by Lynn Cahoon
“If you call dealing with battered women and the men who love to hit them a nice gig, then yes.”
Who was this guy? I was getting pretty tired of the questions. Like I’d moved here five years ago as part of my evil plan to kill Miss Emily on Sunday.
“I heard you were an attorney and married to some stockbroker or something.” Detective King glanced up at me.
“Well, the rumor mill got part of it right. I was married to a stockbroker and I was an attorney. I practiced family law, which means I worked more hours than the other associates and made half as much.”
“You didn’t know anyone here when you moved?”
“Only Miss Emily. All it took was talking to her one weekend, and she’d convinced me to pull up stakes and move here. I spent an afternoon with her drinking iced tea when I stayed for a short vacation at Madison’s Bed-and-Breakfast. She got me.” I started to tear up.
He checked his list. “Well, that’s about it. Let’s go back into the office.”
“What did Doc Ames find? How did she die?” My mind wandered back over the scene from Doc Ames’s office. Who were those people? “And what’s happening in the office?”
“I can’t go over the specifics of the investigation with you. As a former attorney, you should know that. We need to go back to the office for the reading of the will.” Detective King peered back at me. “I’ve been told you are going to be very happy.”
Happy? What the heck was he talking about? Miss Emily lived off her small pension check, using coupons to afford her groceries.
“Whatever she left me, I’m sure it will be more sentimental than financial.”
“I guess you could call the inheritance sentimental.”
I followed Detective King back into Doc Ames’s office. Looking around, I spied Amy, who patted the chair next to her when she saw me.
“What did he want?” Amy whispered.
I kept an eye on Detective King to see if he was listening. He headed toward the front, but it seemed like he was going to talk to the tall, skinny guy with Doc Ames. The three of them spoke in low tones and kept glancing over at me. The guy was a royal jerk. “He just wanted to get my story about when I found Miss Emily.”
“Are you a suspect?” Amy grabbed my hand. “That’s just dumb, you loved that old lady.”
“No, for some reason, Mayor Baylor has taken me out of the suspect pool.” I watched Amy for any reaction. “What’s up with that, do you think?”
“How should I know? He’s crazy.” Amy started to dig in her purse for something, avoiding eye contact.
“Amy? Did you ask Mayor Baylor to tell Detective King to keep me out of this?” I pressed my friend, who continued to focus on the bottom of her purse.
“Why would I do that? And more to the point, why would he listen to me? The man hates me.” Amy’s voice sounded muffled from the purse.
I suspected Amy knew more than what she was saying, but if my friend had kept my name out of the investigation, more power to her. I didn’t kill Miss Emily, and it would be pretty hard to find out who did from the inside of South Cove’s makeshift jail. I’d have to think about taking Mayor Baylor’s name off my list, quid pro quo, but not until I talked to him. “Hey, what time does he come into the office tomorrow?”
“Mayor Baylor? Not until nine-thirty, ten. Why?” Amy regarded me from her excursion into her purse. She offered me a peppermint Life Saver from a half-gone roll. My stomach growled. I took the Life Saver.
“I wanted to talk to him about Bambi’s developer boyfriend. Have you found out anything?” I hoped this reading would start soon. I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Maybe Amy would be up to a stop at Tuscany Garden before we left town to head home.
“Not a word. Of course I didn’t see His Honor before I left today, so I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow. You have to open the shop tomorrow, don’t you?”
I thought about my crowded Tuesday. I had to order supplies and new books to get the shop ready for the weekend. How would I run the shop, plan a funeral, and figure out who killed my friend? Maybe I could find an extra eight hours a day by not sleeping.
“Good afternoon. I’m happy you could all join us.” Doc Ames addressed the small crowd of seven in his office. “Jimmy Marcum”—he nodded toward the tall man at the front—“has asked for the will to be read before the funeral as a final request from Miss Emily. Although this is an unusual request, it’s not totally without precedent. Detective King has asked to sit in on the reading. Jimmy?”
The tall man stood by Doc Ames’s desk. “Thanks for allowing us to use your chapel, Fred.” He nodded to Doc Ames. I’d never heard anyone call Doc Ames Fred before. “I guess you know why we are all here.”
Jimmy Marcum pulled out a file from a briefcase sitting on Doc Ames’s desk. He scanned the people gathered. I felt his glance fall on me. “Let’s introduce ourselves. Miss Gardner? Will you start?”
“I’m Jill Gardner. I run Coffee, Books, and More over in South Cove. Miss Emily and I were friends.” I turned toward Amy and sat back in my chair, passing her the invisible introduction torch.
Amy didn’t stand. “I’m Amy Newman, South Cove’s city developer and Jill’s friend.” She turned toward the redheaded woman in the pew across the aisle.
“I’m Sabrina Jones and this is my husband, George.” She pointed to the slender man perched next to her. “He’s Miss Emily’s nephew and only living relative.”
Sabrina glared at me. “I don’t know why we are even having this hearing. We should get all her stuff.”
“As I’ve told you, this isn’t a hearing. It’s the reading of the will, not a court case. These are Miss Emily’s final wishes and the disposition of her estate.” The attorney took back control of the room. “Of course, everyone knows Detective King and Doc Ames. Now, if we are ready?” He glared across the room that had suddenly gone quiet.
I peeked over at the unknown George, Miss Emily’s nephew. I tried to remember if Miss Emily had ever talked about a nephew. Nothing came to mind. Then I realized Jimmy Marcum had already started talking and I was traipsing down memory lane.
“… my last will and testament. To my nephew, George Jones, my only living relative and heir, I leave the family Bible and a photo album with our family history, which is in Mr. Marcum’s care so George and Sabrina don’t have to be burdened with the long twenty-mile drive to South Cove after the reading of the will. Since you were unable to visit me during my lifetime, I’m sure you won’t mind staying the hell out of my house now that I’m gone.”
Jimmy Marcum stopped reading and pulled a large Bible from his briefcase and a blue picture album. He walked over to George and handed him the books. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I wasn’t sure if Jimmy referenced George losing Miss Emily or her earthly treasures.
Sabrina glared at Jimmy Marcum. “Two old books? That’s it? She didn’t have anything else? No money, no stocks? What about the house?” Sabrina’s voice got louder as she listed off the items George wasn’t getting.
Jimmy returned to the front. “Please, let me continue. To my friend, Jill Gardner, first, I leave you my thanks. You befriended a lonely old woman who didn’t have anything better to do than annoy the council with my lawn.”
Amy started laughing. Jimmy stopped talking. Amy pulled out a tissue from her purse. “If I could continue.”
He started again. “You put up with my ramblings, my stories, and my complaints with grace and love. I may not have had a daughter of my blood, but thanks to you, I had a daughter in my old age. I’m sorry I put you through so much bother.”
Amy handed me the tissue as tears started to fall on my cheeks. Miss Emily had been the one who always believed in me.
“For your love, I leave to you my house, the entire contents of the house, my car, and the funds from my bank accounts, life insurance, and stock. My accountant assures me at least in liquid assets I’m rather quite wealthy, and now dear, so are you. My only
request is that you move into the house and live there. Oh, and you need to get a dog. That’s it. Have a good life, my dear. I’ll miss you.”
Jimmy set the will down on the table. “That’s all, folks. Miss Gardner? I’ll make time for you to meet with me and go over the specifics of the bequest next week after the funeral. I understand your store is closed on Mondays? Can you be at my office about one o’clock?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I took the card he offered and put it in my purse. Get a dog. The woman left me her house. And she wanted me to get a dog.
“You okay?” Amy leaned into me and put her arm around my shoulders. “You ready for some pasta?” Amy always knew how to cheer me up. Anyplace that slapped bread down on the table as soon as you walked in classified as my favorite place to eat.
“I’m fine. I’m just wondering what kind of dog I’m supposed to get.”
“Jill, I don’t think it matters. I think she just didn’t want you to be lonely.”
“I’ve always been partial to golden retrievers myself.” Detective King stood by me. “I think my friend has a litter of pups if you’d like to go look at them this weekend?”
I studied the handsome man standing by my side. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you on Saturday, then?”
“It’s a date. I mean, that would be nice.”
Sabrina Jones pushed her way past Greg. “This isn’t over, girlie, not by a long shot.” She grabbed George’s arm and pulled him out the door.
“She’s not happy.” I frowned as I watched the couple leave the chapel.
“That’s an understatement. Make sure you keep your doors locked for the next few days, maybe she’ll cool off.” Greg joined me in staring as the couple left the mortuary.
And maybe she wouldn’t.
I knew I had two more names to add to my list of suspects.
The sun was setting as we drove back to South Cove from Bakerstown’s Italian mecca, Tuscany Garden. I’d ordered their seafood special with a bottle of white wine, of which, looking back, I think Amy had one glass. I polished off the rest. Wine, pasta, bread sticks, soup, the whole experience.
“I’d planned to take off for a couple of days to scout out a new place for the competition next month. But I can put it off until after the funeral if you’d like.” Amy turned down the stereo, watching for my reaction.
“Life goes on. I’m going to be swamped around here. I’ll probably not even notice you’re gone.” I laid my head back on the headrest.
Thank God Amy drove because I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Blame it on the pasta, the stress, or even the warm summer sun coming in through the windshield, but I fell asleep soon after we headed for home. I woke when I realized we weren’t moving anymore.
“Hey, how long have we been here?” I glanced out the passenger window. We were parked on the street outside my shop.
“Just a few minutes. You looked so cute with the drool coming out of your lips I thought I’d look for my camera before I woke you up.”
Amy was evil that way. “You didn’t!” I sat up and wiped my mouth. I’d probably been snoring, too.
She laughed. “I couldn’t find it. And I’m never sure how to use this stupid cell phone camera, so your secret’s safe with me, I guess.” Amy surveyed the storefront. “Have you thought about closing for a week until you get all this stuff for Miss Emily handled?”
“I’m considering calling in the cavalry. My aunt Jackie ran a coffee shop in San Francisco for years. If I can catch her between jetting off to France or Mexico, maybe she’ll come down and run the shop for a couple weeks.” I hadn’t seen Aunt Jackie for over a year, not since my last visit back to San Fran.
“Well, I think you should at least close for tomorrow. People will understand. Most of them will be at Miss Emily’s funeral on Friday.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll pop in and make a sign right now.” Then, I added silently, it’s upstairs and straight to bed. Making the sign tonight gave me freedom to not set my alarm. Maybe I’d sleep past five-thirty. I’d call Aunt Jackie as soon as I woke.
I pulled myself out of Amy’s truck and waved to my friend, who watched me as I unlocked the store door. You’d think we lived in LA, not a small tourist town more likely to be void of foot traffic than not. Especially at nine on a Monday night, a time known by the local business owners as the dead zone.
Not exactly a comforting thought at the moment.
I flipped on the lights and walked back to my office. Scratching out a CLOSED sign, I dug around in my desk to find some tape. I’d gone back and forth about what to put on the sign. Finally, I decided on a sign that said CLOSED FOR THE DAY, SEE YOU WEDNESDAY. I didn’t want to seem drab and dreary, but I also couldn’t be bright and cheery. What would people think?
I taped the sign in the window, double-checked the locks on the door, and turned off the front lights, heading to my upstairs apartment and bed. All I wanted to do was slip off my clothes and slide in between the sheets. Sleep, I could do, no matter what was happening in my life.
The next morning, the sunlight shining through my bedroom window woke me up. I rolled over to check the alarm: seven o’clock. Amazing. I jumped out of bed and started the coffeepot. Heading to the shower, I made a mental list of what I needed to get done today. First and most important on the list was a call to Aunt Jackie to see if I could con her into coming down to handle the store for a few weeks. As the water ran over my body, I played out the conversation in my mind. I knew it was a big favor to ask. Aunt Jackie had worked hard for years to deserve her happy-go-lucky traveling retirement. But maybe she’d at least hear me out.
After getting dressed and fortifying myself with a cup of coffee, black, I pulled out my address book and made the call.
“Hey, Aunt Jackie, it’s me, Jill.”
“Jill, I haven’t heard from you in forever! Did you lose my number?”
Great, guilt with my coffee, and now I was asking for a favor?
“I’m sorry about that. The shop keeps me pretty busy.” I hoped that would satisfy her. “In fact, I’m calling about the shop. I’ve had a problem come up, and I wondered if you could help?”
“Sure, let me grab my coffee and sit down, and then you can tell me what’s going on. I’m positive I’ve probably dealt with something like it over my years.”
I could hear Aunt Jackie’s slippers slapping the kitchen floor as she went over to pour more coffee. I knew from experience, she wouldn’t hear anything I said until she got herself settled and ready to talk. So I waited. Examining my to-do list for the day, I crossed off Call Aunt Jackie. I just hoped the call would be all I needed to convince her to come.
“Okay, I’m back, Jilly. What’s going on? Problems with a supplier? I told you not to put all your eggs in one basket. You need to have options.”
“No, it’s not a problem with a supplier. In fact, the shop’s doing great.”
“Then what do you need from me?”
I took a deep breath. “Aunt Jackie, I’ve had a friend die. She didn’t have anyone, so I’m responsible for getting her affairs in order. I just can’t do all that and keep the shop going. Is there any way—” I didn’t get to finish the sentence.
“You want me to come down and run the shop?”
“Basically, yes. I mean, I’ll be in town to help out if you need me, but there are just so many things I need to do.” Who knew planning a funeral would be so time-consuming? Especially when you added in the looking-for-a-murderer part.
The line went dead. Oh God, she’d hung up on me. “Aunt Jackie?”
“Hold on, dear, I’m looking at my calendar. I had a cruise scheduled next month to the Galapagos Islands to see that Lonely George turtle. I hear he’s not as lonely anymore.” She giggled. “But I’m free for a few weeks. I guess it wouldn’t hurt me to spend some time with my favorite niece.”
I was her only niece. “So you’ll come?”
“I’ll drive down this afternoon. We ca
n eat dinner together. I should be there no later than five, depending on traffic.”
“Great. I appreciate this.” I wrote down Dinner at Lille’s on my list.
“Do I need to book a room at that lovely B-and-B down the road?”
I hadn’t thought about where she’d stay, but then I had an idea. If Miss Emily’s house was now mine, it would be more convenient for me to stay there while I pulled everything together. “Nope, don’t book anything. You’ll stay in my apartment.”
“But dear, you only have one bedroom and I’m not a couch sort of girl.”
Boy, was that ever true. “You’ll have the place to yourself. I have other plans.”
“You aren’t taking off with some loser and leaving me stuck with the shop, are you?” The words sounded light, almost casual. But the meaning was clear. My aunt considered me a flake.
Ouch, that hurt. “No, I’m not taking off. I’ll explain it all when you get here.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you this evening.”
“Drive safe. And thank you.”
“No problem, dear. What is family for?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I made another call. In a few minutes, I had the first appointment on the mayor’s schedule for the day. Ten o’clock. I headed to the bedroom to pack a bag for my move into Miss Emily’s house.
I sat in a turquoise-blue plastic chair, right in the middle of the row of blue plastic chairs I’m pretty sure came from a rummage sale from the California DMV. Think 1960s-era molded backs with most of the lip at the top broken off. Surely the town could afford something a little more upscale, like the folding chairs they sell at Costco, ten for fifty dollars?
Amy pecked at her keyboard, searching for any trace of the lawyer whose letter we’d found in Miss Emily’s desk. My travel bag sat in my Jeep, and I was heading directly to Miss Emily’s house after hearing what Mayor Bird had on his mind.
I’d called Jimmy Marcum’s office and made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon rather than wait until Monday. I figured I had time to get Aunt Jackie settled in the store before I took off for Bakerstown. My mind was running in a thousand directions when I heard my name.
