I wanted to comfort him about his concerns, but that would’ve been disingenuous. After all, I’d started suspecting that he’d been involved. Guilt over that kept me silent.
Nick dropped me off in front of my aunt’s cottage, and I grabbed my bag from the back, refusing help from the others and thanking them for a great time.
I needed a shower, a change, and a call with my aunt to clear my head. Whenever I was unsure about anything, Aunt Rita was there to give it to me straight.
I traipsed down the front path, frowning at the lack of greeting—or attack—from Bodger, and traversed the three front steps. I fished my key out of my pocket and inserted it into the keyhole.
The front door creaked open before I’d turned the key.
My blood ran cold.
“What on earth?”
I’d definitely locked up after myself when I’d left yesterday morning. There wasn’t a chance I’d forgotten. But I had given a spare key to Emilia so she could feed Bodger. That had to be what had happened—she’d left it open.
I didn’t blame her. If I had a toddler to look after, I would’ve been scatter-brained too.
Dismissing my fear, I entered the house and dropped my bag next to the entrance hall table. My hands leaped to my mouth, but the gasp escaped anyway.
The front table had been turned on its side. Papers were scattered through the hall, and a cushion from the sofa had been split open, spilling fluffy stuffing everywhere.
I navigated around the mess, picking across it, my hands still on my mouth and fear clawing at my throat.
Someone had been in here while I was gone and torn the place apart. I peered into the living room. The TV was still there, but the bookcase had been tipped over, and the books spilled across the floor.
They might still be here.
I backed up real quick, practically falling over myself.
What about Bodger? “Oh no! Oh no, oh no.” I ran out of my aunt’s cottage and sprinted across the yard, practically vaulting her gate. “Emilia!” I cried and collided with my neighbor’s front door. “Emilia? Are you home? Please be home!”
“Just a minute,” Emilia called, followed by the harrowing cry of an angry toddler.
The door opened and my smiling neighbor appeared. “Oh, you’re home. Wonderful. Listen, I fed—Sunny? You’re pale as a ghost. What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The cottage. Bodger. I—someone—”
“Bodger’s in the living room,” Emilia said, opening the door wider. “He’s playing with Justin.”
“He… what?” Bodger was playing? It was a sign of how shocking that statement was that I forgot about the break-in at my aunt’s cottage for a second. “Why’s he here?”
“I have no idea. He came over last night after dinner and didn’t want to leave. So, I set up a little kitty bed for him in the living room and he’s been having play time with Justy, ever since.”
Another shriek came from the toddler. The little boy sat on the mat in the center of the living room, the TV playing a children’s show in the background. He held a cat toy and bonked it lightly on Bodger’s head.
Bodger didn’t so much as flick his tail, but purred. Actually purred. And swatted the toy instead of the child.
“What’s going on, Sunny?”
“Can you call the police for me, please?” I whispered. “I—someone broke into my aunt’s house.”
Emilia paled. “Oh, no. Yes, I can do that.” She rushed off and grabbed her phone, while I stood in the living room doorway, witnessing Bodger and the toddler playing together.
Had Bodger left last night and come here because he’d been afraid of whoever had broken into my aunt’s cottage? I touched my pocket and found my phone there. I’d been so distraught over losing Bodger and the break-in that I’d totally blanked on the fact that I could call the cops myself.
“They’re on their way,” Emilia said, appearing in the doorway. “Don’t worry, Sunny, it will be OK. Come on through to the kitchen. I’ll get you a soda. You need sugar.”
I followed her, the hall blurring. Was it my past that had come back to haunt me? Could it be that my ex-husband had another mystery enemy who’d found me?
“You need to relax, darling,” Aunt Rita said, down the line, totally calm, the sound of chatter occasionally flaring in the background. She was clearly in ‘cruise mode’ because she hadn’t batted an eyelid or flapped a lip over the fact that her cottage had been broken into, her books tipped over and her clothes ripped out of her closet.
“How can you say that?” I asked, standing out on the porch while two police officers walked through the cottage, doing one last sweep of the place. They’d already checked for any remaining intruders and had found none.
“Nothing was stolen, was it?” Rita asked.
“No.”
“Then there’s no need to stress. You can’t control this anymore than you can control the ocean waves or the summer breeze.”
“Auntie, you’ve been on that cruise for too long. You’re starting to sound like you’ve been sniffing essential oils.”
Aunt Rita let out tinkling peals of laughter. “Be that as it may, you have to manage what you can control instead of worrying about what you can’t.”
“How?”
“Insurance,” Aunt Rita said. “Call the insurance company and have them come out and assess the damage. And then… hmm, try calling the local alarm company and asking them to come install one. By the way, have the air-conditioning guys come out to the café yet?”
Now, she sounded more like my aunt. In organization mode, Rita was a woman to be reckoned with.
“No. I tried calling them, but they said that they had no record of the booking. And when I shouted…”
“Oh dear,” Aunt Rita said. “Look, let me give them a call and work my magic.”
“No, no, I can do it, it’s fine. You’re on vacation. You’re not supposed to doing any work.”
“Are you sure?” Rita asked. “I can call them. It would be no trouble.”
“No, auntie, I’ll do it.”
“All right, darling. Now, look after yourself and stop stressing. Strange things like this happen all the time, and I trust that you’ll take care of things there. Just make sure Bodger is safe and well-fed.”
“I will. I just… are you sure you don’t want to come back? Things are weird here, auntie. There are—well, there’s the murder and now this.”
“I’m sure this is a random break-in. Malorie down the street had a problem like this a few years back. Turned out it was just a group of rambunctious teenagers on a dare. You’ll see. It will be something relatively innocent. Now, I’ve got to go, sweetie. They’re serving mimosas at the pool.”
“Have fun.”
I stared at the phone’s screen, still shaken but a little calmer thanks to my aunt’s soothing tone. I was caught between believing she was right and the certainty that something fishy was going on here.
Sure, the break-in could’ve been some teenagers on a dare or even a random person looking for a quick buck—or it could’ve been if anything of value had been taken—but my gut said this was different.
Could it be related to Trisha’s murder and the fact that I’d been asking questions? Or was this because of my ex-husband’s illegal shenanigans?
Either way, there was nothing I could do but beef up security at my aunt’s cottage and stay the course. Whatever happened, I couldn’t afford to mess things up. Not at the café and not at home. This was my last chance at a normal life.
23
Returning to the café the next day, even with the gossip and the strange looks directed at me and Nick, was a slice of the normality pie I’d needed. I spent the morning behind the coffee bar—my new favorite hidey hole where I could avoid people and pretend to be busy making drinks.
Didi and Karl were on duty and in great spirits after our weekend getaway, and I hadn’t bothered telling them about the break-in. I didn’t want the news to spread and
the perpetrator to know the cops might be onto them.
At lunch time, I dipped out of the café on a quick fifteen-minute break and entered Mildred’s animal shelter next door.
Mildred sat behind the counter, sipping from a chipped mug and idly paging through a copy of the Parfait Platter. She looked up, and her expression brightened. “Sunny!” she exclaimed, shuffling off her stool. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, just thought I’d pay you visit and check how things are going,” I said. “Also, I’ve been thinking of getting a companion cat for Bodger.”
“Well, how wonderful to have you,” Mildred said. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”
“Thank you,” I replied, privately hoping that didn’t include more chalky chocolate chip cookies.
Mildred hummed under her breath as she prepared the coffee, the scent of mothballs drifting from her dress—a knee-length yellow-striped number with sleeves. Despite the mothballs, it had a few neatly chewed holes here and there.
“How are things, Mildred?”
“Oh, they’re… I wish I could say they’re good, but I always hope they’ll get better.” Mildred sighed, her back still to me. “It turns out my nephew won’t be coming down, so I won’t be retiring from the shelter.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Are you tired of working here?”
“No, of course not,” Mildred said, facing me, her hand shaking as she reached for the jar of coffee grounds. “I’ve spent my life dedicated to the shelter, but I just can’t do it anymore, dear. I’m tired. Tired of working so hard and getting nothing in return. Tired of seeing the animals never get adopted, or when they do, missing them once they’re gone. I thought I would do something good for the community and for the animals, but people are more interested in buying pets than adopting from the shelter. They want puppies and kittens, not my battle worn, loveable menagerie.”
I took a seat on the scarred and holey sofa next to a water cooler that was as dry as the Sahara Desert. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“There’s nothing I can do anymore, and I hoped that handing the shelter over to someone with a fresh take would help. I’ve failed these animals, this place, and I felt like leaving would be best for everyone involved.” Mildred fetched her cookie jar and came over. She popped off the lid and offered me a cookie.
I took one, trying not to come across as reluctant, and held it over my palm. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Mildred said. “I think the worst part is… and this might be my fault, but I’m fairly certain that someone is stealing the last of the money in the shelter’s business account.”
“How is that you fault?”
“Well, because I’m the one who lost the card. I only realized I’d lost it a little while ago, and I’ve been too shy to call the bank and have them cancel it. I’ve lost it several times, and now it costs money when I need to order a new one. I’ve just been going into the bank directly and asking them for money.” Mildred nibbled on her bottom lip. “Eat your cookie, dear.”
I took a bite and experienced the graveyard dust puff of ancient cookie for the second time. I’d hoped it would only be once in my lifetime.
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to choke. “But you should cancel that card and get another one.”
“Do you think so?”
“I’ll help you,” I said. “I’ll give you money to pay for a new card. If someone’s been stealing from you, that’s a start to putting a stop to it at least. And you should report this to the police too.”
“Oh no, no, I wouldn’t want to trouble anyone.” She eyed my half-eaten cookie.
I took another bite, keeping my face impassive as I chewed mechanically. “Of course, you should trouble them. It’s their job to take care of citizens and look out for crime. Imagine how many criminals will walk free if we never trouble the police.”
“Oh, I s’pose you’re right, I just don’t want to be a nuisance,” Mildred said, brushing her hands over her moth-eaten dress. “Yes, I guess I will speak to them.”
“Good. And if they don’t find out who it is, well, I’ll try to help you myself.” It would help take my mind off the café, Trisha, and my growing fear that Nick had been involved. I’d been avoiding him all morning.
“You will?” Mildred asked, perking up.
“I will.”
“You’re an angel, Sunny. A real godsend.”
I blushed, shaking my head. “Just being helpful.” I cleared my throat and nearly choked on cookie dust again. How on earth had a layer of it affixed itself to the lining of my esophagus? “I’m thinking of getting a cat friend for Bodger,” I said, steering the conversation back to something that would set Mildred more at ease.
“Oh, well, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mildred replied.
“Why?”
“Because it’s Bodger. He’s an incredibly territorial cat. I don’t think he would appreciate another animal in his space.”
“Hmm. I guess.”
“What gave you the idea to get another cat?” Mildred asked.
“He seems lonely most of the time. He went over to Emilia’s yesterday to play with her son.”
“Good heavens. That’s out of character.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to tell her about the break-in. That was need-to-know information.
“Maybe you’re right.” Mildred glanced back at the hall that led to the area where the animals were kept. “Or maybe, you need a dog. Take some time and think about it before you decide, dear. Animals are a big commitment. You don’t want to rush into anything, especially if you’re not going to be around to look after them.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
Mildred stood up and hurried over to the coffee pot. “Oh, just that you might leave town in the future. You never know.”
24
I perched on my aunt’s swing seat on the front porch, a can of soda in one hand and my phone in the other while I waited for the men installing the alarm to finish their work. At least they were responsive. All the sweet-talking in the world hadn’t moved along the air-conditioning company. I was starting to think I’d have to go down there and talk to them in person, although it would involve a ride out-of-town in Aunt Rita’s Beetle.
Bodger had retreated to the top of the car while the men worked, and I worried that it was because the person who’d broken in—boy, I’d pay to know who’d done it—had scared him.
“It’s OK, Bodger,” I called out, softly. “Everything will be fine.”
He let out a fantastic growl which gave me comfort that he was still his same crotchety self.
Between worrying about Bodger, the break-in, and the café, I’d had barely enough time to consider Trisha’s murder, but now that things had slowed down… I couldn’t stop thinking about the note Michael had left on the cottage door, and that Nick had been acting strangely with him.
They’d spent a lot of time on the trip talking quietly together, and that Nick had had access to the food in the kitchen made things worse.
Could I overlook this? Trust Nick to be in the kitchen even as my suspicions grew? The trouble was, I didn’t have any real clues or evidence that pointed directly to him.
Bodger leaped off the top of the Beetle and streaked underneath the car.
“Bodger? What’s wrong?”
The front gate clicked, and my attention shifted.
“Hi, neighbor,” Nick said, strolling easily up the path, his hands in his pockets. “I noticed a commotion over here, so I thought I’d check everything was all right.”
Why had Bodger just run away? He was usually defensive of Aunt Rita’s property, and he knew Nick after years of living next door to him.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, slowly. “I’m having an alarm installed.”
“Did you get your aunt’s approval for that?” He tilted his head to one side, his expressive blue eyes fixed on mine.
Forget that he’s handsom
e. Focus on the facts. It was too easy to be charmed by a handsome face. Damon had been my lesson for that. “Of course,” I said. “She’s more than happy to have some security out here, especially with how things have been going lately. You know, the murder.”
“Right,” Nick said, and came up the steps. He leaned against the balustrade, a tan forearm resting against the wood. “I was worried. You didn’t talk to me at work today. I thought maybe something had happened.”
I pressed my lips together.
Here was my problem: I was incurably honest. Shy, but honest. I usually said what I meant, even if it took me a while to get over being flustered about having to say it. And I was comfortable around Nick now, barring my suspicions. Couple that with the guilt over suspecting him in the first place…
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said.
“Sure.” He straightened. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Go for it.”
Nick sat down on the swing seat next to me, an appropriate gap separating us. “What’s up?”
“You and Michael were talking about a note on the trip this weekend, right?”
“Yeah.” He frowned.
“He taped that note to my door instead of yours,” I said. “And it said something like everything had been taken care of.”
“OK?”
“I just think that’s a little weird,” I said, awkwardly. “Especially after what happened to Trisha. Why would he leave a note for you like that?”
Nick fell silent, but a slow blush spread up his throat and onto his cheeks. He scrubbed his neatly clipped nails over the stubble on his square jaw. “What are you insinuating, Sunny?”
“I’m asking a straight question,” I said. “Why would he leave you a note saying that?”
“Yeah, but why are you asking?”
“Why aren’t you answering?” I countered, stubbornly. “Do you have something to hide?”
“Wow.” Nick pushed up from the seat and strode to the steps. “Wow. Are you accusing me of something? I don’t know you that well, but this is the last thing I would’ve expected from Rita’s niece.”
Murder Over Easy (A Sunny Side Up Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 10
