by Lynn Cahoon
“Hey, hon, it’s Aunt Jackie. I’m at the store and realized that you could open up a huge section of additional seating if you just took out the bookcases.”
What? She wanted to redecorate the store?
“Well, the point of the bookcases is to give it a library feel, you know, where people can come and drink coffee, read, and buy books?” I didn’t understand why I had to explain my concept to my aunt. Wasn’t she supposed to be working for me?
“And you should take advantage of the sidewalk area and set up some tables and umbrellas. You’d get a lot more walk-by traffic that way.”
Great idea. I’d already filed my zoning permit with the city last month to allow me to open the outdoor café area.
“Aunt Jackie, I’m already working on that. But thanks.” The background sounded quiet. “So, the store sounds quiet. Fewer customers today?”
“Actually, no, there are a ton of customers, but I’m upstairs in the apartment working on the books.”
Panic hit me. “Who’s in the shop?”
“I hired a nice young man who came in yesterday looking for a part-time job. I think he said his name was Toby.”
“You think? You didn’t get an application or look at his criminal history? Or anything?”
“Relax. He’s one of South Cove’s finest, a part-time police officer. He’s just looking for a little extra money.”
To be honest, so was I. How would I pay for another part-time employee? “I’m not sure I have money in the budget for staffing.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m going over the books right now. I think if we stop running the bookstore section, which is losing money, by the way, and just focus on the coffee and pastries, we’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be fine?” The agitation made my voice tight, and I could feel my throat straining when I talked.
“You did call me up here for help, now, didn’t you?” I heard the frustration in my aunt’s voice.
“Help, yes. Take over, no.” Yelling at my aunt wasn’t solving anything. I took a deep breath. “Listen, could we talk about this later? Just don’t hire anyone else or start tearing up the shop until we do, okay?”
“Sure.” The line went dead.
I stared at the phone. My life was falling apart around me. My friend had been murdered. I had to get the house cleaned. I’d scheduled an antiques dealer to come by Saturday to look over Miss Emily’s things. And my aunt had already started messing with my shop. Last week I read a mystery. Today I lived one.
Flipping open the to-do list lying on the kitchen table, I knew where to start. Back to basics. Step one, when you are totally overwhelmed, eat the elephant in small chunks. I pulled out the phone book and called a landscaping service. For an outrageous fee, they were willing to come to South Cove and clean up the yard. They would even give me a price on a weekly service and a recommended services list. And they could come on Friday. I gave them my credit card number to pay for the first visit and scratched mow lawn off my list. I felt better already.
Chimes that sounded like an old grandfather clock rang through the house. I had never heard the doorbell before. I walked to the front door, still listening to the lovely tune. When I opened the door, a blond Greek god dressed in Dockers and a white polo shirt stood on my porch.
“Jill Gardner?”
“Yes.” Hello, papa. The man was divine. My day was starting to look up.
He handed me an envelope. “You’ve been served.”
He turned and stepped through the grass with the grace of a gazelle in a minefield. I hoped he’d trip and fall. Maybe even rip a hole in those pressed Dockers or at least get a grass stain. But no, he maneuvered out of the front yard without incident and back into his shiny red Prius.
“Never trust a man who drives a Prius,” I said to the empty porch.
I sat down in one of the white rockers and opened the letter from a law office in San Francisco, the same one that was on the letter Amy and I had found in Miss Emily’s files. Scanning the legal document, I found as the proud owner of Miss Emily’s house, the city had sent me the correct-or-condemn letter. I had a list of offenses that the house had committed, including the yard maintenance, the fence, the peeling paint, the garage door that barely closed and had several sections missing, and lack of historically appropriate landscaping. I could feel my savings account dwindling just by reading the letter. I had thirty days to make the repairs. Or else.
I took the papers back into the house and called Amy again. She should be back in town by now. No answer on her cell. So I called her office number. “City of South Cove, Bambi speaking. How may I help you?”
“Bambi? What are you doing at Amy’s number?”
“I’m filling in for her. Isn’t it exciting? She’s gone for a few days, and Precious and I get to answer the phones.” Bambi stopped talking for a minute. “Hey, how did you know my name?”
“You said your name when you answered the phone. And this is Jill, Jill Gardner from Coffee, Books, and More, the coffee shop?”
“Jill, so nice to hear from you.” Her greeting turned into honey like we were long-lost friends. “I adore your aunt, by the way. She’s so funny.”
Yeah, in a soul-crushing, sarcastic kind of way. I decided to leave that statement alone.
“Do you know where Amy went?”
“No, Mayor Baylor just called my hotel this morning and asked if I could answer the phones for a couple days. I told him I could, but I’d have to bring Precious. And he agreed! He’s such a nice man.”
“A prince.” I didn’t like this one bit. “I’ll talk to you later, Bambi.”
“Okay. And thanks for calling the City of South Cove. Pretty good, huh?”
“You have a knack for this type of work.” I hung up the phone. Worried didn’t even describe my level of concern. I added Talk to Amy to my list, along with Call painters for an estimate, Call a construction company about replacing the garage door, and Find someone to fix the fence. I needed a new fence anyway, no matter if the council ordered me to get one or not.
Three calls later, I’d lined up appointments that afternoon to get estimates. I needed to hustle to get everything done in thirty days. Besides, the sooner I finished here, the sooner I could get my aunt out of my shop and me back in.
Making myself a tuna sandwich for lunch, I realized I’d used the last can of tuna in the cabinet. In fact, the tuna was the last can of anything in the pantry. Grocery shopping went on the list. As I ate, I separated out china to keep from pieces for the antiques dealer. Who needed five sets of china? I saved back a set with a rose pattern, exactly like I’d wanted to have when I got married but the ex-husband had wanted silver border plates. He had won the argument and kept the plates in the divorce.
I heard a rap on the back door. I couldn’t believe how busy this place was today. I’d never get anything done.
I pulled open the door. “What?” came out of my mouth just a little too harshly. Especially when I saw Greg, Detective King, standing on my small porch.
He stepped back a half step, probably expecting my head to turn all the way around and vomit to start projecting. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”
“Come on in. Did you come to set up a time to go look at your friend’s puppies on Saturday? You could have called, you know.” I turned my back and led him into the kitchen and to the table. “Can I get you some coffee? Or I have soda.”
I turned around. Detective King still stood on the porch. I walked back, fear in my heart.
“What is it? Am I a suspect again?” I was tired of the legal system. I just wanted to find Miss Emily’s murderer and get it all behind me. My back hurt, my feet were on fire, and my day had been filled with unpleasant surprises, including a mouse in the pantry. I might as well hear the bad news now.
“When was the last time you saw Amy Newman?”
Chapter 6
“I talked to her on the phone yesterday at noon. Why?” A chill covered my body, and my legs felt l
ike rubber, so I reached back to find a chair.
Detective King came into the kitchen and shut the back door. He walked over, grabbed a water glass off the counter, and filled it with tap water from the sink. Kneeling before me, he forced the glass into my hand.
I couldn’t breathe. Buzzing filled my ears. Nothing made any sense. Amy missing? I thought back on our last conversation and her hiding under her desk. I took a large gulp of the water, letting it cool my throat, trying to slow down my breathing. “The mayor?”
Greg sat down next to me, not understanding my meaning. “The mayor called in the missing person’s report this morning when she didn’t come in to work. She’d left a note yesterday on her desk saying something had come up and didn’t come back from lunch.”
Greg put his hand on mine. A warmth flowed up my arm, comforting. “Jill, I’m sure she’s just gone off for an early weekend. I didn’t come over here to worry you. I just wanted to find out if you knew anything before I called out the troops to find her.”
“You can do that?” I glanced up eagerly.
“It was a joke. Maybe not a very funny one, but just a joke.” He sat down next to me. “So what did you talk about yesterday? Did she say she was going anywhere?”
“Besides down to Lille’s for a plate of fish and chips? She said she was going back to work after lunch. Then out of town for a short trip. But she was supposed to be back today.” Should I mention that she was hiding under the desk during our conversation? Maybe not. “Did the mayor mention that he had a meeting yesterday with a council member and an out-of-town attorney? Probably the same attorney who served me with a clean-or-leave summons this morning?”
My voice echoed in the kitchen. I was mad.
“I didn’t ask him about his meetings yesterday. Should I have? I’d heard that the city is suing you to clean up this place.” His glance fell on my to-do list. Frowning, he picked up the notebook, glancing down at what must have been the possible suspect list.
“I’ve been trying to make sense of it all,” I stammered.
His hand lifted off mine. No more comforting the worried friend, Greg was gone and now Detective King appeared in full force. “Don’t tell me that you are trying to investigate Miss Emily’s murder all by yourself?”
“No.” My almost-whispered lie didn’t even convince me. Greg gave me a hard look, then seemed to relax a tad.
“Good. I’d hate to think you were that stupid. Or have to arrest you for obstructing justice.” He pushed the notebook across the table and stood. “Are you sure you don’t have any idea where your friend would go?”
“No, I don’t know where Amy would go. Maybe she got stuck in traffic.”
“We don’t know anything yet.” He walked over to the door. “I’ll let you know if we find out anything. You’ll call if you hear from her?” It was less a question than an order.
“Yes, I’ll call. Thanks for coming by.” I wanted him out of my house. Miss Emily’s house. Whatever. I needed to have time to think. And his being here kept me from thinking about anything but the way his hair curled over his ears.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.”
Shocked, I asked, “You’re going?”
“Part of the job. I liked the old gal. And I want to be close in case something happens.”
I could only imagine he thought he’d be needed to referee between me and the Joneses. The funeral. Amy wouldn’t have left me alone to face the funeral. Something must have happened. After I said my good-byes to Detective King, I glanced back down to the list of all the things that just didn’t add up since Miss Emily died. The list that just kept getting longer rather than shorter.
The first of the contractors to show up was the fence company. The green minivan had a metallic sign proclaiming The Good Fence Company. Like anyone would name their company The Shoddy Work and Don’t Give a Shit Fence Company. I went out to meet the guy who stood on the sidewalk, his clipboard in hand surveying the combo barbed-wire/wood-slat fence that currently ran around a third of the property. Dollar signs gleamed in his eyes.
“Hi, I’m Jill Gardner. Are you Kevin?”
“Yes, madam. You have quite an eyesore here.” He nodded to the fence. “I’m sure we can get you set up with something that is more fitting in no time. I’ve done a lot of restoration work in the area, so we have lots of options to meet code yet protect your privacy. Good fences make good neighbors, you know.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that.” Was this guy for real? “So, where do we start?”
“I’d like to take a walk around the property with you. First we’ll have to rip out the old fence. Are you planning on doing any yard work soon?”
“The lawn company will be here Friday.”
“Well, I can get my boys out here later this afternoon and we’ll get the fence out of their way so the lawn company can clean up easier.” Kevin made more notes on his clipboard.
We walked around the property as I told him my want list in a fence. “The front should be lower with a self-latching gate. I’m getting a dog.” I hadn’t thought about the backyard. I’d rarely been back there except to help Miss Emily out with her garden. “I guess I’d have to fence off the garden from the dog. I’d need another gate near the garage area so I could easily get into the backyard.”
As we walked, I realized how far back the property ran. Years ago, Miss Emily and her husband had used this area as a pasture for a few cows and horses.
As we came down the slope at the end, we found a small creek running through a tree-lined area of the property.
“This is amazing.” Kevin plowed ahead, crossing the running water with two steps. “Yep, the old fence ends up just past the trees. This is your property, as well.”
“I didn’t realize this was even back here.” A small barn stood on the right. The horse barn on my parents’ farm had been a lot like this, only newer. The barn would have a couple stalls, hay and tack for riding. I headed over to check it out.
“I’m going to measure out the lot. That way I can give you a more accurate idea of pricing for the different types of fence,” Kevin called back to me, already walking down the length of the lot, using a rolling counter thing to start measuring.
As I pulled the shed door open, dust sprayed my face. Coughing, I pushed the cobwebs aside and walked in. It had been a while since anyone had been in here. A skylight lit up the small room. Instead of finding saddles and hay, I found the entire shed had been cleaned out and fitted with a newer wood floor. A small loft ran the full length of the back, accessed by a wooden ladder. The rest of the room had blue tarps covering everything. I pulled the first tarp off a pile leaning against the wall and gasped.
Paintings were stacked, five or six deep, against the wall. Pulling off the rest of the tarps, I threw them, unfolded, out the door to the ground. As the minutes passed, the pile of crumpled tarps grew tall. Once I’d thrown out the last tarp, I circled the room. There must have been over a hundred. Miss Emily painted?
The half-done painting on the easel seemed to be a self-portrait of the woman who had complicated my life by leaving me this house along with her fight against the council. Her blue eyes shone out of a face clearly twenty years younger than the Miss Emily I’d known. She smiled at me in that way she had when I would tell her what I was going to do. She’d told me once the only way to make God laugh was to tell him your plans. I guess she had proven that saying true. I never would have thought I’d be here trying to save a house I just inherited and missing my best friends, Miss Emily and now, Amy.
I dug through the other paintings, mostly landscapes, and found a family portrait. The painting showed Miss Emily sitting on a chair, a man in uniform standing behind her, and a little boy, who appeared to be almost five. “So this is Robert and Bob,” I said.
Obviously, she’d been painting for years. I gathered several of the landscapes to hang in the house. Looking skyward to the loft, I wondered what treasures it held. Not loving heights, I used Kevin�
�s presence to delay the climb until my next visit.
For a second, I considered calling George and Sabrina about the portraits, but nixed that idea with my next breath. They didn’t want family history, just money. I headed back up the hill to the house. Kevin waved from the back of the property. His smile told me all I needed to know. The price of the fencing would hurt.
Coming through the back door, I left the paintings in the kitchen. Knocking echoed through the house and I ran to the front door. The guy standing on the porch tapped at the siding on the house.
“I’m here to do an estimate for a paint job?” The man wasn’t as friendly as fence company Kevin. I walked outside to greet him, wiping my forearm over my forehead and probably replacing the sweat I felt with a smear of dirt.
“I need the outside cleaned up and painted, including the garage. I’d like color, but I want to stay historical so I’ll have to check with the city to see what’s allowable.” If Amy ever showed back up to do her job. I’m sure Bambi’s paint color advice would match Precious’s neon pink collar.
“You have some time here before you decide on a color.” The man poked at a shingle on the porch, kneeling to get a better look.
“Actually, I don’t. I need the painting done soon.”
“I haven’t examined the entire house yet, but just looking at the porch area, there’s a lot of damage. You’re going to need new siding before we paint. I’ll leave you the names of a few guys in the area who’ll give you a good price.” He headed off the porch to check out the rest of the house. He stopped and jumped on a loose board. “You probably want them to check out the porch while they’re here. Kind of unsafe.”
This day seemed to be getting worse by the moment. I found myself looking forward to tomorrow, when all I had to do was attend a funeral. Seeing Greg again would be a bonus. I had to admit I enjoyed the attention, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.
I went back into the house to check the balance in my savings account online. Maybe Jimmy Marcum would have good news about the money section of the inheritance. I needed a cash infusion to keep the house from being condemned by the city and bulldozed for Bambi’s boyfriend’s condos.
