Magic & Mystery: A Cozy Mystery Sampler

by Sara Bourgeois

  That was another mystery for another time. I had an heir to find and a fortune to bestow.

  The Ash Road Public Library was like something out of a storybook. The smell of books and leather invited you into the warm and welcoming space. It was the only building I’d seen so far that was bigger than the Magnolia and Willow Inn. Both the exterior and interior had the look and feel of a grand Victorian mansion.

  After inquiring at the check-out desk, I found out that the records and research department was in an auxiliary building behind the main library. The young woman stationed behind the counter pointed me to a back door.

  I went outside and made my way across a stone path to the much more modern-looking research building. It was a bit disappointing that I wouldn’t get to do my research in the gorgeous library, but I promised myself that there’d be plenty of time to explore the treasure of books it held.

  The entrance door to the research building was locked and required a keycard to get in. Since I hadn’t been issued one yet, I pushed the button to buzz whoever was inside. Brody was the contact name I’d been given. That was it. A first name and instructions to meet him at the library at nine in the morning were my only clues as to with whom and under what circumstances I’d be working.

  Generally, jobs came with a great deal more background information. I’d been able to start digging into cases before arriving at my temporary work sites in the past. The entire job of finding an heir to the Francesca Horowitz estate had either been left intentionally vague or the people I was working for had no idea how the process worked.

  Either way, I wasn’t used to going into a case this blind. But I had to meet this Brody character in order to get access to all of the local genealogical records, as well as Ash Roads’ only computer that could access the online databases I needed.

  “I’ll be right out.” A deep, masculine voice came through a speaker somewhere close to the door.

  A few moments later, a tall, tan, and athletic man with sparkling blue eyes opened the door for me. His long, wavy blond hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and when he smiled, a mouthful of bright, white teeth gleamed in the morning sunlight.

  Brody O’Malley looked like a California surf god plopped down in the Midwest. “Good morning, ma’am,” he said and gestured for me to enter. “I’m Brody.”

  “Lara Tyler; a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said and extended my hand to him once we were inside the building.

  He shook it, and I felt something a little like static electricity shoot up my arm and straight to my belly when his palm contacted mine. “Whoa, those aren’t city manners,” he said with a broad smile that lit up his entire face. “And is that a hint of an accent I detect? If your mamma isn’t southern, there’s a southern mama somewhere in your family line,” he said with a laugh.

  “You’re very observant,” I responded but gave him nothing more. Something about Brody made me want to remain mysterious. Men liked the chase. And while my conscious mind wanted nothing to do with good-looking men and romance, my subconscious mind must have decided that it wanted to be pursued.

  The inside of the facility was clean, modern, and sterile. My modest heels clicked against the gray stone tile floor. The walls where institutional white, and bright fluorescent lights hung overhead. The hallways were wide enough not to feel claustrophobic and most of the rooms that lined it had large glass windows that permitted you to see the shelves and large tables inside.

  “This is awfully fancy for a records storage facility,” I observed. “I was also wondering why the archives are kept here at the library instead of in the town hall.”

  “Just about every record in Ash Road, and the county, are considered historically significant . . . or at least possibly historically significant. Slavery, the Civil War, the Underground Railroad, and the families associated with them have records in our town’s archives. We thought it best to keep them somewhere a little more secure than the old town hall’s damp basement. So, a few years ago, the local government got a grant from the state to build this place,” he said and showed me into an office with a desk, table, and a large printer and scanner machine. “This is where I’m supposed to put you. I’ve got a badge for you that will open the doors and most of the records rooms.”

  “Most of them?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Some of the rooms only contain historical archives. You won’t need them, and they are precious. Not very many people get access to those rooms. Besides, they are in the basement in moisture- and oxygen-controlled environments. It’s a pain in the butt to go in and out because it’d be dangerous if you managed to get yourself locked in there.” Brody’s voice trembled a bit when he said this and it appeared to be because he’d become very nervous. There was a bead of sweat about to break free from his temple and run down his cheek, and I could see his hand tremor slightly.

  It struck me as odd that he’d suddenly turned skittish when I’d asked him about the rooms I didn’t have access to while I worked. I knew that most small towns had their secrets but what would any of that have to do with Mrs. Horowitz’s estate?

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked innocently.

  “No. Why?” Brody barely hid his stammer.

  “You seem nervous. I was just wondering why?” The thought briefly crossed my mind that perhaps he found me as attractive as I found him, and his nervousness was nothing more than the jitters you get from being around someone you like. Those thoughts were immediately replaced with a big yeah right. Men as good-looking as Brody did not go for women like me. Oh, how I wished I could believe it was attraction and not that he had something to hide. Brody O’Malley was trouble. I could almost taste it.

  “It’s just been a long day,” he said. “I need some coffee.”

  “A long day? It’s like ten after nine,” I said and looked at the clock on the wall.

  “Are you always this inquisitive?” he asked. “Right. That’s your job.” Another anxious laugh escaped him.

  “You have no idea,” I said and winked at him.

  What the heck was wrong with me? I believed this guy—even if he was a cool drink of water on a hot day—was up to something. And there I was doing my weird flirting thing. I had to get ahold of myself. Why did I have to be so awkward?

  Chapter Two

  Lara

  Six hours later, I was ready to go find the nearest bus out of Ash Road. Breakfast at the inn had been excellent. The churro French toast and chicken sausages had held me until thirty minutes before my fantasies about running away from this job had started.

  I grumbled at the stack of papers and folders in front of me, and seconds later, my stomach growled. Loudly. It was too soon to go home for the day but I’d also started to get woozy. Instead of toughing it out, I decided to ask Brody if there was somewhere I could grab a quick bite to eat.

  I also needed to find out if there was any kind of break room with a refrigerator where I could put a lunch. My room at the bed-and-breakfast had a kitchenette so I could brown bag it for as long as I was in Ash Road. It wasn’t like working in the city where there were a million places to eat within walking distance of wherever I worked.

  I pushed my chair away from the desk and stood up. Once I was out in the hallway, I could see that Brody’s office door was closed. However, thanks to the pervasive quiet in the building, I could hear him moving around in there. I figured that if I made him go to lunch with me, I could find a place to eat and ask him a few questions about the files he’d given me to work with.

  Pieces of the puzzle were obviously missing and I didn’t believe for one second that they didn’t exist. Someone was trying to hide something from me, and I was going to figure it out.

  “Come in,” Brody called through the door seconds after I knocked. “Do you need some help,” Brody asked genuinely and enthusiastically, but there was still an edge of anxiety to his voice.

  He knew that I knew that he was hiding something, and that bothered me to
no end. But at that point, what could I do? I had two choices:

  Say fluff off to this case and beat feet out of town.

  Get something to eat and solve a mystery.

  “I’m hungry, and I have no idea where I can grab a quick bite to eat around here other than the ice cream place,” I said and plopped down in the chair in front of Brody’s desk.

  It bothered me that I was so suspicious of him, and yet so entirely comfortable at the same moment. I could literally feel my insides twisting up over what I’d started calling the Brody situation in my head. Or maybe that was just my hunger.

  “As you’ve probably guessed, there aren’t many options around here. We’ve got a diner that’s open and serves all-day breakfast. There’s a Taco Trio twenty minutes away in Spark’s Hollow. Ash Road has one fancy restaurant, Jeremiah’s Table, but it doesn’t open until dinner time. Or, we could walk over to my place and I could whip us up some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches real quick,” he said with a smile.

  “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” I asked instinctively when he suggested we go to his house alone.

  “Well, even if I was, you’d be a terrible victim,” he said with a wink.

  “Why’s that?” I asked, with genuine dismay that was really quite silly upon reflection.

  “Because everyone knows that I’m the last person to spend time alone with you. I’d be caught immediately.”

  “What kind of cheese do you use for your grilled cheese sandwiches?” I asked skeptically.

  “Two kinds, ma’am. I make them with a combination of Vermont white cheddar and muenster to balance out the flavor.”

  “Sold,” I said and stood up. “It’s rare to find a man who knows how to make a real grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “Don’t get too impressed yet,” he said with a chuckle. “The soup is from a can.”

  Brody’s house was not what I was expecting when he’d called it “my place.” That terminology had brought to mind a messy, half-grungy bachelor pad with a closet-like kitchen and a thirty-year-old hand-me-down dining room table.

  I should have known better because there weren’t any apartment buildings in Ash Road. But you’d expect a young, unattached male to have possibly lived in a small bungalow or something a lot less of a mansion than Brody’s actual house. That’s when it hit me that perhaps he wasn’t unattached. There was no ring on his finger, but maybe it was being sized or something. In my line of work, I should’ve known better than to make assumptions about someone’s familial relations.

  “Is your wife going to mind you bringing me here for lunch?” I asked as I looked up at a house that was big enough for three families.

  “No wife. Or kids. If you’re wondering about that. I’ve never been married.” We walked up the front steps onto the wraparound porch, and Brody opened the unlocked front door and held it for me. “The house seems like a bit much for a single guy. I know.”

  I sat at the island in Brody’s gourmet kitchen and watched him make our lunch. The grilled cheese came out perfectly toasted on both sides, and the cheese was just starting to ooze. My job was to open the can of soup and pour it into a saucepan. Brody took care of giving it the occasional stir between flipping the sandwiches.

  He’d said it was canned soup, but what he hadn’t mentioned was that it was some fancy organic brand with a celebrity chef on the label. I’d seen it in the store before and the stuff costs four times as much as the regular soup in red and white cans.

  “I guess being an archivist pays better than I’d thought.” I teased as I looked around at the professional-grade appliances and handlaid tile floors.

  “That’s pretty rude, Ms. Tyler,” Brody said, but he stuck his tongue out at me and went back to putting our sandwiches on plates and soup in bowls.

  “Sorry. I spend most of my time researching people’s lives and very little time talking to actual people,” I said and hoped that he hadn’t noticed my blush.

  “At least you get to travel around and be alone. I spend my days locked up in that building, and it’s just me, myself, and I. Sometimes I find myself talking to my plant,” Brody said and put my sandwich and bowl of soup down in front of me. “Now eat up because we’ve got to get back to work.”

  “A lot of good that’s going to do,” I grumbled, but at least the food looked and smelled delicious.

  “Uh, I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time on your first day,” Brody said and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

  “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not like it’s your fault,” I responded, but in truth, it was exactly his fault. Either he’d done a terrible job keeping his records safe and accessible, or there was something more sinister afoot.

  I studied the look in Brody’s eyes as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt. One advantage of being a terrible conversationalist was that I got to spend most of my time interacting with other people watching their behavior.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, and it sounded noncommittal to me. “Should we eat?”

  “Yes, thank you so much,” I said and took a bite of my sandwich. Admittedly, it was the most delicious grilled cheese I’d ever had.

  We ate our lunch quickly and relatively quietly. I still had work to do, and Brody and I needed to get back to the research building soon.

  Once I got back to my office, I tried to sort through the files I had. I put sticky notes on the ones I believed were missing records, and set them off to the side. By the time I was done, I realized that nothing I’d been given to work with was complete. I couldn’t figure out how that was possible. I’d never worked a single case where there were zero full archives.

  It couldn’t have been possible that Brody was completely incompetent. At least I didn’t want to believe that someone who worked as an archivist could mishandle records that badly. So I decided to do my own search. I’d look through the places that Brody had pulled the files from for me and see what I could find.

  He was in his office so I crept out of mine and closed the door behind me as softly as I could. I wanted a chance to nose around without anyone looking over my shoulder. I walked down the hallway to one of the rooms that said “Public Records” on the door. Unfortunately, when I swiped my badge across the sensor, the light turned red. I tried again and still no luck.

  My badge wouldn’t grant me access to the room, but there was no indication that it was a protected historical room. In fact, Brody had said that the archives I couldn’t access were in the basement.

  “Can I help you find something,” Brody asked from his office doorway. He was smiling, but I could see him fidgeting with his sleeves again.

  “I’m just hoping to track down some more of the documents I’m missing. I thought I’d have a look around,” I said and walked down the hall to meet him.

  “There’s nothing that can help you in there,” he said and exited his office while closing the door behind himself.

  “It says public records, and I’m definitely missing some public records.”

  “That room used to house those, but now we’re using it for overflow of historical stuff. That’s why your badge doesn’t work,” he said.

  “Well, I need to locate what I’m missing or I can’t help you,” I said plainly. “Are you sure there is nothing kept at the town hall?”

  “You know, there could be. Why don’t we go there tomorrow? It’s quitting time for today,” Brody said and started for the exit before I could respond.

  “Wait, you don’t know if there are more archives at the town hall? You’re Ash Roads’ only archivist.” This case had continued to get weirder.

  “There could be some things with the court records. I don’t know. Frankie’s life wasn’t my main job responsibility. But we could always look for court docket entries. If someone had messed with her records, they couldn’t touch those, right?”

  “I never said her records had been tampered with,” I responded and found myself tapping my foot im
patiently. I needed some air and space to marinate in all of this conflict. I also needed backup.

  “I know you didn’t say it but I can see the way you’re looking at me. It’s what you’re driving at. You think I did something to them or you think I’m completely incompetent.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” That was exactly what I was saying.

  “Look, you’ve had a rough start. Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow?”

  “Okay,” I said and sighed.

  “Good evening, Lara.”

  “Good night, Brody,” I said. “Oh wait. Is there a grocery store around here?”

  There was only one grocery store in Ash Road; it wasn’t a big chain place. Bob’s Grocery and Sundry looked like something out of a movie about small towns. Just like almost every other place of business in town, Bob’s was within walking distance of the inn. The shelves were stocked with essentials in brands that I recognized, but unlike in the city, you were in no danger of paralysis by analysis.

  When I went to pick out bread, there was white and wheat in two brands. As I reached for the loaf of wheat, I noticed a sign announcing that there were local goods in the back of the store. I left the plastic bag of commercial wheat bread behind and made my way to the rear of the store to see if there was anything from a local bakery.

  Sure enough, I hit the jackpot. I found bread baked by a woman in town. There wasn’t an official bakery name attached so I imagined that she cooked it in her home. There were also jars of fresh ground almond butter in a cooler next to the bread, and I found jars of homemade jam. I knew those items would make tasty sandwiches, but I also wanted something savory.

  Over in the deli section, I grabbed a package of honey ham and another of roast turkey lunch meat. Gouda and Swiss cheese slices went into my basket as well. The only other things I needed were potato chips, mustard, and a bag of apples.