Small Town Spooky (Cozy Mystery Anthology)

by Anisa Claire West

  “Okay, thanks,” I said.

  “Are you okay? I heard what happened to your baked stuff,” Raina said softly.

  “Who told you?” I demanded. If chatterbox Raina knew, then soon the whole school would know. And I didn’t want Hunter to find out. He would be devastated that all our hard work had gone to waste. Plus, he had become very protective of me since his father walked out and would try to defend me.

  “No one told me. I overheard Mary Jane talking about it to some of the other women at the bake sale tables,” Raina explained.

  “Lovely,” I muttered. “Listen, I’m on my way home. I have an awful headache.” And it was no longer a lie. My temples throbbed with tension and an odd sense of foreboding.

  “Okay, feel better Bea. Let me know if you need anything,” Raina said kindly. “Are you sure you can walk home?”

  “What choice do I have?” I shrugged. “If I wanted to drive, I would move to Detroit. But I’d rather live right here on our island.”

  Nodding her assent, Raina gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder before dashing back to the office. I glanced at the envelope in my hands, wondering what could be so important that the sender felt it necessary to write URGENT in bold black Magic Marker. But I didn’t want to open it and deal with whatever office emergency the envelope contained. I had the rest of the day free and I intended to savor every moment of it.

  Perpetually rushing around, I decided to simply stroll home and enjoy the timeless views. I offered a friendly wave to mesmerized tourists as they experienced a leisurely horse and buggy ride across the island. Smiling at the numerous bicyclists I passed, I spontaneously slipped out of my shoes and let my stocking feet touch the cool grass. Quaint little bistros were starting to buzz with the lunch crowds and sweet boutiques showcased their artisan goods.

  My headache had vastly improved by the time I arrived home. Twisting the key in the lock, I could still see my ex-husband walking through the door with me…hastily, I banished my memories of the louse. Sade’s wise song, “Never As Good As the First Time” always echoed in my mind whenever I thought of my ex. Rainbows and roses our marriage was not. I was much happier without him even if I did have double the responsibilities falling on my shoulders.

  Slapping the interoffice envelope down on the kitchen counter, I headed directly for the bathroom, peeling off my office attire and filling the bathtub with soothing warm water. Baths were a rare luxury these days. Opening the vanity cabinet, I selected a packet of jasmine bath salts from the collection Melody had given me for my birthday. Pouring the salts into the water, I sighed luxuriantly and slipped into the tub. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to drift into unconsciousness as a breeze from the open window lulled me to sleep.

  ***

  I awoke abruptly and stared down at my skin. Describing my flesh as a prune would be a compliment. I must have spent hours in the tub! Hurriedly, I stood up, splashing water all over the bathroom as I lunged for my robe. Knowing that Hunter would be dismissed from school soon, I sent him a text message that he should walk home on his own. Dressing in a well-worn pair of jeans and divinely comfortable cotton tee-shirt, I headed to the kitchen for a snack. The “urgent” envelope called to me from the counter. Although I didn’t want to deal with any work issues, I forced myself to open the envelope and get it over with.

  Tucked inside was a single sheet of loose leaf paper like the ones Hunter kept in his binder. My blood went cold as I read the alarming message printed in crude lettering:

  Beatrice, it’s just beginning.

  You won’t be winning.

  But you might be sinning.

  Just wait, Beatrice.

  It’s just beginning…

  Chapter 4

  Disturbing vibrations of the threatening sing-song poem made my headache return with a vengeance. Who had penned the spiteful yet cryptic verses? With trembling hands, I picked up the envelope and looked intently at the writing. I didn’t recognize the handwriting at all. But the mean spirited poem appeared to have been scrawled with deliberate messiness so that its author would remain anonymous.

  As I inspected the envelope, I noticed for the first time that it was a plain white type in which one might send a greeting card. “But Raina said it came through interoffice mail,” I whispered to the empty kitchen. Interoffice mail usually came in long manila envelopes with a string to untie on the top. This observation led me to deduce that the sender was affiliated with the school but not necessarily an employee.

  I tried to dismiss my fearful trembling as a result of my lengthy bath and the fact that my hair was still soaking wet. But in my gut, I knew that I was stone cold afraid. Whoever had crushed my desserts must have also written the warning poem. Confrontation was not my style, and I had never engaged in an argument with anyone from my son’s school. Employment with the School Board required that I maintain a professional demeanor at all times. Wracking my brain, I just couldn’t figure out who I had possibly offended.

  Minutes ticked by as I stood immobilized in the kitchen, trying in vain to come up with a plausible suspect. My heart leapt achingly as I heard a key turn in the lock. Could it be past 3 o’clock already? The only person who had a key to the house was Hunter. I had promptly called a locksmith to change all the locks the same week my ex-husband left for Chicago. “Hunter?” I called, hoping the shaking in my voice wasn’t too noticeable.

  “Yeah, hi Mom!” Hunter’s sweet little voice called as I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Hello Beatrice,” Carl Sweeney, Melody’s husband, greeted with a warm smile.

  “Carl! What are you doing here?” I asked, startled. “And you!” I exclaimed, noticing Danny standing behind his father.

  “Can I go bike riding with Danny, Mom?” Hunter asked eagerly as Carl’s smile broadened.

  “You came all the way home just to ask me that? Why didn’t you text or call?” I wondered aloud.

  “I thought it would be better to drop Hunter’s book bag off first,” Carl replied. “The kids will be tired after bike riding and then Hunter would have to lug that thing home. Plus, Hunter needs his helmet.”

  “Oh, that makes sense,” I murmured distractedly.

  “You’re welcome to come with us and have a cup of coffee. Melody will be home from grocery shopping in a little while,” Carl invited as I reflexively shook my head in refusal.

  “Thanks, Carl, but I just need some downtime.” Turning to my son, I instructed, “Be home by 6 for dinner. And then homework!”

  “Sure, Mom,” he replied brightly.

  “Go get your helmet!” I commanded as he nodded, scurrying off with his best buddy. “Good to see you, Carl. Tell Melody to call me later.”

  “Sure will, Beatrice. It was good to see you.” Carl gave me a strange, lingering look before turning around and chasing after the boisterous boys.

  Not even thirty minutes after they left, my phone rang. “Melody,” I whispered with relief as I looked at the Caller ID. “Hello?” I answered the phone with urgency in my voice.

  “Are you okay honey Bea? Carl told me to call you,” Melody said with concern.

  “No, I’m not okay, Melody,” I confessed, feeling on the verge of bursting into tears.

  “Talk to me, doll. Are you still upset about what happened at the bake sale?”

  “Yes, but not only that!” I paused and heaved an unsteady breath. “Someone sent a threatening note to me at the office today.”

  “Threatening? What do you mean?” She asked with audible concern.

  “I can’t explain. I just need to show it to you,” I said heavily.

  “Are you going to call the police?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s weird. The letter didn’t have an explicit death threat or anything, but the tone of it was very malicious. I just don’t understand who would do these things. Did I insult someone at the school? I mean, tell me Melody. Is there someone I need to apologize to for something?” I desperately drew at straws.

 
“I don’t think so, honey Bea…well actually…oh, but no. I must just have a suspicious mind…” she trailed off uncertainly.

  “What? What are you thinking? Just say it!” I urged.

  Melody lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “Well, you know how that science teacher is always trying to get your attention. Maybe he’s angry that you’ve been rejecting him. He is a lonely man, after all, Bea. And lonely people can do some crazy things!”

  Chapter 5

  “Robert Blynn?” I muttered in disbelief. “No, it couldn’t be him! I’ve been pretty polite to him…I think…” Remembering my curt rejection of his lunch invitation, I suddenly wasn’t so sure. I had practically sprinted away from the man, perhaps leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth. But I had rejected his lunch invitation after my desserts were trashed. Still, he had been openly pursuing me for quite some time. Could Melody’s theory be right?

  “I wouldn’t rule him out. Some men can’t stand to be rejected. You know how fragile the male ego is,” Melody said disdainfully.

  “Yeah, but I think you’re way off base, Melody. Robert was acting very sweet to me today. He didn’t seem like he had something to hide,” I pointed out as Melody snorted.

  “Robert? You’re on a first name basis with the man?”

  “Well, yeah. He’s my colleague. It would feel silly to call him Mr. Blynn. Please, I have enough issues referring to Basil as Dr. Haggart!”

  Melody giggled lightly. “I know that one is a hard pill to swallow,” she mused. “Listen, honey Bea, I have to get dinner started, but you just call me if you need me, okay?”

  “I will. Talk to you soon.”

  Hanging up the phone, I felt at loose ends with how to tackle the rest of my evening. The floors were dusty and needed cleaning, but I wasn’t in the mood. Instead, I gathered a myriad of ingredients for my dinner with Hunter. My ex had insisted on a daily dose of meat and potatoes, but with him gone, I could be much more creative in the kitchen. Contentedly, I selected a recipe for creamy butternut squash risotto with mixed spring vegetables in balsamic vinaigrette. Homemade sour dough rolls would go perfectly on the side. As I immersed myself in the cathartic act of cooking, I almost forgot that someone was lurking in the shadows with a vendetta against me. Almost forgot…

  ***

  The next morning, I sat listlessly at my desk waiting for Raina to punch in. I needed to get more information from her about the envelope. But at five after nine, she was still MIA. Basil, however, was already on his second cup of coffee and dumping endless file folders on my desk.

  “Feeling better, Bea?” He asked without a shred of sincerity. “I hope so. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. I need you to help me do some more marketing for the charity gala next weekend. There’s still room for a few more couples to sign up…”

  “Charity gala?” I repeated blankly.

  “Yes, don’t tell me you forgot!” He said in a scolding tone. “Beatrice, we’ve been planning this for months!”

  I could feel my face turning raspberry red from my cheeks all the way to my earlobes. Even though I would never admit the truth to my pompous boss, I actually had forgotten all about the event. “Of course I didn’t forget. This is the biggest charity event of the year to benefit the art and music programs. Black tie at the Grand Hotel.”

  The Grand Hotel was everything its name implied: magnificent, elegant, and simply over the top. Boasting gorgeous waterfront views, the historic hotel had hosted a plethora of notable guests over the centuries, from Mark Twain to Thomas Edison to an assortment of American Presidents. Our charity gala would take place outdoors overlooking the charming Tea Garden and an Olympic size swimming pool. It would be the kind of night that was custom made for romance. And I would be going alone…

  “Beatrice?” Dr. Haggart snapped impatiently. “Have I lost you?”

  “No, I’m right here,” I mumbled. “I’ll get started on the marketing right away,” I assured as he nodded tersely and strode into his office.

  “Knock knock.” The door to the main office flew open as Robert Blynn greeted me with a boyish grin.

  “Good morning,” I said while multitasking and opening a new window to compose an email.

  “Busy?” He presumed.

  “Kind of. I have a lot of work to do for the gala.”

  “Oh, that’s right! It’s next Saturday, isn’t it?” He asked as I nodded. “Why don’t we go together?”

  The question rolled off his tongue so naturally that it caught me by surprise. “What? Us?”

  “Yeah, why not? It’s no secret that I’m single. And it’s no secret that you’re divorced.” He stepped in closer until he was hovering above my desk. In an intimate voice he added, “And it’s no secret that I like you.”

  There. He said it. The sentiments that I knew to be true were out in the open and couldn’t be reclaimed. Awkwardly, I said, “Robert, you’re very sweet, but you’re Hunter’s teacher. He really looks up to you. I wouldn’t want to interfere with that relationship.”

  “It’s almost summer, Beatrice. I won’t be his teacher next year. He’ll be in 6th grade and off to middle school. Why don’t you just give me a chance?” He paused and stared at me meaningfully as I wore a mask of indifference. “That ex-husband of yours really did a number on you, didn’t he? What was his name?”

  “I don’t say his name,” I informed brusquely. “And you’re being very unprofessional right now. Dr. Haggart is in his office and he might be able to hear this conversation. Besides, don’t you have a class to teach?” I asked pleadingly, desperate to get the man away from me. Robert definitely had an effect on me and if I let him, he could tear down my barriers one by one. But I most definitely would not let him.

  “My earth science class starts in five minutes,” he said curtly. “You won’t go with me to the gala? Okay, but at least save a dance for me, Beatrice.” He slipped out the door leaving me completely frazzled.

  Staring at my computer screen, I lost my train of thought and couldn’t remember what I had been poised to accomplish. “Marketing,” I muttered as the task illuminated in my mind.

  As I started to compose an email blast, Raina finally waltzed through the door. “Hey Bea! How are you feeling?”

  “Not great,” I said honestly. “Listen, do you know where that envelope came from before you put it in my inbox?”

  “Um, the mailroom,” Raina said as though I had asked an immensely foolish question.

  “And who delivered the mail yesterday? Who was it from the mailroom? Chip or Stewart?”

  “I think it was Chip, but I wasn’t really paying attention,” Raina said. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

  “Never mind,” I muttered, bolting out of my chair.

  “Where are you going?” She inquired.

  “To the mailroom. Someone is playing games with me, but I’m not going to let them win!”

  Chapter 6

  With all the grunt work Dr. Haggart tossed to me like a Frisbee on a daily basis, the mail room was a familiar place to me. I made at least two pit stops per day to the musty, windowless room. So when Chip, the gray mustached mailroom supervisor, spotted me walking in, he didn’t blink.

  “Mornin’ Beatrice. How are you on this fine day?” The good-natured mailman asked as he placed a large envelope on a scale. I had always joked that his name should be Chipper rather than Chip because he was so darn friendly all the time. But I was in no mood for joking on that morning.

  “I’m okay, Chip, thanks. Do you have a minute?” I requested gravely.

  “Of course I do. What can I do for you?” He politely stopped what he was doing and focused his attention on me.

  “This is just between you and me Chip, okay?” I prefaced in a whisper.

  “Oh-kay,” he said hesitantly. “What’s going on?”

  Sliding the threatening letter out of my purse, I presented it to him and let him read it for himself. His eyes narrowed as he read through the poem and he looked up
at me with an expression of worry. “What’s this all about?”

  “I have no idea. That’s why I need your help. Do you remember anyone dropping that envelope off to the mailroom?”

  “This specific envelope? I’m sorry, Beatrice, but there are so many people coming through here every day. I don’t notice what they bring unless it’s a huge package that’s liable to break my old back!”

  “Well then, did you notice anyone suspicious here yesterday? Anyone different or out of the ordinary?” I pressed.

  “Can’t say that I did. But you’re assuming that the person dropped this letter off here. It could have come from anywhere in the school. Every classroom has a mail pick-up box and all the offices do as well.”

  “You’re right,” I sighed with frustration. “We really need to have some security cameras installed in this building. It’s like we’re living in the nineteenth century.”

  “Well, that’s Mackinac Island for you! People don’t live here because they want to keep up with the Joneses,” Chip said with a hearty laugh before turning serious again. “Maybe you ought to take that letter to the police.”

  “I don’t know if the police could help me. The message isn’t explicit enough.”

  “But it’s not a friendly message either,” Chip argued. “A lady like you living alone should be safe. I really think you should take that letter to the police.”

  Deflated, I tried not to fixate on the word “alone,” but it haunted me every time someone pointed out my newly single status. At the same time, it made me more determined to survive and thrive on my own without a man. I didn’t need a man at home to save me and I also didn’t need a cop at a police precinct to watch over me.

  “Thanks, Chip. I better get back to the office now.”

  “Just be careful,” Chip warned in a paternal manner as I escaped into the hallway.

  Quickly navigating the school and exiting into the courtyard, I begrudgingly made my way back to the daily grind. With any luck, Dr. Haggart would spend most of the day in meetings and wouldn’t bother me much. But luck didn’t seem to be on my side lately. Gloomily, I careened down the hall to the Superintendant’s Office and made a beeline for my desk. As I stood a few feet away from the desk, a sheet of red construction paper stood out among the piles of white and manila portfolios.