by Lynn Cahoon
The sun will rise tomorrow? What was she now, a weather girl? “Well, thanks, I guess. We have to go now.” I shot a pleading look at Greg, and he took my arm.
“The mayor’s waiting for us.” He walked me into the office and closed the door. Just before the door closed, I heard Bambi ask if Esmeralda could do a reading for Precious.
His chair was turned, and the mayor talked to someone on the phone. I could overhear his part of the conversation as Greg motioned for me to sit down.
“She just left.” The mayor paused. “No, she didn’t give me any more direction. She just said the winds of change were about to run through our lives.”
Greg took the chair next to me. I pointed to the mayor and raised my shoulders, silently asking what was going on. Greg just shook his head.
“How the heck am I supposed to know? Honey, look, I’ve got people here. I’ve got to go.” The mayor turned the chair around and hung up his phone. He glared at Greg.
“Bambi told us to come in,” Greg apologized. “Should we come back later?”
“No, it’s fine. That girl has no business sense. I’ll be glad when Amy’s back.” The mayor fingered through the files on his desk.
Hope shot through my body. Maybe this was why he wanted to see me. “Have you heard from Amy? Where is she? Is she okay?”
“Oh, I was just making a comment. I’m sure Miss Newman is fine and will be returning to her job at any moment. At least I hope so. I don’t know how much more of Bambi’s attitude I can take.” He leaned forward on his desk. “Did you know not only does she bring that mangy mutt into the office, she takes him for five walks a day? Five! Who does she think answers the phone when she’s not at the desk? Me. That’s who.”
I didn’t know what to say after that. I sank back into my chair, hoping that Amy was off on some cruise or vacation somewhere. I missed having someone to talk to, especially now that Greg had gone all police detective commando on me. Maybe a cloud of radioactive gas had hit the town and was slowly turning people into comic book characters of themselves. We already had a Malibu Barbie answering phones at City Hall. But to be fair, I was pretty sure Bambi had been that way for her entire life.
“Back to business. I wanted to clear up this art theft ring. Now that we’ve determined that Miss Emily was murdered, we have to find her killer. The City of South Cove doesn’t take kindly to one of our own being murdered in her own bed. It’s just not good for the tourist trade.” The mayor twirled a pen in his hand.
“And why did you need to see me?” I managed politely through gritted teeth. He was thinking about the town’s image? I tried to control my rage, but every time I talked to the little weasel, I got angry.
“We have a visitor from the city coming in. I wanted him to meet you.” The mayor buzzed Bambi. “Ask Mr. Hunter to come in now, please.”
“All righty then. And just to let you know, Precious and I are stepping out for a second.” Bambi’s chipper voice came over the intercom.
“See what I mean?” He nodded to Greg. “This will happen all day long. Maybe Esmeralda could help with phone duties?”
“Sir, Esmeralda is swamped—” Greg started but was interrupted by the door opening.
“We’ll talk about this later.” The mayor waved his hand at Greg, quieting him. “Mr. Hunter, please come in.”
I turned to look at the new arrival to Circus City Hall. He was tall, dark, and handsome, and he knew it. His clothes were California casual, pricey but appeared to be just thrown together. I’d dated a real estate developer who had the same style, so I knew the man raked in some serious dough to pull off looking that laid-back.
“Mayor Baylor, I still don’t understand what was so important that I had to drive all the way down here so early in the morning.” The man pushed his sunglasses farther up on his head and adjusted the sweater tied around his neck before he sat down.
“Introductions first. John Paul Hunter, this is Greg King, our police detective.”
“Nice to meet you.” Greg stood and reached over me to shake hands.
“And this is …” The mayor pointed at me and waited.
For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then Mr. Hunter spoke up.
“This is who? I’ve told you, I’m a busy man. If you want me to meet these people for some reason, please let’s get on with it. I’m opening a new show this weekend.”
“I thought you might know her.”
“Why would I know her?” The man almost sneered at my outfit. Now, I admit, it wasn’t couture, but it was clean and comfortable. At least I’d finished laundry last night and it wasn’t the little black dress. I was headed out shopping when Greg had ambushed me into this meeting.
“This isn’t the woman who sold you the paintings? The ones we talked about?” Mayor Baylor’s face fell. “Look again. Are you sure? This is Jill Gardner.”
“Look, Mayor, I told you I’ve never seen this woman before. And if you remember, I distinctly told you over the phone that the woman who sold me the paintings was quite overweight.”
“She’s fat.” Mayor Baylor pointed his finger at me.
“Hey, I’m not fat. I’m not a size one like Malibu Bambi out there, but I’m not fat. I’m curvy.” My face felt hot. I’d been pleased when I checked myself out in the mirror this morning, seeing the results of losing weight since my world went topsy-turvy. Perfect weight-loss diet: turn everything on its ear and you’ll be too upset to eat.
The mayor had a way of getting down to the core of my insecurities. I’d never left this office feeling anything more positive than annoyance. I wondered how he managed to get elected year after year. It couldn’t be on charm.
“Seriously, you thought Jill was the one selling Miss Emily’s artwork?” Greg stood up. “This is why you had me drag her down here?”
“Well, yes.” Mayor Baylor sneered. “She fit the description of the woman, and you know the city is committed to finding Miss Emily’s killer. And now she has full access to all the paintings she wants to sell.”
“And if it gets me out of that house so your friends can finish the little development they have planned for my home, more the better, right?” I stood and glanced at Greg. “Are we done here? I have work to do.”
“Wait, you have the rest of the paintings? Can I see them? I’ve got several buyers who are interested in acquiring anything she did. Especially now that she’s deceased.” John Paul’s eyes gleamed as he leaned closer to me. Apparently my lack of fashion sense had been forgiven now that I had become important to him.
“I’m not sure what I’m doing with the paintings yet. But I would like to see what you still have at the gallery and pictures of what you’ve already sold.” I wanted to gauge the value of the artwork. I didn’t know if John Paul Hunter’s gallery deserved to sell the rest of the lot. He’d been selling the stolen paintings for months before we accidentally found them.
“Call me any time and I’ll be glad to drive down and give you an estimate. I’ll have my assistant send you a portfolio of the paintings we’ve handled so far. I assure you, we’ve been very successful in procuring high-dollar amounts for the sales.” John Paul handed me a card embossed with Hunter Gallery.
“Have your assistant send that portfolio thing to me. What exactly did you do with the artist’s share of those funds?” Greg moved in between the two of us.
“As I told the officer who came to interview me, the woman came by weekly to pick up the funds from any sales.”
“The checks were made out to what name?”
John Paul glanced around the room, his eyes landing on Greg sizing up the effect his next words would have. “I gave her cash.”
“You what? Isn’t it standard bookkeeping procedure to use checks to track sales and purchases? Did you get a receipt?”
Now the man was sweating. Literally. I wondered what other shady deals we would find if someone opened the books on this guy.
“Look, she told me she needed the money. Artists are always st
rapped for cash. So I discounted her cut by a little and fronted the cash. All galleries do it.” John Paul played with the tie in his sweater.
“So there is no paper trail for these paintings. Please tell me that your shop has a video security system.”
“We do. Except it doesn’t work right now. I planned on having it fixed, but the fact that it’s there, well, that works just as well.”
“Unless a crime really happens.” Greg glanced at me. “I’m going to need to talk with Mr. Hunter for a few more minutes. Do you want to wait and I’ll drive you home?”
“I can walk. Besides, I need to stop by the coffee shop and check in with my aunt.” I wasn’t hanging around City Hall with Bambi and the mayor any longer than I had to.
“You will call me, though, right?” John Paul called after me as I headed to the door.
“Miss Gardner, I’m not done with you,” Mayor Baylor’s voice chimed in.
“Yes, you are,” Greg growled. He nodded toward me. “I’ll stop by tonight.”
I took that for permission to leave before the mayor opened his mouth again. Glancing around the empty reception area, I realized that Bambi was still outside with Precious. Sadness filled my body as I touched Amy’s desk. I glanced at the closed door of the mayor’s office and the glass door outside—nobody was in sight.
I slipped into Amy’s chair and pulled open the side drawer. Bambi had filled this one with dog biscuits, toys, and a book on California history. The second drawer had makeup and more brushes, combs, and hair clips than I’d owned in my entire life.
The bottom drawer had Amy’s possessions crammed inside. Bambi apparently needed the room for more important stuff. My friend’s life was reduced to this one drawer. I moved past the framed pictures of Amy and her surfing friends and only paused a second when I found the one of the two of us at last year’s Renaissance Faire, decked out in medieval costumes. Amy’s smile twisted my heart.
Will I ever see my friend again?
Digging deeper, I found her day planner. Bingo. I heard voices from the mayor’s office coming closer to the door. Slamming the drawer shut, I stuffed the day planner to the bottom of my purse and sprinted for the door. Watching behind me for the office door to open, I ran straight into Bambi leading Precious back into the office.
“Hey, watch it.” Bambi teetered on stacked stilettos. Precious growled.
“Sorry,” I called back. I wasn’t stopping until I could lock myself up in the supply closet at Coffee, Books, and More and see what I could find in Amy’s planner.
The shop was half-filled with customers when I walked through the door. It seemed like forever since I had been at my own shop. Conversation stopped at most tables as they watched me approach Toby at the counter. The scent of chocolate and coffee wafted through the store.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Toby had been stocking the paper coffee cups I designed for the store.
“Good.” I nodded toward the display of coffee for sale, both whole bean and ground. “This is new.”
“Jackie just started selling the packets. They are going like hotcakes, and we have several new flavors that we only feature in the shop. Then we sell them the next month out on the retail rack. Pretty neat, huh? Jackie says it builds up demand when we limit the supply.” Toby nodded like he was committing Jackie’s words of marketing wisdom to memory.
“Where is the marketing maven?” I took inventory of the other changes my aunt had made without my approval. I was relieved to see the bookshelves were still on the south wall. But what was that sign? I leaned closer to read.
Local author signings welcome.
“She’s upstairs. She takes over at noon. That way I can get some sleep before I head over to the police station at eight.” Toby twisted the dish towel in his hands. “I hope you can figure out a way to keep me on, once you start managing the place again. I’ve learned so much, and I like working with people who aren’t mad at me or drunk.”
The sign my aunt had put up advertising author signings distracted me. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Amy’s planner burned a hole in my purse—I had to sit down and search it for any clue of her whereabouts. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. I’m sure we can work out something. Can you pour me a cup of carmalotto blend? I’m going to head to the back to check out something.”
Toby threw the dish towel over his shoulder and poured a mug full. “Do you want a slice of pie or cheesecake with that?”
Tempting … I shook my head. “Just the coffee. And if my aunt comes down, let her know I’m in the back?” I headed to the supply room, where I stored my boxes, books, and other supplies. As I went through the door, I heard the voices from the dining area start back up. Gossip about me was my bet. Sitting down, I pulled Amy’s planner out of my purse along with my purple notebook. There had to be something here. If I could just find it.
An hour later, I’d gone through her entire planner, and except for finding out my friend highlighted her pretty blond hair during the winter, I came up blank on finding a reason for her disappearance. Except for one note two days before she vanished—Meeting with TA. Who was TA? She had written in Miss Emily’s funeral with a doodle of a crying face, dripping a tear. So she had planned on being there.
I doodled in my own notebook. TA. Texas Authors. Teen Angst. Terrible Angina. This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I tried to see TA through her eyes. Trouble Amy? Surfing? A type of wave? An urban planning term? I threw the pen on the notebook. Nothing. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
“Don’t you think if there had been something, I would have followed up on it? Or at least taken the planner for evidence?” Greg stood in the doorway, leaning up against the door frame, watching me.
Jerking up, I tried to cover the planner with my notebook. Then, as Greg’s words sank in, I realized hiding it was like shutting the dog pound door after the escape had occurred. Too little and too late.
“Toby told me you were back here.” Greg came and sat down. “I’m sorry about the ambush this morning. I didn’t know what he was up to.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I knew I could be considered a suspect. I just didn’t think it would be because our honorable mayor thought I was the fat girl who sold the paintings.”
“I thought you were going to jump over the desk and throttle him.” Greg chuckled at the image.
“Not funny. You don’t know how hard it is to lose weight. And I kind of like the shape I’m in. I know I’m not skinny like most of the girls who hang out on the beach, but sue me, I like food.”
“I think you look fine. More than fine, you look amazing.”
Something in Greg’s voice made me look up. His glaze smoldered, and if I didn’t know better, I would think there was a hint of what, passion? Desire? Lust? My stomach lurched as my girl parts twisted. My glance moved down to his lips. Full, husky, with a five-o’clock shadow on his chin. I lightly bit my bottom lip, wanting to jump over the table for the second time that day, but for a totally different reason.
Stop. Just stop.
My reasonable side chimed in. There’s an entire shop full of people just on the other side of the door.
And they were probably waiting for Greg to bring me out of the room in chains. I sighed and pushed the planner across the table toward him.
“The only thing I can find is this meeting with TA. Did you find out who she was meeting?” My voice came out too husky, and heat flashed on my face.
“The mayor said it was probably one of the office suppliers. After the fiasco today, I’ll check that out a little more closely. I’m not sure our mayor is playing with a full deck.”
“That’s the understatement of the millennium.”
“Nothing else jumped out at you? I should have asked you to look at this before.” Greg leaned back in his chair. “You have a good eye for seeing missing pieces.”
A compliment? He sets me up for an ambush with the mayor, and then he compliments my investigative techniques? “I thought you said I shoul
d let the professionals handle this.”
Greg leaned over the table and sighed. “After the fiasco today, I’d rather have you on my side than the professionals I’m dealing with. Come on, spill. I know you found something in the day planner that just seemed off.”
I slid the book back toward me and glanced at the week of Amy’s disappearance. Nothing. Then I turned the pages forward. Maybe there was something else. The page covering this week had a note. Schedule time for Jill at council meeting.
I hadn’t been planning on speaking to the council. Did Amy know something about the zoning committee or the threat on the house? I pointed the notation out to Greg.
“Look at this. She planned on me presenting to the next city council meeting.”
“About Miss Emily’s house?”
“That’s the thing. She never talked to me about presenting anything.” I pulled out the folded letter that Amy and I had found in Miss Emily’s desk. “The last thing we discussed was why the council used an out-of-town attorney to send these threatening letters. Amy was going to check out who had hired this guy. But I never heard anything back.”
“Why didn’t you ask me about it?” Greg read the letter silently while he waited for my answer.
“I didn’t at first because, well, I thought you might be part of the whole thing.” My face flushed, this time not because of the ultra-hunkiness of the man sitting across from me. “And then when Amy disappeared and I started getting those calls, I didn’t know who to trust and it just seemed too late.”
“Someday you’re going to have to trust someone.” Greg stood and walked toward the door. “I’ll go call this guy. What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Home Heaven in Bakerstown. Then I’ll be home painting the living room.”
“I’ll bring dinner by around six.” Greg walked out into the shop area.
“I guess I’ll see you then,” I said to the closed door. I stared at the door for several minutes before I noticed that Amy’s planner was gone. Greg must have picked it up on the way out. I stuffed my notebook back into my purse and headed back out to the front of the shop. Time to buy paint and pretend that my life was normal, for just a few hours.
