by Lynn Cahoon
I scooted across the road toward Kathi Corbin who was sitting in the doorway of her shop, Tea Hee, waving a fan to cool herself. “Can you believe this spring weather?”
“If it gets any hotter, we’ll just have to call it summer and be done with the social niceties.” Kathi looked at the box. “You going visiting? It’s always nice to bring a Welcome to South Cove gift when you go to ask a favor.”
“Attending the business-to-business meeting isn’t a favor, it’s a social responsibility.” I paused at her doorway to look inside at her shop. It always reminded me a bit like the Mad Hatter’s tea party in Alice in Wonderland. A person could start at one setting and just keep changing tables when the tea got cold. “Am I going to see you tomorrow?”
“Honey, if you’re serving that divine cheesecake, I’d attend an August Baptist tent revival in the deep south.” She checked her watch. “I better get going. I’m hosting a woman’s bridge group outing in a few minutes. I’m opening up the back store room and we’re doing a perfect country afternoon tea. I don’t know how you do it. I’ve done two events and I’m worn out after each one. Of course, the women are primed as a new water pump to buy after one of these events.”
“Events are hard, but so worth the time. We enjoy hosting our meet the author events. In fact, we’re doing one with Nathan at the end of the week. You should come by.” I didn’t really think Kathi was much of a reader. In fact, in the short time she’d lived in South Cove, I’d never seen her in the shop for anything but coffee. Or a meeting.
“I’d like that.” Kathi’s words surprised me and she laughed at my reaction. “Seriously I love reading. I haven’t been in yet because we didn’t have a bookstore back home and that one-click purchase for e-books is kind of addicting.”
“Well, then I’ll see you at the business-to-business meeting and the author event.” I stepped out on the sidewalk. “Have fun at your tea.”
“I’m working. I thought I told you that. Not the time to have fun.” Kathi waved and disappeared into her shop.
Now that’s where you’re wrong, I thought. I loved working. Sometimes, I felt like all I did—and all I wanted to do—was work. Of course, that was one reason I wasn’t sure about Greg moving in. Of course, if there was one guy who worked more hours in a week than I did, it was probably him. So that shouldn’t be a problem.
Maybe there wasn’t any issues with Greg moving in besides the ones I was imagining.
I shook off the thought as I realized I’d been standing outside Killing Time for at least a few minutes. If I didn’t go in soon, Ian would come out to see if I was all right. One thing small town shop owners didn’t want was someone falling or passing out in front of their shop. It kept potential customers away.
I put on a smile, pushed thoughts of Greg aside, and opened the door. The room was dim and cool. The windows had been covered up with heavy black velvet curtains. Circling the room were shelves filled with different types of old clocks. From the ones that graced fireplace mantels, to large grandfather clocks like the one I’d admired at South Cove Bed and Breakfast on Friday. A row of small desk clocks sat on a table in front of me. I reached to pick one up when I heard a cough behind me.
“That clock is valued at fifty thousand. Are you in the market?” The male voice held a touch of contempt, like he was certain I couldn’t afford the stupid clock. I could if I used the Miss Emily fund, but that was being saved for special occasions. Like scholarships for local high school students. My friend had died without an heir so she’d chosen me to inherit not only her house, but a lot of money. So far, I’d resisted the temptation to go on a spending spree for anything except fixing the run down house she’d left me. Regretfully, I pulled back my hand.
“Actually, I’m not.” I turned and almost gasped. The man standing in front of me was dressed in a full black suit, and looked like he could have been a model for the senior edition of GQ. He must have been a total looker in his time. Not that he wasn’t extremely handsome now. I shoved the box of cookies into his hands. “I’m Jill Gardner, city council business liaison and owner of the coffee shop down the street. “
“I’m Ian, and I own Killing Time.” He sat the box on a glass counter behind him. “I have to say, your store is lovely. I stopped in last night after I closed here and got a coffee along with several local charm books. You have a great selection for such a small area.”
“I try.” He was a charmer too. At least when he wasn’t trying to keep the riff raff from touching his stuff. “Anyway, we have a committee that meets monthly to talk about the community events that the businesses sponsor throughout the year. We’d love for you to come tomorrow. It’s at eight and we’ll have coffee and treats for everyone.”
He studied me a minute before answering. “I’d like that. I open the shop promptly at eleven so if it goes long, I’ll have to leave.”
“We try to be done by ten. That way everyone can get back to their shops before it gets busy.” I stepped toward the door. “I’m so glad you’re going to be joining us.”
“It’s my pleasure. Do all of the business owners come?” He looked hopeful.
I rolled my hand back and forth. “Sometimes. But we always have a core group that we work with for most of the festivals.” I thought about Esmerelda and the fortune teller outfit she’d worn to one of the meetings. At least we were never dull. “Have you met any of our South Cove crew?”
“No.” Ian almost barked out the word.
I flinched at the answer, wondering if I should have come sooner to welcome him to South Cove. “I’m really sorry it took me so long to come over and invite you, but we only meet once a month so you haven’t missed out on anything.”
His perfectly coiffed eyebrows scrunched together. “What are you talking about?”
“You said no one has been here to greet you.” I adjusted the tote strap on my shoulder. “I should have come earlier.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’ve met several shop owners in the last couple weeks. I just don’t know anyone here.”
The bell over the door chimed lightly and a couple walked in. They were tourists. I say this not because I didn’t know them, but they had on the tourist uniform. Cargo shorts for the guys and yoga pants for the women. I was certain that the woman had a swimsuit on under her shopping clothes so they could go right to the beach. I loved living in a place where yoga pants were considered dressy.
I turned back toward Ian. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. And welcome to South Cove.”
Walking home, I thought about the encounter with the clock guy. The man was definitely on the weird side. Which meant he’d fit into South Cove just fine. Speaking of the someone with a side of weird, Dustin Austin stood outside his bike shop. I waved at him as I walked past. Today I got a nod. Most days, he totally ignored me. I blamed it on his grief over losing his wife, Kasey. Or it could also be that he totally hated me.
I stopped short on the sidewalk. I forgot to tell Ian about the clock at South Cove Bed and Breakfast. Tomorrow I’d introduce him to Bill and Mary. That should get me on the clockmaker’s good side. I’d refer him to a client.
Happy with my resolution, I headed home to grab Emma for our daily run.
Just like yesterday, when we came around the cove. I spotted Esmeralda standing on top of the bluff watching the ocean. This time, I didn’t even wave. Greg needed to know that his part-time police dispatcher was going completely over the bend. The highway ran right by the spot where she stood and I could imagine she had freaked out more than one driver that afternoon. I didn’t think the woman had any family. And she wasn’t very old, maybe in her late forties? Could it be early onset Alzheimer’s? Whatever it was, I was worried about my neighbor and her safety.
As Emma and I ran up the hill toward the house, I saw Greg’s truck in my driveway. When I reached the fence, I could see him sitting on the porch, a bottle of beer in his hand. He handed me one out of the six-pack sitting next to him and I sank down on the porch step be
side him. “Bad day?”
“I’m not going to get through a week without killing the guy.” Greg stroked Emma’s coat as she leaned in to comfort him.
“Nathan can’t be that bad.” I took a sip on my beer and almost choked when I saw the look Greg gave me as an answer. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I asked. “Seriously, what could he have done to upset you this much?”
Now Greg stood and paced the front yard. “You want a list? I’ll give you a list. First, the guy can’t stop touching everything. My rifle, my handcuffs, my radio, his hands are all over the car. You know that statue of the Hindu god with all the hands, he’s her reincarnation.”
“First day. He’s trying things out to be more realistic in his writing.” I offered an explanation and got a glare from Greg in response.
“Secondly, he never stops talking. I thought writers were introverts? Not this guy. He introduced himself to anyone and everyone we even walked by.” Greg held out a hand and mimicked Nathan. “Hello, I’m Nathan Pike. Perhaps you’ve heard of me or read one of my books? No? Here’s my business card.”
“Some authors are introverts. I’ve had some come to do a reading and couldn’t even get past the first page.” I took another swing of beer. This was entertaining. Or would be if Greg wasn’t so upset about the whole thing. I should be more understanding. A good girlfriend would be agreeing with him or consoling him. I wasn’t sure which one, so I just kept watching him pace.
“Well, Nathan definitely doesn’t fit into that category. Third, he actually likes Mayor Baylor.” Greg held up his hands in surprise. “Who in their right mind likes our honor the mayor? Well, besides Tina.”
Tina was Mrs. Baylor and I wasn’t sure she even really liked her husband. She did like being the wife of a somewhat powerful man, though. This fact was even bothering me. I grabbed for an answer out of thin air. “Maybe he just doesn’t know him well?”
I didn’t have to worry. Greg wasn’t looking for support or answers. He only wanted to vent. I’d never seen him this upset.
“And then he had to read me the scene where the killer dropped the body in his new book. He asked if I could tell him if it seemed realistic or not. What, like I find bodies tied up to trees every day?” This time he stopped and looked at me.
When I realized he was waiting for an answer, I said. “You don’t tell me where you find bodies.”
“That’s because I don’t want you going off trying to solve the murders.” Greg sank back onto the porch. “And he ate constantly in my car. I’m going to have to vacuum out potato chip crumbs before I go home tonight. I should have done it before I left, but all I wanted to do was get out of that station and away from Nathan.”
“So do you want to have dinner and we can watch a movie after?” I rubbed his crazy tight shoulders.
He leaned his head on my shoulder. “Yes, please.”
We sat there like that for a few minutes; then I remembered Esmeralda and her strange behavior. “Greg, is there something wrong with Esmeralda?”
“Besides the normal woo woo mystical thing she has going on?” He lifted up his head and looked over at her house. “I haven’t noticed anything weird, but of course, weird for her is kind of normal.”
I told him about seeing her on the bluff.
“Both days?” He frowned and ran a hand through his hair.
I thought about the lonely figure she’d made standing on the edge of the road. “Yeah. It just felt, well, weird.”
He raised his eyebrows at my choice of words and laughter bubbled out of us, lightening the mood. “Let’s go grill burgers. You have any potatoes we can fry into chips?”
“I think I can scrounge up a few.” I unlocked the door and we headed into the kitchen. The bright sunny yellow I’d painted the room made me smile every time I walked into the area. And of course, my friend, Miss Emily’s painting still hung on the wall. This had been Miss Emily’s house when I moved here. Then someone who cared more about money than life killed her. When the will was read, no one was more surprised to hear that she’d left me her worldly possessions. Including the house where I now lived.
Greg followed me in, flipping through the pile of envelopes that the mail guy had shoved through the slot in the door. “Anything except bills?”
“Actually, yes.” He handed me a thin white envelope. “It’s from the historical commission.”
I took the envelope and tossed it on the counter. I wasn’t going to waste my time. “I’ll defrost the hamburger and you can peel potatoes.”
“I like my fries with the peel on. But I’ll scrub them.” He pushed the envelope closer to me on the cabinet. “Aren’t you going to open that? You could be the proud owner of an official California historic site.”
When I’d moved into the house, we’d found a rock wall back behind the shed that used to hold Miss Emily’s painting studio. Now, it served as Toby’s temporary bachelor pad. Then we found an old city planning document that proved the stone wall was part of the original South Cove Mission site. And since that time, I’d been waiting on the historical commission to either approve or deny our claim. Every six months or so, I got one of those envelopes with a single page letter. No decision had been made yet. “I’m not holding my breath. Seriously, I’m pretty sure they’ve run out of funds and now are just using up their stash of paper and stamps.”
“I’m thinking we should just make a patio out there and forget about the historic significance.” Greg turned on the water and washed a potato.
I put the hamburger in the microwave and then picked up the letter. “Fine, I’ll open it, but if it’s just another delay notice, you owe me a dinner out.”
“When? Tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “I have class tomorrow and Wednesday is study night. Let’s plan for Thursday. Friday is the book club meet and greet with Nathan.”
Greg dried his hands on a towel. “Don’t mention his name. And I only owe you dinner if you open the letter and show me you won. So don’t be counting your chickens missy.”
I opened the letter and started reading. “Dear Ms. Gardner, we are writing today to update you on the status of your project. Yada, yada, yada. And here’s the important part. We are sorry to say the council hasn’t brought the project up for review as of yet. Please check in after six months if you haven’t heard from us. Love and kisses, Sandra Midlevel Bureaucrat.”
“Why do I think part of that was fictional?” He got down the chopping board and pulled out my good chef knife.
After throwing the letter into my junk drawer with the others, I went back to the microwave and poked at the package with the hamburger. It felt soft enough. “Okay, maybe her name wasn’t Bureaucrat. But the part about the delay is real enough.”
“Then no patio.” Greg held up the ground meat. “You want me to make burgers and get them on or finish cutting these fries?”
“You handle the grilling. I’ll do the frying.” I reached for the knife. “So should we go to that new seafood place on the highway? They’re getting good reviews.”
“Sounds good, but don’t expect me to show up on Friday. By then, I’ll be ready to drink a few beers and forget I even know Nathan Pike’s name.” Greg’s cell buzzed. He looked down. “Sorry, it’s Tim.”
He sat the hamburger down and answered his phone, stepping outside before saying anything. We tried to keep work and home separate. That way Greg didn’t have to worry about me trying to solve his murders. Of course, there wasn’t a current murder investigation going on. That didn’t mean there weren’t other things to look into. I planned on going over to the station after my meeting tomorrow with a box of cookies just so I could ask Esmerelda what was going on.
When Greg came back inside, I had made the burgers and seasoned them. “Here you go. All ready for the fire.”
He took the tray and then sat it down on the table. “Tim ran out on a call just now. He thought it might be a prank, but no. Apparently there has been a murder out on the Jensen farm.”
“They haven’t made a positive identification yet. All Doc will say is it’s a male victim.” Greg leaned against the counter and drained the rest of his beer into the sink. “And Jill, remember I told you that Nathan asked me about his murder scene?”
I really didn’t like where this was going. I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
“The body was found tied to the Judas tree, just like the scene he read me this afternoon from his book.”
CHAPTER 5
Greg left without dinner, so I made myself a basket of crispy fries. I worried about him when he went out on calls like this. It made me realize there were bad people in the world. Besides, living in a small town, odds were, I probably knew the victim. So I cooked. Cooking made me feel like I controlled something. I lightly fried the rest of the cut potatoes and let them cool. Later, I’d freeze them for quick and easy homemade fries another night. While I was doing that, I packaged up the hamburgers and put one in a fry pan. The other one I put into the fridge. I’d make it for dinner tomorrow night before I went to class. The one thing I knew was our date on Thursday was probably off the books.
That’s the problem with dating someone in law enforcement. Your plans were always tentative. But I was looking forward to trying the menu at the new place. Someday.
I took my dinner to the table and opened one of my business texts. The intro class was challenging mostly because it assumed I had a business undergrad degree. I continually had to look up terms that I thought I knew, but wanted to make sure. You would think after running a pretty successful business for almost ten years I’d know more. But I guess that was Aunt Jackie’s point.
My other class was Basics of Marketing and I loved it. I could see several opportunities for not only my shop, but all of South Cove. Especially during our seasonal festivals. Paying attention in class was hard, since my mind kept wandering off into possibilities. At least my semester project would be stellar. And useful.
