“Maybe I'll see you at the next town meeting?” I said, walking away.
"Hey," Pippa said, back at the truck, after Dan had been put in the back seat of Green's car. "So which one of us was right, then?"
I laughed. "I think we were both right, this time."
She twirled the four leaf clover between her fingers and laughed.
"Well done, ladies," Officer Green said, shaking both our hands. "You did a great job on this case. And we might even have some leads on an old cold case, thanks to you two."
I looked over to the car, to make sure Dan saw all of it.
Pippa still looked a little green around the gills while we waited for the next train to arrive, an hour later than our originally scheduled time. "Are you sure you really want to get back on the train in this state? I can go to the meeting without you," I said.
It was really more of an empty offer, if anything. I didn't expect her to take me up on it, and I didn't want her to take me up on it, but she nodded.
"Thanks, Rach. I think I should stay here and get some fresh air while I wait for Marcello to come and get me. Maybe I can take the truck back to the lodge after all instead of just leaving it here. Get your credit card back. And lie to Lisa about how far we took it."
It was a little lonely on the train without her and I realized that, without Pippa there to witness it for herself, I could easily skip out of the meeting with The Pastry Tree. Just tell her I'd been and get a coffee instead.
As I stepped off the platform and checked for directions on my phone, I considered just finding a cafe and waiting the hour out. I was unprepared. I had no idea what I was going to say to Cheryl, and no idea of how to convince her that we were a business worth taking over.
But I knew how important it was to Pippa that I go to the meeting. So I took a deep breath, made myself as presentable as possible, and stepped into the elevator that took me to the twelfth floor of the office building.
"Miss Robinson, it's wonderful to finally meet you," a smiling, red lipped Cheryl greeted me before she asked me to sit down across from her at her glass desk.
"I apologize for my appearance," I said, looking down at my business suit, covered in bits of flour, egg, dirt, and something red that I couldn't quite identify. "Uh, you see, I am just so passionate about baking that I will do it anywhere!" I said, trying to sell it with a laugh. “I've been cooking and baking for the stranded passengers from the train."
"Oh my goodness," she cut in. "You were on that train that stopped because of the death?"
I paused. "Yeah, I'm kind of the one who figured it all out." Stop, Rachael. Dan isn't even here to hear you.
Cheryl smiled at me gently. "Rachael, I can tell that you are passionate. But...about what? Is your first love really baking? Or is it..." She waved at the dirt and gunk all over me. "Something else?"
I shook my head. "It's baking, I promise. And if you buy out our store, you would have my full commitment as manager. And you would be taking over a very profitable business. I mean, I don't have the numbers on me, but..."
Cheryl held a hand up to stop me from rambling. "It's okay, Rachael. We've seen the numbers. I just wanted to gauge your commitment. If you tell me that the store is really your top priority, I will have to take your word on that until the evidence proves otherwise."
She pulled out a check and slid it across the table. "This is the amount we would like to offer you."
The money was more than I have ever had in my life. I don't just mean at any one time. I mean, it was more money than I've had, cumulative, in my whole life.
"Geesh," I said, picking it up to hold in my hands to make sure it was real. "I, um, I still need to think about it."
Cheryl shrugged and took the check back. "Don't think too hard. Figure out where your priorities lie, Miss Robinson, and get back to me by the end of the week."
I nodded and thanked her for her time.
All I wanted was a hot shower and a good night’s sleep in the hotel I had booked. But first I had to talk to my best friend and assistant manager.
Should I take the check or not?
I pulled my phone out, a full triangle of reception now that I was in the city and standing in front of a high rise.
"Did you go to the meeting?"
"I did."
"Oh, thank goodness. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."
"Pippa, I've got to tell you something..."
But she interrupted me with a heavy gulp. "Rachael, I've got some life changing news for you too. Are you sitting down? Because you'd better be."
Thanks for reading Murder Train. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
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Lastly, at the very end of the book, I have included a couple previews of books by friends and fellow authors at Fairfield Publishing. First is a preview of Up in Smoke by Shannon VanBergen - it’s a fun (and funny) story about vigilante grannies in a retirement home who solve crimes and stir up all kinds of trouble. Second is a preview of Croissants and Corruption by Danielle Collins - it’s the first story in the popular Margot Durand Cozy Mystery series. I really hope you like the samples. If you do, both books are available on Amazon.
Get Up in Smoke here:
amazon.com/dp/B06XHKYRRX
Get Croissants and Corruption here:
amazon.com/dp/B06X9C3G5T/
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Preview: Up in Smoke
I could feel my hair puffing up like cotton candy in the humidity as I stepped outside the Miami airport. I pushed a sticky strand from my face, and I wished for a minute that it were a cheerful pink instead of dirty blond, just to complete the illusion.
“Thank you so much for picking me up from the airport.” I smiled at the sprightly old lady I was struggling to keep up with. “But why did you say my grandmother couldn’t pick me up?”
“I didn’t say.” She turned and gave me a toothy grin—clearly none of them original—and winked. “I parked over here.”
When we got to her car, she opened the trunk and threw in the sign she had been holding when she met me in baggage claim. The letters were done in gold glitter glue and she had drawn flowers with markers all around the edges. My name “Nikki Rae Parker” flashed when the sun reflected off of them, temporarily blinding me.
“I can tell you put a lot of work into that sign.” I carefully put my luggage to the side of it, making sure not to touch her sign—partially because I didn’t want to crush it and partially because it didn’t look like the glue had dried yet.
“Well, your grandmother didn’t give me much time to make it. I only had about ten minutes.” She glanced at the sign proudly before closing the trunk. She looked me in the eyes. “Let’s get on the road. We can chit chat in the car.”
With that, she climbed in and clicked on her seat belt. As I got in, she was applying a thick coat of bright red lipstick while looking in the rearview mirror. “Gotta look sharp in case we get pulled over.” She winked again, her heavily wrinkled eyelid looking like it thought about staying closed before it sprung back up again.
I thought about her words for a moment. She must get pulled over a lot, I thought. Poor old lady. I could picture her going ten miles an hour while the rest of Miami flew by her.
“Better buckle up.” She pinched h
er lips together before blotting them slightly on a tissue. She smiled at me and for a moment, I was jealous of her pouty lips, every line filled in by layers and layers of red.
I did as I was told and buckled my seat belt before I sunk down into her caramel leather seats. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally, from the trip. I closed my eyes and tried to forget my troubles, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly to give all my worry and fear ample time to escape my body. For the first time since I had made the decision to come here, I felt at peace. Unfortunately, it was short-lived.
The sound of squealing tires filled the air and my eyes flung open to see this old lady zigzagging through the parking garage. She took the turns without hitting the brakes, hugging each curve like a racecar driver. When we exited the garage and turned onto the street, she broke out in laughter. “That’s my favorite part!”
I tugged my seat belt to make sure it was on tight. This was not going to be the relaxing drive I had thought it would be.
We hit the highway and I felt like I was in an arcade game. She wove in and out of traffic at a speed I was sure matched her old age.
“Ya know, the older I get the worse other people drive.” She took one hand off the wheel and started to rummage through her purse, which sat between us.
“Um, can I help you with something?” My nerves were starting to get the best of me as her eyes were focused more on her purse than the road.
“Oh no, I’ve got it. I’m sure it’s in here somewhere.” She dug a little more, pulling out a package of AA batteries and then a ham sandwich.
Brake lights lit up in front of us and I screamed, bracing myself for impact. The old woman glanced up and pulled the car to the left in a quick jerk before returning to her purse. Horns blared from behind us.
“There it is!” She pulled out a package of wintergreen Life Savers. “Do you want one?”
“No, thank you.” I could barely get the words out.
“I learned a long time ago that it was easier if I just drove and did my thing instead of worrying about what all the other drivers were doing. It’s easier for them to get out of my way instead of me getting out of theirs. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be.” She popped a mint in her mouth and smiled. “I love wintergreen. I don’t know why peppermint is more popular. Peppermint is so stuffy; wintergreen is fun.”
She seemed to get in a groove with her driving and soon my grip was loosening on the sides of the seat, the blood slowly returning to my knuckles. Suddenly I realized I hadn’t asked her name.
“I was so confused when you picked me up from the airport instead of my Grandma Dean that I never asked your name.”
She didn’t respond, just kept her eyes on the road with a steely look on her face. I was happy to see her finally being serious about driving, so I turned to look out the window. “It’s beautiful here,” I said after a few minutes of silence. I turned to look at her again and noticed that she was still focused straight ahead. I stared at her for a moment and realized she never blinked. Panic rose through my chest.
“Ma’am!” I shouted as I leaned forward to take the wheel. “Are you okay?”
She suddenly sprung to action, screaming and jerking the wheel to the left. Her screaming caused me to scream and I grabbed the wheel and pulled it to the right, trying to get us back in our lane. We continued to scream until the car stopped teetering and settled down to a nice hum on the road.
“Are you trying to kill us?” The woman’s voice was hoarse and she seemed out of breath.
“I tried to talk to you and you didn’t answer!” I practically shouted. “I thought you had a heart attack or something!”
“You almost gave me one!” She flashed me a dirty look. “And you made me swallow my mint. You’re lucky I didn’t choke to death!”
“I’m sorry.” As I said the words, I noticed my heart was beating in my ears. “I really thought something had happened to you.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Well, to be honest with you, I did doze off for a moment.” She looked at me, pride spreading across her face. “I sleep with my eyes open. Do you know anyone who can do that?”
Before I could answer, she was telling me about her friend Delores who “claimed” she could sleep with her eyes open but, as it turned out, just slept with one eye half-open because she had a stroke and it wouldn’t close all the way.
I sat there in silence before saying a quick prayer. My hands resumed their spot around the seat cushion and I could feel the blood draining from my knuckles yet again.
“So what was it you tried to talk to me about before you nearly killed us?”
I swallowed hard, trying to push away the irritation that fought to come out.
“I asked you what your name was.” I stared at her and decided right then that I wouldn’t take my eyes off of her for the rest of the trip. I would make sure she stayed awake, even if it meant talking to her the entire time.
“Oh yes! My name is Hattie Sue Miller,” she said with a bit of arrogance. She glanced at me. “My father used to own most of this land.” She motioned to either side of us. “Until he sold it and made a fortune.” She gave me a look and dropped her voice to a whisper as she raised one eyebrow. “Of course we don’t talk about money. That would be inappropriate.” She said that last part like I had just asked her when she had last had sex. I felt ashamed until I realized I had never asked her about her money; I had simply asked her name. This woman was a nut. Didn’t Grandma Dean have any other friends she could’ve sent to get me?
For the next hour or so, I asked her all kinds of questions to keep her awake—none of them about money or anything I thought might lead to money. If what she told me was true, she had a very interesting upbringing. She claimed to be related to Julia Tuttle, the woman who founded Miami. Her stories of how she got a railroad company to agree to build tracks there were fascinating. It wasn’t until she told me she was also related to Michael Jackson that I started to question how true her stories were.
“We’re almost there! Geraldine will be so happy to see you. You’re all she’s talked about the last two weeks.” She pulled into a street lined with palm trees. “You’re going to love it here.” She smiled as she drove. “I’ve lived here a long time. It’s far enough away from the city that you don’t have all that hullaballoo, but big enough that you can eat at a different restaurant every day for a month.”
When we entered the downtown area, heavy gray smoke hung in the air, and the road was blocked by a fire truck and two police cars.
“Oh no! I think there might have been a fire!” I leaned forward in my seat, trying to get a better look.
“Of course there was a fire!” Hattie huffed like I was an idiot. “That’s why Geraldine sent me to get you!”
“What?! Is she okay?” I scanned the crowd and saw her immediately. She was easy to spot, even at our distance.
“Oh yes. She’s fine. Her shop went up in flames as she was headed out the door. She got the call from a neighboring store owner and called me right away to go get you. Honestly, I barely had time to make you a sign.” She acted like Grandma Dean had really put her in a bad position, leaving her only minutes to get my name on a piece of poster board.
Hattie pulled over and I jumped out; I’d come back for my luggage later. As I made my way toward the crowd, I was amazed at how little my Grandma Dean—or Grandma Dean-Dean, as I had called her since I was a little girl—had changed. Her bleach blonde hair was nearly white and cut in a cute bob that was level with her chin. She wore skintight light blue denim capris, which hugged her tiny frame. Her bright white t-shirt was the background for a long colorful necklace that appeared to be a string of beads. Thanks to a pair of bright red heels, she stood eye to eye with the fireman she was talking to.
I ran up to her and called out to her. “Grandma! Are you okay?” She flashed me a look of disgust before she smiled weakly at the fireman and said something I couldn’t make out.
She turned
her back to him and grabbed me by the arm. “I told you to never call me that!” She softened her tone then looked me over. “You look exhausted! Was it the flight or riding with that crazy Hattie?” She didn’t give me time to answer. “Joe, this is my daughter’s daughter, Nikki.”
Joe smiled. I wasn’t sure if it was his perfectly white teeth that got my attention, his uniform or his sparkling blue eyes, but I was immediately speechless. I tried to say hello, but the words stuck in my throat.
“Nikki, this is Joe Dellucci. He was born in New Jersey but his parents came from Italy. Isn’t that right, Joe?”
I was disappointed when Joe answered without a New Jersey accent. Grandma Dean continued to tell me about Joe’s heritage, which reminded me of Hattie. Apparently once you got to a certain age, you automatically became interested in people’s backgrounds.
He must have noticed the look of disappointment on my face. “My family moved here when I was ten. My accent only slips in when I’m tired.” His face lit up with a smile, causing mine to do the same. “Or when I eat pizza.” I had no idea what he meant by that, but it caused me to break out in nervous laughter. Grandma Dean’s look of embarrassment finally snapped me out of it.
“Well, Miss Dean. If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, call your insurance company. I’m sure they’ll get you in touch with a good fire restoration service. If not, let me know. My brother’s in the business.”
He handed her a business card and I saw the name in red letters across the front: Clean-up Guys. Not a very catchy name. Then suddenly it hit me. A fireman with a brother who does fire restoration? Seemed a little fishy. Joe must have noticed my expression, because he chimed in. “Our house burned down when I was eight and Alex was twelve. I guess it had an impact on us.”
Grandma Dean took the card and put it in her back pocket. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll give Alex a call this afternoon.”
Murder Train: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 10
