Guidebook to Murder

by Lynn Cahoon

  “You’re keeping these here, in the house? Are you crazy?” Greg held up the bag that held the pirate coins, his face hard, waiting for my answer.

  “They were in the shed for years. Why is keeping them in the junk drawer an issue?” The smell of Lille’s fish and chips was perking me up. All I wanted was to eat dinner and drink a couple of beers.

  “The guy from the college called me back today. These are real, Jill. Real silver colonial coins from the mint in Mexico. He estimated if they were all in the same condition, you could probably get two to three hundred apiece, or more from the right collector.” He threw the sack at me.

  Catching it with two hands, the bag slipped almost to the floor. I hauled the bag to the table. Reaching in, I pulled out one of the coins. Turning it over, I whistled. “There must be over a hundred thousand dollars here, if he’s right.”

  “He’s right. So, please, move those to the bank tomorrow first thing. Too many rumors are floating around town about the mission for you to keep these here. While I was waiting at Lille’s, three people asked me if the story about finding the mission was true.” Greg pulled out forks from the silverware drawer and brought the bag of food over to the table.

  I dropped the coin back into the sack. Laughter bubbled out of me. I tried to control the giggles. I started laughing out loud as I opened the Styrofoam container filled with fish and chips.

  “Okay, I give. What’s so funny?” Greg watched me as I tried to catch my breath.

  “Sabrina would have died if she knew she sat that close to something worth that much money. She drooled over the painting I’d hung, and I don’t think she was getting anywhere close to that for the ones she sold.”

  Greg shook his head. “That’s what concerns me. I’m going to have Toby parked outside tonight, just in case. She doesn’t seem like the type that gives up easy.”

  I pulled out the container from the bag with Greg’s dinner and pushed it toward him. “Quit worrying and eat.”

  Greg’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at it and opened a text. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What?” I didn’t want to glance over at the phone. Okay, so I did. Shoot me.

  “I sent a picture of Sabrina over to the gallery owner. He’s just identified her as the one he bought the paintings from.” Greg contemplated the food sitting in front of him.

  “So, that’s why you were playing with your phone.”

  “Yep.” He sighed and closed up the container.

  “You have to leave?”

  “I need to get this over to the judge so I can get a search warrant for her house. Maybe this will be over sooner than we thought.” He stuffed a couple of French fries in his mouth as he stood up.

  “Do you think she killed Miss Emily?” My appetite was gone. Could this be finally over?

  “Money’s a strong motive for murder. Let’s just take things one at a time.” Greg closed up the container and headed to the door. “Toby won’t be here until after nine. Stay inside!”

  “Greg, stop.” I hurried to catch up with him. “She said she could bring Amy home if I gave her the money. Maybe you should wait.”

  Greg studied my face. “You’re not telling me you believed her. Are you? She’d say anything to try to get you to pay her off. Believe me, she didn’t kidnap Amy. And even if she did, this is the best way to find out.”

  “But Amy …” Tears filled my eyes. “I’d give away all the money if Amy would just come back safe.”

  “I know. But we just have to have hope. The state police are working her disappearance. I’m going to call them to help me execute this warrant. We won’t do anything that will put Amy in danger.” Greg reached out and pulled me close. “Trust me.”

  I didn’t want him to let go. I melted into his arms, tucking my head into his chest.

  “Jill, I have to go.”

  I felt his words as they whispered through my hair. I heard his voice rumble in his chest. And I knew I had to step away. Taking a deep breath, I pulled away, even though every cell in my body cried out as I leaned against the hallway wall. “Be careful.”

  “That’s my line.” He touched my cheek and left. As the front door shut behind him, my fear stuck in my throat and I followed, locking the door behind him. Before I returned to the kitchen, I circled the house, closing windows and testing locks. Finally, in the kitchen, I double-checked the lock on the back door. Sinking into a chair at the table, I stared at Lille’s fish and chips. For once, my mouth didn’t water. I closed the container and put it into the fridge, grabbing a Coke instead.

  “Amy,” I whispered to my missing friend. “I hope I’ve done the right thing.”

  The dark gloomed around the house. The sun had set, and I sat in the living room, reading the same page over and over. In books, the good guys find who did it, the bad guys go to jail, and the hero saves the damsel in distress. No one ever tells you that being the damsel really sucks.

  Click. Click. A noise came from the front of the house. Was someone on the porch? I leaned forward, laying the book down on the couch. Click. There it was again. I tiptoed to the door. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself. Every fiber of my being screamed out: Don’t go in the basement.

  Giggling over my favorite line from the horror movies, a Friday night staple growing up, I put my hands on the lock. “One, two, three,” I counted under my breath and pulled the door open. A hand on the other side reached for the doorknob.

  Startled, I slammed the door shut, hoping I surprised the person standing on my porch more than they surprised me. The door easily shut and I snapped the lock secure.

  I backed up, watching the door. Should I call Greg? Toby was supposed to be here soon, but someone was outside now. Before I reached the phone, a knock sounded on the door and a voice called out.

  “Jill? Jill, it’s me.”

  Was that my aunt’s voice? She was the shape on the porch? I inched closer to the door.

  “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaky.

  “Jackie. I brought over brownies from the store. Are you going to open the door or just slam it in my face again?”

  It was my aunt. And from the sound of her voice, she wasn’t happy. I opened the door a crack and peeked out to see her face before committing to letting her in. Just in case.

  Aunt Jackie pushed past me. The smell of baked chocolate followed her into the house. “I swear, you almost gave me a heart attack. I knew you were flighty, but really, you need to calm down.”

  Flighty? She called me flighty? The woman who hadn’t stayed with a man for more than three dates since my uncle died? My fear turned to annoyance as I asked, “Besides bringing over brownies, why are you here?”

  “Well, isn’t that nice? No ‘great to see you’? Or ‘thanks for coming over’?” Jackie walked back to the kitchen, clearly expecting me to follow.

  Sighing, I locked the door, checking the front porch one more time, and did exactly that. Aunt Jackie already had plates out and placed large, frosted brownies on the center of each one.

  “Good, you already have coffee going.” She grabbed two cups from the cabinet.

  “Again, why are you here?” I put the plates on the table while she finished with the coffee.

  “To help you, of course. Greg called me and asked me to come by and wait for Toby. He’s running a little late. I think he overslept.”

  Great, my watchdog was sleep-deprived. Now I felt safe. Especially since I had a seventy-plus-year-old woman here to protect me.

  “Toby said you stopped by this morning. Why didn’t you come see me?” Jackie brought the coffee cups over to the table.

  “I had to check something out.” I took a bite of the brownie. Heaven.

  “He also said that Greg followed you into the back room? Is there something going on there? He seemed concerned about you when he called me.” Jackie watched my face for a reaction I tried not to give her.

  “We just talked about the art theft case. They tracked down the gallery
owner and wanted to exclude me as a suspect.” The mayor’s words flashed in my mind. I took another large bite of the brownie just to shove them down.

  “Greg thought you were a suspect?” Jackie’s face went cold.

  “No, but the mayor did.” I took a long sip from the coffee to clear out the deep chocolate taste calling to me to grab one more brownie. “Now the gallery owner is panting over the other paintings. He wants me to let him sell the rest.”

  “Miss Emily didn’t realize her paintings would be so sought after, now, did she?”

  I stood in front of the sunny landscape hanging on the kitchen wall and thought about the other paintings she had long ago abandoned in the shed. Had she considered taking up painting again? Or was the desire lost to her after losing the ones she loved? I issued a short chuckle. “I think she would have found being an artist hilarious. I could just hear her now: “Why would anyone want to buy my pictures? Can’t they make their own?”

  The cell phone rang. I answered the call on speakerphone mode. “Hello?”

  “You should be happy now.” The woman’s voice filled the room.

  “Why would I be happy? Who is this?” Fear gripped me as I glanced at Jackie, pulling out a notebook from her purse.

  “The DNA tests came back. Annie’s not related to Miss Emily. Her grandfather is Henry, not Bob.” It took me a moment to place the voice. Crystal. I could hear emotion in her voice as she choked out the words, but I didn’t know if it was happiness or sadness. Aunt Jackie stopped writing and laid down the pen.

  “Crystal, are you all right?” There was a pause from the other end of the line.

  “I’m just so happy for Henry. He wanted Josh to be his kid all along, but he was too afraid to hope. This might have been the best thing that’s happened to him since Mary died.” Crystal sniffed loudly.

  “I’m glad for him, too. I’m sure Miss Emily would have loved to have had you and Annie as part of her family, though.” I felt bad for putting her through this roller coaster, but getting the truth out there was all that mattered.

  “I need to tell you something. When we thought Bob was Josh’s father, I agreed to be part of a suit challenging the will. I’ve called the lawyer and told him I didn’t want anything more to do with the lawsuit.” Crystal paused. “He didn’t seem very happy.”

  “Let me guess, Sabrina and George hired him?”

  “I don’t know who hired him. He came by the house that day I ran into you at Home Heaven.”

  The pieces were falling into place, and all roads were leading back to Sabrina. “You were just trying to do what was best for Annie.”

  “That’s the thing. I’m afraid I was trying to do what was best for me. Knowing how easy things would be with the money that the lawyer promised me, that was all I wanted. For life to be easy, for once.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Money seemed to be motivating a lot of people around here. For me, having the money just meant I could shop for furniture or remodel the house. For Crystal and Aunt Jackie, it had meant daily survival. Before I could collect my thoughts, Crystal’s voice came over the speaker again.

  “Jill, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  The line clicked off and disconnected the call.

  “Well, that was interesting.” Jackie drummed the pen on the notebook. “I guess I didn’t have to take notes. Now I’ll have to start a new to-do list.” I hadn’t noticed that my notebook habit came from my aunt until tonight. She pulled the sheet with the notes she’d made from Crystal’s call. At the top of the page was a list of five items. She recopied the list onto a clean sheet of paper when item number three jumped out at me. She started to put her notebook back in her purse.

  “Wait, what’s that?” I pointed to the third line.

  “I told you, my to-do list. Don’t tell me you don’t use one. I’ve seen your notebook on the counter.”

  “No, I mean what does number three mean?”

  “Call my travel agent? I told you that I had thought about taking a trip this summer. I’m just calling to cancel before I lose my deposit. I’m not going to leave you high and dry at the shop, I promise. Jeez.” She stuffed the notebook back into her purse and finished off her brownie.

  “No, it’s not that. You wrote TA.”

  “Yeah, so, TA is my shorthand for travel agent.” Jackie stared at me like I was crazy. “Do you need to get some sleep? I can stay up and watch for Toby.”

  “TA was the appointment Amy had before she disappeared. Maybe TA meant travel agent for her, too.” The wheels in my head were spinning. If Amy was on a trip, why hadn’t she called since that last cryptic message on Sunday? I went and pulled out the regional phone book and turned to the yellow pages. Fifteen travel agents were listed between here and Bakerstown. I glanced at the clock, and confirmed it was too late to call. Something to check on tomorrow. For the first time in days, I felt hope.

  Pushing aside the phone book, I finished off my brownie and thought about Crystal’s call.

  “Who would have known Crystal might have grounds to challenge the will? Sabrina and George?” My thoughts were racing. Could the threats on my life, the fence vandalism, Amy’s disappearance, and even Miss Emily’s death all be about the same thing? Her money?

  I went over to the cabinet. I grabbed my own to-do notebook and opened up to the page where I’d listed all the suspects I could think of that first day when I’d decided to inject myself into the investigation. I crossed Crystal’s name off. There still were four names that I’d underlined. George, Sabrina, Eric Ammond, and Mayor Baylor.

  Reluctantly I crossed the council off the suspect list. I didn’t think that people who spent their free time arguing over the historical significance of a shade of house paint were viable threats. Especially since the current council was made up of a glass blower, a weaver, and Darla, who owned the local vineyard. None of them seemed like the mastermind for a murder.

  As much as Sabrina’s name screamed at me from the page, I left the other three names, as well. No use making assumptions until we found out more.

  “What are you working on?” Aunt Jackie’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  I shut the notebook. “Nothing, just trying to keep all the players straight.” I stretched my arms toward the ceiling. Glancing at the clock, I realized Toby should have been there by now. Looking out the side window, I saw his truck parked on the street in front of the house.

  I grabbed one of the brownies and put it on a paper towel and poured coffee into a travel mug I found in the cupboard. “How does Toby take his coffee?”

  “Black, just like us. He’s here?” Aunt Jackie glanced out the window.

  “That’s his truck right there.” I pointed to the truck becoming just a shape in the darkening night. “I’m going to take these out to him.”

  “Maybe you should stay in the house. Greg wasn’t too happy with you the last time.”

  “Relax. This is over. Greg’s at Sabrina’s right now. No one’s going to bother me. Lightning never strikes twice.” Seeing the look on her face as I headed out the door, I added, “I’ll be quick, I promise. Just in case, lock this after me.”

  “You’re not making me feel better about this,” Aunt Jackie called after me as I went down the porch steps, avoiding the Dumpster and the piles of construction materials. I’d be glad when this remodel was over and I could park my Jeep in the driveway. I was beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I could put in flower beds parallel to the driveway, perennials that wouldn’t grow too high. Still considering what flowers to choose, I realized I had reached Toby’s truck. The cab of the truck was dark. Asleep. I couldn’t believe it. Greg should have just let him off guard duty if he was this tired. I knocked on the window. He had put that dark shading on the windows, making it hard to see inside.

  “Toby?”

  No answer.

  The last time he’d been on guard duty, my fence had been vandalized. Anger filled me. Here I stood, bringing him out coffe
e and dessert. I pulled open the door.

  “Toby, wake …” I glanced around the empty truck cab. “Toby?” My voice came out as a whisper. I placed the brownie and coffee cup on the truck console. Shutting the door, I glanced around the empty street. No Toby.

  I felt the hood of his truck. Cool. He’d been here for a while before I’d noticed the truck on the street. So where the heck was he?

  An owl hooted down the street, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I’d been an idiot to come out here in the first place. I had one thought running through my head: Get back to the house and call Greg.

  That option seemed logical, and I started trotting back to the house. Just a few more feet and I’d be at the back porch, where Aunt Jackie waited to unlock the door for me. Passing the Dumpster, I heard a moan.

  Dodging through the first pallet of siding near the Dumpster, I saw a blue jean–clad leg sticking out of the darkness. I peeked around the pallet. Toby lay crumpled next to the Dumpster, in a half-sitting position, blood running down his face from a gash on his head. I glanced around. Nobody. Rushing over to Toby, I reached down for his hand, warm. I shook it.

  “Toby,” I whispered. “Toby, can you hear me?” No response. Everything I’d ever heard said to leave people the way they were until help arrived. But what if the person who did this came back?

  I examined Toby again. He had one of those police walkie-talkie things on his pants. Maybe, just maybe, Greg or Esmeralda was still at the office listening, just in case. I pulled the black box off the clip on Toby’s belt and found a button on the side. Here goes nothing… .

  “Greg, are you there? We need help. Toby’s been hurt. Hello, can you hear me?” I shook the stupid thing and then realized I needed to let go of the button on the side. The speaker crackled to life.

  “Jill? Is that you?”

  Relief flooded me as I realized my message hadn’t just gone to a cosmic message machine.

  “Help us. Toby’s been hurt.” A searing pain started at the back of my neck, and I found myself falling into Toby before the blackness took me.