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

by Kym Roberts

  The land was fighting to come back, now a beautiful mountain meadow with a lone chimney jutting into the air. Trees, once tall and full, now resembled burnt matchsticks protruding from the earth. But the grass, full and strong with sprinkles of wild flowers, flowed in the wind like waves in the sea. Birds sang as they built their nests, squirrels chattered and raced through the undergrowth.

  Missy and I stood alone, staring at the hole we’d dug together at the base of the chimney. She held the sculptures, protected from the elements in a clear plastic box that many of my customers purchased to display their pieces. Tears running down her face, she was the picture of a graceful crier. I held the flowers, four white Easter Lilies to plant over the top. Life after death, for Ryan, her parents and my Jacob.

  I no longer cried for Jacob. I still had a ways to go before I was whole again, but I was confident in my ability to make it. The only piece missing in my future — and next on my agenda — was justice.

  With my new strength, I was determined find the person responsible for Jacob’s demise. To walk into a court of law, as Missy had done this morning, and bear witness to his killer being held accountable for a horrific crime that robbed so many of so much.

  Brandy Kay was cooperating with the police but was still in jail awaiting trial on multiple charges of conspiracy, fraud and aggravated identity theft. Brendan had made it out alive by hiding in a storage closet, his legs torn to shreds by Bogart’s teeth after he’d aimed at Bogart’s head and missed. He did manage to hit his own foot which was funny, in a sick kind of way. His charges were so extensive, I didn’t think he’d ever see his pharmacy again. Of course it was currently closed due to the huge federal investigation into the fraud and we all believed it would take a miracle for it to re-open. Missy still felt the hole of Ryan’s loss, but with Brendan’s court appearance, she saw a sliver of satisfaction.

  Both of us were now determined to find the individual who started the forest fire two years, nine months and thirty days earlier, and bring him in front of a judge to face charges for three counts of homicide. And hopefully someday Missy would be walking in my shoes, ready to let go of the past and cherish the memories she had of Ryan.

  The mystery of who cut the tires remained unsolved. I had my suspicions, but decided to let it go for now. It was a puzzle for another day.

  Without a word, Missy bent down and placed the box in the ground. The dirt plunked on the plastic, as the couple’s love was encased forever. I knelt beside her, and together we planted the flowers in a circle of determination — with faith in ourselves, strength from the love we’d experienced, and courage to face the rest of our lives.

  ***

  “How’d you do it, Stone?”

  “Do what, Dusty?” the sly grin sneaking up on his face had guilt written all over it.

  “You know darn well what you did.” I pouted half-heartedly.

  Stone laughed low in his throat. “I think I’ll have to plead the fifth until I find out the crime I’ve been charged with.”

  “I got a copy of the police report today, in order to learn your first name.”

  His eyebrow raised to mock me.

  “How did you get the police to only list the initials I.M. For your first and middle names and Stone for your last.”

  His smile expanded. “I told you, it fits me, Dusty.”

  “Get real — I.M. Stone?” I wasn’t buying it. So I asked the question I swore I wouldn’t. The question that had been bugging me for the last three weeks. The question Brandy Kay had known the answer to. “Is it Alex?” I blurted.

  Stone chuckled. “Do I look like an Alex?”

  And of course since I’d stooped to ask the question, his non-response pissed me off.

  “Is that the name you tell your lovers?” I practically spat.

  Stone became serious. His finger went under my chin turning my face toward his, “No one I’ve ever cared about, or had relations with has ever called me Alex — in or out of bed. It’s an alias.”

  Despite the erratic beat he’d caused in my chest, my heart soared with the knowledge that he hadn’t shared intimate details with Brandy Kay. The crowd gathering around us didn’t matter. We shared this moment in each other’s eyes.

  “I want you to keep Sam. I mean Bogart.”

  A piercing whistle broke through the din of the crowd. A sound I’d grown up hearing as my dad tried to get my attention. And it snapped our moment in two.

  “If I could have your attention.” Dad’s hands were up in the air motioning for people to sit down.

  “I’ve got to go, Dusty.” Stone whispered before planting a quick kiss on my lips and retreating to the back wall of the Bob’s Books, where a podium stood for our monthly town meeting.

  I didn’t want to let him go, but I’d always known he’d be leaving town once Max’s killer was caught. Remaining flirty and casual had been the best thing for our relationship. Anything more with Stone, was just too scary.

  The bookstore was packed with folding chairs and people standing shoulder to shoulder. The shelves had been dismantled, the books neatly stacked against the walls. Everyone did their best to find a place to make themselves comfortable while my dad called the meeting to order. Even Betty and Myrtle sat up front, even though they weren’t technically members of the Tickle Creek community.

  But I suspected Betty was hoping for permanent residency, what with the way she’d been carrying on with my father.

  “I’d like to thank our special guests for coming tonight.”

  Tommy stood to the side of the podium with a group of buxom women in tight clothing and brawny men with serious expressions on their faces. As all eyes turned their direction, they stirred uncomfortably. Whispers grew loud and feet shifted.

  “I want all our members to understand this isn’t easy ... for anyone.” Dad continued, “I’d like to introduce Ms. Kristina Gomez. She is the current owner of the property adjacent to my daughter’s shop, where Woody’s stood before it burned down a couple of weeks ago.”

  A woman with long, thick black hair and a straight nose that hooked at the end like Sophia Loren’s, viewed the crowd. Standing next to Stone, she appeared small and frail. In reality she stood a little taller than myself, with a figure that did not speak of a woman in her mid-fifties.

  Her voice showcased her strength. “Good evening. I apologize for not coming to one of your town meetings before now. As you may know, my father-in-law built Woody’s Bar a couple of years ago. He wanted a place where the men in the county could go and hang out.”

  A few whispers, a few sneers, and a few nods of agreement filled the store.

  “Despite my strong feelings against it, Woody’s remained open after his death because of a trust he put in place.”

  Again the whispers threatened to take over.

  “Woody wanted to make sure the bar carried on, but if it didn’t, he wanted to make sure all of his employees did not lose their livelihood.”

  I looked at Stone, who watched the crowd like a bodyguard, feet spread shoulder’s width apart and hands together at his chest, he appeared to be warming cold hands by rubbing them together. In reality he was ready and waiting for anyone to say or do anything that might threaten Ms. Gomez. His eyes roved across the room looking for a threat among the people gathered.

  Thankfully none appeared.

  “It’s a fully legal and binding trust that orders me, if I do NOT rebuild the bar, to ensure that all of the personnel employed by Woody’s at the time of its ruination, are given jobs within the community. But only if they want to remain in Tickle Creek.”

  The buzz became an all-out uproar at that point. Some wondering how the hell Woody could demand anything from the grave, others put off by the thought of employing strippers and/or violent men, and still others thinking the whole thing was rather comical.

  If they were like me, they saw the truth in all three sides, but the overlying point could be a promising future for all of us.

  My bes
t friend Dara, spoke up first. “I’ve been meaning to expand my salon and make it more of a spa. I’ll need to hire a new manicurist and a massage therapist —”

  A couple of the men snickered.

  Dara clarified. “Strictly massage — nothing inappropriate. Are any of you qualified?”

  One of the strippers, who’d been on the bar doing some unbelievable things around a pole the night I’d gone in, raised her hand almost timidly.

  Dara pointed at her, giving her the floor.

  “I’ve been a manicurist for the past year. I just haven’t been able to make as much money at it as I made dancing at Woody’s.”

  Kristina Gomez, nodded in agreement. “You will undoubtedly take a cut in pay, but on the flip side, you won’t be working nights in a bar, and you can keep your clothes on.”

  “If you’re interested, see me after the meeting and we’ll talk.” Dara started to take a seat when a deep male voice that I knew well, spoke up.

  “I should have my LMT license soon, Ms. Drummond.” The Southern drawl hushed the rest of the crowd. Collectively they turned to stare at Tommy.

  I didn’t hesitate to go stand by his side, squirming and squeezing my way through the crowd. Tommy took all of the stares and whispers without any sign of the pain I knew he felt. Out on bond for destruction of evidence, hindering an investigation and aiding and abetting a felon, Tommy’s future was a crap shoot. But like the gentleman he was, he stood there and took it like a man, the way his daddy taught him to. “I misjudged you and Mr. Gomez behind the bar. I didn’t know you had a shop in town at the time. I thought you were working … and I should have apologized sooner.”

  Dara’s face crimsoned. Her blond hair, pulled up in a ponytail showcased the heat spreading to her ears.

  OMG. He’d thought Dara was a hooker that night with Max behind the bar. It all made sense why she never mentioned it. She’d gone out on the town and got accused of being a prostitute. I wondered if I’d missed her grief for Max, or if the relationship had just begun when it’d ended so violently.

  It was my turn to speak up. “I’ll personally vouch for Tommy, he started working in my shop last week as an apprentice.” And was learning the craft quicker than any of us could have hoped. I could also attest to how good he was with his hands. The man knew what he was doing.

  Dara smiled at Tommy, “We’ll talk.”

  The next person to take the floor shocked us all. Sarah Lockwood stood up and addressed the townspeople as our first lady. “Bob and I were aware of the conditions of Woody’s Trust.”

  That started the noise to build around the room once again. Sarah waited for the crowd to settle at its own pace before continuing.

  “What you may be unaware of, is the familial dispute over the site, which has been going on for generations. Woody was Bob’s estranged uncle, and the dispute carried on for years and years, hence Bob’s belief that Woody built the bar out of spite.”

  It was Kristina Gomez’s turn to be the object of scrutiny. But she simply shook her head and commented, “Anything was possible with my father-in-law.”

  “After so such squabbling and so much bickering, my husband and I are in agreement that enough is enough. Bob’s Books will not be re-opening its doors.” Sighs and murmurs of ‘the poor Lockwoods,’ were heard through the room. Bob had come out of his coma and was on the road to recovery, but the right side of his body had suffered from the attack, with stroke-like complications. Yet still he’d been the hero with the last pieces of evidence to seal Brendan’s fate. Throughout all the discs that I’d searched, there were countless recordings of Brandy Kay delivering scripts for Brendan to file false claims with the veteran administration. Packages delivered to the front door of Woody’s, like the one I’d received for Brandy. I’d missed it all, but the police had confiscated the discs and found what they needed. With Brandy Kay’s cooperation, the scripts were traced back to a receptionist at the VA hospital in Georgia, and one at our very own medical center in Sandy. Both women were under indictment as well.

  Sarah bent over and picked up a sign, then stood taller than she had been. “We will be revamping under a new name and a new type of business that will sell books and wine with a small menu. It will be a different atmosphere than most bookstores; it will be sexy, but classy. It will not be like Woody’s or any kind of restaurant that objectifies women. We will need men and women who take pride in their appearance and our business to fill the positions. Bob’s Book Easy will open in a couple months.”

  Sarah held up the sign, high above her head and applause broke out among the residents. Tommy whooped, the way only a good Southern man can, and smiles filled the room. The biggest one, on Sarah’s face as she turned one hundred and eighty degrees for everyone to read the sign.

  Bob’s Book Easy

  “Amid summer nights, dreams come true.”

  Her voice became stern as she pulled the sign down. “In the meantime we need employees for cleanup and construction. We will begin training as well. This will be a professional business.”

  Woody’s employees whispered amongst themselves, everyone wondering if Mayor Bob could actually work with the men and women who represented everything he hated. A couple of the women and one of the bouncers walked toward the front door; Tickle Creek had nothing to offer them. Two more stood up and approached Sarah from the opposite side of the room.

  Bruce, our mechanic and one of the most soft spoken town members, stood up and asked, “What’s going to happen to the lot across the street, and what are you going to do with that awful sign?”

  Ms. Gomez stepped forward and replied, “I’ve leased the lot and sign to a new business.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck began to twitch. A new neighbor.

  My dad met my eyes across the room. The fear of something worse than Woody’s crossing his face.

  But what could be worse than a strip bar?

  Stone stepped forward and I thought he was going to stop Kristina Gomez from making my life miserable. He didn’t. He stood right next to her as she explained.

  “Construction on an Army surplus store will start at the beginning of the month. Woody’s sign will remain, as stipulated in the trust. “

  Everyone, including myself, groaned at the aspect of neon boobs, forever flashing in the night, as our town landmark.

  Kristina Gomez dropped the bomb. “The double O’s however, will receive a new look —”

  Hope surged in the room.

  “— keeping in line with Woody’s ‘Men Only’ wishes, the sign will have you staring straight down the ‘OOs’ of a double-barreled shotgun.”

  A second moan came from the women in the group, although I thought the men were pleased that they got to look at the next best thing to a woman’s breasts.

  “The store itself will be named after the two men who made it possible, my son,” she paused as her eyes clouded, “Max Gomez and Ryan Hart. It will be the Max Ryan Army Surplus Store.”

  Everyone applauded, and tears filled my eyes. I could have sworn Stone swallowed an emotional rock by the way his throat moved, but by the time I cleared the soup blurring my vision, he was as stoic as always.

  Stone was at the end of a chapter in his life. Max’s killer was facing three counts of murder and would never see the trees of Tickle Creek again. Like Missy and I, Stone and I met while on different sections of a journey. He was at the end of his search for justice and ready for a new beginning. I’d left my purgatory and finally laid my fiancé to rest. But life would only begin for me after the person responsible for Jacob’s death was caught.

  A cold, wet nose nudged my hand and I knelt down to hug Mr. Bogart and whisper in his ear. “He’s going to be leaving, boy.”

  Bogart’s eyes swept to the podium where Stone stood with Ms. Gomez. Since the fire, the dog had been my constant companion. And now it seemed he would never have to spend another night in the woods.

  Questions sprung up from the audience, bringing me back to reality.
How large would the store be? What equipment would they carry? Camping and ski gear? Guns and knives? Tanks?

  Tanks?

  Visions of really big gun barrels pointed at the shop, had me contemplating putting my support behind the strip bar. Apprehension built in my stomach as the talk focused on guns and a potential firearms range.

  This could not be happening.

  The lead would be an environmental concern. The equipment would be an eyesore and unlike Woody’s bar that opened after three P.M., I’d now have to put up with the macho customers all day long in the parking lot.

  And the management team. Who would be running the place?

  My stomach felt bottomless. This was worse than the bar, way worse. I’d have daily conflicts over parking. Listening to gunfire twenty-four/seven? Life was going to be hell, and I hated the owner before I’d even met him.

  I raised my hand, dreading the answer to my question. “Who’s the new owner?”

  The room fell silent. The crowd — including Dad, Betty, Tommy and Stone, all looked expectantly at Ms. Gomez. Even Mr. Bogart stopped panting as the anvil dropped.

  “Some of you may have already met him.” Ms. Gomez’s arm extended forward, revealing the mystery buyer.

  Everyone looked around the room expectantly. Looking for a stranger we may have already met to step forward.

  His voice broke the silence. “I’m Stone. The new owner of Max Ryan’s Army Surplus Store.”

  My first thought was not, ‘Thank God he’s staying.’ But then I remembered Stone wasn’t an easy man to negotiate with. Everything had to be his way. In fact, when it came to parking, I imagined us fighting tooth and nail. And the design of the building? What if he made it look like a tent wearing a ghillie suit?

  No, this wasn’t a good thing. This was a nightmare.