“Okay, everyone take a deep breath. I’ll be right back.”
I ran down the hallway before anyone could protest, ducking my head in different rooms, thinking maybe Ivy had gone exploring.
I found her in the parlor seated across from a young couple dressed in their Sunday best. The woman wore a modest floral number buttoned up to her eyeballs and the man was in a green sports coat, tan slacks and a wide-brimmed hat.
Ivy was chatting away cheerily and I sighed in relief. Such a good helper. This must be the last reservation and she was making them comfortable.
“Hello there. Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you checking in today?” At this point, I wasn’t sure what the plan was so I decided to just stick to the usual routine. There was nothing in Bed and Breakfasts for Dummies that explained dead guy protocol.
I hadn’t really noticed the expression on either of their faces up until that point. The woman stood, hurried to me, and the man stayed in his seat, staring at Ivy with worry. And fear.
The woman pasted on a bubbly smile and glanced back, nervously. “Hello. My name is Edna and this is my husband Richard. This, er,” she stammered, swept her arm toward Ivy, searching for a proper adjective, “lovely young lady was kind enough to invite us into your home. We were wondering if you might have a few minutes to chat with us.”
I heard the man say to Ivy, “Crystals, dear, are not what saves us.”
Uh-oh. I did a quick inventory of the situation. Ivy was wearing that pentagram hat which the uninformed often viewed as a symbol for dark arts. It can be, if the top point of the star faces downward, but her hat was embroidered with a typical pagan pentagram. Used in many rituals and ceremonies, the pentagram represents the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, Water and finally, the point at the top of the star stands for the sacred Spirit.
Even if she had explained this to our guests, I doubt these two would have heard.
“You have a lovely home,” the woman was saying. “Perhaps we might have a cup of tea and we can show you all the literature we brought? This child seems eager to learn about Jehovah.”
Ivy had a wicked grin on her face. “I thought maybe we could share our literature with them too, Stacy.” She was flipping through a magazine titled, The Watchtower: Questions for Young People.
I used to send Birdie to the door to handle these situations. But after the last time when two Mormon missionaries left the church, rented an apartment in town and started a hip-hop band, Birdie wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone spreading the word of Jesus. Or Jehovah. Or even Hare Krishna.
Ivy said, “I was telling them that we believe in Watchtowers too and—”
“Okay, kiddo. I got it,” I said to her. To the woman standing next to me I said, “I’m terribly sorry, but you see we are very busy at the moment. As you may know, this is a bed and breakfast and we are right in the middle of preparing the morning meal. So if you’ll excuse us...” I looked at her hopefully.
“Oh, well, perhaps your guests would welcome the opportunity to discuss a chance at true happiness,” she said.
“True Dat!” Ivy clapped.
I glared at her and through gritted teeth said, “I don’t think that is appropriate.”
The man stood and took a step toward me then and asked, “Do you feel a knocking at your heart, child? Like someone is calling to you? That is Him asking to be let in.”
I felt a knocking in my head, like a migraine with my name on it, but that was about it.
“I hear it,” Ivy said.
“Stop it, Ivy!” I snapped.
The man shook his head in sorrow. “Wouldn’t you want to live in a world where there is no conflict, no grief, no sickness?”
Sure, but there’s a stiff in the kitchen with a knife in his back so why don’t we take this up tomorrow?
That’s what I wanted to say anyway, but instead I went with,” How about this. You give me your address and we’ll drop by at a more convenient time. Say around supper? Then we can go through every single pamphlet you have. We’ll make an entire evening out of it.”
The woman looked at the man and said, “Oh, well, I’m not sure that is the best idea.”
He looked confused and said, “Perhaps not, no.”
“Of course it isn’t!” I said. “Because no one wants a stranger dropping by her home unexpectedly at meal time. What if there isn’t enough pot roast? Even Jesus had limited seating.” Kind of regretted that last part, but I was pretty stressed out.
I heard a car start then and rushed to the window. Birdie’s Cadillac was peeling down the driveway.
Dammit!
“Ivy, please show Edna and Richard out and give them a coupon for Pearl’s Palace. Best fish fry in town,” I said to them. Then I rushed back towards the kitchen.
IVY GERAGHTY’S PERSONAL BOOK OF SHADOWS
by Ivy Geraghty
Entry #10
I have endured my encounter with Those Who Fear What They Do Not Know. I relish a second opportunity to Enlighten them in the spirit of the ways of old. For there is not one path that carries us all. Each must find her True North (okay, I snagged that one from Oprah, but she’s like the closest thing to a Goddess here on Earth.) I wait for further instructions.
-Ivy Geraghty, Junior Apprentice Warrior Goddess (in training)
THIRTY-FIVE
My stomach launched an all-out campaign to be fed as soon as I got back to the kitchen. I could only assume it was the salty aroma of real bacon that had it in uproar.
Lolly had that look that said her mind was about to take a coffee break. When she stuck her finger in a blueberry muffin to determine if the batch was done, I had my confirmation. She pulled out a gooey blue mess and I grabbed an oven mitt. Given the situation, I guessed the Bailey’s wasn’t cutting it.
“Aunt Lolly, why don’t you take a break for a minute?” I guided her to a chair in the dining room and helped her sit down. Popped the muffins back in the oven and turned to Fiona.
Mr. Sayer was still in his seat but I didn’t see John. “Where’s John?” I reached for a tablecloth from the upper cabinet and covered Mr. Sayer with it. Seemed like the right thing to do.
“He went outside to phone that nice boy Leo to tell him your grandmother was heading down to see him at the police station. So impatient, Birdie is.”
“What?”
Lolly squealed and tossed a dishrag over her head.
“Keep your voice down, please.”
I apologized and Fiona gave me a curious look. “I don’t know why you don’t give Leo another chance. He’s got a good job, a nice personality and great buns.”
Seriously? We’re going to have this conversation NOW?
Deep breath, Stacy. Deep. Breath. I reached for the bottle of Jose Cuervo and said, “I don’t like this, Fiona, not one bit. I cannot believe you let her go.” Why would she go? Why not wait here?
I poured Lolly a shot and slid it across the table. “I’m heading over there.”
Fiona laughed. “Nonsense. Your grandmother knows what’s best.” She scooted around me and said, “Isn’t that right, Lolly?”
Lolly bobbed her head and downed the spirit.
“There, you see?” Fiona reached around and turned the oven off.
“And this?” I pointed to Sayer.
Fiona looked back from the open oven door. “He’ll be taken care of shortly. John said he would ask Leo to send some sort of team right away. Now be a dear and help me finish setting the buffet.”
“Fiona, you cannot serve breakfast in the middle of a crime scene.”
“That’s what John said. Wanted Lolly and I to stop everything we were doing and leave the room. Imagine, telling me what to do in my own home.” She shook her said. “Not feeding people when they are hungry—that would be a crime. Besides, it's all prepared, we just need to get the food and beverages into the dining room and then I will see that the kitchen door stays latched.”
There was no arguing with that kind of logic.
I
grabbed the platter of bacon and the scrambled eggs and headed into the dining room.
“Who is all this food for anyway? There are only four people to feed.”
“No, dear. We also have a very nice group of girls. That’s why we put the Honeymooners in your cottage. The girls are sharing the suite.”
I decided to bite my tongue on that decision for the moment since she had enough to contend with. Fiona put a finger to her lips in thought as I set the eggs down. I reached into the top drawer and pulled out a doily. Presentation was everything in this house. I unfolded the doily and as I did, a vision hit me.
A tall figure leaning over a desk. Hands flipping through a book. My stomach lurched and a feeling of dread exploded in my chest.
I put the plates down and kissed Fiona on the cheek. “I gotta go, Auntie.”
“What? What about breakfast? I thought you were going to help?”
She looked absolutely bewildered and I hated leaving her with all the work, not to mention the inevitable investigation, although I suspected Lolly would be coming around any minute. I couldn’t explain why I had to rush off. Not then anyway.
Ivy. Ivy would have to do it. She was a strong, smart kid, I doubted serving breakfast to a quiet group at a B&B would trip her up. I would just tell her to go with that same story she told Leo. That she was in a “Little Sister” program at the community center. It would have to do until I could properly explain the situation to the aunts and Birdie.
“It’s covered.” I grabbed my coat. “And please, re-route it to the parlor, would you?”
I had to get to my grandmother. I smelled trouble. Mixed with bacon. And tequila.
THIRTY-SIX
Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.
-William Shakespeare (The Tragedy of King Richard III)
I explained things to Ivy, who apparently was a fan of the movie Tombstone, because she said, “I’ll be your Huckleberry.”
It wasn’t until I got outside that I remembered I still had no idea where my stuff was and that included my car keys. Or rather, the keys to my grandfather’s car. Mine was still in the shop after taking a nose-dive into an icy lake. Birdie had her car so it looked like I was walking.
I had my gloves on and was at the third step when I heard, “Don’t think so.”
John was walking up to the porch.
“I don’t have time for your bullshit, John.” I continued down the steps.
He put his hand out and said, “Look, for some reason Leo thinks you’re the sane one in this nuthouse so he asked me to make sure you stayed put until the team got here.”
I laughed. “John, less people live in this town than were in your entire graduating class from high school, I’m sure. The team,” I used air quotes, “consists of a few uniformed officers, a three-legged Labradoodle, and until a couple weeks ago, my eighth-grade biology teacher.”
“You gonna give me a hard time? Leo warned me you have a tendency to look for trouble.”
I rolled my eyes and nudged him aside. It took him about two seconds to cuff me to the porch railing.
“NOT funny. Un-cuff me.”
John laughed. “Soon as the boys get here.”
I ran my hand up and down the rail, hoping to loosen a spindle. “Agh!”
“Yep. They sure don’t make houses like this anymore.” John slapped the railing.
Deirdre called for him then and John said quietly, “Believe me, kiddo, this is not my idea of a honeymoon. Just doing a favor for a friend.”
He jogged down the steps and around the corner.
“Damn you, Leo,” I muttered.
The front door creaked open after a couple seconds and Ivy poked her head out. Without saying a word, she shot forward, reached into her backpack, pulled out a key and slid it into the lock. She disappeared back behind the front door just as fast.
She was like an anime character. I wondered what else was in that backpack as I jogged to the police station.
Gus Dorsey was the first person I saw when I walked through the doors. Gus has had a huge crush on my cousin, Cinnamon, since high school, but since his thighs are about as thin as fettuccini and his ears could take flight at any moment, it was never a mutual attraction.
We think of him as Deputy Dawg. He thinks he’s Clint Eastwood.
He was playing with one of those paddleballs and he couldn’t keep the thing in the air for more than two whacks. There was a stun gun in his holster where an actual gun should have been. I’m not clear as to the true version of the story, but it was rumored that Gus shot himself in the ass about a year ago. I didn’t want to think about how that was even possible.
He chased the ball down the hall just as the door swept shut behind me.
The entryway of the station house was divided in half by a short, wooden wall, a swinging gate the only barrier between the lobby and the dispatcher. I didn’t recognize the woman behind the counter. She must have replaced Betty, which was okay by me. Betty had a lot of laughs at my expense. Mostly due to my unfortunate knack for stumbling across dead bodies.
At least this time, I wasn’t the one who found it first.
“Hello,” I said.
She raised a finger to let me know she’d be with me in a minute. She seemed to be fielding a call about a UFO sighting.
“That big, eh? Hovered right outside your window, you say? Was it round? Uh-huh,” she said. She was in her sixties, plump, bouffant hairdo and press-on nails. Her reading glasses were attached to a thin chain that was lost in the cleavage of her pink sweater.
“Okey-dokey. Say, did you get Violet’s invitation? Yep. I know. Her kids look more like that neighbor than her husband.” She cackled and a snort escaped.
“Excuse me?” I said, louder this time.
Yet again, she held up one, expertly pressed-on nail longer than a carving knife.
“Oh, sure, yeah, that could be. Uh-huh.”
I tapped my foot to keep myself from planting it in her ass.
She sent me an unapologetic look and continued her conversation. “You know, I don’t doubt it. I think I’ve seen one myself. Oh sure.”
Then she had the nerve to spin around, her back to me, and put a foot up on the half wall.
“Big as the moon it was. Yep.”
There was a bell on her desk that said ring for service so I did. Repeatedly.
DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!
She sighed with disgust. “Hold on a minute, Martha.”
“Stop that now. Can’t you see I’m on the phone? Where are your manners?” she snapped, dangling the receiver.
“Is that a citizen complaint?”
I could hear Martha bust out laughing on the other end. Miss Press-On spat into the receiver, “Did you hear that, Martha? As if you would make an Official complaint!” Pause. “I know. Can you believe the nerve?”
In a small town, stories take on a life of their own. Needless to say, there are several versions still floating around Amethyst regarding what happened next. In my defense, my mother was apparently missing, I just found out I had a sister, there was a dead guy in the kitchen of my grandmother’s house and I had skipped breakfast. But I would like to go on record stating that I have never struck a woman twice my age.
I pounced on the desk and yanked the phone from her chubby hand. She jerked in surprise and with her foot on the rail, the shift in weight sent the chair wobbling. She shrieked as I put the receiver to my ear and said, sweet as sugar, “Hello? Martha? Yeah, she’ll have to call you back.” Then I slammed the phone down.
I filled my lungs with air and said, “Now, I would like some assistance, please.”
Her bottom lip quivered, but the chair was coming to a halt. She looked at me in horror. “Gus!” she shouted over her shoulder. She didn’t take her eyes off me.
Gus strolled up to the desk then, took one look at me and bolted.
“Gus! You little weasel! Get back here!” I shouted.
Miss Bouffant swiveled her head from side to s
ide, not sure what to do.
“I’m going in,” I said to her.
She nodded.
I swung through the little gate and ran around the corner full throttle. Unfortunately, I smashed into Leo and bounced off him like a bullet off Superman’s chest.
“Jesus! Are you okay?” He asked, bending down to help me. “I heard Stella calling Gus. Thought something was wrong.”
“Thank you.” I stood, stepped away from him. “Why isn’t he at the B&B right now anyway collecting evidence or at least getting in the way of someone else collecting evidence?”
“I asked the Sheriff’s department to partner on this one. The county medical examiner would have to process the body anyway since the coroner passed away.”
Leo must have seen that I was upset, because he didn’t offer a lecture on my choice to leave Birdie’s house after a guest had permanently checked out. He also didn’t ask how I escaped a man twice my size. With handcuffs.
“Your grandmother is down the hall. She’s just finishing up her statement. Come on.” Leo put a hand on my back, guiding me through a long corridor.
“Don’t touch me.”
He dropped his arm.
“You didn’t have to come down here, Stacy. You know she’s in good hands.”
I knew she had a big mouth.
I said, “She should have a lawyer.”
“For what? She isn’t accused of anything, and from what John told me, my guess is the guy got in a bar fight, got a little blood on his shirt, passed out at the kitchen table this morning and had a heart attack. He was still tipping the drinks when we left. I saw the stunt he pulled yesterday with that knife through the neck, so my guess is he was still at it this morning.”
“You think so?”
Leo gave me a warm smile and nodded. “Birdie insisted on coming down here to personally tell me everything she knows. Probably to keep me away from you.”
I don’t know how it happened, but an irrational bitch took possession of my mouth. “Well can you blame her?”
Leo turned to me, his upper lip curved in that way it does when he’s confused. “What exactly is your problem? You broke it off with me, remember?”
Bloodstone (A Stacy Justice Mystery) Page 8
