Final Sale (A Bittersweet-Hollow Mystery Book 1)

by Annie Irvin

  Outside, the sisters leaned against the side of Harper's truck.

  “I’m sorry if I made Lucy mad, but we now have Mickey with opportunity,” Harper said. “He was out of sight during the whole time the bonfire burned. There would have been plenty of time for him to sneak out to the shed and bop the bitch.”

  “Or instead of bopping, he could have been boinking. Summer, that is,” Lonnie pointed out.

  “That’s true. Lucy seemed embarrassed to admit Mickey was off doing who knows what and don’t most wives know when something isn’t right? I probably can’t get any more out of Lucy or Mickey, but maybe I can get Summer to ‘fess up’ and tell me if she and Mickey hooked up some time on Sunday night.”

  “Summer could have bopped instead of boinked,” Lonnie said. “I don't think she’ll be in a big hurry to confess either way.”

  Back at the antique shop, Harper flipped on the light in her office, grabbed a bottle of water from the dorm-size refrigerator, and sat down at her desk. Someone must have seen something, she thought. Although it would be difficult to notice much with the crowd milling all over the property. No one stayed in one place for very long.

  “Oh, duh,” she blurted, giving herself a mental slap on the forehead. She had seriously overlooked some of the people who were not milling around much. They were the ones taking turns at the pumpkin wagon in the yard, at the cider table on the porch, and in the dining room serving coffee and cookies. She would question Olivia’s girls: Carly, Tammy, Riley, Mindy and Rachel. One of them might have noticed Grace in an argument or spotted her heading toward the shed with someone. They might also be able to give her some sort of idea on Summer’s whereabouts around eight o’clock.

  The afternoon turned out to be busy and Harper didn’t have a minute to herself until almost five o’clock. As the work day wound to a close, Helen settled onto a wooden folding chair in the office and stretched out her legs.

  “Not a bad haul for a Thursday afternoon. We sold a carved walnut sideboard, a Wedgwood tea service, and two old quilts. By the way, I’m meeting Marylou Lockridge for a drink after we close up here. Want to join us? Kick back and relax a bit? Thursday is Ladies’ Night, you know, two for one from five till seven.” Helen fetched her hand bag and coat from the office.

  “How about a rain check?” Harper begged off, thinking she might be able to catch a couple of the girls who had worked on Sunday before it got too late in the evening.

  “Your loss. A few of us old hens are catching happy hour at the Golden Goose.”

  Helen slipped into her coat.

  “I thought they shut the place down,” Harper said, grabbing her jacket and turning off the lights in the office.

  “Oh, everyone thought the Goose was cooked for a little while but they couldn’t trace the food poisoning back to the kitchen. Besides, we don’t eat anything but the nachos.”

  “What about the cheese sauce?”

  Helen shrugged. “I guess we drink enough booze to keep the bacteria at bay. Sure you don’t want to join us?”

  “Thanks, but not tonight,” Harper said as she locked the door. “I don’t have a death wish.”

  Helen’s throaty laugh followed Harper as she got in her truck, started the engine and pulled out of her parking spot.

  Harper drove slowly down Hamilton Street with her window partially open, enjoying the crisp air. She could smell the smoke from someone’s wood stove as it mingled with the scent of wet leaves and her neighbor’s windfall apples. She had lived at 532 Hamilton ever since the day Eli carried her over the threshold all those years ago and she was thankful he hadn’t fought with her over keeping the place when they divorced. It would have been difficult to pack up her belongings and move away from the quiet neighborhood.

  Harper pulled into her driveway and caught sight of Riley Carson walking her dog, Rudy, on the opposite side of the street. Or maybe Rudy walked Riley. The gigantic Boxer outweighed the girl by thirty pounds.

  Harper waved and climbed out of the truck. Riley lived a few blocks over from Harper. She waited while the girl jogged across the street with Rudy leading the way.

  “Hi, Harper,” Riley said, reining in her dog and slowing her step.

  “How are you this evening?” Harper greeted Riley who coaxed the massive dog to sit.

  “I’m fine. Rudy and I thought we should take advantage of the decent weather. It will be blowing snow one of these days and too cold for a walk. Rudy doesn’t like the cold.”

  The girl stroked the dog between his eyes and Harper swore Rudy smiled.

  “Rudy looks like he’d have no problem protecting you,” Harper chuckled.

  “His size should scare off any bad guys,” Riley agreed, “as long as he isn’t put to the test. He’s really just a big baby.”

  Harper pulled her leather jacket closer as a small whirlwind of leaves scuttled past her feet. Rudy shivered.

  “Too bad Grace Potter didn’t have Rudy with her out in the garden shed,” Harper said, smoothly bringing the conversation around to Sunday night.

  “Rudy might have saved the day for sure,” the girl replied. “By the way, I feel sorry for your mom. She’s such a nice lady. Besides, I know how my mother would feel if someone had been murdered at our place.”

  “It’s been hard for her,” Harper agreed. “You don’t recall anyone arguing with Grace or following her around on Sunday night, do you?”

  Riley wrinkled her brow and gazed beyond Harper’s shoulder as if she might be able to glimpse last Sunday.

  “I remember seeing her once, around seven thirty or so. It was when Summer and I worked cider duty. Mrs. Potter came up on the porch and took a glass of cider from Summer who started to say something to her but then changed her mind.”

  Riley looked down at Rudy who stretched and sniffed at a tree.

  “So the two women didn’t exchange any words?”

  “We were sorta busy, you know, and I didn’t pay close attention. After Mrs. Potter went on her way, Summer let off a string of cuss words about her. I planned to ask Summer later, you know, when things quieted down after the bonfire started, what the cussing was all about. Later, with all the confusion and deputies all over the place, I forgot about it.”

  “Was Summer on the porch right before the bonfire?”

  “Hmmm, no, she wasn’t. I figured she took off for a bathroom break or something,” Riley said as Rudy, tired of the smells around the tree, tugged at his leash.

  “When did she come back to the porch?”

  “I’m pretty sure she didn’t come back. The next time I saw her we were all in the dining room being questioned by a deputy.”

  Bingo, thought Harper excitedly. Opportunity.

  “Did the deputy question you girls very long Sunday night?”

  “Not really. It was Deputy Kennedy who did the questioning. He wanted to know if any of us had seen anything which might be related to the case. None of us had. He said if we thought of anything later to call the sheriff right away.”

  “You didn’t notice Summer’s brother-in-law, Mickey O’Connell, hanging around about eight o’clock?”

  “No, can’t say as I did. Like I told you, I had to finish up on the porch by myself. I was in a hurry to get out by the bonfire and I didn’t appreciate Summer leaving me in the lurch.”

  “Looks as though you’d better get on with your walk. I think Rudy is getting antsy.”

  “See you,” Riley said, pulling her jacket hood over her head and loping off down the street with her dog.

  Harper reached into the truck for her purse and spotted the bag of yarn she’d picked up for Olivia. Smothering a small curse for forgetting about the purchase, Harper climbed back into the truck. On her way out of town, she drove past the Schultz residence. I might as well see if Tammy is home, she thought, and pulled up in front of the house.

  Tammy attended junior college and lived with her parents. Just as Harper parked her truck at the curb Tammy’s father arrived home from his job at th
e local lumber yard. Wade Schultz beat Harper up the porch steps and held open the door of the older two story brick home.

  “Bad time to drop in, right at suppertime,” Harper apologized.

  “Not at all. Can you stay for supper? I think this might be meatloaf night and Theda makes a mean meatloaf.”

  “Sounds wonderful, thanks, but I’m on my way to my mother’s. I just need a quick word with Tammy.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Wade called out for his daughter while he led Harper to the living room and then excused himself to wash up.

  Tammy trotted in from the kitchen, her face slightly flushed.

  “Sorry,” she said, pushing her damp, dark blond bangs back from her forehead. “I'm a mess from mashing potatoes and you know how a ton of steam from draining the water makes for limp hair.”

  “This will only take a minute, Tammy. I’m asking around about Grace Potter. Did you notice her in any arguments with anyone on Sunday? Or did she act odd in any way?”

  Tammy pointed to a brightly flowered sofa and invited Harper to sit down. She perched on the arm of the sofa and cocked her head to one side.

  “Well,” she replied, “no, I didn’t see anything like that. I only saw Grace for a minute, in the dining room. Rachel and I were there when she came inside. There were still a few people coming through for hot coffee since the bonfire hadn’t been lit yet. Grace was one of them. She let me serve her coffee but she never smiled or said anything to me. Not to speak ill of the dead, but I think she was a very rude person. She was ruder to Rachel than she was to me.”

  “Did Rachel say anything to her?”

  “Oh no, Rachel was on the other side of the room, standing by the patio door and chatting to one of the guests staying at the inn. I don’t remember which guest now. Rachel didn’t even look at Grace, but Grace stared at Rachel. Practically burned a hole in the back of Rachel’s head, she did. Very rude like, don’t you know. Then she brushed past Rachel and flounced all stuck up like through the patio door. I went over to Rachel to say something about how rude the old gal was but Rachel stopped me, said she needed to go hunt for a mop to clean up some coffee she had just spilled by the door.”

  Harper turned the conversation to Summer.

  “I know Riley and Summer were working the porch when you and Rachel were in the dining room. I suppose they were busy with last minute cider drinkers?”

  Tammy considered the question for a minute, and then answered, “I’m sure they were. I saw them when they first took porch duty. It must have been close to six o’clock. I only saw Riley once after that. She came in to grab some Styrofoam cups, around seven. I didn’t see Summer again until we were all in the dining room with the deputy. After that we all got busy and did some cleaning, remember?”

  “I do remember. So you didn’t see Summer on the porch at, say, eight o’clock?”

  “No.”

  “How about Summer’s brother-in-law, Mickey O’Connell?”

  “No, I don’t remember him coming into the dining room at all.”

  “Well, thanks, Tammy,” Harper said, hearing the clink of dishes in the kitchen which almost certainly meant supper was on the table. Nothing much here, she thought, standing up to leave, but I'm getting a good timeline of Grace’s and Summer’s movements anyway.

  “Can’t you stay for supper? My mom makes the best meatloaf and we have a ton of mashed potatoes.”

  “I appreciate the offer and it smells delicious, but some other time. You get back to the kitchen and eat your supper. I’ll let myself out.”

  Harper drove the two miles to the Inn lost in thought over what she’d learned from Riley and Tammy. Riley confirmed that Grace and Summer were together on the porch a little before eight o’clock. After Grace vacated the porch Summer did, too, and Riley didn’t see her again until all the girls were in the dining room together a little before ten o’clock. Summer would have had plenty of time to meet up with Grace, kill her and sneak back to the Inn. Harper recalled the look of loathing on Summer’s face and the bitterness in her voice when she said the bitch deserved to die.

  Someone else with a motive had opportunity, too, however. She couldn’t overlook the fact Mickey O’Connell had left his wife alone and his whereabouts at eight o’clock were unknown.

  Harper turned left off the highway and drove a few hundred feet down the gravel road, taking a right into the Bittersweet Inn’s driveway. The glow of lights spilling out of the front windows and across the manicured lawn and flower beds captured the old Victorian in an impression worthy of a Thomas Kinkade painting. The stately house settled into the quiet, calm air of dusk, and if she didn’t know any better Harper would never have believed a murder had been committed here or, according to Alice anyway, a revengeful spirit roamed the grounds.

  Harper parked around back and walked briskly through the kitchen door where she found Olivia and Violet seated at the table, thumbing through a few family recipe books.

  “Here’s your yarn, Mom.”

  “Thanks, dear. Have you eaten supper?”

  “I have plenty of leftovers at home.”

  “There’s meatloaf in the fridge I can heat up for you,” Violet offered.

  Harper wondered if she’d missed the Thursday night meatloaf memo.

  “Thanks, but I’m beat. I’m looking forward to a long, hot soak in the tub and a light supper in front of the television,” Harper answered.

  “Sounds like a good way to spend the evening,” Ezra said, stepping into the kitchen with a wad of yellow police tape in his hands. “Cops removed the tape today but didn’t get all of it into the trash.”

  “It’s nice to know it’s gone,” Olivia remarked. “Maybe there will be fewer meddlers sniffing around the place now.”

  “There were only a few nitwits intrudin’ today,” Ezra said. “And I told ‘em there was nothin’ to see so they might as well keep on movin’.”

  “Must have been the pitch fork you were holding that convinced them you were right,” Olivia said, her eyes twinkling.

  Ezra looked sheepish. Olivia had him there.

  Laughing, Harper patted Ezra’s arm and said, “Job well done.” If she didn’t drag her feet she’d have time to question one more person before calling it a night. With a promise to drive carefully, Harper blew her mother a kiss and left.

  Carly Albertson lived across the street and down two houses from Harper. It was a little after eight thirty when Harper arrived back at her house. She’d take a chance Carly was home and hoofed it across the street.

  Carly was in her late twenties and Harper wasn’t sure a single girl Carly’s age would even be home at this time of evening. But she spotted lights on inside the house and rang the doorbell.

  “Hey, Harper,” Carly exclaimed, opening the door holding one of the fattest cats Harper had ever seen. “Come on in. This is Quiggly.”

  “Hey, Quiggly,” Harper laughed, rubbing the gray and white cat’s ears. The cat thanked her with a loud purr.

  Carly’s makeup looked freshly applied and her jeans and cute sweater suggested hot date instead of comfy evening at home.

  “Are you on your way out? If this isn’t a good time I can catch you later,” Harper said, stepping inside.

  “I'm not going out. He’s coming over,” Carly replied cheerfully.

  “I’ll just stay a couple of minutes,” Harper promised while Carly took the lead into the living room where a dozen scented candles glowed and soft saxophone music drifted from a CD player in the corner of the room. Carly had arranged a tray of fruit and cheese on the coffee table and set an uncorked bottle of wine to breathe next to a pair of crystal goblets.

  Harper wasn’t sure she’d want to be in her twenties again, yet she wouldn’t mind snatching back a night or two from the decade when she had put on a Charlie Parker tape and danced barefoot in the candlelight with Eli.

  “Too bad you don’t believe in ambiance,” Harper wisecracked as she took the seat Carly offered, and then sai
d, “I’m trying to find out if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary concerning Grace Potter on Sunday night.”

  “Like I told Deputy Kennedy, when Mindy and I worked the pumpkin wagon I saw Grace,” Carly said, “but there wasn’t anything unusual going on with her. Unless you count what took place when she ran into Pastor and Mrs. Hart.”

  Quiggly jumped onto Harper’s lap and rolled onto his back, begging for a tummy rub. Harper stroked his furry belly. “You saw her talking with Pastor Hart?”

  “They ran into each other just a few feet away from me. Grace appeared to do all the talking. I think Mrs. Hart started to say something to Grace but the Pastor grabbed his wife’s arm and literally pulled her away. I don’t blame him for not wanting to hang around, after all, Grace Potter had a mean mouth. But at the time I thought it was a little odd that Pastor Hart, of all people, would snub someone. And that’s what it looked like. A snub. They walked away and left Grace standing there alone. Then she headed off toward the rest of the crowd.”