Hospitality and Homicide

by Lynn Cahoon

  He pointed to the application. “I took a class in the origins of your favorite drink. We spent a lot of time on coffee. I put it on the application.”

  “Your mom would be pleased that at least one of your classes was job-related.” I went back to the application. “And you spent a summer as a counselor at a youth camp?”

  “An art summer camp. We wrote our own stories, then made them into handcrafted books.” He pointed to the paper. “It’s all in there.”

  “If you tell me you have a minor in English literature, you’re hired.”

  “Not English literature.”

  I relaxed a little. Deek wasn’t my perfect candidate, but he was better than a warm body. Much, much better.

  “I didn’t have quite enough lit classes, so it had to be just a minor in English.” Deek grinned. “I took too many library science classes that last year.”

  I put the application down. There was no need to go on with the interview. “Fine. When can you start?”

  By the time Nick got back, I’d had Deek complete our new employee packet, had shown him around the shop, and scheduled him to start tomorrow. Deek had finished his semester classes on Tuesday and had the entire summer free. I told him I’d work around his class schedule in the fall.

  Just before he left, he paused at the counter. “My mom said I needed to come down here today. She just gets feelings about people and she said you were a good soul. Thanks for taking a chance on me. I know some people might question your judgement.”

  I watched him leave the shop and felt bad that he’d heard Nathan’s disparaging remarks. Nick grabbed the flyers. “We don’t need these anymore, right?”

  “Exactly. I’ll see you tomorrow. Plan on working a long shift. I need you to handle Deek’s training.”

  “Don’t forget this.” Nick handed me the yearbook I’d left on the counter. I tucked it inside my tote and when the bell rang, I shook my head.

  “I don’t care who it is, I’m leaving.”

  Nick smiled and waved at the newcomer. “I think you’ll change your mind when you turn around.”

  “I really just want to go home.” I sighed and turned around. Sasha stood behind me. I squealed and gave her a hug. “What a sight for sore eyes. I know I just saw you on Friday, but what are you doing here? I thought you had to move into your new digs this week?”

  “I am, but I wanted to come and get stocked up on reading material before I left town. I’m going to have some long, lonely nights once I get Olivia to bed.” Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

  “You’re welcome to anything in the ARC pile.” I waved her toward the back office. “We just got a new shipment.”

  “I should really buy my books now. I don’t work here anymore.” Sasha smoothed down her T-shirt that declared that Lovers heart South Cove.

  “You can still help out by reading and reviewing. Just send me an e-mail letting me know what you thought and I’ll put it on the website. I’m thinking of adding a monthly newsletter. I lucked out and hired someone who is totally overqualified for the job. I need to keep him busy.” I squeezed her arm. “I’m so glad you came in today.”

  She looked at her watch. “I thought, maybe…”

  “Toby would be here?” I half laughed, knowing she probably didn’t find it funny. “I get that a lot. Actually, he’s coming in later. It’s been a rough night for our local police department. Go check out the advance reader copies. If you don’t find anything, then you can buy something. But I think I saw a book from your favorite Colorado young adult author.”

  “Cat’s new book is here? Well, that’s a completely different situation.” She headed to the back of the shop. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Cat Latimer had come to speak to Sasha’s book club last year and I swear the girl almost fainted when she met her favorite author. I eased to the door. I had my purse. I had the yearbook. All I needed to do was cross the threshold without someone else coming into the shop.

  I had my hand on the doorknob when I heard someone call my name.

  CHAPTER 21

  When I turned around, Aunt Jackie stood at the door to the office. Sasha and Nick had frozen in place. My aunt’s gaze flickered over the two and focused on me. “Good afternoon, Sasha, so nice to see you. Jill, could you come back here for a second?”

  When I passed by Nick, he made a soft, “duh, dun, dun…”

  “Stop it. I’m not in trouble.”

  He shrugged. “That’s what all the condemned say–I’m not guilty!”

  Sasha stepped back. “I’ll just look around the shelves.”

  “Give me a minute. We won’t be long.” I pushed the door to the office where Jackie had disappeared and my eyes adjusted to the darkness. We didn’t have windows here in the back, so if the overhead lights weren’t on, we only got a little light from the shop in the front. I found my aunt standing by the desk. “What’s going on, what do you need?”

  “A favor. It’s right on your way home so please don’t say no. Harrold is napping upstairs and I don’t know how long he’ll be asleep.”

  I stepped closer. “What’s going on? What do you need?”

  She moved away from the desk and a lovely anniversary clock sat there. No gentle ticking, and according to the clock it was six. So either it was really early, or I’d stayed here way too long and was in a time loop. “It’s wonderful. Where did you get it?”

  “I snuck it out of Harrold’s house. It was his mother’s and hasn’t worked for years. I want you to take it to Killing Time and see if Ian can fix it for me.” She stroked the curved wood. “I’m hoping to return it to him for his birthday next month.”

  “How did you know I’d still be here?”

  My aunt shrugged. “I didn’t. I was planning on asking Toby, but it looks like he’s not here. I know I told you to have Nick work a full shift, but where’s Toby?”

  “He’s coming in late. Beal Street got broken into last night.” I reached for the clock.

  My aunt slapped my hands. “Hold on, I have a carrying case upstairs so it doesn’t get dinged up. I’ll be right back.”

  I scanned the pile of advanced reader copies, grabbed a few I knew Sasha would like, and headed to the front to wait for my aunt.

  Sasha insisted on buying a couple paperbacks before she’d agree to take the free ones I’d stuffed in her sack. When she left, Aunt Jackie was still upstairs. I opened the yearbook and started flipping through the pages, looking for the name Felix. When I finally found it, I whistled. “Man, I wasn’t expecting that.”

  Nick leaned over. “What?”

  I shook my head and took the book back into the office. I photo copied the page and then folded the paper and tucked it into my purse. My aunt had returned with the case and the clock was all ready for transport.

  I put the strap over my shoulder and kissed my aunt. “I’ll deliver this right now.” I wanted to talk to our clockmaker anyway. I went out to the front and sat the yearbook with a sheet inserted to mark my place. “Take this over to Greg as soon as Toby gets here. I’m going to Killing Time, then heading home. He can reach me on my cell.”

  “Okay.” Nick cocked his head at me. “Are you all right?”

  “I think I know who killed Walter, but I need to make sure.” I smiled as Nick’s face fell. “Don’t worry. I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

  I truly believed that. Maybe I didn’t consider all the consequences, but it was just about midday in June. What could happen in the middle of Main Street?

  Killing Time looked like it was closed, but it always looked that way with its dark curtains covering the windows. It was classy, but in a Count Dracula era kind of way. I tried the doorknob and the door swung open. “Ian? Are you here?”

  “Where else would I be?”

  I swung to my right and there he stood, leaning against one of the display cases. I tried to get my heart back into my chest as I faked a smile. “Oh, there you are.” I walked over and put the case on the glass cou
nter and opened it. “My aunt wants to know if you can fix this.”

  He peered at the clock, holding it in his hands. “Nice quality, probably German made.”

  “Is it fixable?”

  He sat the clock back down on the counter. “Maybe. Sometimes the damage inside is too severe. I won’t know the extent until I get the back opened and start poking around. I should have an answer next week.”

  “Perfect. I’ll come back then.” I started toward the door.

  “Wait, I need to give you a checkin sheet. That keeps us both honest.” He wrote something in a pad as I studied his face. It was an aging version of the one I’d seen in the yearbook. I was ninety-nine percent sure that Ian was actually Felix and had hated Walter. At least once upon a time. But did that rage cause him to kill so many years later? Greg needed to take this piece of information and run with it. I was at a loss.

  He shoved the paper toward me. “Here you go. Come back next Friday and I’ll give you the news.”

  I reached for the paper but he held it out of my reach, appearing to change his mind.

  “Can I ask you something?” He crossed his arms, the slip still in his hands.

  “I guess so. I mean, I need to go study for a test but I have a few minutes.” Why was I explaining my life to this guy? Trying to make myself a real person, maybe? They say that if you do that to a serial killer, they might not attack you. I didn’t hold much hope here.

  “You have a reputation around town of being quite the busy body.” He moved so he was standing between me and the door. I tried to not let my fear show on my face, but apparently he caught something because his grin widened. “You don’t think your reputation is the source of gossip? These people around here have nothing better to do than gossip. Congratulations on your upcoming shacking up possibility, by the way. I’m betting you won’t do it.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re asking and I really do have to be going. I’m meeting someone in five minutes.” I lied.

  “You just said you were studying. Now why are you telling me stories? Don’t you want to be my friend?” He stepped closer. “I never got to go to college and here you are, working on a second graduate degree. Some people are blessed with all the luck. Of course, I didn’t want to be a lawyer or run a business.”

  Okay, he’d opened the door. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but I wanted to know more about our Ian. I think I already knew the why behind his not attending, so I asked a different question. “What were you planning on studying in college?”

  The grin deepened. “Medicine. Surgery to be exact. I was always curious on what’s inside our bodies and how the whole thing works.”

  Yep, Ian had to be the neighbor kid who killed and dissected stray cats. “That must be why you’re so good with clocks.”

  His smile faded. “No. I’m good with clocks because my father was a clockmaker. I’m the third generation of German clockmakers in our family. It’s a tradition. I’m surprised you didn’t find that out about me while you were snooping.”

  “I wasn’t snooping about you.” I definitely should have been, but no, Ian hadn’t been on my radar at all.

  But Ian wasn’t listening. “I can’t believe your stupid boyfriend didn’t lock that writer guy up and throw away the key. Now I’m going to have to set up shop somewhere else. I’d started to like this town.”

  “You read Nathan’s scene when you were at Bill and Mary’s bed and breakfast.” The pieces were going together bit by bit. The crazy wannabe surgeon had read the death scene and decided to copy it.

  “You are very clever.” He looked at the clock, then pulled a knife from under a book. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get your grandmother’s clock fixed. Why don’t you come back to my workshop and I’ll show you to your temporary room? I’m sure your boyfriend will find you eventually. Maybe before you starve.”

  The door opened spreading light into the darkened room. I couldn’t see who was there, but then Mary Sullivan walked through the brightness into the dark.

  “Mary, no, get out of here!” I screamed as I ran toward Ian, trying to hold him back from taking a second hostage.

  “Jill? Is that you?” I heard Mary’s voice, but then she was pulled backward out of the shop and Greg stood in her place.

  The next few seconds were a blur as Greg grabbed Ian, slapped cuffs on him, and then sat him on the floor as Tim came into the room, gun drawn.

  “What are you doing here?” I moved back away from Ian who was glaring at me.

  “Tim, make sure there’s no one else in the shop.” Greg turned back to me. “I could ask you the same thing. Nick brought us the yearbook, then mentioned your aunt’s request to take Ian the clock. He’s sharp. I might need to talk to him about a career in law enforcement.”

  “But Mary?” I didn’t like the fact that Greg had used the elderly woman as a decoy.

  He held up his hands. “That I had nothing to do with. I saw her walking in as we pulled up to the curb. As soon as I heard her say your name, I knew there was trouble so I pulled her out.”

  “He killed Walter.” I pointed to the stoic Ian still sitting on the floor.

  Greg put an arm around me and led me out of the building. He paused at the front door. “Maybe, but right now, all we have proof of is he broke into Beal Street B&B last night. A neighbor saw him going inside and we have a print. You need to go home. I’ll come by and get your statement later.”

  “Greg, you need to see this.” Tim stood at the door to the back room.

  “What is it?” Greg called, but Tim just pointed to the back. “I’ll keep an eye out on our guy. I think we have some new charges to file on him.”

  I followed Greg back to the workshop where Ian had wanted to stash me. It was filled with clocks, some broken apart, some in pieces, none even close to being put together. Harrold’s clock would have never been fixed, just become part of this jumble of crazy. But then I saw what had caught Tim’s attention. A wall filled with Walter. The wall of pictures was a timeline of his life. Pictures from the same high school yearbook that Rory gave me. Pictures from the opening of Beal Street cut from the local paper. Random shots as he aged. Year after year. And then a flurry of pictures from now, ending at the tree. The one that hurt the most was a close up of Walter crying, his arms already tied to the tree.

  “Oh, no.” The words escaped my mouth and Greg turned, realizing I was behind him.

  He walked me out of the room and out of the shop. “Seriously, I mean it. Go home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Mary came around the other side of me. “I’ll take her home, Greg.” She moved me down the sidewalk. “Are you okay to walk dear? You’ve had quite a shock.”

  She didn’t know the half of it. Our newest shopkeeper was stark raving mad. A perceived slight had turned a high school brawl into a lifelong obsession. “Poor Walter.”

  When I got home, I took a beer out of the fridge and sat on the back porch with Emma. The images from Ian, no, Felix’s wall of hate would stay with me for a long time.

  “There you are.” A voice broke my thoughts. Aunt Jackie came through the back gate with Harrold. He carried a large basket. “Mary called and said you might need some company and it was dinner time anyway, so we brought it over.”

  “Lille’s chicken pot pies.” Harrold held up the basket as Emma came to greet the newcomers. “Of course, it’s my late wife’s recipe. Sometimes when I eat at the diner, I expect Agnes to walk into the room with her apron tied on and flour covering her face.”

  I glanced at my aunt, wondering how she would react to this before Jackie memory, but to my surprise, she patted Harrold’s arm.

  “At least you had one lady in your life that cooked. I never did get the hang of it, even after working in the food industry for my entire life.” She sat next to me in the swing. “Your Uncle Ted had to survive on whatever I brought home from the diner after a long day.”

  Apparently, memories of their other lives were
n’t a taboo topic. When I was growing up, my mother never talked about my real dad, especially in front of the step monster. He didn’t like to be reminded there was a before him time where Mom could have been happier.

  Relationships. I didn’t get them. But I knew when they felt right. And Harrold and Aunt Jackie felt right. Perfect even. Maybe there was a second chance for love in lives. I thought about Felix/Ian’s life filled with pain and anger. I didn’t want that. I wanted love. I stroked Emma’s head as she sat between Aunt Jackie and me. I’d made a decision.

  “Thanks for bringing dinner. Do you want to eat out here or in the kitchen?” I started to stand to get the silverware.

  Harrold sat the basket on the outside table. “Out here’s great. You stay there with Jackie. I’ll get what we need. Do you have iced tea made?”

  “Of course she does.” My aunt answered for me. “Grab silverware and plates too.”

  When he went inside, I smiled at my aunt. “He’s a good man.”

  Aunt Jackie’s gaze went to the door where Harrold and Emma had disappeared into the kitchen. “Yes he is. And so is Greg.”

  “I know.” I swallowed back the tears. And as if uttering his name had called him to me, I heard the back gate open and close.

  Greg bounded up the stairs and pulled me into his arms. “Are you okay?” His voice cracked as he whispered in my ear. “Finding you there was painful. I’d hoped you’d be long gone before we went to arrest him.”

  “Between me and Mary, he probably had more customers today than he had since he opened his shop.” I relaxed into his arms. “Thanks for saving me, even though I didn’t know I’d need to be saved.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before. You never know when danger is around. Of course, this time, he held his secret pretty tightly to his chest.” Greg slapped Harrold on the back after he put the iced tea and glasses down.

  “Should I set another place?” Harrold grinned. “We bought a couple extra pot pies, just in case. And there’s an entire chocolate pie for dessert.”