

  A shiver ran down my spine, and a flash of heat swept through my body. His arresting good looks totally captured my attention. Where had this guy been hiding all my life? Not in Shadow Bend, that was for sure.

  He stopped just inside the door and did a swift recon of the store. Spotting me behind the soda fountain, he took in the huge milk shake I still held and his sapphire blue eyes twinkled. His lips twitched when his gaze reached the whipped-cream mustache above my mouth.

  Great! A hot man finally crosses my path and I look like a greedy six-year-old. I hastily put down the glass, grabbed a napkin, and wiped away the evidence of my immaturity, wishing for the first time in ages that I had bothered to put on makeup, done my hair, and worn something other than an oversized sweatshirt and jeans.

  As he moved toward me, I noticed that his face was lean and chiseled and that his bronzed skin pulled taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones. The strong column of his throat rose from the collar of his shearling jacket, and faded Levi’s molded the muscles of his thighs.

  He was the kind of man who would look good wearing anything or, even better, nothing at all. It was a testament to my sadly lacking love life that I was thinking entirely inappropriate thoughts about a perfect stranger the day after I’d been accused of murder.

  Not wanting to consider what that said about my character, I made an effort to regain my poise and asked, “May I help you?”

  “Are you Devereaux Sinclair?”

  “I am.” I sincerely hoped this would not turn into a déjà vu of yesterday. “And you are… ?”

  He held out a large, calloused hand. “Jake Del Vecchio. Tony is my granduncle.”

  The Del Vecchios had arrived in Shadow Bend around the same time the Sinclairs had. Our properties shared a border, and Tony had purchased all the land we had sold off. Although Tony ran one of the largest and most successful cattle ranches in the state, he was getting up there in years. I’d heard that a relative had come to help him out, but I hadn’t come across the guy until now.

  “Nice to meet you.” I leaned forward to shake Jake’s hand. The touch of his palm against mine sent another shiver through me, and my pulse began to pound. I had to suck in a much-needed breath before I could ask, “How’s your uncle?”

  “Uh.” He swallowed hard. “Fine.”

  We stared at each other, and for a nanosecond, I could actually see the sexual awareness zinging between us. Then a shutter seemed to come down over his eyes, he released my hand, and whatever had been there was gone.

  “I haven’t seen Tony in quite a while.” Tony might be our nearest neighbor, but he had never socialized with us. I had frequently wondered why. “He doesn’t seem to leave the ranch very often.”

  “Yeah.” Jake’s tone indicated he was back in control. “He’s always been like that, even before Aunt Sabina passed away a few years ago. A lot of times when I came to stay with them, we’d only go into town once or twice the whole summer.”

  “Did we ever meet?” I asked, sure that I would have remembered him but thinking it would have been odd if we hadn’t.

  “A few times, when Aunt Sabina took me with her to the grocery store.” Jake grinned. “Guess I didn’t make much of an impression.”

  “Sorry about that.” I shrugged. “You know how it is in a small town. The cl
iques are formed in preschool, and it’s hard for new kids to join in, especially if they’re stuck out in the country.”

  “I never considered myself stuck. I loved working the ranch with Uncle Tony and being fussed over by Aunt Sabina, but I know what you mean.”

  We smiled at each other in mutual understanding until I asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I hear you might be in some hot water.” Jake raised a questioning brow. “Tony asked me to try and help you.”

  “Help me?” Tony wasn’t exactly a regular on the grapevine. How could he have heard about my problem so fast? “With what?” I crossed my fingers, hoping that this was about something other than me being a suspect in Joelle’s death.

  “Your situation.” Jake took a seat on the middle stool across the counter from me and unbuttoned his coat. “Tony said you’re the prime suspect in the murder of a local woman.”

  My heart sank. If that cat was out of the bag, it would claw my reputation to shreds by dark.

  “I take it you’re not guilty?” His tone was quizzical.

  “Of course not,” I responded automatically, then got back to what I considered the most important question. “Who told Tony that I was under investigation?”

  “It’s a long story.” Jake took off his Stetson and ran his fingers through his coal black hair, making me itch to do the same.

  He was the type who made even shy women want to get naked with him—and I had never been accused of being shy. I was completely ambushed by the intense attraction I felt for this guy. No one else had ever made my knees go weak or produced such a kaleidoscope of sensual images flashing through my mind.

  Oops! I must have been silent too long, because now he was looking at me strangely, and I quickly said, “Go on.” What had we been talking about? Oh, yeah, me being a killer. Duh. I couldn’t believe that a guy, even one as attractive as Jake, was distracting me from the fact that a revenge-crazed cop was trying to send me to prison for something I didn’t do.

  “Your grandmother called Tony and told him all about that KC detective who was nosing around yesterday.”

  “Fu— I mean, shoot!” I came out from behind the counter and took the stool next to him. “Why would she do that?” As far as I knew, Gran and Tony had a neighborly but not close relationship. She’d never asked him for help before, so why had she turned to him now?

  “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?” I absentmindedly ate one of the cherries from my shake.

  “Well.” Jake snagged the second cherry and popped it into his mouth. I watched as he chewed and swallowed. “After Tony took your grandmother’s call, he told me that he and Birdie were an item back in the day, which is why he wanted me to help you.”

  “You’re kidding me. What happened between them?” Please, please, please don’t let Tony Del Vecchio be my real grandfather, I begged silently. I so didn’t want to be related to Jake.

  “According to Tony, he and your grandmother dated when they were teenagers, but since he’s a couple years older than Birdie and she wouldn’t marry him until she graduated, after he finished high school he enlisted in the Marines.”

  “What happened?”

  “Near the end of the Korean War, Tony was reported MIA and Birdie married someone else.”

  “Oh.” That explained why Tony and Birdie had kept their distance all these years.

  “Yep.” Jake’s tone was neutral, but I could see the disapproval in his expression.

  “What? You think she should have waited for him even though there was no way to know if he was alive?” I didn’t think either of us should judge Gran without knowing all the facts.

  “She got married three months after hearing that Tony was missing in action.” Jake shrugged. “Seems like she could have hung in there a little longer than that.”

  “Well, since Gran felt she could confide in Tony about my problem, and he asked you to help me, I guess he doesn’t hold a grudge,” I pointed out. “Maybe you should follow his example.”

  “I doubt anyone really gets over being betrayed.” His glare burned through me.

  “Nevertheless, we don’t know the whole story, so there’s no use discussing it.”

  Jake seemed a lot angrier than the situation warranted, and I was trying to figure out why when suddenly his heated expression cleared and he said, “You’re right.”

  “I am?” I gave myself a mental shake. Why was I acting like a ditzy blonde from a bad chick flick? “I mean, of course I am.”

  “The last thing I want to do is fight with you.” He gave me a lazy smile that had no doubt obliterated the defenses of many otherwise sensible women in his past. “Although I bet making up would be fun.”

  “Oh.” That pickup line might have sounded cheesy if another guy had said it, but from Jake, it made my mouth go dry. Forcing myself to focus, I said, “Okay, now I know how Tony found out, but what makes him think you can help me?”

  I was gearing up to be angry with Gran and Tony for assuming I needed a man to save me, but for the first time since entering my store, Jake’s air of utter confidence faltered. He got up, moving stiffly, and I noticed the taut, controlled lines of his face that indicated that he was in some kind of pain.

  Before I could ask him about it, he said, “I’m a deputy U.S. Marshal.”

  “Are you taking a leave to help your uncle on the ranch?” Okay. That explained why Birdie had asked for Tony’s help now but hadn’t when my father was arrested. Considering that Jake would only have been in his late teens, he wouldn’t have been a Marshal back then.

  “No. Eighteen months ago my leg was injured in the line of duty. Now that I’ve finished all the surgeries and physical therapy, I’m on leave until the docs decide whether I’m fit for service.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” The idea of Jake being wounded made me cringe. “How did you get hurt?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” He paced between the soda fountain and the candy case, stopping directly in front of me. “Let’s just say it was my own stupid fault.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t press him. Whatever had happened must have been traumatic both physically and emotionally.

  “One other thing before you accept my help.” He eased back onto the stool next to me. “Being around me might be dangerous.”

  “Why?” Was he talking about the chemistry zipping between us like an exposed electrical wire?

  “A bad guy I helped convict was recently paroled and might be coming after me.”

  “Then what are you doing in Shadow Bend?” The thought of him being hurt or killed tore at my insides. “Shouldn’t you be in witness protection or something?”

  “Marshals don’t go into witness protection; they provide witness protection.” He grinned. “Besides, the scumbag is too stupid to figure out how to find me. He’s probably already in Mexico.”

  “Then he isn’t exactly a Moriarty clone?” I tested Jake’s knowledge of the greatest criminal mastermind ever.

  “No, but I’m a pretty decent Sherlock Holmes, so how about I poke around and see if I can’t find out who killed your ex-boyfriend’s fiancée?”

  “Noah isn’t really my ex-boyfriend.” I truly wished Gran hadn’t included that part in her report to Jake’s uncle. “We dated in high school for a little while—that’s all.” I hoped Gran hadn’t told Tony the whole sordid tale.

  “Sure.” Jake’s expression was hard to read. “I understand he dumped you when your father went to prison.”

  “You know small towns—” I tried for a little damage control. “It’s not what really happened that counts. It’s what makes the best story.”

  “Right.” Jake drummed his fingers on the counter.

  I stared at his left hand, ridiculously pleased to see that there was no wedding ring. Not that the absence of a piece of jewelry proved he was single, but at least there was still the possibility he was unattached.

  “So, how about letting me investigate?” he as
ked.

  My first inclination was to turn him down. I wasn’t used to people wanting to help me, and it felt weird putting my trust in a stranger—even if he was better-looking than most of today’s movie stars. Then again, I wasn’t in a position to refuse any assistance. If I was sent to jail, Gran would have no one.

  “Okay. Here’s what my friends and I have come up with so far.” I filled him in on the information Boone and Poppy had given me, finishing with, “I’ve been thinking. It seems to me Poppy can probably get the most out of the mayor since he’s a letch and she’s gorgeous. My other friend is good with mothers, so he should chat up Mrs. Underwood. That leaves Joelle’s friend Anya Hamilton, and I’m betting she would be putty in your hands.”

  “Are you saying you think I’m attractive?”

  I blushed and quickly retorted, “You’re a male with all your own teeth and hair. I understand that’s enough for the Country Club Cougars.”

  “Ouch.” He touched his chest. “That hurts.”

  “I doubt a big bad U.S. Marshal like you can be wounded by mere words.”

  “That all depends on who says them.” He seemed to be looking inward for a moment, then straightened and got back to business. “This afternoon I’ll do some digging into both the victim’s and the suspects’ backgrounds and speak to this Anya woman. Any idea where I can find her?”

  “Let me make a call.” I found myself studying his profile as I spoke to Poppy. Once I assured her that I’d fill her in later, she told me that Anya would most likely be at the country club, since her group played Bunco there every Tuesday afternoon from two until four.

  After I described Anya and shared her probable location with Jake, he wrinkled his brow and asked, “What on God’s green earth is Bunco?”

  I explained about the dice game.

  “Okay.” He twitched his shoulders. “I’ll aim for the end of their party so I can talk to her alone.”

  “Great.” His massive self-confidence made me feel almost optimistic. “And I’ll give my friends their assignments.”