by J. R. Ripley
Then I heard the scream.
I threw open my bedroom door and ran into the living room. I slammed into a soft body and heard another scream.
“Amy!” cried Kim. “Did you hear that? What was that?!”
I raced to the side table beside the sofa and flicked on the table lamp. Kim stood shivering in a baby-blue teddy. “I-I’m not sure,” I said. I glanced upward. “But I’m pretty sure it came from up there.”
We looked at the ceiling, then one another.
“Should we call Jerry?”
I grimaced. “Jerry? Really?”
“He is the police.”
I tossed her Mom’s robe. “Put that on,” I said. “It’s probably Mr. Calderon checking on things.”
Kim appeared hesitant, though she wrapped the too-large peacock-blue robe around herself.
“What are you doing?” Kim asked as she followed me out of the apartment and I pushed aside some spare summer outfits from the side of the closet in the hall.
“This is the way up.”
Kim pouted. “I’m not so sure I want to go up.” She looked over her shoulder. “Couldn’t we go down instead? Like to a motel?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, trying to sound convincing. I looked up the narrow stairs. There was no sign of any lights. “Mr. Calderon? Is that you? Are you up there?”
I grabbed Kim’s hand and dragged her up with me.
“Amy, I don’t think—”
“Shh!” I held my finger to my lips and mouthed, “I think I hear something.” Or someone. “Listen.”
Kim nodded silently.
Suddenly, we heard the sound of pounding—footsteps coming our way. I started to back up. This was no time to march bravely forward. This was time to run!
Unfortunately, the stairway was narrow and Kim hadn’t gotten the orders to run. She stood frozen in place. Blocking me.
“Go! Go!” I cried, giving her a push to get started. The pounding grew louder. Whatever it was, it was coming our way. A white shape appeared at the top of the steep stairs and came barreling toward us. A ghost?
Kim screamed, and because—and only because—I was raised to be polite, I let out a bloodcurdling scream myself. The white figure bowled us over and we crashed to the floor of the dark closet.
I felt bruised in more places than I thought I had. I pushed myself off the floor. “Are you okay?” I asked Kim, who was tangled in Mom’s robe and the half dozen articles of clothing in the closet that had somehow managed to wrap themselves around her.
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” I leapt to my feet.
“Where are you going?” shrieked Kim.
“I’m not letting whoever that was”—or whatever that was—“get away!”
Kim groaned and followed.
I heard something downstairs. Whoever it was, they had a head start. I half tumbled down the stairs just as I heard the back door slam.
I spilled out into the night. The sky was star-filled, clear and windy. A running, all-white figure turned the corner at the edge of the parking lot. I raced to follow, splashing through icy puddles of rainwater.
But when I got to the sidewalk at the edge of the street, there was no sign of my unwanted visitor. I stood at the edge of the silent road, listening for telltale evidence of somebody lurking.
The wind howled but the night was otherwise quiet. All was still on the roads and walkways.
A hand grabbed me from behind. I screamed.
“Amy!” Kim puffed, her hand falling from my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Let’s go inside,” I said. I was cold and wet and felt terribly exposed and vulnerable out there in the dark in the middle of the night. “And call the police.”
“Already done,” replied Kim.
I smiled. “Tell me something. Do you believe in ghosts?”
Kim took a moment. “No.”
“Neither do I.” I opened the back door and headed for the small kitchen at the rear of the store. I knew there were some tea bags in the cupboard. And I knew we could both use a cup. “Neither do I.”
23
Chief Kennedy slowly worked his flashlight along the floor and walls of the attic. “I don’t see a darn thing.” His face was pale and his cheeks sagged. He wasn’t responding well to being wakened in the middle of the night.
He toe kicked some loose insulation back against the wall. “Maybe it was that nighttime squatter of yours, come back for his things.”
That was an unsettling thought considering Matt was dead. “All his stuff is still there.”
The police chief worked his light over the sleeping bag and pile of junk the occupier of the attic had left behind. “Appears so.”
We went back down to my apartment and I put on some more tea. “Quit leering, Jerry,” I snapped. Kim’s robe was riding high on her legs and Jerry was taking it all in.
Jerry turned red and made a point of focusing on his tea. Poor guy had probably never had herbal tea in his life.
The phone rang. “Who could be calling at this hour?” It was nearly 3:00 a.m.
“The killer?” Kim said. She pulled her robe down to her ankles.
“Answer it,” said Jerry Kennedy.
I did. “Hello?”
“Amy!”
“Mom? What are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?”
“Anita called me.”
Uh-oh. The police dispatcher and my mother were friends. I should have known better . . .
“Chasing a burglar in your attic? What exactly were you going to do if you caught him?” demanded my mother. “Did you even think about that?”
“Nothing happened, Mother.”
“Nothing happened? A maniacal killer is on the loose and you try to catch him?” She took a quick breath. “You could have ended up like poor Mr. Withers. You could have been killed even.”
“Mom,” I said firmly. “Nothing happened. I’m okay. Kim’s okay. Chief Kennedy is here now—” I came to a sudden stop. “Wait. What? Back up. Mr. Withers?” The little guy who’d come into Birds & Bees because he couldn’t figure out how to load his birdfeeder? “What about him?”
“Mugged,” Mom answered. “And if another couple hadn’t stepped into the alley, who knows what might have happened? His attacker hit him and then ran off when the other people showed up.”
“Ohmigod.”
“That’s right. He’d been at the Coffee and Tea House. I heard he was walking back to his car, through the alley there on Parker Street, you know?”
I nodded, though I knew she couldn’t see me. There’s a narrow alley between the coffee shop and the hardware store leading to a gravel parking lot in back. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, thank goodness. He’s on bed rest. Doctor’s orders. But at least he’s okay. In broad daylight too!”
I told Mom that I’d try to stop by one day soon and check up on him. I said goodnight to Mom and relayed the news to Kim.
Jerry nodded. “We took the report earlier today. Not much to go on. Probably some punk passing through from out of town who thought he’d take advantage of the situation and rob the old man.”
“What about Dwayne?” I asked Jerry Kennedy as I walked him out to the front door. I was going to make sure I locked it up tight after he left too. Kim and I had already decided to sleep with our doors locked and barricaded.
“What about him?” The chief yawned and put his hand to his mouth.
“He might have murdered Matt.”
Jerry snorted. “Not a chance.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he got to your store after the murder. You said so yourself.”
“But what’s his alibi? Does he have one?” My arms flew wildly. “What about fingerprints? Have you even fingerprinted him?”
He smiled sardonically. “Yeah, we fingerprinted him, all right. Standard procedure. But so what?”
“So his fingerprints could be all over”—my eyes lit around the room—“
I don’t know.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Something incriminating.”
Jerry shook his head. “Of course his prints are going to be on stuff around here. He delivered most of it!”
I squinted angrily at him. “You should still check and see if the man has an alibi. You are the chief of police. Can’t you at least do that one simple thing?”
“He has an alibi, Simms.”
“So?” I demanded. “What is it?”
Jerry thumped his hat against his leg. “It’s you!”
I turned red with anger. “What about Aaron Maddley?” If I wasn’t getting anywhere nailing Dwayne Rogers for the murder, then surely Aaron Maddley made a prime suspect.
He frowned. “We searched all over the barn. And the house. Boy, was Mr. Maddley unhappy about that.” He grinned. “Especially when it came out that you were the reason we were there.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And I’ll bet you were the one who told him.”
Jerry shrugged. “Couldn’t see any harm in it. Anyway, he explained about the clothes, though we took them to have them analyzed anyway. Some folks don’t always tell the truth.” He yawned once more and glanced at his wristwatch. “But in this case, I’m inclined to believe him.”
I bit my lower lip. “So? What’s his explanation for the bloody clothes?”
“Says he was birthing a foal.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Had I been wrong about Aaron?
“And as for Mr. Rogers, Simms, I’ll have you know I checked on Dwayne. He was making a delivery in Ethelberg at the time of the murder. And do you know what that means?”
I quickly calculated the distance and time in my head. My heart sank. “It means he couldn’t have been in two places at once.”
Kennedy smiled victoriously. “That’s right. The man could not have been in two”—he held up two fat fingers—“places at once.” He popped on his hat. “Stay out of police business, Amy. Stick to doing what you do best.” His arms swept the room. “Birds and bees.”
He snorted, his eyes landing on the pile of debris in the corner that had been caused by all the water damage. “And frankly,” he said, turning the door handle and setting off the lovebirds, “I don’t think you’re all too good at that either.”
I watched the arrogant jerk swagger to his police cruiser. Stepping on the mat, I’d set off those damn lovebirds again. I stepped aside, picked up the mat, and hurled it across the room.
I’d had to do something to let off some steam. I leaned against the doorjamb and shut my eyes. I could hear the perky cooing of the lovebirds from over in aisle three . . .
24
I yanked the covers off the bed.
“Hey!” shouted Kim. “What’d you do that for? I was still sleeping.”
“I’ve made an executive decision,” I declared.
“What sort of executive decision?” She eyed me warily.
“Birds and Bees is closed for the day.” What with all the construction due to happen today, I figured the best thing we could all do was to stay out of Cash Calderon’s way. The sooner he and his crew got their job done, the sooner things could get back to normal around here. And having us and customers out of the way would definitely make the job go all the faster. “Hit the showers, girlfriend. We’ll grab breakfast at Ruby’s.”
* * *
We grabbed a couple spots at the diner and Tiffany rushed to greet us. “I’m so glad you’re here, Amy.” She laid down her order pad and leaned closer. “I did like I said. I asked my friend’s daughter about”—she looked around the room like a nervous spy—“those people.”
I smiled. Moire Leora swept over with the coffeepot and filled our cups, then quickly flew off. During the busiest hours, the woman flitted around the dining room like a ruby-throated hummingbird.
“Linda, that’s my friend’s daughter, said they seem okay. Keep to themselves.”
“Does she happen to know how long they’ve been staying there?”
Tiff nodded. “About a week or so.”
“Does she know how much longer they are planning on staying?” asked Kim. “Supposedly, they’re moving into a house in town.”
Tiffany shook her head. “She doesn’t know anything about that. At least, she didn’t say. She did say they were into hiking and rock hunting—stuff like that.”
“Rock hunting?” I knew there were people into the hobby. I didn’t get it myself. The Carolinas are full of rock. Who’d want to waste their time hunting for more of them?
“Oh yeah.” Tiffany snatched her pad. “She said the room is full of hiking and outdoor gear.”
Kim shook her head and ordered the breakfast special: one egg, one biscuit, and homemade chunky cinnamon applesauce. I went for the same. “I don’t understand hiking or camping,” Kim said with a yawn. “If I want to rough it, I’ll stay in a two-star motel.”
There were bags under her eyes. It had been a late night and an early morning. I’m sure I looked no better. Cash and his crew had arrived at seven thirty. We’d spent the night with our bedroom doors locked and the sofa pushed up against the door to the apartment.
Tiffany headed for the order window, then turned back. “Oh, and guess what?”
“What?”
“Robert came by last night. He’d had Jimmy for the day. Anyway, when he dropped him off, he happened to mention Matt.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Your husband mentioned Matt?” Kim and I shared a look. “What exactly did he say?”
“Not much,” bubbled Tiff, rubbing her ballpoint pen against her teeth. “Mostly he wanted to boast about some mysterious big business deal”—she wiggled her fingers—“he was working on. Like I could care.” She rolled her eyes.
“But what did he say about Matt?”
“Huh?” Tiff tugged her earlobe. “Just that Matt was always shooting his mouth off when he shouldn’t. Bragging. Stuff like that. If you know what I mean?”
I watched Tiffany’s backside as she scooted to the order window—as did nearly every pair of male eyes in the joint. Not that I’m jealous or anything. I’m just saying.
I didn’t know what Tiff or her ex, Robert, had meant. But I knew someone who did. The man himself. I added checking out LaChance Motors to my list of things to do.
“Want to go down to Charlotte and hit the mall?” Kim asked, breaking my train of thought.
I explained how I wanted to take advantage of the store being closed to take care of a few errands and Kim and I parted ways, agreeing that we’d meet up at the store in the evening to see how the contractor’s work had turned out. Hopefully, the roof and ground floor would be done and there’d only be the basement and any other random areas left to work on.
* * *
I walked into Olde Towne Hardware and it was something like stepping into the Old West. Rosario and Pedro Flores had bought the place from Old Man Riley when he retired. I was certain Mr. Riley had a first name besides Old Man, but that’s all I’d ever known him as.
I approached the pine-board-faced counter and told Pedro what I needed.
Pedro is a squat man with a leathery complexion and a perpetual smile. Rosario, on the other hand, could be a bit sharp, wore a frilly red and white apron, and spent most of her workday cleaning up after the customers. She liked to run a neat and tidy store and resented all the dust and dirt the customers brought in and the way they manhandled and disarranged her goods. She was busily reorganizing some nuts and bolts even now.
“You could use rope, of course, Amy.” Pedro rubbed his hands together. He had lustrous black hair. If it were an inch or two longer, he could have had a pompadour. “But I’ve got some very nice chain.” He led me over to the wall near the front. “And we have these eye-bolts that you could attach to your newel posts.”
He grabbed a couple. “Like so,” he said, pressing an eyebolt to the side of the shelf and looping a link of the steel chain over it. He grabbed a carabiner from a small gray plastic tray and secured it to the chain a
t the opposite end. “Then use one of these as a clasp.”
“Perfect. I’ll take one of those too.” I’d spotted a Private—No Admittance sign on a rack of assorted plastic signs. While the Danger—Keep Out and Posted—Private Property signs might be more effective, they were definitely less customer friendly. “This should keep unwanted guests from climbing to the private living quarters.” I hoped. If this failed, there was the option of adding an electric charge to the steel chain. I was growing tired of having so many people wandering around my house in places they didn’t belong.
“How’s the construction coming? I’ve driven by a couple of times and noticed several trucks.”
“Slowly but surely.”
He looked at me over the top of his thick-rimmed black glasses. “Find anything interesting?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s an old house. Once you start opening up the walls, you never know what you’ll find.”
“The only thing I’ve found so far,” I said with a frown, “is a house in a sad state of disrepair and that somebody has apparently been squatting in my attic.” That somebody being Matt Kowalski.
“How interesting.” He scooped up a couple of hanging hooks and jiggled them in his open palm. “You can use these to attach the sign to your chain.”
“Thanks.”
As Mr. Flores rang me up, I said, “I heard about your robbery the other day.”
He shrugged and ran my credit card. “It was nothing,” he said lightly. “Someone broke in through the back after hours.”
“Did they get much?”
“Only some little things. A shovel, a mattock, a couple of buckets, and some nylon rope. Maybe more.” That jibed with what Jerry had said. He swept his hand through the air. “In a place like this, it’s not always possible to tell what is here and what isn’t.”
I looked around the cluttered space. “It would be hard to discern if one more nut or bolt went missing.”
He laughed at my small joke. “We got off easy.”
Rosario snorted. I guess she didn’t agree.
The shopkeeper continued. “Nothing compared to what happened to that man in the alley.” Rosario moaned loudly but continued sweeping.
