Egg the Halls

by Jessica Payseur

  Kiko sighed, put a hand to the bridge of his nose. Gordon had warned them not to interfere when he and Dom had been trying to track down a killer around Halloween. By now they had a reputation. He’d have to come clean about what they were doing.

  “Cat from Cats N Canvas in Catsville asked us to look into the vandalism going on at her business,” said Kiko, and Gordon nodded.

  “Heard about it,” he said.

  “She just got paintballed, too.”

  Gordon nodded again.

  “Could I open up now?” asked Kiko, wanting to get inside where it was warm.

  “Don’t see why not. I’ll get this all written up for you.”

  “But there’s not much you’re going to be able to do,” said Kiko, retrieving Mother, who stared at the police chief. Gordon hitched up his pants again.

  “Doubtful. I suppose there’s no point to telling you boys to stay out of it.”

  Kiko shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. Gordon was surprisingly lax for an old police chief, but then, Mount Angus was a place where you trusted people trustworthy. And he and Dom had proven themselves by catching a few killers at this point.

  “We promised Cat we’d find some evidence.”

  “Don’t do anything illegal,” said Gordon, voice suddenly hard. “And try not to get yourselves shot.”

  Kiko nodded and entered Yolks on You, stomach sour. Memories of Dom nearly being shot crashed in on him and he forced them away, set Mother down. He shooed the goose off to wander, hoping he could get some exercise that way, and flicked all the lights on.

  There was no way those notes could be death threats. That made no sense. Who would kill over something so small? If he and Dom were getting close, that would mean even Gordon could figure it out. It was more likely that he was supposed to be spooked. Well, it was working on Dom. Kiko pulled out his phone to text him that he was okay and saw what Dom had sent.

  Well shit.

  Gordon’s writing up the report.

  Make Chad clean that up, texted Dom, and Kiko smiled. He wasn’t about to put Chad back on a ladder anytime soon. He could do it himself once Katie got in.

  * * * *

  “Only half done?” asked Dom when he got up to the counter. Kiko rolled his eyes at him. It felt better to tease him than worry about him, and Dom hated worrying. One side of Yolks on you was fairly well scrubbed, which he found impressive. Kiko must have looked up what got paint off glass and then went to it immediately.

  “Don’t tell me: it’s Christmassy enough to keep up the rest of the week?”

  “Well, it is.”

  “Are you two arguing?” asked Katie, moving around behind the counter. “You’ll give Chad too much entertainment. Besides, it’s not a good way to start a date.”

  “Date?” asked Dom. He shot Kiko a frown and Kiko shrugged.

  “It’s not so much of a date,” he said, adjusting his tie.

  “Oh,” said Katie, nodding. “You’re doing P.I. work.”

  Dom beamed even as Kiko frowned. Being seen as a private investigator had a good feel to it. He didn’t even resist the fantasy that he could quit his job and spend his days prying into Mount Angus business to solve petty disagreements. And the occasional murder.

  “Thanks, Katie,” muttered Kiko. “You have any idea what I’ll have to deal with now?”

  “I fixed your argument, didn’t I?” asked Katie, and moved off to wipe down tables.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” said Kiko as he grabbed up his coat and followed Dom outside.

  “I’d be the sexiest P.I. around,” said Dom, liking the expression he saw on Kiko’s face. “I’ll have to get a gun. And a desk. And the right lighting. And that glass thing for my booze.”

  “Decanter.”

  “If that’s what they’re called,” said Dom, starting the car. Kiko sighed, but it was a pleasant sort of sound. When Dom glanced at him he had a fond near-smile about his mouth.

  “Yes, that’s what they’re called. I can see now I picked the wrong present for you.”

  “I’ll take a present any day,” said Dom.

  “Our roleplay’s about to get interesting,” said Kiko.

  “Yes, please.” Dom forced himself not to imagine too much while driving, but he was beginning to get irritated that they had to go investigate right now, and really wished they didn’t have any guests. Going home and being unable to have a little wild fun made everything all the more frustrating.

  “You okay? You drove past it.”

  “I meant to,” said Dom, really concentrating now. “Just to surveil a bit.”

  Kiko didn’t argue with him. The only person in the place when they entered was being directed to Sam’s scrap metal art collection by Ben’s kid. Christian looked bored and vaguely irritated with it, but seemed to recognize both Dom and Kiko when he turned to them. Dom thought that was interesting—Kiko must have met him at some point. Maybe he was getting Dom one of Sam’s pieces for Christmas, an echo of the giant sculpture Dom bought for him when they first met.

  “You want to know where Sam’s stuff is, too,” said Christian, pointing toward where the other customer had disappeared. “That’s all anyone wants today.”

  “Huh,” said Dom, but Kiko filled in.

  “It’s Joylove’s stamp day today. People must not know that he’s selling here now.”

  Christian shrugged. He didn’t care.

  “What do you want, then?” asked the kid.

  “We were actually hoping to talk to you,” said Kiko. Dom watched the kid’s eyes flick back and forth between them and then he retreated behind the checkout counter.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Do you have a list of what classes you offer?” asked Kiko, and Dom caught on. Kiko had mentioned Angus Arts offered paintball lessons—what better way to find out if this was the source of the vandalism than to get information from the kid on it?

  “Kind of,” said Christian. “You just ask me. He already did sketching. What do you want?”

  Dom bristled at the fifteen-year-old pointing at him like taking a class was a crime. But before he could say anything, Kiko led again.

  “Steff down at the bakery was telling me that you’re offering paintball paintings?” he asked. “That sounds like something someone at any level can do.”

  “Hey,” said Dom as Kiko shot him a look. “My drawing’s not that bad.”

  Kiko rolled his eyes dramatically.

  “All I’m saying is if you want me to hang it up it has to look good enough to hang.”

  “It is good enough to hang,” said Dom, enjoying playing along with this, and the slowly creeping look of disgust on Christian’s face.

  “I’m not having this argument again,” said Kiko, low and leaning close to Dom.

  “Yeah, we got that but I don’t think it’s for you,” said Christian. “It’s…messy. Lots of paint.”

  “If there’s one thing I can handle it’s a good mess,” said Dom, shooting Kiko a grin.

  “It’s just for him,” said Kiko. “I don’t do art.”

  Christian seemed relieved at that. He cleared his throat.

  “Well, I guess there’s probably an opening if you’re not going to be a problem. You wanna pay now, or day of?”

  “First, I need to know the details,” said Kiko, gesturing with his hands. “How big is the canvas? What colors are you using? Can we put in a request for specifics? I am not hanging anything that clashes with my wall.”

  “It’s fine,” said Dom, putting a hand on Kiko’s arm only to get shrugged off.

  “I don’t know,” said Christian, looking sour now. “We have some green and yellow. Packers paint, you know? But I don’t look in storage.”

  Dom let out a loud sigh.

  “Could you go look for us? He’s not going to let me book a class without knowing.”

  Christian leaned on the counter.

  “No, I can’t,” he said. “Storage and inventory are with my dad. He has the key. You’re ju
st unlucky you got me tonight and not Justine. I swear she knows everything in this place. Friggin’ brags about it all the time.”

  “You only have one key?” asked Kiko like it was a lie. “I thought you were the instructor for the class. Don’t you need to use the materials to practice? Develop a project?”

  Christian scowled.

  “I know what I’m doing,” he said. “I don’t need to practice. If you want to know about the paint, you’re going to have to ask my dad or sister.”

  “I could just sign up,” said Dom.

  “No,” said Kiko, grabbing his arm. “We’ll figure it out later. Thanks anyway.”

  * * * *

  Chapter 14

  Kiko had just finished selling two of Cat’s art pieces and three egg-shaped ornaments when he noticed Katie chatting with Sasha Jennings by the art tree. The purple hair was impossible to miss. Both women seemed to be laughing, though, which was good as far as Kiko was concerned. Maybe Katie could pull some information from the artist.

  “Hey, boss,” said Chad, moving over at a decreased pace. He’d been very disappointed he hadn’t needed to go to the hospital and now even Kiko was becoming a little curious about Roy. “There’s a spot on the breakfast bird tree that’s like, really big now. Where’d you put the ladd—”

  “No,” said Kiko. The last thing he needed was for Chad to really injure himself. “Go bus those two tables. I think there’s enough to run a load of dishes now.”

  Chad moved off, grumbling, and Kiko could hear Katie now reading a children’s story. Friday night and everything was as it should be. Sasha appeared as he was straightening behind the counter.

  “I heard you and the boyfriend were investigating,” she said, and Kiko looked up, gave her the smile he used on customers. Whatever she was here for, if he helped her out, maybe she’d help him out. “He came by my home a few days ago.”

  “Dom is a little eager. I hope he didn’t bother you.”

  Sasha shrugged.

  “He’s all right. I get being into something. And really I want this feud thing to end because it’s bad for selling my paintings. I’d say I wish he could’ve told me he was looking for information, but I understand. People are rotten inside, even the good apples.”

  “I can see versions of that theory in your art,” said Kiko. Sasha’s eyes lit up at that, so Kiko pressed on. “There’s a certain amount of disgust and the gruesome in your work, but oftentimes you dress it up—sometimes literally in clothes. The hidden decay within us all.”

  “You really get it,” she said. “Still life—that’s what we all are.”

  “Your pieces are definitely something you can sit there and think about.”

  Sasha flicked her hair and leaned on the counter, sighing with irritation.

  “I’ve been thinking I’m all wrong about Ben,” she said. “Cat got what I was doing—she didn’t really like it, but she understood it. It’s all over Ben’s head. He likes that it makes people uncomfortable and that’s it. He doesn’t really get my work.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” said Kiko. Sasha made a noise of disgust.

  “Unfortunate? It’s ruining everything. Usually I can sell two or three paintings this time of year at Cat’s—Ben promised better than that. Less than a week from Christmas and the only thing I sold was a painting that got picked up before I even switched to Ben’s.”

  “It’s possible it’s because Angus Arts is so new…” began Kiko, but Sasha shook her head.

  “People know about it. How can they not, with all the gossip about what’s going on with Cat and Ben? Thing is, Ben’s not working with it. My art should be selling. More than usual. And nothing.” She snorted. “It’s the men, right? Katie over there agrees with me. He’s trying to cater to men and it’s just not working. There’s no way a man with any sense would bring one of my paintings home to his wife for Christmas, but the women don’t want to set foot in there.”

  “I can see that,” said Kiko. “I’ve bought something from there, but mostly for a joke.”

  “See? I’m screwed wherever I go. At least Cat’s got sales. And it’s not just my work—Ben’s running Angus Arts into the ground.”

  “But it only opened weeks ago.”

  “I talked to his kid—Justine, I think—and she said it’s about to go under.” Sasha sighed. “I want to go back to Cat’s, but I don’t think I can. Can you speed it up about finding out it’s Ben doing all that vandalizing? I signed a contract with him—Cat never made me do that either—but it’s void if Angus Arts gets in legal trouble, I think.”

  “And you don’t want to wait for it to go under when it might not fold until next year because you want to sell still,” said Kiko. Sasha nodded. “Well, we’re looking for the person responsible, and they might not be Ben.”

  “Oh, come on. Not Ben? It has to be him. Didn’t he go after you, too?” She indicated the still-not-completely-clean store windows. “He hates Cat. His store’s about to fold. He has paintball guns. I heard a rumor at his store the other day that people are saying you egged Cat’s to get another mystery going.”

  Kiko blinked at that. Sasha straightened.

  “Well, you’re the egg guy.”

  “Dom and I are working on it,” said Kiko.

  Sasha gave him a smile. “Say, you wouldn’t mind displaying some of my work, would you? I’ve got some new stuff that fits with the season and you could mark it up as much as you want.”

  Kiko shook his head.

  “Sorry, Sasha, but I get a lot of kids in here.”

  She deflated and peeled back from the counter.

  “Well, I gotta get going to get to work. Good luck speeding up your investigation.”

  Kiko watched her leave, turning everything over in his mind before pulling out his phone and texting Dom.

  * * * *

  Dom hated using a cart. He preferred to do his shopping by going into the store, grabbing what he needed, and getting out, at most using a basket. But it was impossible to pick up so few groceries when buying for four adults and two children, so he grumpily pushed the cart through Gord’s Grocery, glaring at his list. He hated using lists, too.

  Kiko’s neat handwriting stared up at him from the paper, mocking him with every squeak of the wheel. More sugar and flour for cookies. Five pounds of potatoes. Half the garlic in the store. It looked like Kiko had listed every vegetable Gord’s stocked, and half the fruit. Dom groaned. This was going to take forever.

  When Kiko’s text came through relief washed over him. He yanked his phone out of his pocket so fast he nearly dropped it.

  Don’t forget to drop by Gord’s after work. I stuck the list in your wallet.

  Dom glared at the screen.

  I know, he texted back. He’d hoped Kiko had something good. I’m there now. He pocketed his phone and compared the price between the two-pound bag of carrots and the five pound one. Dom really hated shopping.

  “Who organizes their list by department anyway?” he muttered to himself, even as he was secretly grateful for it. There was no forgetting anything when the produce was in one section, the meat in another, frozens in a third. Once he’d gotten everything, he’d probably think fondly of Kiko for it. But not yet.

  Thanks, texted Kiko, then what Dom had been waiting for. Sasha was in here asking us to speed it up. She’s upset with Ben and says Angus Arts is about to go under.

  It just opened, sent Dom.

  According to her Justine says Ben’s running it into the ground.

  Dom blinked and looked up from the gossip trail. He never would have guessed that being an investigator meant collecting as much town gossip as possible, but it turned out that gossip was where the information was. It probably figured.

  He glanced over at the apples and noticed someone familiar there. Even with her hair tied back in a ponytail and her back turned to him Dom recognized her; he’d spent enough time uncomfortable as hell trying to sketch her. He wondered momentarily how uncomfortable it would be
for them both if he went up and started talking to Justine, but she knew about Angus Arts folding and he really wanted that information. He rolled his squeaky cart over before really considering it.

  Justine glanced up at him and then stepped back to make room for him to also look over the apples. Dom was glad Kiko had apples on the list. He grabbed one before talking.

  “Your Ben’s kid, right? Angus Arts Ben?”

  “Yes,” she said, and gave him a smile he recognized from his time spent with Kiko as completely salesperson. “Have you had a chance to stop by yet? As Mount Angus’ first real art destination, I think you’d be impressed. Not only are there a variety of pieces for sale, a wide range of classes are offered.”

  “You’re a bit young to have that spiel down,” said Dom. Justine’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m seventeen,” she said.

  “And I was at your last sketching class,” said Dom. Justine looked away. “I’m not going to preach.”

  She looked up, smiled back.

  “There’s no point. There’s nothing wrong with being a model. I’m on the Mount Angus High basketball team, too, and on track to be valedictorian next year. Helping out at my father’s business isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

  “Great,” said Dom. It was Friday, he was tired, and there was still most of a grocery list left to get to, so he decided to be blunt. “Then you know about how likely it is the business will be around in the next few months?”

  Justine’s smile disappeared.

  “Any rumors about Angus Arts closing its doors are completely untrue,” she said. “And if you don’t care to see a valuable small town business leave, you should consider buying art there or taking a class.”

  “I was looking into more classes,” said Dom, thinking she wasn’t going to give anything away here. He and Kiko would have to decide if they trusted Sasha or not. He decided to try to get paintball information out of Justine instead. “But when I asked your brother didn’t know anything about the paintball classes.”

  Justine rolled her eyes.