by Tim Myers
I wanted to throw up, but the sirens were coming in the background, and I knew we didn’t have much , time. “So you made it look like an accident.”
“I thought I did a pretty good job too,” she said. “How did I slip up?”
“My brother told me he found Maggie with her seat belt unbuckled, and a friend of hers told us that she was an overly cautious driver, so I knew there was no way it was an accident like you’d staged it.”
“But what led you to me?”
“A greeting card,” I said as the first ambulance pulled up. “You used Maggie’s scissors to cut the edges of the card you just sent to Hester.”
“They were rightfully mine,” she said, showing emotion for the first time since we’d been talking, “She left them to me.”
As the EMTs worked on getting her out of the truck, Lillian and I walked back to the road and waited for Bradford.
After what seemed like forever, I was finally back in my apartment. I could have gone out and faced the world if I had to, but for the moment, I just wanted to lock the door and keep everyone and everything out on the other side. I called Gail and brought her up-to-date, then turned down her offer to get together. I knew we’d talk about it later—we discussed everything happening in our lives—but for the moment, I just needed to be alone. The peanut butter sandwich I ate as the cats dined on their own victuals was finer than any other meal, since I didn’t have to leave to get it. By the next morning, I was feeling somewhat human again, ready to see what the day held.
I’d taken my shower, had gotten dressed, and was drying my hair when there was a knock at my door, I could think of a dozen different people who could be on my doorstep, and I didn’t want to talk to a single one of them. I glanced through the peephole lit and saw Barrett standing out there with a dozen roses in his hands.
“Go away,” I said through the door.
Barrett said “Jennifer, I want to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” I said.
“Penny and I are finished. Can we start over?”
This guy was out of his mind. I threw the door open after I grabbed my baseball bat. “Would you like a little of what Wayne got last night, or are you going to leave me alone?” I asked.
“These are for you,” he said, holding the roses out like they were some kind of shield.
“I don’t want them. Barrett, if you’d turned Penny away the other night, things might be different between us now, but you made your choice.”
“It was the wrong choice,” he said. “Can’t I have a second chance?”
“Sorry, I’m fresh out,” I said. Maybe I was a little hard on him, but I wanted to be sure there was no doubt in his mind where we stood.
“At least accept these as an apology.”
He dropped them at my feet, then started down the steps. I picked them up and threw them at him before he could get to the bottom. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
As he dodged the cascading flowers, I saw that I had another visitor just coming in. Greg had a bouquet of Shasta daisies with him, but when he saw the roses careening down the stairs, he started to back up.
“If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” he said.
Barrett looked at him like he wanted to kill him. “That would be great. We’re not finished here.”
Before Greg could leave, I said, “You’re wrong there. We never even started. Come on up, Greg.”
He stepped over the roses and walked up the steps. In a lowered voice, he said, “Seriously, if this is a bad time, I can always come back later.”
“I think your timing is perfect,” I said as I led him inside, bolting the door behind him.
Greg started toward me, and I backed off a few steps. I asked him, “What do you think you’re doing?”
He looked confused by the question. “I thought we were making up. I was wrong. It’s not over between us.”
“You bring me flowers once and think that makes everything all right? Have you lost your mind?”
“But they’re daisies,” he said, obviously grasping for something, anything, to make things right. “They’re your favorite.”
“I don’t care if they’re solid gold. You know what? Maybe you should just go.”
He didn’t budge. “Listen, I don’t know what I walked in on, and I’m not sure I want to know, but whatever issues you have with that guy don’t involve me. I’m one of the good guys, remember?”
“It’s hard to tell you’all apart without a program sometimes.”
He looked so pitiful I couldn’t leave it at that. Trying to soften my voice, I said, “Listen, Greg, I really do appreciate you coming by, and the flowers are beautiful, but what’s happened in the past between us can’t be fixed by a dozen bouquets.”
I unbolted the door and held it open for him.
“Thanks for stopping by, though.”
He shook his head as he walked out. “You’re welcome, I guess. See you later.”
“Sure,” I said as I closed the door behind him. As I put the daisies in water, I wondered what I was going to do about Greg. When he’d been in my life, I’d enjoyed great swooping highs, but I’d also seen more than my share of despair. Did I really want to go through all that again? The history between us was so strong that he was a comfortable choice, despite the way I felt when I was with him. But was I going to let myself be satisfied with comfortable anymore? I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I left my apartment and headed for the card shop. Thankfully neither of my neighbors were in the foyer, so I could make a graceful departure without any more confrontations. Penny’s car was gone from our little parking lot, but after seeing Barrett’s track record with her, I didn’t doubt she’d be back in his life again soon, at least for a little while.
Lillian was already at the shop when I got there, a strange and nearly unique occurrence. “I didn’t think you’d be coming in today,” she said.
“Why not? We’re open, aren’t we?”
She shrugged. “It’s just that after what happened yesterday, I thought you might want some time to deal with it.”
I hung my coat up. “You’re here, aren’t you? Why does everybody think I’m such a delicate flower?”
“I’ve accused you of many things, Jennifer, but that’s not even on the list.”
I wanted to scowl, but Lillian’s good humor infected my sour mood. “Can you believe what happened yesterday?”
“I can’t quite grasp what’s been happening for months all around us. We had a murderer in our card club and neither one of us picked up on it.”
I straightened a stack of cards that didn’t need it. “I don’t think a trained psychologist would have spotted anything. Hilda must have had a lot of practice fooling the world.”
“I suppose this means we’ll have to disband the club,” Lillian said.
“Not on your life. In fact, I’m going to start trolling for new members. Do you remember Daniel, the stay-at-home dad who’s been in here a couple of times? I’m going to ask him to join us.”
Lillian frowned. “Honestly, Jennifer, do you think it will ever be the same?”
“Is that such a bad thing if it’s different?” I asked. “I’m getting tired of the same old same old. I think it’s high time we shake things up a little.”
I was ready to teach some lessons, wait on customers and make some new cards. It was my life, and I wanted to get back to it. So I was excited when the front door chimed, but a little disappointed when I saw it was just my brother.
“I’ve had warmer greetings from prisoners in my jail,” Bradford said as he joined us.
“Sorry,” I said. “What brings you here? Have you finally decided to let me teach you how to make cards? Come on, it will be fun.”
“Yeah, I’ll put that on my list. I just wanted to stop by and let you in on something.”
I saw Lillian perk up She loved getting the inside scoop. “Go on, we’re listening.”
Bradford ignor
ed her as he told me, “I was talking to Patrick Benson this morning.” He waited a beat for one of us to say something, but I wasn’t about to rat him out, and I knew Lillian wouldn’t either. Though our reasons were different, neither one of us wanted him exposed for sharing privileged information with us. After all, he’d saved Hester’s life; there was no doubt in my mind about that.
When Bradford saw we weren’t going to comment, he continued. “There’s something interesting about Hilda’s claims. It turns out she was right, at least about one thing.”
“I can’t imagine what that might be,” I said, remembering the look on her face as she’d tried to kill us the day before.
“Frances inherited some property when she died, and I’m sure her family thought it was worthless, because Frances never put any store in it. When she died, it passed on to Maggie, but she didn’t know any better either and left the deed with Patrick, along with some other official documents. Anyway, Patrick ran across it again last night while he was doing an inventory and he found it. He called around first thing this morning and pretty soon he discovered that it’s smack in the middle of a chunk of land that Undrian Manufacturing wants to build their new plant on. It’s worth half a million, at least.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Hilda won’t see a dime of it, will she?”
Bradford stroked his nose, something I recognized from our childhood when he was perplexed about you something. “No, you can’t profit from murder, and that’s a fact. The odd thing is, though, she could have kept it tied up in court for years and Undrian would slot have had to pick somewhere else to build their place, but she signed a quitclaim on it the second Patrick approached her.”
“She wasn’t angry she’d been so close to that much money?” I asked.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? As a matter of fact, she was crowing about it as she signed the document, all she kept saying as she did it was, “I told you’all I was right, and nobody believed me. I was right.” It was kind of creepy how she focused solely on that, and not on all the lives she’d destroyed.” He paused a few moments, then said, “Anyway, I just wanted to let you’all know before it got out to the world. It was the least I could do after getting it so wrong with Frances and Maggie.”
I touched his shoulder lightly. “You’re human, Bradford. Anyone can make a mistake.”
He pulled away. “Yeah, but most mistakes don’t kill people. If I’d seen through Frances’s murder, Maggie might still be alive.”
I started to say something when Lillian spoke up. “Bradford, you are one of the finest men I’ve ever had the privilege to know, and the best sheriff this county could hope for.”
Coming from my aunt, it was the strongest declaration of support Bradford could receive. He reddened slightly, obviously uncomfortable with the unexpected praise. “Thanks. Well, I’d better get going. See you two later.”
Before he could get out the door, I called out to him. “Bradford, I’ve got one more question for you.”
When he turned to look at me, I could see the dread in his face of what I might ask.
“Go ahead,” he said solemnly.
“Do you know of any places I might move into? After what happened the other night, I don’t think I can stay where I am much longer.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for something,” he said, then quickly left us.
After he was gone, I asked Lillian, “Do you think Hester will mind if we break our lease?”
“Jennifer, we could paint her red and she wouldn’t care today. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take care of everything.” She paused, then added, “You know, you could always stay with me. I’ve got plenty of room at my place, and your roommates would be welcome, I too. I’m certain we can all find a way to coexist.”
I hugged my aunt quickly, then said, “Lillian, as much as I love being around you, I think our time at the shop is enough every day, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I suppose. So where do you think you might live?”
“I don’t know,” I said, laughing. “And that’s the real beauty of it, isn’t it?”
I was ready to start living my own life, one day at a time, looking forward and not back. And if I sold a card or two along the way, so much the better.
HANDCRAFTED CARD TIP
Embossing can be a fun way to add fancy, decorative touches to your cards without a great deal of skill or effort. With the right kit, you can edge, add ornate flourishes or even embed complete designs within your cards.
Embossing is normally achieved by using two identical templates, with the paper sandwiched between them. A bone or embossing tool is then used to trace around the edges. The tool resembles a pen with small balls attached to either end. Don’t worry if the results you see as you work don’t look absolutely perfect. In fact, from the side of the card that faces you, there’s not much to see at all. But when the card is flipped over, it’s amazing how beautiful the subtle additions of raised images make your finished card. A dry brush with the slightest hint of paint can then highlight your patterns in complementary colors, making the designs jump off the page!
Read on for an excerpt from the next Card-Making Mystery
Murder and Salutations
By Tim Myers
Writing as Elizabeth Bright
Chapter 1
For Eliza Glade’s entire life, she somehow always managed to steal the spotlight from my sister and me, and wouldn’t you know it, she kept her record perfect, even in death.
“You look absolutely radiant,” I told my aunt Lillian, who was elegantly dressed in a formal evening gown. She’s more than my aunt, though—Lillian is also my only employee at Custom Card Creations. My name’s Jennifer Shane, and I own the shop of my dreams, a little handcrafted-card store tucked away on one end of Oakmont Avenue in the heart of Rebel Forge, Virginia. It’s a place where customers can select one of our own handmade cards, or buy the materials to make one themselves.
After Lillian and I had worked at the store all day, we’d changed into more formal attire, and now we were ready to attend the Chamber of Commerce’s annual awards banquet. The organization had held the ritual religiously for the past sixty-seven years, but it was the first time I’d been eligible to attend. The dinner was slated for Hurley’s Pub, an easy walk from the store and a place I’d been many times.
Lillian was wearing an evening gown made of a pastel material that was so sheer, it was nearly translucent. The emerald green tint of the dress complemented her richly dyed henna hair, and I’d never felt so dowdy in my thirty-something years of life. While my aunt was petite and graceful, I tended to feel big-boned and gawky, and it was never so obvious than when we were both dressed up.
“You look lovely as well,” Lillian said. After casting a critical glance at my simple gray dress, she added, “Though I do wish you’d let me treat you to a new outfit sometime.” Lillian paused, then added enthusiastically, “I’ve got a wonderful idea, Jennifer. Why don’t we go to Richmond in the morning, shop all day, and then eat somewhere delightful tomorrow night? I know the most charming place we could stay, and we’d be back in time for lunch the next day. What do you say? I’d be delighted to treat.” With several ex- husbands and a shrewd mind for investing, Lillian could easily afford the gracious gesture. She worked at my shop for materials and instruction in lieu of a salary, and to my delight, my aunt had grown to love making cards nearly as much as I did.
“I’m tempted to take you up on it sometime, but I you know I can’t afford to close the card shop that long.”
She waved a hand in the air, dismissing my protest. “Yes, I know how thoroughly wed you are to your business. Speaking of marriage, I’m still not certain you should have invited me to this banquet as your guest. Surely you could have found a suitable young man to escort you.”
I wasn’t about to have that conversation with her again. I hugged my aunt and said, “We both know that I probably wouldn’t still be in business without your help. There’s no way I coul
d have asked anyone else tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow in consternation. My aunt had perfected the look from a great deal of practice over the years. “At least promise me you’ll find some time to chat with the eligible young men there. Will Greg be attending?”
Greg Langston was my two-time former fiancé, but never my husband. He ran a pottery shop a few doors down from Custom Card Creations, and we were just starting to manage the awkwardness inherent in our proximity. Lillian had a dream that we’d make the third time a charm someday, and I was getting tired of trying to rid her of her delusions. “I suspect so, but I really don’t know. We quit coordinating our social calendars a long time ago.”
There must have been something in my voice that told her I was through talking about it. “Shall we go, then?”
“Just let me lock up and I’ll be ready.”
As I secured the last dead bolt on the shop’s front door, I heard my sister’s voice calling me from up the street. “Jennifer, wait for me.”
Sara Lynn had been cut from the same cloth as my lovely aunt; they were the only two petite people in our family. She ran Forever Memories, a scrapbooking shop, but that had inadvertently led me to custom card-making. I’d been her employee there not so long ago, and when Sara Lynn had rejected my idea of a cardmaking corner, I’d gone out on my own to prove there was a market for handcrafted cards in our resort community. Our brother, Bradford, was the sheriff for your Rebel Forge, though at times it seemed his main duty was keeping our family together.
“You look award-winning,” I said, appreciating the effort my sister had gone to. Sara Lynn normally eschewed makeup and fancy formal wear, but she was now skillfully enhanced, from her brand-new hairdo coif all the way down to her expensive pumps.
