Billy saw that I was looking a bit weary.
"Don't worry, George, I'll take the reins," he offered. "I'll guide the group discussion tonight so that you can just sit quietly."
"Thank you, Billy."
The others made small talk about their day, then the conversation moved to various crafting pursuits—crocheting and quilting and stained glass—but my mind drifted. I wanted to be anywhere else.
I wondered if I could escape out my own back door.
No, that wouldn't work. I had to lock up.
Maybe I could lock them all inside. I tilted my head as I considered it.
Maybe it wasn't just the shop I didn't want to be in right now. Perhaps the problem was larger in scope.
Maybe I wanted to be in any other town. Had coming to Pottsville been one gigantic mistake? I looked at Jasper. He wouldn't mind a change of scenery, would he? Maybe we'd move to an even smaller community, or better yet, a place with no community at all. A farm in the middle of nowhere. Maybe we could live by the beach, miles away from any other human being. Casper would like that as well.
I knew one thing, though. I had to give up this whole detective thing. It had only caused trouble and made me enemies. And now it had made me the laughing stock of the town.
I had to just let it go.
The woman with the large red hair laughed loudly at something and looked over at me. She'd been casting me furtive looks all night, just like the rest of them. When the meeting finally came to an end, she came up to me and not so quietly asked, "Do you really live there?"
I could tell she'd wanted to ask that all night.
"I sure do," I said, finding myself answering with a very short tone. "But maybe not for much longer!"
I'd startled myself a little bit. Did I really mean that?
Perhaps the two deaths were complete accidents. Maybe Amanda really did just fall down the stairs. Maybe Julia did as well. It happens. Coincidences happen.
Perhaps life in Pottsville had been so dull and dreary that I'd just had to invent a drama, invent a mystery. Once I'd become suspicious, it was hard to break the habit.
Maybe I'd just been seeing things that weren't there.
Even if it wasn't a coincidence, I didn't like to be the sort of person who ran away from problems. I'd rather face them head on. Or at least try to. But I had tried in Pottsville—the town and I just weren't a good fit. It was better to cut my losses.
"This has been great, George," the red-haired woman said. "We should do this every week."
Yes. Every week. Finally, a successful crafting circle with people who actually wanted to attend.
Be careful what you wish for.
Chapter 11
From upstairs, I heard the sound of Jasper's booming bark and Casper's little squeaky one. "What is it?" I called out. I could hear two sets of claws at the front door.
I threw another shirt into my packing box and walked out onto the landing of the staircase to peer over. Through the cloudy glass I could make out a silhouette of a woman in a suit with blonde hair piled high on her head and stiletto heels on her feet.
She was back.
"I'm so sorry," the real estate agent said as she followed me down the hallway. "I'm not even from this area. I had no idea about the history of this house. I really hope you don't think I was trying to scam you."
She was having trouble catching me in her high heels and I had little patience with her at that moment. I had packing to do. And I wasn't sure I wanted to hear her excuses.
She began to cough a little. "I don't suppose I could trouble you for a glass of water, could I?"
I spun around in the kitchen and nodded. "Of course," I said, filling a glass with tap water and handing it to her while she gulped it down.
"Sorry," she said. "I've come down with this terrible cold. I've been so rundown lately." She put the glass down and looked at me. "And I've been feeling so stressed about this house." She reached into her briefcase and started searching around for some papers. "Please believe me when I tell you that I didn't know." She stopped and threw a furtive glance toward the bottom of the staircase. "I didn't know that anyone had been killed here."
I sighed heavily. I supposed it wasn't her fault, if she really didn't know. "What's been done is done," I said. "But I need out of this house now after everything that has happened."
"I understand." She looked anxious though as she flipped through her notes. "But it might be a little difficult."
Well, I knew that it would be almost impossible to sell the house again, unless they managed to find another new-to-town sucker like I had been. But I didn't want to hear that from her. I wanted to hear that she would do everything in her power to offload the house and get me my money back.
"List it right away," I said.
"I will. It just might take a while to sell."
I crossed my arms. "I should never have been sold this house in the first place. I need it sold, quickly."
She nodded. "Of course. I will do everything I can to sell it. Do you mind taking...considerably less than you paid for it?"
I let out a far heavier sigh than I'd meant to and shook my head a little. I supposed it was all my fault. I'd snapped up the house too quickly without doing any research. Without even doing a quick Google search. I'd been so impressed by the cheap price tag that I'd greedily snapped it up, thinking I'd grabbed myself the bargain of the century. Well, I had gotten more than I'd bargained for.
Moving to Pottsville was more of the same—a knee-jerk reaction to when things had gone south in Paris. Perhaps I should have just stayed there. At least that was a big city. There had been places to hide there. There was no hiding in Pottsville.
Jasper came running up to me, begging to be petted. I smiled down at him and laughed. Okay, it was lucky I came to Pottsville after all. There had been no room in my tiny Paris apartment for a dog his size. Even if there had been, that dog wouldn't have been Jasper. He was one of a kind.
My nervous looking real estate agent stepped back a little, clearly wary of Jasper leaping up onto her pristine suit.
"Don't worry," I said. "He's a little more house trained than he was a few weeks ago."
She nodded but didn't look too sure as she walked to the sink and rinsed her glass. "What's this?" she asked, nodding to something in the window as she placed the glass in the dish rack. She reached out and started fondling a piece of paper still blowing in the wind outside, flapping around.
I frowned. "Oh, it's a note from a friend," I said. "I'd better get rid of that before I leave. It's been so rainy and cloudy, today is really the first day I've had the window open like that." I glanced over at the note from Amanda. I'd forgotten all about it.
"So you've really made a decision?" she asked, looking hopeful, as though I might still back out of it. I knew it would make her life a whole lot easier.
I nodded down at the outfit I was wearing: blue jeans and a button-down shirt with a scarf around my head. My packing outfit. "I've already got the boxes out," I said.
She nodded and sighed heavily, leaving with a promise that she would try but could give me no guarantees. I felt like promising her a lawsuit if the house didn't sell, but I'm not that sort of gal. Instead, I just watched her scurry away. Great, even my own real estate agent didn't want to be inside the haunted house with the crazy dog lady.
I checked my phone, not sure what I was hoping for. No new messages from anyone in town begging me to stay. Of course, Billy had texted me earlier and tried to talk me out of it, but he was the only one.
I knew the person I really wanted to be texting and asking me to stay. But I hadn't heard from him since he'd driven away from me in front of the police station the week before.
There was nothing to stay in town for. Time to cut my losses and leave. I already had my sights set on a house way upstate, six hours away, next to a lake. The weather was a lot better up there as well. I wouldn't be met by cloud and drizzle every day, nor judgmental stares. And the
dogs would love it.
"Looks like we're moving, Jasper," I said, patting his head while he made a sad little growling noise. "Don't worry, you and your sister are coming with me," I said, picking up Casper and giving her a cuddle. "I would never leave you two. You're going to like living by the lake."
The dogs liked living here as well though, with the big backyard and the house that I let them have free reign inside.
There was another knock on the door. My heart leapt a little thinking that it might be Ryan. I glanced in the mirror and made sure the scarf around my head didn't look too ridiculous before I answered.
"Oh, hello, Billy." I pulled the scarf off my head completely. "You've caught me in the middle of packing, I'm afraid."
His face fell a little.
"So is it really true?" Billy asked. "When I didn't receive any texts back from you I wasn't sure. I'm really sorry to hear that you're leaving, George."
"Yeah, well, I think it might be for the best," I said. "I'm not sure this town and I are a good mix." I invited him inside for one last coffee. I hadn't even gotten around to unpacking the kitchen in the first place, so there wasn't a lot of work to be done there, but I did have to rummage around in a few boxes before I found the coffee cups.
The coffee smelled amazing when it was brewed and just for a moment, with my hands wrapped around the warm mug, I felt peaceful, like maybe I should stay. Maybe things weren't that bad after all. I mean, I had a friend, right? And I had coffee. Things in Pottsville weren't exactly torturous.
Billy suddenly turned serious. "You're not leaving because you feel unsafe in your home though, are you?"
I shook my head slightly, but I wasn't sure that was entirely true. I thought it was definitely a factor in my decision to flee, actually. Every time I climbed the stairs, it was all I could think about. I'd even considered moving my mattress downstairs or just sleeping on the couch. I could maybe put up with being an unwelcome laughing stock if I didn't also fear for my life in my house.
Billy didn't seem too convinced. "Because you know what happened to those two women was just a coincidence, right? Two terrible accidents."
"I know that," I said, trying to sound convincing. I finished my coffee and rinsed out my cup, the note blowing in the wind catching my eye again. I really had to bring that inside. It was under cover of the porch, so it hadn't been rain-damaged, but sooner or later, it was going to blow away.
I heard movement behind me. Billy was standing and pulling his jacket on. "Let me know if you need help with moving anything, George. Even though I hate to contribute to anything that might lead to you leaving." He walked over to the whiteboard in the middle of the room and gave it a strange look. "This might be a bit of a pain to pack up."
I let out a short scoff. "I don't think I'll bother," I said. "I think I might just burn the darn thing."
But once Billy had gone, I walked back to the whiteboard. Why hadn't I packed it up yet? Or at the very least, erased all of its the contents? It was half-covered by a blanket but Ryan’s face was still visible. I pulled the blanket back and looked at the whole thing, holding the eraser in my hand.
"Come on, George, just do it," I said, my hand still hovering.
Jasper barked at me and I spun around, unable to tell if the bark was meant to be encouragement or a deterrent. I gave him a questioning look as I slowly moved my hand back toward the whiteboard. He barked even louder this time.
"Well, that's helpful. I can't tell if you want me to erase the whole thing or keep it." I placed the eraser down and Jasper started wiggling his tail happily.
"Huh."
I kept a skeptical eye on him as I climbed the stairs again and went back to packing up my wardrobe. My clothes were some of the few items I'd actually unpacked properly, so packing them again was going to take the most time. I looked at the row of coats hanging up and wondered if I ought to get them dry cleaned before I put them into boxes.
"That's probably the smart move, hey, Jasper?" I asked. He'd come and plopped himself down on my bedroom floor. I hadn't exactly stuck to my promise that him sleeping in my room would be a one-time thing. It had become a fairly regular thing and he made himself more than at home there on the floor next to my bed.
I pulled out my coats one by one and made sure to check the pockets for anything left behind before I took them to the cleaners. "Ooh!" I exclaimed, pulling out a ten dollar bill from one. "Nice."
There weren't any more pleasant surprises, but when I got to the last one, my thickest, blackest coat, I felt something hard and rubbery inside. "Oh," I said, pulling out the bone folder and sighing as I threw it on my bed, while Jasper yapped at it wildly. "Maybe I should give that to Brenda as a parting gift before I leave," I said wryly. "Something to remember me by."
I collected all my coats and placed them by the front door. Just a few hours of packing to go, a few loose ends to tie up, and I'd be done with this town.
"Business For Sale. Inquire Within."
Brenda came bustling into the shop, her mouth hanging open. "Are you really selling?" she asked, practically breathless.
I turned away from her a little. Childish? Yes, a little. But did she really expect a warm greeting after the way she had sold me out in the newspaper article?
"Yes, I am," I said flatly. I was perched up high on a stool behind my front counter, flipping through a gossip magazine, even though I felt a bit guilty about reading it now that I knew what it was like to be written about.
Brenda stood on her tiptoes, clutching her purse. "How much are you asking for it?"
I put my magazine down and raised my eyes at her over the top of my reading glasses. "Are you seriously interested, Brenda?"
She stood up straight. "Yes. I think I would be a far better owner than you are. I would streamline the shop and get rid of all the junk that is littering the aisles."
"As well as my jewelry?" I asked.
"Well, I said I'd be getting rid of all the junk, didn't I?" Brenda asked.
I opened my mouth then shut it again before I returned to my magazine. "The shop is more than you can afford," I said casually. "After all, I don't suppose local newspapers pay very much for tell-all stories, do they?"
I stopped reading and snuck a glance at her. Her face turned red. "That's right, Brenda. I know you spoke to the paper about me. And I know that you sent Prue to my house. Well, I suppose you're happy now that you've chased me out of town on your broomstick."
Now it was Brenda's turn for her mouth to fall right open. "I never..."
"Save it Brenda," I said, interrupting her as I removed my reading glasses. "Those quotes from the paper could only have come from you." I hopped off my stool and stared straight at her. "Not such a nice thing to do to a new gal in town, was it, Brenda? I thought you were supposed to be a good, Christian woman. I haven't seen much of that from you since I moved to town."
Her face had turned completely beet red. She was still stammering, trying to defend herself, but it was clear I had her cornered.
"Just tell me, Brenda. Why do you have it out for me, anyway? What did I ever do to offend you so badly?"
She gulped, looking for a way out of the shop. Almost teary. For a moment, I felt bad, but then I remembered that a) she had sold me down the river, and b) she was still my main suspect in the murders of Julia and Amanda.
"Tell me, Brenda." I folded my arms across my chest. "Where were you on the night that Amanda died?"
Her face may have been beet red a few minutes earlier, but now all the color was draining from her face. "How dare you?" she whispered. "What exactly are you implying, Georgina?"
I kept a steady face. "I think you know perfectly well what I am implying, Brenda. You still haven't answered my question."
She took a step back. "I don't have to answer any such ghastly, offensive questions!" she cried. "I liked Amanda very much! She was a good lady. She was kind, she was sweet, and she was a real, proper crafter, unlike some people!"
I shook my h
ead. "Where were you that night?" I came out from behind my counter. "And better yet, where were you a year ago, the night that Julia was killed in my house?"
"How dare you!"
"I notice you haven't answered any of my questions.”
"I don't have to!" Brenda clutched her purse to her chest and started to rush toward the door, her voice almost choked up now. "How dare you accuse me of doing anything to hurt Amanda. She...she...she was going to be my business partner!"
I frowned. "Business partner?"
Brenda had one hand on the door, ready to push it open. "Yes" she said, almost shaking. "We were going to go into business together. We were going to buy this very store."
The words hung in the air for a moment. I took a step toward her. "But Amanda pulled out, didn't she?" I asked in a low voice.
Brenda inched closer to the door.
I kept talking. "She backed out of the arrangement you had, ruined your chance to get your mitts on this shop and to control it, and you never forgave her for it, did you?"
Brenda shook her head. "No, that's not what happened at all! I did forgive Amanda."
I scoffed. "Yeah, right. You were so mad at Amanda that you killed her for it. What happened with Julia? She was a crafter too, right? Did you also strike a business deal with her that she flaked out on? Did she receive the same punishment?"
Brenda's eyes were gleaming. "This store should have been mine!" she cried. "They did both back out of our agreements, they weren't women who stuck to their word, but I didn't kill either of them!"
I narrowed my eyes. "So am I next on your list, Brenda?" I asked evenly
She swallowed. "You're leaving, anyway, aren't you? That newspaper article saw to that! And after the horrible accusations you have thrown at me today, I have no regrets about what I said to that reporter!"
"Great," I said. "So you did want to run me out of town. That was your great plan all along. Well, congratulations, Brenda, you got your big wish. But you are never getting your hands on this store. You'll be in jail before you have a chance to purchase it."
Craft Circle Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Page 8
