Mission to Murder (A Tourist Trap Mystery)

by Lynn Cahoon

  Jackie shook her head. “You’re not looking at Mother Teresa here.” She tapped her finger on the desk. “Stop making that damn face. I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise.”

  Grinning, I grabbed my purse. “Thanks. I better get home. Emma’s going to be whining at the door waiting for me.”

  “You spoil that dog. You need to get married, have kids, then you’ll know what it means to be needed.” Jackie focused on the computer and entering yesterday’s receipts. Apparently after dispensing her bit of wisdom I’d been dismissed.

  “I don’t need kids to feel manipulated and drained. I have you and the business for that.” I waited but my aunt didn’t even take the bait. She just waggled her fingers at me. “Whatever.”

  Smiling, I left the office and called out a good-bye to Toby (who was explaining the process of roasting beans to a pretty blonde who didn’t seem to even see the coffee in front of her). Her eyes were focused on Toby and Toby alone. I don’t think the guy even knew the effect he was having on her. Then I saw a glint in his eyes when he responded and waved me off. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  When Toby had been attacked on stakeout guarding me and my house, he’d lost not one but two girlfriends when they’d both showed up at the hospital ready to play nurse to the injured Toby. The man was a horndog. And his charming personality had been increasing sales since Jackie hired him. He was like having our own romance cover model in the business.

  I’d made it about halfway down the road to my house when a truck pulled up next to me. Ray Stewart leaned over the bench to the open window. “Hey, beautiful, want a ride?”

  I walked faster. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “I’ll say so. You are the hottest thing in this town.” Ray let the truck coast next to me.

  A thought made me stop. “Hey, what work did you do for Craig?”

  Ray frowned. “Who said I worked for Craig?”

  “You. You said you were waiting for him to pay you when I caught you eavesdropping on Josh and Craig’s fight.” I folded my arms and stared at him.

  “Oh yeah.” Ray shrugged. “I just did some stuff for him. Moving stuff from the docks to his place.”

  “I didn’t realize you were in the moving business, too.” He was lying. I could tell by the grin he’d gotten when he started to speak.

  “You need some help over at your place? I’d move your bed for free.” Ray leered and I took a step backward, which made him laugh.

  “Leave me alone, Ray. Go see Lille if you want some attention.” My cheeks burned. Man, I wanted to punch the guy. But I didn’t need another complaint about my anger issues hitting Greg’s desk. Although this one charge might have been worth the trouble.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey.” Ray squealed the tires and took off down the road toward the highway. Something niggled at my memory, but when I reached the house Emma distracted me before I could nail the memory down.

  An hour later, after our second run of the day, Emma and I sat curled up on the porch, me on the swing and Emma on a blanket. I had a paperback in my hand and had almost forgotten about the world. Or at least this one, where I’d been accused of killing a man I’d admit to hating. But no one would accuse me of stranding poor Fifi out on the beach to drown. Thoughts of Fifi took me to Brenda’s visit that morning. The woman had blossomed once she’d gotten out from under Craig’s thumb. And now, with him gone, she should be able to enjoy the rest of her life. A single thought rang in my head. Brenda was better off without Craig around made me pause. Could she have killed her ex-husband?

  Then the idea balloon all but busted over my head. Brenda would never hurt Fifi. The girl was holding back something, though, including whom she was talking to on the phone today. I tried to refocus on my book, but the spell was broken. Now I was ruminating about Craig’s murder.

  Standing I stretched and slipped a bookmark into the paperback. I’d promised Esmeralda I’d take a walk out to the wall, allowing the spirit to pass on their message I’d been ignoring. Besides, the way Emma kept worrying the place, I was concerned maybe a small animal had been caught in the fencing or maybe the dog was digging an escape hole. Better to get these chores done today so tomorrow I could focus on the housekeeping and laundry. I’d remodeled most of the downstairs in the last few months and I wasn’t excited about starting on the second floor. No, once the mopping, dusting, and vacuuming was done tomorrow, I’d be collapsing on the couch with either a movie in the DVR player or a book in my hand. Or probably both.

  “Come on, Emma. Let’s see what’s back at the wall.” I stepped off the front porch, then turned to the right, noticing my bird-of-paradise plants blooming. I made a mental note to bring my camera out to capture the moment. I glanced up at the softening light. Maybe tomorrow morning, before the cleaning frenzy began.

  I walked away from the house and Emma ran circles around me. She ran to the side fence, then back to me, then back to the house. The dog had way too much energy. I glanced at the lock on the door to the back shed, just to make sure it still was on. The lock appeared fine, but I walked over and jiggled it anyway. Habit, I guess.

  Earlier in the year, I’d had some problems with people stealing the artwork stored there. Now the art was at the gallery, which seemed to sell a piece a month. Even at that pace, Miss Emily had painted so extensively during her life, they would still have paintings available for years.

  Crossing the rest of the yard, I passed into the tree line and dropped down into a small valley. There, to the right, was a stone wall. Kevin, my fence contractor, had been convinced it was the remnants of the old mission and brought in the historical commission. When we’d found a fortune in Spanish coins in an old trunk mixed in with a pile of old pirate costumes, the find seemed to support Kevin’s insistence.

  Now, the wall’s historic certification was in jeopardy because Craig Morgan didn’t want to share the council’s marketing money.

  Or had been in jeopardy. Would Craig’s death stop the challenge? Or would Josh keep waving the banner? I sighed. I’d probably never find out. No way would I be able to talk Jackie into dinner with the portly Josh. Her last husband had modeled for a certain hair-care product that kept him looking young. The woman had standards. High standards.

  I’d arrived at the wall. Nothing. The fence still stood around the property. No holes had been dug starting Emma’s escape. No small animals roved the fence, anxious about my arrival. The place was peaceful and calm.

  I sat on the wall, a habit that makes Frank Gleason, the historical guy, cringe. Of course, I was also the kid who ran my hand across the stone tomb of a visiting pharaoh mummy king to the local museum. I heard a guard telling someone not to touch, but I never guessed he was talking to me. I’d been so lost in the feel of the cool stone, wondering about its history and the stories the sarcophagus could tell, I hadn’t heard him. How could touching stone be a problem? I kept my hand on the coffin until the guard lifted it off. Was that what I was doing with Esmeralda’s spirits? Ignoring them? Feeling foolish, I closed my eyes and whispered, “I’m here. If you want to say something, I’m here. I’m listening.”

  I slowed my breathing and sat, letting the quiet surround me. I heard Emma lie down next to me and she stuck her cold nose on my ankle. I jerked it back and pain seared up my leg.

  “What the heck?” I reached down and felt my ankle. Blood oozed out of a small cut. I pulled my leg up onto my knee and studied the spot. A small line bled red. As I leaned closer, using my T-shirt to wipe away the blood, my cell rang. I pulled out the phone and answered, not checking the display to see who was calling. I held the shirt tight against my ankle, trying to stop the blood.

  “What?”

  A brief silence greeted me and I lowered the phone away from my ear, checking to see if I was still connected. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Greg’s voice filled my ear.

  Tears filled my eyes. Sharp pain radiated from my ankle. I sniffed. “Sitt
ing on the wall.”

  “You okay?”

  I shuddered and took a breath. Pull yourself together, I thought. I responded, “I’m fine. I cut my leg on something.”

  “Can you walk?” Greg asked, sounding like the knight in shiny armor he was in real life and in our relationship.

  “I think so, thanks. You must be calling to cancel?” We’d had a standing Saturday night date for months now. Greg said it was upping our relationship status.

  I thought it was easier for him than remembering to ask me out week after week. Now, he only called if he wasn’t coming. Like tonight.

  “Wrong. The front door is locked, no one answered my knock, and I didn’t see you in the backyard. I’m almost there.” And with that, he clicked off the phone. Within seconds, he came over the hill and jogged toward me. Kneeling in front of me, he took the edge of the T-shirt off my cut and examined the wound.

  “Hi,” I said, ever the witty conversationalist.

  “Hi back.” He smiled up at me and I swear the birds sang and a sunlight beam broke through a cloud and shone down on him. The guy was a walking fairy-tale hero. My heart pounded watching him.

  Emma greeted him, taking advantage of his lowered position to give him a wet ear kiss. The dog can be a total slut. That’s all I have to say.

  “Come on, Emma, that’s enough,” I called to my dog, not that I was jealous or anything. Well, not much.

  “Let’s get you back to the house so I can clean this cut and maybe pour you a glass of wine?” He swept me into his arms and started carrying me back to the house.

  “Umm, I can walk, you know.” I turned my head toward him and almost fell into a kiss. Instead, I leaned into his chest, the smell of his aftershave sweet and comforting.

  He chuckled. “I know you can, but let me pretend you need me for a second, please? My male ego would appreciate it.”

  We walked—actually, he walked, I was carried—back to the house. When we got up to the stairs, he slipped me onto a chair. “Your first-aid kit in the bathroom?”

  “Well, I have Band-Aids and peroxide under the sink, and a topical cream in the top drawer in the kitchen, I think. Maybe I should go find the stuff.” I stood, but Greg pointed a finger at me.

  “Stay,” he commanded. Emma sat next to me and whined. I sat back in the chair.

  “I’m going to pretend you were talking to my dog.”

  Greg laughed. “Emma listens better than you do.” He patted her head and the tongue rolled out. The girl was a traitor. “Keep Jill here.”

  The dog gazed up at me and smiled one of those doggie grins. Then she scooted in front of me, effectively blocking my path away from the chair.

  “Bad, bad Greg.” I laughed. “Teaching my dog bad things.”

  “I’ve got to have some advantage around here. My wild animal magnetism doesn’t seem to be controlling you.” He opened the screen door. “I’ll be right back. You have beer in the fridge?”

  “Does a deer roam the woods?” I responded.

  Greg shook his head. “I can’t believe you read all those books, but common phrases mess you up. It’s does a bear—”

  I held up my hand. “I know the saying. I don’t like the word the original phrase uses. Why couldn’t they have coined a nicer phrase? Like does a bear hunt for berries in the woods? That’s as true as the original.”

  “But not as funny.” Greg disappeared into my house.

  I absently rubbed Emma’s head now as she had placed her chin on my knee for comfort as she guarded me. “I don’t think the other one’s funny, either,” I told my dog.

  She woofed a small response that I’d like to pretend was You are smart and beautiful, I love you. But probably the woof meant, I’d like to eat bear crap.

  Greg handed me an opened beer when he returned and gently cleaned my wound, putting on cream and the bandage. “You may want to double your socks tomorrow if you run so you don’t irritate the site.”

  “I may use the excuse not to run.” I put my foot up on the table I’d moved in front of me and sipped my beer.

  “That’s another option.” Greg slipped into the chair next to me and ran his hand through his hair. “God, what a day.”

  “I hadn’t heard anything so I figured you were swamped.” I knew better than to push. Sometimes if he thought I didn’t care, he’d talk. When he knew I did, the man could be an information storage unit for the CIA, but without the leaks.

  “You wouldn’t believe how many interviews I had to do today. I didn’t realize how many people in town hated Craig Morgan.” He took a sip of his beer.

  “Besides me, you mean.”

  Greg laughed. “Yes, besides you. Although your name did come up as a kind of folk hero in several interviews. You should have stood up to the guy months ago. The town would have built a statue in your honor.”

  “I’m not sorry I yelled at him. He was being a jerk.” I peeled a corner of the beer label back. “I don’t think he should have been killed, though. A lot of people are jerks.”

  Greg sighed. “Yes, they are. Including Ray Stewart. That man is a piece of work. He says hi, by the way.”

  “Insinuating that I’m interested?” My gut clenched. Lille could do so much better. Why was she even with the guy?

  “Mostly wanting to see if I’d flare and go all Neanderthal to protect my woman.” He banged on his chest. “Me man, you slave.”

  “In your dreams.” I leaned back and closed my eyes, listening to the birds chirp. “Hey, talking about cavemen and their wives, Brenda stopped in the shop this morning.”

  “What did you think of her new look?”

  My eyes flew open as I glanced at him. “Seriously, leaving Craig was the best thing that ever happened to her. Her eyes were bright, she didn’t look beat down, and she must have lost enough weight to make a second person.”

  “Apparently they’d been talking about reconciling.”

  “No.” I thought about the difference in the woman I saw this morning and the one who’d left town to get away from Craig. “That would have been stupid. Why would she have even considered coming back?”

  “According to Brenda, Craig had changed. They’d been in couples counseling for the last three months. And in front of the counselor, he said the right things. Brenda was doubtful at the beginning, but he knew her weaknesses.” Greg finished his beer, glancing at the cell phone. “I’d sure love to turn this off for the night, but with an ongoing investigation, I’d better not.”

  “I know. Duty calls.” I glanced at my foot. “Since I’m on the injured reserve list, does that mean you’ll be making dinner?”

  “If clams and grilled tuna with roasted veggies sounds like dinner, I’m game.” He glanced at my beer. “Ready for another?”

  “Sure. But I don’t have clams or tuna. We’ll have to go to the store.” I sat forward. “And one of us needs to stay sober to drive.”

  “I’ve already taken care of that. I stopped at the farmer’s market on my way here.” He nodded at the empty beer bottle. “Besides, I’m playing designated driver tonight. You, on the other hand, are enjoying yourself.”

  As he walked back into the kitchen for a fresh beer for me and a glass of iced tea for himself, I wondered if plying me with liquor was his way of keeping me from asking too many questions.

  Then I wondered if this was going to be my last meal before he told me what he’d came to say: that I was still the one and only logical suspect in the murder of Craig Morgan.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dinner was on the grill and I’d finished off two more beers before Friday’s canceled dinner came up. “What happened out at The Castle last night? You never said who the watchman found.” I said a silent prayer, hoping it wouldn’t be Nick Michael. Sadie hadn’t called, but then again, we didn’t really chat except when she stopped by the shop. I was a bad friend. Tomorrow, I’d call her just to chat. “Or can’t you talk about it?”

  If he couldn’t, that would tell me a lot about what action
he’d take.

  He tossed the peppers, onions, and mushrooms in a grilling basket, then closed the cover, turning the heat down. I smiled. Grilling was like an art to the man. He’d bought me the grill as a housewarming present on our first date. Even though I hadn’t at the time known it was a date.

  He took a sip of his tea and leaned against the porch railing, his long legs crossed, still in his signature Wranglers, but instead of boots, he had a pair of sandals on his large feet. “Seriously, that watchman has worked under Craig way too long. The man’s paranoid. The kids snuck onto the property for a quick swim and probably some other extracurricular stuff.” He grinned at me. “Hell, I’d like to go skinny-dipping in that Grecian pool with you some warm summer night.”

  “So they weren’t caught stealing?” Relief ran over me. “I’d been afraid—”

  “You were afraid a town kid had turned cat burglar and was fencing priceless antiques?” Greg laughed. “Which kid do you suspect? The one who did their Eagle project down at the homeless shelter in San Francisco or the straight A student with a full ride to Harvard next year?”

  “I know we have some great kids in town. It’s just that sometimes kids can be led down a path before they even know there’s a problem.” I thought about Nick and his being late for work because he gave his girlfriend a ride.

  “I don’t see them as the hooligans Craig and Josh made them out to be. Kids will be kids. You got to let them run free or they’ll do stupid stuff when they get out from under their moms’ thumbs.” Greg ran his hand through his sandy brown hair. He needed a trim, but when he was in the middle of a case, it tended to get longer. I liked it that way.

  I watched as he went to check on the fish again. This was our first conversation about our parenting philosophies and even though we hadn’t called it that, we both knew we were trotting on shaky ground. I was anxious to change the subject before I said something I couldn’t take back, but I needed to ask one more question. “Who were the kids?”

  Greg turned off the grill and loaded our plates with the fish and clams and veggies. “The guy was Mike Freeland. One of the juniors on the football team. I don’t know if you’ve met him. His folks live out on one of the local orchards where his dad’s a foreman.”