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Hometown Detective
by Jennifer Morey
Chapter 1
The bakery owner approached the checkout counter with an anniversary bouquet and Kendra Scott’s day brightened. One of her regulars, she knew him by name. She also gave him some of her business, but not because she felt obligated. Denny and his wife made the best pastries she’d ever tasted. A big guy, his lumbering gait made him seem like a teddy bear in an intimidating body. Kendra adored her customers, especially those who showed genuine love for their spouses. She also adored them when they kept her busy or provided much needed distractions over the last few days.
Waiting for Dark Alley Investigations to send a detective was beginning to grate on her. When would someone call? Jasper Roesch had told her he’d assign someone to her case, but so far no one had come. She was anxious to get started on the investigation into her twin sister’s murder. She called it murder but the police hadn’t. Yet. She’d get them to change their minds. Her twin sister did not commit suicide.
Denny made it to the counter and placed the bouquet down.
“What anniversary is this?” Kendra asked.
“Forty-two.” Denny smiled, showing big boxy teeth that somehow matched his jean overalls over a white Henley. At first glance, he’d strike most as a local farmer, but he ran the town bakery with his wife. Kendra seldom met people married as long as them. Or as happy.
“What’s your secret?”
Denny chuckled. “Tolerance.”
She laughed with him as she finished his transaction, aware of another person in line behind him. “It can’t be that simple.” No amount of tolerance would have saved her closest encounter with love. She also found that choice of word peculiar. Tolerance could be a negative thing.
Denny sobered. “It’s about respect. If you both have respect for each other, there’s nothing you can’t weather in a marriage. If you can’t respect the person you’re with, then you shouldn’t be with them.”
“That’s good advice.” People like him and his wife were a breath of fresh air. They never deviated from genuine honesty.
“You’ll find it someday,” Denny said.
She scoffed. “I’m doing just fine on my own. No hurry for that.”
“Then you’ll get the real deal.” Denny took the bouquet. “Have a good night.”
“Tell your wife Happy Anniversary for me.”
“Will do.” He left the counter and the next patron approached.
A short, skinny boy of maybe fifteen put a flowering plant and four Fourth of July ornaments onto the counter. Odd for a kid his age, not to mention the holiday was a couple of months away. She had ornaments for every holiday, all year round.
“Nice choice.” She tried to place him but didn’t recognize him. “You from around here?”
“My mom went to see a friend. I came in here to blow some time. We live across town.”
Chesterville was big enough not to know everyone, but Kendra had gotten to know quite a few in the year she’d been here. She didn’t know this kid and didn’t believe he’d come into a Christmas shop because he liked the decor.
“Well, thanks for coming in to blow time.” She smiled as she tallied up his purchases.
After a while, the boy asked, “You’re that lady who called that famous detective agency, aren’t you?”
Ah, there it was. The real reason. “Word travels all the way across town, huh?”
“My mom comes this way a lot. She grew up on this side.”
She wouldn’t get into that. The kid sounded like this side wasn’t the better side but he was pretty young. This side had the most history in Chesterville, and the town center, which had been maintained wonderfully.
“I did go to Dark Alley Investigations.”
“I see that man on TV a lot.”
He meant Kadin Tandy. He and his agency frequently made the news. She waited for him to get to what he really wanted to know.
“Do you think your sister was really murdered?”
She could understand how the boy would take interest in a local hiring a private detective agency to look into her sister’s suicide. Murder in a small town didn’t go unnoticed. But this boy seemed more focused on the fame of DAI, a morbid hero worship. She’d better not encourage him.
She handed him a bag and pushed the plant toward him. “Thanks for coming in today.”
The boy took the bag and cradled the plant in one arm. “Do you think I could meet the detective?”
“I don’t know who they’re going to send.” If they sent anyone. She hadn’t heard from them.
Seeing a car drive up in front, she said to the boy, “Looks like your mother is all finished.”
The boy looked back and then, with one last look at her, reluctantly headed toward the exit.
With the last ring of the storefront door, Kendra clicked on her computer to close out the day. Elegant, upbeat modern classical music still played softly, and now that the sun had set, Christmas tree lights glittered beautifully. Matching bows and ribbons drew the eye. Accessories, bouquets and plants popped multiple colors from shopping counters. Customers could meander through the artful displays. This was her favorite time of day. Evening, all alone in her dream come true. If only her sister was alive to share this. Kendra had moved from Chicago after her death. She felt closer to her here.
Closing down the computer, she left the counter to tidy up and lock the front door. She never tired of seeing the creativity that filled the ample space of her flower shop. Not a typical flower shop, hers specialized in Christmas. She did generate enough business in the off-season to stay profitable, though. Being located in a prime section of Main Street did help.
Nothing in her shop disappointed. Color and texture flowed. Aroma charmed the senses. Music relaxed. A cleaning service kept everything looking fresh and new. She took great pains to maintain flawless presentation.
At one side of the shop, attractive pendant lighting spotlighted small round tables in the coffee and pastry section, a corner wall of shelves filled with books and magazines covering topics ranging from home improvement to gardening added to the inviting coziness. She put books and magazines back in their place, and then headed for the display counters, righting a fallen stuffed bear and turning vases for the best angle. On the other side of the shop, slide-open refrigerators took up most of the wall. Nothing looked out of place in there.
Her best friend in college called her tenacious. Kendra called it ambition. Drive. Maybe even survival.
Winding her way through decorated Christmas trees, she went to the front door and inserted the key to turn the lock. Outside, streetlights lit the sidewalk. No cars drove by at nearly nine-thirty and no one walked the street. The pub at the corner across the street always had someone coming in or out. A man stood near the door, leaning on a lamppost, one black-booted foot crossed over the other. He seemed to be looking at her.
She couldn’
t see him clearly. Lean rather than noticeably muscular, he towered over others passing on the way to the pub. He had dark, wavy short hair and wore a black short-sleeved golf shirt with light blue jeans. With his face still directed toward her, she had the feeling he wasn’t bothered that she saw him.
Apprehension crept over her. Most believed Kaelyn Johnston had committed suicide as the coroner had ruled. No one had questioned that until Kendra had called Dark Alley Investigations. While Kaelyn had died in a small, off-the-map town in Michigan, she had spent her adopted years in Chesterville, West Virginia.
If Kaelyn had been murdered, her killer wouldn’t want anyone exposing him, least of all an infamous investigations agency. She always grew nervous when she spotted suspicious strangers. The one across the street didn’t approach, only stayed where he was, watching. Maybe she had nothing to worry about. And why would the killer take an interest in her now, after all this time she’d been here? Hiring DAI could provoke a killer, but DAI hadn’t taken the case yet.
Leaving the front windows, Kendra let the music, lights and ambience take her away. They didn’t take her far enough. She went to the back of the shop, through a wooden door into her office, and sat behind the desk to close out the day. The man watching her disturbed her. He might have nothing to do with her sister’s murder, but how would she know that?
She looked down at the notes she’d made over the last several months. Before her sister had died, they had been in contact. Kaelyn had found her after months of searching. They had just begun to get to know each other again, filling in the gap from when they were six. Kendra had loved every phone call and meeting. Kaelyn had always arranged for them to meet in Chesterville. A few times, she’d gone to Chicago to see Kendra. She was thrilled to have some semblance of a family again. But toward the end, Kaelyn had hinted at some darkness. While she had told her many good things about her life, she’d touched on some others that weren’t. Her husband abused her. Kaelyn hadn’t come out and said the word abused but Kendra could read between the lines.
Then Kaelyn had killed herself. Or so everyone thought.
At first, Kendra had believed her sister had committed suicide. The devastation had overwhelmed her. Why would Kaelyn do such a thing? Her sister ending her life didn’t make sense. The Kaelyn she’d met hadn’t seemed to have reached that point. She’d seemed to have been keeping something troubling from Kendra, but she’d had too much life in her and far too much excitement over reuniting with her twin sister.
Only after her sister’s death had she realized Kaelyn had told no one about her. When she’d shown up at the funeral, no one recognized her, not by name or appearance. They were fraternal twins, not identical, so it hadn’t been surprising that no one had identified her. What she did find surprising was that she and Kaelyn had been corresponding for months. They’d even talked about the possibility of moving to Chesterville. Kaelyn said she would leave her husband and asked if Kendra would relocate. That had been a big request and Kendra had needed time to think on it. Kaelyn had died before she could agree to the fabulous idea. Kaelyn’s parents were in Chesterville. Her daughter had still been in high school so Kaelyn would have taken her with her. Kendra would have a family again. But then Kaelyn had died.
Why had Kaelyn kept her twin a secret from those in her life? There could be only one explanation. Kaelyn must had intended to use Kendra as an escape route. She would build a new life in Chesterville that didn’t include her abusive husband. Plus, if he’d known his wife was talking to her twin, he may have felt threatened enough to stop her from corresponding, especially if he knew Kendra planned to move to Chesterville, where the two of them could see each other much more often.
She’d confirmed her own suspicions when she’d learned Kaelyn’s husband had been abusing her and Kaelyn’s plans to leave weren’t just talk. Kaelyn would have moved back to Chesterville. Kendra had no proof, only a certainty that her twin would not have committed suicide.
After learning Kaelyn’s daughter, Raelyn, had moved to Chesterville after she’d graduated from college, Kendra had decided to move here. She had felt so robbed after Kaelyn had been taken from her when she’d only just begun to get to know her again. Being close to her daughter was all she had left now. They could make a fragmented family but a family nonetheless.
Raelyn had moved in with her grandmother until she’d gotten her own place. Adoptive grandmother notwithstanding, Raelyn must have come here not only to get away from her horrible father, but to be close to the only family she felt she had.
Kendra had spoken to Raelyn on several occasions, first shortly after Kaelyn’s funeral, then when she followed her to Chesterville. The twenty-two-year-old was uncomfortable welcoming her mother’s twin. She harbored a lot of anger, Kendra presumed, because by killing herself, Kaelyn left her daughter alone with an abusive dad. Kendra decided to leave her be, telling her to call when she was ready to talk. That had been a year ago. Kendra had lived in Chesterville for two years so far and Kaelyn had been murdered almost five years ago.
Kendra remembered the man outside and decided not to stay too late. Getting her things, she went downstairs and left through the back door. Searching for any sign of someone lingering, she walked down the alley toward her house.
* * *
After watching Kendra close her shop, Roman Cooper walked down the street toward the historic hotel where he’d checked in earlier. He planned to meet with Kendra in the morning, write his report and head back to Wyoming. The redheaded beauty moved in her element like a fiery angel. Tall and slender, thick hair left down and natural, she smiled at everyone and spent most of her time ringing in purchases. A zombie apocalypse could be happening all around her but she would go on and continue prospering. Just watching her agitated him enough to light up a smoke. Too bad he’d quit.
He could spot people like her a mile away. Life’s bounty fell at their feet. They had charmed, sheltered childhoods, lacked neither money nor imagination, and they only had to reach out and take anything they decided to have. Career. Money. House. Business. Whatever they desired. Nothing bad ever happened to them and they lived in denial that anything ever would. Maybe nothing bad would until the day they died. Roman didn’t live that way. He had no illusions of how awful life could be for some people. Not following a dream—or even knowing what to dream about—only made it worse. That was the biggest unfairness for him, not knowing his true calling. Meeting people like Kendra reminded him of that. She probably lived with the happy satisfaction that she had found her calling.
Ambition. Failure before success. Yeah, he got all that. Ambition had gotten him where he was today. What he could never grasp is how people like Kendra Scott knew what they wanted in life. How did anyone know that? Did an idea drop into their brain one random night or were they born with it already implanted?
Roman wasn’t a hopeless pessimist. He could relax and have a good time with anyone. He just couldn’t live in a cushy bubble that blocked reality.
He passed familiar shops along his way, reminded again of Kendra’s graceful yet wild attractiveness. Okay, he had to admit her striking beauty did have something to do with his reluctance to meet her. She might lasso him into sticking around too long.
Damn Kadin for sending him here. He’d done that on purpose.
* * *
Kendra left Lund’s Bakery as she did every Wednesday morning with a box of scones. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she collided with someone who had just appeared in the opening of the bakery. Bouncing backward, she bumped against the still-open door, and with her hand still gripping the handle, her arm wrenched.
“Ah!”
The man moved back quick enough. Supporting her arm, he steadied her so that she could free her hand from the handle.
Holding her fingers, she looked up from legs to hips to impressive chest to the face she’d seen last night. Although he’d been across the street, there was
no mistaking his build and the general way he held himself. Tall and imposing, he held an aura of fearless confidence and something darker.
She took two steps back. “You.”
Light gray eyes changed from concern to questioning. “Me?”
“I...I saw you outside my...my shop...last night.” Maybe she shouldn’t reveal that. What if he was a killer?
She took another step back.
Taking note of her reaction, he grew shrewdly alert. “Were you looking for someone?”
Why would he ask her that? “No.”
“You’re just observant?”
“Who the hell are you?” She’d hardly tell a stranger his impressive build had drawn her attention to him, a peppering of sexy along with a dash of danger.
A half grin almost softened the hardness in his eyes. “Roman Cooper. Dark Alley Investigations. Didn’t anyone let you know I was coming?”
No one had called her. Maybe Jasper Roesch thought Roman could introduce himself. He had promised to send someone.
She took in Roman’s appearance, rugged but not unkempt. He was quite good-looking in a less than soft way. He was a detective? Although clean and lean, he carried the air of a rebel, a darkly handsome one. No reserved gentleman stood before her. He struck her as the type who let nothing stand in his way. She pictured detectives as more refined, caring more about appearances than their service to humanity.
“Why were you spying on me last night?” she asked.
He hesitated and that gave him away. “It was late.”
Why did he lie? “Jasper said he was going to send a detective. I was hoping he’d change his mind and take the case himself.”
“He’s busy getting married and having a baby right now.”
He didn’t sound impressed. In fact, he sounded a little condescending, as though marriage should never take priority over a case.
“Did you look into my sister’s case?”
“She doesn’t have a case,” he said. “The coroner’s report told me everything I needed to know. I agree with his assessment.”
