Back at the shop, Laura hung up the phone and felt like dancing. She knew she’d been right about Dorr. She only hoped Connor would dig up some evidence or at least a good reason to reopen Mrs. Dorr’s death with a new investigation.
She opened her laptop and did some more searching, wanting to help Connor find that evidence without betraying his confidence in her or disobeying his request to keep it under wraps until he had more. She was hoping to find a way to do just that.
In the meantime, she could still keep her eyes and ears open when it came to Dorr’s activities in Raging Ford. After all, she could certainly be a good citizen by watching a suspect and reporting what she saw. That wouldn’t interfere with the case, if one developed, as she suspected it would very quickly.
Afternoon in Second Treasures was very busy, as last minute Valentine’s Day shoppers cleared off the rest of the shelves of all holiday merchandise.
Jenna stopped by with two more embroidered towel sets which Laura had hardly put out before they were purchased. She hung around behind the counter, wrapping and bagging items as Laura rang them up.
“Are you and Connor doing anything for Valentine’s Day? It’s about time, you know.”
Laura nodded and handed the bag to a customer.
“We’re going out to dinner.”
“Got any other big plans for tomorrow besides dinner? I know the shop will be closed for the holiday. Having your hair or nails done?”
“No time for that. I actually won a bid on a beautiful loveseat for below the fireplace display and a mahogany étagère. Connor has the day off and he’s borrowing Ian’s pickup so we can go get them.”
“That’s not very romantic.”
“I consider it romantic that I have an opportunity to spend a few hours alone with him instead of a few minutes at the Valencia.”
“There is that,” Jenna agreed, wrapping the next two sets of tea cups and saucers while Laura rang them up. “Where are you going to pick them up?”
“Over near Arrington. Connor says he knows a shortcut on Route 7. I don’t think I’ve ever been on Route 7 or in Arrington which I’ve never heard of, so I have to take his word for it.”
“Arrington, hmm,” Jenna commented. “Yes, there is a way on Route 7, but it’s a very remote, narrow road. I agree with Connor. It will save you time. When are you leaving?”
“Around eight in the morning.”
As the ladies continued to wait on customers and chat with each other about tomorrow’s plans, neither of them noticed a man in a hoodie who meandered among the crowds but had edged close enough to overhear their conversation, keeping his head down.
He left the shop and made a call.
“They’ll be on Route 7 tomorrow morning. I know it well. Remote and perfect. They’re making it easy for us.”
thirty-six
Laura had convinced Jenna to join her friends for dinner after the shop closed for the day. She tried every arrow in her quiver, from all the years of counseling in Maryland. Jenna finally agreed.
“Are you feeling better, Laura?” Kelly asked, as the four ladies met for drinks and dinner that evening at the Rattling Kettle on the highway just outside Raging Ford, not far from the medical center.
“Much better, thanks,” Laura responded, not mentioning she’d avoided touching the one quilt in recent days or her suspicions of Christopher Dorr and how he had somehow murdered his wife in such a way that no one seemed to notice. She hadn’t yet worked out that part.
“Are you working on a case with Connor? I thought I saw him stop by a few times this week,” Erica said.
“Oh, no, I don’t work on police cases—” Laura began.
“But you did shoot that robber, didn’t you? I mean it was all over the papers,” Kelly interrupted.
“No, I didn’t shoot him. I shot the gun out of his hand.” Laura wondered if her one action with a gun was going to follow her for the rest of her life.
“Wow. I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”
“I had some time on my hands in Maryland,” Laura responded vaguely, hoping the conversation would turn in another direction. She caught Jenna looking at her intently.
“Are the police watching your store like they did in December?” Jenna finally spoke.
“I don’t think so. This was some random guy who’s been pulling off some grab-and-dash robberies. And now he’s in jail.”
“A toast to Laura Keene,” Erica said, raising her glass of wine, “the hero of the R.F.P.D.!”
They laughed, sipped their wine and ordered dinner. While they waited for their food, it was time to catch up on everyone’s news.
Kelly mentioned her aunt and uncle had visited Second Treasures because of the new quilt shipment, but Laura hadn’t paid them enough attention while they were in the store.
“That was the day I felt sick, like I had a bug or something. I don’t think I saw or heard anyone that day.” Laura regretted that a potential customer had felt ignored, but Kelly’s aunt and uncle were always rude to her, no matter how gracious she was. Still, it was not a comment she’d like tweeted around the globe.
“Your aunt and uncle don’t have a Twitter account, do they?” Laura asked.
The question brought a laugh and almost a choke on Kelly’s wine.
“They don’t even know what Facebook is.”
“You’re safe, Laura. No one will ever find out!” Erica concluded.
“Hey, now that we’re all four together again, we should begin planning the ‘four fairies’ for the Halloween Haunted Forest thing next fall,” Kelly said.
“Halloween’s eight months away,” Jenna pointed out.
“But Laura always organized these things for us and now she’s here again, so I’m just saying that this time around we don’t need permission from our parents on some of the stuff we want to do, especially with the Haunted Forest. We should also be thinking about the future and the fun we always had together and the things we can think up that we can do now and no one will stop us.”
After Laura got through thinking about Erica’s long sentence and its meaning, she agreed.
“But we should also think about what we want to do for Founder’s Day this summer. That comes first. I understand there’s a whole bunch of new activities the town has planned. Was that your doing, Jenna?”
Jenna set her knife and piece of buttered roll down, placed her hands in her lap.
“Well, I thought it might be fun for the children in Raging Ford to learn more of the town’s history, so Connor and I organized a group that cleaned up the older cemetery and the Freedom Tunnel. Are you okay if we talk about that, Laura?”
Laura smiled at her friend’s sensitivity. Laura had been trapped in that tunnel just a few weeks ago.
“Of course. I recall being amazed it was so clean. No nasty spiders or dead animals. Remember when we crawled through there as little kids?”
“Do I ever!” Jenna commented.
And with that remark, Jenna finally joined into the conversations and plans for the town’s upcoming activities.
“Remember for the Fall Fairies, I always get to wear pink,” Jenna reminded everyone.
“And I wear purple,” Laura said, stressing her favorite color.
“Neither of which are really fall colors, I might remind you, but we indulged each other’s tastes because you especially, Laura, were so stubborn about it. I wear the usual yellow,” Kelly put in.
“And I get an auburn shade to go with my hair,” Erica said, “and also because it’s a real fall color, unlike some others.”
They laughed.
“I think we might need new costumes this year, huh?”
“Yeah, we’ve gotten a little taller.”
“Who will make them? Who here knows how to sew?” Erica asked, and they all turned to Laura.
“Well, at least we now have the beginnings of a plan,” she said noncommittally, grateful Rose had gotten her sewing lessons.
“And we still have to do something special for Founder’s Day.”
“Yes, we have lots to think about and plan.”
The ladies ate in silence at the beginning of the meal mostly because they were all hungry. Halfway through, Laura told Kelly how successful the fireplace artwork was.
“You did that, Kelly?” Jenna asked. “It’s beautiful. I’ll have to send Mother a shot on Instagram. She’ll want one like it in her private study. Laura can tell us how she rigged up the flickering lights. It looks real.”
They were all aware that Jenna’s mom had redone the entire Buckley residence in Connecticut after Jenna’s father died in a car accident some years back. She’d left Raging Ford and returned to her family’s homestead. Actually, she had remodeled it several times, claiming it kept her busy so she wouldn’t have time to miss her husband. Between all that remodeling, furniture going in and furniture going out, plus all the formal dinners, it worked. Jenna’s complaint was that she never knew her house when she went to visit. It was always changing, blue rooms now ivory, and vice versa. She did admire her mother’s good taste, though. Jenna stayed, for the most part, in the family home where she had grown up with her parents in Raging Ford. Now and then, she’d visit Connecticut because she missed her mother.
“What color scheme is your mom picking this year, Jenna?” Kelly asked. “I’ll make sure the fireplace artwork matches.”
After the chuckling died down, Kelly asked Erica about her new boyfriend.
“How’s everything going with Torrey?”
“He’s very nice.”
“Is that all?” Jenna put in.
“Sometimes nice grows on you. He’s also very kind and makes sure I’m happy.”
“Sounds like a keeper to me,” Laura said, reaching for the dessert menu. It was the first time in days that she’d felt well enough for a little ice cream or something more decadent.
The desserts were brought and decadence was indulged, at least for the one evening. When the foursome parted, Laura was unaware that she was being followed the whole way home.
thirty-seven
Early on Valentine’s Day, Laura’s mind was heavy with thoughts of a possible murderer roaming in plain sight through the small town of Raging Ford. If she was right, then maybe no one was in danger because all he was looking for was a quilt. The big question was why he wanted the quilt so badly he had to track it down.
She’d gone to bed and left dishes in the sink. She left clean, folded towels on her coffee table upstairs. She’d slept poorly, thinking about this guy off and on throughout the night. She worried in the morning as she donned thermal underwear and put on two thick sweaters under her jacket and two pairs of heavy woolen socks. It was normal her blood hadn’t thickened yet to help her live with the extreme cold weather she’d missed for eleven years, but she hoped she’d be back to normal by the next year. The prediction for today was bitterly cold weather and more snow likely.
She grabbed her iPhone and noticed with dismay that she’d forgotten to charge it the night before, so downstairs she went to plug it into the kitchen counter outlet adapter. Coffee was grinding and would soon go into the heated press while Laura pulled two big thermoses from the cupboard for her and Connor. The clock was ticking and Connor would be here shortly to take her to Arrington to buy the love seat and étagère.
Laura kept checking her iPhone, but it wasn’t charging quickly enough, so she left it charging, let the coffee sit for four minutes, pressed it, and filled the thermoses, both with one cream and one sugar, and went to the counter in the shop to retrieve her old LG cell phone which she always left charging for emergency. With all her layers and thermals, her clothing was tight and she was unable to slip the slim phone into a pants pocket. It did fit, however, up the inside of all the sweaters, against her inner right wrist, so that would have to do.
By the time the thermoses were ready and the phone was up her sleeve, she got the text from Connor that he was out back.
“You know my reputation is about to suffer by this stop you’re insisting we make,” Connor noted, giving Laura a severe look.
“Never mind your rep. You know in your heart these doughnuts are worth it.”
Moments after he had picked her up, the pair stood in front of the bakery counter, enthralled by what they saw. Laura had to pull Connor away from the pastries, so they could pick their doughnuts.
“Some things don’t change,” Will Kovacs commented, sliding open a food case and shoveling in some fresh blueberry muffins. The aroma wafted through the shop, joining the others. It was a glorious way to start a day.
Connor cleared his throat, straightened up and perused the huge variety of doughnuts before settling on two.
“Are you sure that will be enough? You’re a growing boy,” Laura teased, stage-whispering to him.
“Just those two, Will.”
Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“You’re the one who hasn’t been driving around this area for eleven years. I have. Of course I know where I’m going.”
“I’ve never even heard of Arrington.”
Laura watched her surroundings as they flew up Route 14 and took a couple more exits and turns before reaching Route 7, the road to the actual estate sale warehouse. She’d never been to this part of Minnesota before. It took them about an hour and a half to get there on snowy, rutted roads in Ian’s 4-wheel drive pickup.
“That was quick. I wonder what roads and how long Waze would have taken.”
“Waze and GPS don’t always work in some of these rural areas, so I did an old-fashioned MapQuest before I left to pick you up.”
When they arrived, the loveseat and étagère were waiting for them. Laura gazed at them a moment. They were just as attractive as they had looked on the Internet, and they would need very little clean-up before she could use them in the shop as part of her displays.
The pair wrapped the furniture pieces in blankets and loaded them in the truck bed, strapping them down securely with the pile of bungee cords Connor had borrowed from his brother. When they were satisfied all was set, the pair got in the truck to head home.
They were on their second turn from the sale and still in the middle of the countryside when they saw an obstruction in the narrow road up ahead.
“What’s that?” Laura asked.
“I don’t know. Looks like a disabled car.”
They pulled slowly to a stop about twenty yards behind the blockage in the road.
Ahead of them was a car that had screeched to a halt, leaving long skid marks visible where the snow had been cleared. The driver’s side door was ajar and against the front tires they could see a pair of twisted, bent legs on the ground. A purse was tossed to the edge of the road. Somewhere in the distance they heard a woman cry out.
“Stay in the truck,” Connor said, unstrapping his gun but leaving it in the holster and getting out of the truck slowly, looking around as he did so. He could not tell where the woman’s cry had come from. Could have been in any direction. He saw nothing.
“But they might need help. I know some first aid.”
“Stay in the truck. Wait until I call you.”
He approached the car cautiously, looking around in the bushes and shrubs along both sides of the road. Seeing no one in the car itself, Connor approached the person on the ground, his hand resting on his gun still in the holster. As he got to the front of the vehicle and before he could pull out his gun, he saw the man from his recent inquiries lying on the ground with a pistol aimed at him. He glanced back at Laura and saw a blonde holding a similar weapon against the glass aimed at Laura’s head.
“Hands off the gun. Easy. Take it out nice and easy, with your left hand,�
�� the man said. “Good. Drop it next to me and step back. Now carefully take out your phone and drop it on the ground. Kick it over by your gun. That’s right. Step back.”
“What do you want? Maybe we can help.”
“Shut up and do what I say! I’ll be showing you just how you can help me.”
Connor’s hands were in the air as he took slow steps backward away from the man who had taken his gun and phone and who was now indicating with his gun that Connor keep moving toward the front of Ian’s pickup truck.
Laura had frozen when she saw the barrel in her side vision, put her hands up, and kept her eyes on Connor, lest he give her some indication of what she should do. The barrel tapped the glass and a hand indicated she get out of the truck. That’s when she saw who her captor was.
The sweet, southern lady who could sell anybody anything and charm everyone but Grumpy Gus—Kitty Lenz from Will’s bakery.
Laura’s first thought was that she and Connor were in a whole lot of trouble.
Her next thought was, Dang, there goes the fudge.
thirty-eight
Corporal Brianna Broadmoor scolded Sam Larsen from her desk. “Tell me you didn’t just try to call Connor.”
As senior officer on call, she had Connor Fitzpatrick’s job for the day. She was still trying to figure out if she ever wanted to have it again, even for an hour. There were far too many quick decisions to make and no end to the problems, calls, emails, questions, complaints, and citizen suggestions, not to mention the shifts were still tight because Thompson and Beauregard hadn’t come back yet. She couldn’t figure out how he did it.
Larsen looked sheepish.
“I promised him I’d work on polishing the brass railings on the big staircase after my shift was over today, which it almost is, and I have a problem with the materials I bought. I want to make sure I do it right.”
Priced to Kill Page 17
