Dead Man's Carve (A Tickled to Death Mystery Book 1)

by Kym Roberts

  That had definitely creeped me out. The first time I saw it, I swore I’d bleach the whole area and block it off from Woody’s sexually charged patrons. About the fourth time, I vowed to join Mayor Bob in the fight. My porch was not the Sleaze Motel.

  Tommy had run off a few of my lust-filled visitors, but obviously he couldn’t be everywhere at once. I finally lost my passion, and got bored with the night life that was undoubtedly going on right now. The revelry was exhausting. How did Woody’s employees put up with it day after day and maintain any normalcy in their lives?

  I felt jaded and exhausted. All I wanted to do was close off my mind, and go back to the way I’d been a week ago when nothing bothered me. Murders were reported on the news (that I didn’t watch), dead bodies were missing from my life, and good-looking men and giant dogs were of no concern to me.

  A loud thump on my front porch made my eyes shoot wide open. My heartbeat accelerated.

  No way. No frickin’ way was someone going to do it on my porch again. I pushed back from my desk and grabbed my baseball bat from the umbrella stand next to the back door. Turning off the lights, I snuck into the store and crouched down.

  My dad’s eyes flashed before me.

  Not in real life. But the image of the fear they held was stuck in my head and would be for a very long time. Knowing his daughter could be in danger had rocked him to the core. And here I was acting like Joan of Arc on some moral mission. Willing to risk it all just to keep my porch clean.

  I walked over and flipped on the front porch light just as he hit the front door. I screamed bloody murder. Joan the warrior was gone. Scared shitless Rilee was back. I raised my bat ready to take off the head of any man willing to come through that door. Heart pumping, my hands melted into the bat. My vision tunneled to the glass. No other spot was visible. Nothing but the poor pathetic eyes of Mr. Bogart.

  I let out the breath that threatened to strangle me before lowering my bat and going to the door.

  “Bogart. You’re at the wrong door.” Pushing the alarm code into the pad, I reached for the handle and flung it open to my grateful friend. Who proceeded to plow right through my legs and make me ride doggie bareback, backwards. Again.

  I couldn’t help but laugh as I struggled to stay upright. He wiggled and wormed and whined with pleasure. He was my best friend and he was home.

  “Whoa, Bogart! Whoa!”

  Finally he stopped, I dismounted and turned around to greet him only to have his paws hit my chest. I stumbled back against the wall laughing the whole way as his tongue assaulted me with gobbley goo. I didn’t care one bit. He was home. The house was no longer silent. And I wasn’t alone.

  The only thing that could make me feel better would have been Stone following him through the front door. I bent my head around Bogart’s big head, half hoping, half expecting ...

  Nothing. Nothing but neon boobs flashing in the night.

  I guess I’d have to settle for kisses against the wall from a dog.

  And I suddenly realized those weren’t the only kind I wanted. “Down, Bogart.”

  He tumbled down, leaving a trail of slobber and mud all over the front of me. Again not what I wanted. But those big brown eyes and that squirming body encircling me — that was exactly what I needed.

  I laughed and my spirits lifted. Bogart gnawed on my hand like a chew toy as we walked to the door. Looking out, I asked, “Is Stone with you?”

  Bogart stopped chewing and looked out into the night, expectantly. Tongue hanging off to the side, ears perked as high as the floppy things would go. He barked at the street in a friendly call.

  The muffled sounds of the bar continued, but the rest of the town lay silent.

  “Stone? Are you out there?” Standing in the open doorway, my heart pitter-pattered at the prospect. Part longing, mostly fear of what I would do if the man stepped out of the shadows. Or worse if he didn’t.

  I refused to let that be a possibility and focused on what I would do if he did step out. Would I step aside and invite him in? Hug him and make sure he was in one piece? Use the porch as a bedroom like Woody’s customers?

  Bogart called again. Only this time his voice sounded like he was scolding a young child to come home. Or maybe I was giving the dog more credit than he deserved. I watched and waited for the child to come running.

  My cell phone rang from the inside waistband of my yoga pants. The vibration and church bells resonating.

  “Hello?” I watched out into the night, I knew he was there.

  “Dusty.” His voice traveled through my body with the effects of a warm-stone massage, relaxing all the kinks of anxiety that had accumulated with his disappearance.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Did you miss me?” His voice played.

  Mine bristled. “I was worried sick about you, when you and Bogart disappeared.” I pet the dog’s head as we looked out into the night. Bogart sat down and waited. “Aren’t you coming up to the house?”

  “No.” The humor was gone. “I just stopped by to drop off the dog. Sorry, he needs a bath.”

  “What about you?”

  “Are you offering to give me a bath?” He was toying with me again — and I liked the stirring he created in my stomach. But the guilt remained. Wrestling with my feelings, I couldn’t speak.

  “That’s why I’m not coming up to your house. You’re not ready.” He understood my dilemma, and was letting me off. He knew I wasn’t sure I could resist him if he was within reach.

  Changing the subject, he closed the door on my turmoil. “How’s your mayor?”

  “He’s in a medically induced coma. They’ve taken a piece of his skull out to allow for the swelling. It’s a waiting game.”

  “And the police? What are they doing about it?”

  “They processed the scene, but came up with nothing. All of Bob’s cameras are watching the rest of the town. None were watching the bookstore. And there’s a questioning advisory out for you—”

  “Me? What the hell for?”

  It was confession time. I steeled myself and moved forward. “You wouldn’t answer your phone, and, I was worried you were dead in the woods somewhere.” When he didn’t respond, I surged forward. “Officer Martin did it so that I would feel like they were doing something to help you. He couldn’t do more because I didn’t know your first name, date of birth or address.” I wanted to say, that’s why I need your first name. That’s why I need to know where you live, that’s why I should know something about you. And that’s why I couldn’t sleep with him—not until I knew him. “I’ll call Officer Martin and let him know you’re okay.”

  Stone accepted my explanation and offered an apology. “I’m sorry I made you worry. My phone was dead, and this is the first time I’ve been able to get it charged.” He paused before asking. “What was the mayor recording?”

  “He has views of Woody’s, the parking lot in between my shop and Woody’s, my shop’s front door, the town square where the pay phone is located that includes an angle of Lucky Drugs Pharmacy and Black Diamond Salon and a view of all the cars on Yocum Loop.”

  “Does that include all of the license plates on the vehicles?” Stone asked.

  I had to think about that for a minute. I hadn’t seen much value to watching the cars go by and had skipped or fast-forwarded through most of the Yocum Loop video. But with Stone’s question, I began to see why he and Bob would appreciate the view. “Yes...” I recalled reading my own license plate on one of the videos. “It wasn’t completely clear, but you could make out most of them.”

  I heard excitement in his voice. “How far back do the dates go?”

  “January or February of last year,” I answered, just as I caught a glimpse of movement at Bob’s. The same type of movement I had seen almost a week earlier, when I couldn’t tell if it was man or beast moving around the corner of the porch. This time, I could tell it was man. A man who moved a little differently than most.

  “Why are you snea
king around across the street?”

  Stone stopped and stood up to his full height. It had been him. His movements were fluid, but the joints moving differently on one leg gave him an unnatural appearance. I couldn’t see his face, but the whites of his eyes glowed.

  “Your face is painted.”

  His teeth momentarily flashed white against the dark, then he moved again. “Bob’s video explains why we made the news tonight.”

  “Excuse me?” What was he talking about?

  “The other night when we came out of Woody’s, there was footage on the news. It ended with us unlocking your front door.”

  My heart stopped beating. The entire town knew I went into Woody’s. They probably thought I picked up Stone and brought him home. Sure, I’d thought about it, but I didn’t. Unfortunately only two people knew that.

  “How — how did they get the video? I have all of his discs.” Didn’t I?

  “I’m guessing Bob allowed someone at the station to have access to the video feed, kind of like a nanny cam. That’s why I’m here now. I didn’t think you’d want the camera staring at the front of your store anymore, especially after you saw the news.”

  I should thank him for thinking of me, and putting my wants first, but all I could focus on was the story that hit the Portland News.

  “Why did they show the video?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?” He was serious.

  “No, I’m not sure of anything. But I know the town, the whole county, is going to know. My dad is going to know. So yes, I need to know.” I felt sick to my stomach thinking about dad watching the story from his recliner.

  “They talked about how much crime the bar had brought to town. How tragedy had come to some of its employees and customers, and now even the mayor had been injured during a robbery. And then they showed us.” He waited a moment and I heard leaves rustling in the background. I didn’t think he deliberately paused to drop a bomb, but it sure felt like that when he finally spoke. “They said if a lonely widow and a handicapped vet found love in the bar, it couldn’t be all that bad.” He paused for a moment, waiting. “Lock up and get some sleep, Rilee. I’ll be over tomorrow to take a look at that video.”

  Bogart whined as Stone disappeared into the night and the dial tone sounded in my ear. Had I found love again? No. It wasn’t love. Stone and I didn’t know each other well enough. We’d shared one kiss. An amazing kiss — yes. But if Jacob walked through that door right now, Stone would be a distant memory.

  I shut and locked the door and entered the alarm code into the keypad. After viewing the activity that went on outside my front door at night, my dad would never have to nag me again to set the alarm.

  Instead, he’d be nagging me about making good choices in life. I was going to pay for that walk home from the bar, and the newsroom editing that no doubt made it look like Stone came inside, instead of turning and walking away.

  For the first time in two years, nine months and twenty-six days, the world was becoming crystal clear to me. As pretty as my view of the mountains was outside my front door, the view from the other side of the lot was considerably lacking.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  My dad saw the small crowd forming in front of Tickle Me Timbers first. They weren’t strangers, or even customers, they were the regulars from morning breakfast rush at Whistle Burger. So while I brewed coffee and set out some morning pastries for our class, he went to see what all the fuss was about.

  Tuesday had finally arrived, along with my opportunity to meet Brandy Kay for the first time. Okay, it wasn’t the first time, but at least both of us were wearing clothes, and she wasn’t using me as a grinding pole.

  The door jingled and the crowd tried to get inside, but my dad locked them out. Literally. He turned the deadbolt, pulled down the blinds I never used, and then proceeded to close the full-size shade in the front display window, making cobwebs float down toward the wooden train set in the glass enclosure.

  “What’s going on?” I wiped my hands on a paper towel, trying to hide the fact that I’d already sneaked a cherry turnover.

  “Did you change your window display?” Dad’s brow drew together, stress adding more creases to the wrinkles on his forehead.

  “You can see I haven’t touched it in months. But now that you mention it, I should probably put out something to celebrate spring.” I threw away the towel and began looking around the shop for something different to use.

  “You didn’t get an … an inspiration to alter the display.”

  “No, why? What’s wrong with it?” I headed toward the front.

  “Nothing.” Dad blocked my view of the train set. I moved to the side. He blocked me. I moved back. He blocked me again. We did a dance back and forth, me trying to see around him, Dad matching my steps to keep me from seeing the ‘new’ inspiration.

  I finally grabbed him by the shoulders. “Dad. If you want to take me dancing, we can go next weekend.”

  Dad let out one of those long exasperated sighs he reserved just for me. Then he moved to the side.

  Everything looked the same. The train engine was in place, the mountain tunnel in its direct path with fir trees surrounded the tracks. The caboose, however, had been decorated.

  A male and female from my nude collection were entwined together and they were getting busy on top of the rear train for everyone and his brother to see. To make matters worse, they were embracing the number I’d unwittingly painted on the project last November during my complete lapse of sexual consciousness. My naiveté was coming back to bite me in the butt, in a big way.

  “Oh. My. God.” I snatched the couple out of the window and slowly separated them. “Why didn’t you say something about the number on the train?”

  “I didn’t think a thing about it until just now.”

  I glanced up to see if he was being truthful, but I knew my dad was just as oblivious as I’d been. I quickly moved the pieces back where they belonged, making sure the couple wouldn’t enjoy the number sixty-nine anytime soon by placing them at opposite ends of the shelf.

  Someone knocked on the front door, rattling the glass in the pane.

  I turned to my Dad. “Is there anything else in the display I missed?”

  “Nope. That’s what caused the commotion.”

  “Then let them in and let’s not even bring it up.”

  Dad nodded and turned toward the door. But it was one of those times when “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” The crowd was still there, and they booed when dad pulled up the blinds.

  Betty and Myrtle stood at the door, and when he opened it, Betty waltzed through like she owned the place in her black velour sweat suit and bright white tennis shoes. “Where is that couple in the display window who obviously inspired you to go out and find yourself a man this weekend?” She demanded.

  I cringed as the class and several others followed her in and began nodding in agreement. “Hi, guys!” I covered my discomfort with a smile that hurt my jaw. “The coffee’s ready and Dad brought in some killer pastries this morning. Help yourselves until class starts.” I failed to mention that I only had about twenty pastries.

  I heard someone in the back mutter, “She’s a lost cause,” while someone else added, “I knew that wasn’t her. That video was a fake.” Several people nodded in unison, and most of the people from the breakfast crowd who weren’t in our class walked out without one of the pastries I’d offered. Myrtle pulled Betty toward the classroom and a couple of the men followed with sheepish looks on their faces.

  “You might want to get that old prescription for birth control renewed,” Brendan advised as he passed me with his tool tote of carving supplies. The town pharmacist’s comment was about as quiet as the morning train and made the prospect of facing the class in our small room a whole lot harder.

  The morning began to look better though, when Tommy walked across the porch with a blonde on his arm. He watched everyone leave with a puzzled look on his fa
ce and I decided there was no way I was going to explain that scene. I was too focused on being a lost cause.

  “I hope we’re not late?” Tommy looked back at the departing crowd as they came in the door.

  “Not at all. I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Mostly I was happy the woman with the long, honey-colored hair had decided to join him. Her eyes glowed with the deep blue color of the mountain sky. Her lashes, longer on the outer edge, held a cat-like quality as she study Tommy’s face. Then mine. Her mouth involuntarily pouted when she saw the openly appreciative look Tommy gave my t-shirt.

  Which was totally out of character, and I began to wonder if Tommy’s opinion of me had changed after seeing me in Woody’s. Especially if he’d seen my display window. That would just add to the overall image I wasn’t looking for. Of course I didn’t want to be the town’s ‘lost cause’ either.

  “Ms. Rilee, that shirt speaks to a man.” Tommy winked and grinned, the corner of his mouth rising in an alluring way I’d never noticed before.

  I looked down at my shirt, and heat rose from my chest to my forehead. I’d become so used to a life without sex that the innuendo behind my ‘wood whisperer’ shirt had never occurred to me. Maybe I was a lost cause.

  Brandy Kay held out a small, delicate hand in greeting. “Miley, it’s so nice to meet you. Did I see you on the news last night?”

  The purposeful mistake was smoothly done. Only a woman would recognize the slight on my name. I warmed up to her, letting her know I wasn’t competition, and clasped her clawed hand, the same one that had left marks on my backside.

  “Brandy Kay. Tommy has told us so much about you. I’m glad you could join us. I’m Rilee.” Hint, hint. “I haven’t seen the story, but you aren’t the first to tell me I was on the news. My dad, Galvin, is in the back and runs our carving classes.”

  She ignored my attempt to put her at ease as she increased her volume to include the members in the woodshop in our conversation. “Haven’t you been in Woody’s quite a few times?”