by Lynn Cahoon
“Miss Gardner?” Mayor Baylor stood in front of me. I hadn’t heard him come out of his office. Amy shrugged and started going through the files on her desk. I noticed her screen had gone blank. She must have shut down the monitor when she heard him coming out. I wondered what she had found.
I stood up. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Not at all. Come into my office. I’m sure the last few days have been trying for you, very trying indeed.”
He talked like my grandfather had the few times I had met him. Slow, formal, but rather than Granddad’s deep, rich voice, Mayor Baylor’s voice pitched higher, more feminine. I appreciated his words of comfort, even though I didn’t believe the sincerity behind them.
He put his hand on my back and led the way to his office, a gesture that would have been comforting if his hand wasn’t just a little too low. We passed by Amy’s desk. “Hold my calls, would you, my dear?”
I shot a look at Amy over my shoulder as we walked into the office. She made a gagging motion, shoving her finger down her throat. Okay, the hand on the back definitely felt creepy. I stepped away from the mayor and sat down in one of the leather high backs in front of his desk. He crossed over the Oriental rug and sat down at his large, antique oak desk. No money had been spared decorating this office. This explained the plastic DMV chairs in the waiting room and Amy’s iron circa–World War II desk.
“So, what can I help you with? I assume you’re here to talk about selling Miss Emily’s house?” Mayor Baylor leaned back in his chair, his hands intertwined in front of him and a barely disguised grin on his mouth.
“Selling? You think I’m interested in selling the house?” I was shocked the conversation had jumped here so quickly. Maybe Mayor Bird should stay on my list of suspects, even if he had taken my name off Detective King’s list.
“Why else would you come to see me? I have several investors willing to pay a premium price for the house, even in its current state. I can’t believe she lived there all those years in squalor.”
My face felt hot and my hands sweaty. “The house isn’t in that bad of shape.” Okay, so that was an understatement. The house needed everything, but it wasn’t like she lived in a cardboard box.
Mayor Baylor sighed. “I know you considered the woman your friend, and that’s honorable, especially since she was so difficult to get along with, but we both know that house should be torn down and someone should just start over.”
“Mayor Baylor, I don’t know what I’m going to do with the house yet.” This interview wasn’t going the way I had planned. “Now, if we could talk about something else?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. Are there issues with your shop? I’m sure we can work something out. Maybe we could do a flyer for you in the next Examiner? We focus on one struggling store a month and give it some free publicity. Amy can give you the application.” He leaned over his computer, clearly moving on to another part of his day, a part done with me.
“No, there’s not a problem with my shop.” He told me what to do, he insulted Miss Emily, and now he was calling my shop unprofitable? What a jerk.
He stopped going through his e-mail and glared at me. “Then why are you here, Miss Gardner?”
I’m here to see if you have the balls to smother someone in their sleep.
I took a deep breath. “I wanted to know why you told Detective King I wasn’t to be considered a suspect in Miss Emily’s death.”
Mayor Baylor sat back in his chair, his potbelly bursting at the buttons of his white button-down shirt. He looked at me, probably for the first time since I had walked into his office. “I told the officer not everything or everyone needed to be examined and suspected. Until yesterday, this was just a woman dying in her sleep. And you were the poor soul who found her.” He fiddled with his pen. “Now that you have been revealed as Miss Emily’s heir, it does tend to put a different slant on the picture.”
“I didn’t kill Miss Emily.” I stood to go. This meeting had been a colossal waste of time.
“I’m sure you didn’t, Miss Gardner. Just as I’m sure you will be seeing your way to selling that house as soon as possible.” He spit out the word house as if it were a cuss word. “I understand you are an intelligent woman.”
“What does that have to do with me selling the house?”
“I just feel it would be in your best interest. Now, if there’s nothing else?”
I turned to leave, clearly dismissed.
“You should expect a visit from Mr. Ammond in the next few days. Don’t worry, Jill, he’ll give you a good profit on your investment.”
Red, all I saw filtered through red. I should have just kept walking. I turned at the door. “My friendship with Miss Emily wasn’t an investment. If I find out you had any part in her death, I swear …”
“You swear what? Remember, my office has a twenty-four-hour voice tape-recording your threat for future prosecution.” Smugly, the rat called our Honorable Mayor went back to reading his e-mail. “Good-bye, Miss Gardner. You may want to expect a visit from Detective King, if you turn down Mr. Ammond’s offer, that is.”
I slammed the door as I left. Amy jumped at her desk. “Jill, are you all right?”
“He is the worst person I’ve ever met! And he’s a crappy mayor.” I said the last part directly to the door, hoping his taping system would pick that up for everyone to hear.
“Amen, sister!” A voice came from the back row of blue chairs. “I’ve been saying the same thing about Mayor Bird for years.”
I traced the voice to Esmeralda. The Gypsy woman sat with a pure black shorthair cat on her lap.
She walked up to me, the cat lounging in her arms. Her green eyes glimmered underneath the long, curly black hair bursting out from the patterned scarf she had tied around her head. Her black boots somehow worked with the layers of skirts and patterns swirling around her legs while she walked. She reached out, touching my shoulder.
“Death surrounds you. You’ve lost one and will soon lose another.”
Chapter 4
Esmeralda’s black cat hissed at me, reaching out a paw to warn me away. For the second time this week, someone’s pet had taken an instant dislike to me. Miss Emily’s wish for me to get a dog appeared more unlikely by the minute. At least a dog that liked me.
“Sorry, I’m not popular with animals lately.” I slowed my breathing to calm down after my blowup at the mayor.
Esmeralda smoothed her hand across the cat’s back, comforting her. “Your aura is disturbing the animals. Your emotions are mixed up. They can feel your distress.”
Her explanation made sense in a weird, Gypsy Oprah kind of way. “It’s been a rough week,” I admitted.
“You have death floating around you.” She grabbed my arm, her long, painted nails digging into my flesh. “You have suffered a great loss. Jill, I see that your pain is not over. Someone else close to you will also be lost. Have faith—everything is not how it seems. Be ready. Stand true.”
The air around us felt electric. Esmeralda’s eyes were vacant as she talked. A cloud passed over her face, and she let go of my arm.
“Good to see you, Jill. Come by the house anytime and we’ll do that reading.” She turned and addressed Amy. “The mayor can see me now?”
Amy nodded. Esmeralda opened the door and walked into the mayor’s office. Without another word, she shut the door behind her.
“Do you believe that?” My body involuntarily shook, like a cat coming in from a rainstorm.
Amy stared at me like I was the circus sideshow rather than Esmeralda.
“I don’t think she realized what she was saying. She comes in to do the mayor’s reading every week. I’ve never heard her talk to anyone like that before. She gives me the creeps.” Amy contemplated a file on her desk. “I wonder what she meant about your pain not being over.”
“She’s a fortune-teller, she has to say something.”
“She knew about Miss Emily.”
“She wor
ks for the police department. We talked about Miss Emily’s death. Besides, anyone sitting outside the mayor’s office listening to me would know that.” I pushed the encounter with Esmeralda aside. I had bigger worries. Would the mayor really have me investigated in Miss Emily’s death if I refused to sell the house? And worse, would Greg go along with the plan?
With my favorite dinner sitting in front of me—seafood fettuccini, a basket of garlic bread, and a half-consumed bottle of wine—I should have been in food heaven. But I still heard the Gypsy’s words ringing in my ears. Your pain is not over. What the heck was that supposed to mean? Coming out of my fog, I realized Aunt Jackie had asked me a question.
“What?” I didn’t care if I sounded like a spoiled five-year-old, I felt beat.
My aunt had shown up at five on the dot, and we’d headed directly to Lille’s. While I’d been lost in thought and a few glasses of wine, she’d finished her dinner, a medium-rare steak and loaded baked potato. “I didn’t think you were listening to me. That’s all right, you must be tired. We’ll talk about the shop tomorrow.”
I pushed around the pasta on my plate. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.” Curling up under a big comforter sounded like heaven right now.
She nodded toward my barely touched dinner. “Why don’t you get that to go, and I’ll drop you off at your new house? You shouldn’t drive.”
Great, two nights in a row I was too sloshed to drive. South Cove was too small a town to start falling apart. Next thing I knew, Amy would be scheduling an intervention.
All I had to do was get through this week. And figure out what I was going to do with Miss Emily’s house and money. My house and money, I corrected myself. This felt too weird. I’d thought I’d had problems before. Through my alcohol-induced haze, I knew one thing—I wouldn’t sell the house to the mayor’s developer friend. No matter what price he offered.
I watched Aunt Jackie pay the check and smiled at the hostess, trying to downplay my obviously drunken state. I followed my aunt out to her Escape and waited for her to unlock the doors. Arguing with Aunt Jackie was just a waste of time. She pulled the car out from the curb and onto the main road.
“You can come back for your Jeep tomorrow.” She stared at the road ahead, not turning to look at me. “You did lock your doors, right?”
“Only tourists lock their doors in South Cove.” The words had just left my mouth when lights appeared in our lane, headed right for us. “Look out!”
Shutting my eyes, I prepared for the crash. The Gypsy’s premonition coming true.
No—I don’t want to lose my aunt.
I felt the car jerk to the right and waited for the crash. And waited. And waited some more. I opened my eyes. Aunt Jackie watched me, a slight smile on her face.
“Just some kids, hon. You need some sleep.”
I closed my eyes, leaning back into the leather bucket seat. I was jumping at shadows. “The house is at the end of town, just as you come in on Main Street. You passed it on the way in.”
“The one that looks like it’s falling in on itself?” Jackie could barely hold back the horror from her voice.
“Yep, that’s it. My new home, stuffed to the brim with old newspapers and other clutter I need to kick to the curb.” As soon as I mowed the lawn so I could find the curb.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just stay at the apartment? I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
Now I knew she thought I was crazy. Aunt Jackie never offered to sleep on the couch. “I want to stay at the house. If nothing else, it will keep the local kids from thinking it’s their new party place. Besides, that way when I get up I can get a head start on cleaning.”
As we drove the few blocks down Main Street, I wondered if Miss Emily had any other living relatives besides the weasel-faced George and his pushy wife. I had been so sure she’d mentioned a son. I felt the car slow and realized we were in front of the house.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Aunt Jackie leaned around me to stare at the dark house, looking more and more like a horror movie set than the charming Victorian it could be after remodeling.
I handed her the extra key to the shop and the apartment. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I gave her a quick hug and stepped out of the car. “I’ll meet you at the shop tomorrow at seven to go over everything. One of Lille’s staff will drop off the pastries just before eight. Thanks for coming.”
I hoped she was up to it. I didn’t get a lot of business during the week, mostly townies who liked their coffee dark and simple. The challenge would be this weekend when the tourists poured into South Cove. Maybe by then I’d be a little more organized and able to help out.
“Not a problem, my dear.” She was still looking past me at the house. “Jill, did you leave the front door open?”
I glanced over my shoulder. My breath caught. The door stood wide open. “I guess maybe I did.”
I couldn’t remember. I’d been cleaning out a bedroom on the second floor after I met with the mayor. I’d lost track of time until Aunt Jackie had called, already waiting in front of the shop. I’d produced piles of garbage bags sorted by things to donate, things to show the antique dealer coming next weekend, and things to trash. But when I left the house that evening, I’d gone out the back door to the driveway where I’d left the Jeep. I hadn’t gone through the front all day.
Had it been open since the police visit two days ago? I started walking toward the house.
“Should we call somebody?” Aunt Jackie called out from the safety of her Escape.
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure I just left it open.” I had my cell phone in my hand, ready if I saw anything out of place. I sobered up quickly. First the close call with the head-on collision and now this.
Aunt Jackie’s car stayed running by the side of the curb. I walked to the door, pushing it completely open with my foot. The hand that didn’t carry the cell phone reached to the left to search for the light switch. Grasping, I couldn’t seem to find it, and my eyes searched the blackness for any sign of movement.
Finally, I felt the switch. Light flooded the living room and pooled out on the porch. I scanned the room quickly. Nothing. Nothing out of place, no masked man in black waiting with a knife. Just the circa 1930s furniture and mail from the last two days, dropped on the floor from the mail slot in the door.
I walked back to the porch. “It’s fine,” I yelled to Aunt Jackie, who now stood outside her car, watching me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved and smiled, hoping that would ease her concern enough to actually drive away.
Aunt Jackie shrugged and got back into the car. She pulled away and made a U-turn on Main Street to head to the apartment. I went into the house and closed the door, listening for the dead bolt to click into place, making sure the door locked this time. Then I headed to the back door to do the same.
When I went to bed, I put a chair under my bedroom door. No one was in the house, I had checked each nook and cranny, but still, it didn’t hurt to be a little careful. I lay on the bed, the ceiling fan creaking above me, and listened for other noises that didn’t come until finally, I fell asleep.
The sound of my cell phone woke me the next morning. Sun streamed in the window, the lace curtains floating around in the soft summer breeze. I reached over the side of the bed and dug through my purse. “Yes,” I croaked. My eyelids didn’t want to open.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Did you forget all about me?” Aunt Jackie’s voice sounded all cheer and sunshine.
“What time is it?” I pulled myself up to a sitting position, my eyes crusted over.
“Just about nine. I’ve had several customers already, all curious about where you are and how you are doing.”
“Sorry, I’ll get dressed and walk down,” I said, remembering my Jeep was still at Lille’s.
“No hurry. I just wanted to make sure that the weekly supply order got placed as you are looking pretty low in the stockroom. And your book supplier called. She’
ll be in about one. Do you have a list of what you want? Or can I make my own?”
“There’s a customer wish list on my desk in the back, but we need more stock. I usually let Marcia present her sales pitch and then we go from there. But if you have some ideas?”
“Actually I do. I’ll make up a list. Talking with the customers this morning, I got some great suggestions. I don’t know why you didn’t ask them in the first place. I’ve sold ten books this morning alone.”
Great, now she was making me look bad. I’d be lucky if any of the townies liked me after her visit. “I’ll be right down.”
“Take your time, dear. I haven’t had this much fun in years.” The line went dead.
I found a clean pair of jeans in the tote bag I’d tossed in the corner yesterday and pulled them on. I grabbed a T-shirt and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and throw on a little makeup.
Five minutes later, I was on the road, power-walking to my shop. Thoughts of sipping on a double espresso and eating one of Lille’s cinnamon rolls kept my steps quick. Maybe I’d splurge on a mocha with whipped cream. I wasn’t going to fit into any of my jeans by the time this month ended.
I’d made sure to lock both the front and back doors before I left the house. I checked all the windows to make sure that they were closed and locked, as well. If the door was open when I got back, it wouldn’t be because I forgot to shut it. Then I could call Detective King without feeling like a fool.
I walked in the shop, surprised to see most of the tables and booths filled. The conversation stopped as soon as I walked through the doors. All glances turned to me. Then the murmurs started back up. As I walked to the counter to greet my aunt, several customers stopped me to express their condolences.
“Good morning, Jill. You look rested,” my aunt greeted me when I finally made my way to the coffee counter.
“I can’t believe how busy we are.” I grabbed an apron from the back and started to tie it behind me.
“Now, what are you doing?” Aunt Jackie stared me down.
