The Dana Potter Cozy Mystery Collection

by Liz Turner

  Dana looked at the sky. A sheet of gray clouds had moved to cover the sun.

  Rain, maybe, she thought absently.

  For some reason, as she walked into the dim church, Sara Beth’s high-pitched giggle floated through her mind. Yet, Dana was determined to set the issue aside, at least during the hour-long sermon.

  She came to church every Sunday because she found a deep comfort in the community—the naturalness of the act of returning, alongside nearly everyone in the town, to the same unflappable building every week at the same time. The old brick church was dark, the only light streaming in through the panes of dark stained-glass windows dating 150 years back. The air smelled like damp wood, musty books, and a mixture of the perfume and cologne worn by the patrons. The thick brick walls, while they created echoes of every small sound, be it the thump of a dropped Bible, the sneeze of someone in the back row, or the abrupt squeal of a baby over by the door, also created a virtual seal against the outside noise. Once the heavy dark mahogany doors were shut, it felt like being entombed inside another world.

  Dana, for one, found it delightfully satisfying.

  She sighed contentedly as the pastor began his opening invitations and thanks. “We are so glad you’ve joined us today…” he said in a gravelly, optimistic voice. He was a man of unknown years but certainly in the second half of his life.

  Dana hadn’t been in the habit of going to church when she lived in Atlanta. For one thing, her longtime partner hadn’t grown up in the church and didn’t seem to understand why it was a part of anyone’s life. But the real reason Dana had by all accounts given up practicing her childhood religion was that her experiences with church-going in Atlanta just hadn’t given her what she needed. The churches were mostly either tiny, close-knit, and not prone to accepting newcomers, or too large for her liking. The latter were often housed in airy warehouses that had been re-purposed to fit the hundreds, if not thousands, of weekly visitors, rather than the cozy 19th century brick buildings she was used to.

  In those big kind of churches, cushioned folding chairs were brought in, the stage was built, and industrial-looking theater lights were focused on the single microphone in the center. A bright screen the size of those in movie theaters splayed out behind the pastor as he spoke, flashing a power point presentation of his sermon. During the sermon, people would laugh at the well-timed jokes accompanied by funny graphics on the screen. Afterward, they’d stand in line to exit the big room and then zoom off in their expensive cars. The whole ordeal would leave Dana feeling profoundly lonely.

  During those years, she thought her faith had waned too far to be ever recovered. But since moving back to Pippin, she’d found herself remembering why it had been so integral in her early years. And since her partner had died, she needed a community—a faith—more than ever.

  She was nodding along somberly to the sermon when she noticed a brief pane of light strike down the center aisle. She turned to see a young man slipping in the door and darting to a seat on the back row. She clucked her tongue quietly to herself and then frowned, realizing he seemed familiar. When she turned back around for another glimpse, her mouth dropped open.

  It was the young man from the park.

  Perhaps the mystery would be solved today after all! If Laney joined him, Dana would know once and for all that Taylor really did have a look-alike in town. And then she could bring her over to the Reinharts and prove that she wasn’t just a silly and confused old woman.

  But as Dana looked at him, she quickly deduced that he wasn’t waiting for anyone. He’d sat in a seat at the very end of the aisle, with no room for anyone else to sit next to him; he had come alone.

  Though he sat stock still, Dana noticed his eyes shifting every few seconds to his left. She followed his stealthy gazes.

  Directly in his sight line was none other than Taylor Reinhart.

  Chapter 5

  A Young Man

  from Jericho

  The sermon ended right on time. As everyone stood to sing the final hymn, Dana kept her body turned so that she could watch the young man in the back row. The hymn was coming to a close when she saw him pick up his jacket that he’d strewn across the seat and begin to make his way out.

  “Excuse me,” Dana whispered to the woman beside her. “I need to get some fresh air.” She put on an apologetic face and flapped her program like a fan in front of her face. She gestured down the aisle, and the woman stood aside graciously to let her pass.

  Dana hurried out the back of the church, bursting outside and squinting. The sun was shining brightly through a light mist that had started to fall. A breeze lifted her hair off her neck.

  An usher quickly rushed over, placed an umbrella over her head, and offered his arm to walk her to her car.

  “Thank you, but I walked here,” she said. Seeing his alarm as he glanced upwards to the sky, she began rustling through her bag. “I’ve got an umbrella in here somewhere…” she lied and waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Luckily, the church doors swung open, and he was inundated with a crowd of people who needed his services more than she did. Once his attention was no longer on her, Dana quickly scanned the premises. Eventually, she spotted the young man driving away in an old pickup truck. Without a second thought, she jogged towards him in the road and waved her hands.

  He rolled down his window. “Can I help you?” he asked in a slow southern drawl.

  “I hope so!” Dana said. “I’ve walked here and, well, I’ve forgotten my umbrella! Silly of me to do something that that. But the thing is—I’m afraid if I get wet on my walk home, my arthritis will flare up something awful. Would you mind giving me a lift to my house? It’s just over in the square.”

  “Of—course. Of course, yes. Er…Let me help you get in. Climbing into a truck can be tricky.” He got out and ran around to help lift her inside.

  “Thank you, thank you. You’re very kind. I’m Dana Potter.”

  “I’m Smith Cox. And it’s no trouble at all.”

  Dana smiled and patted his hand. Then she tilted her head as if just remembering something. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

  Smith shook his head. “I don’t think so. But could be you came into my dad’s store in Jericho once. Wilding Outfitters? We sell fishing stuff and hiking and camping gear.”

  Dana chuckled. “I don’t think that could be it. I haven’t been fishing or hiking a day in my life! I’m a city girl at heart.” She smiled, pausing. “So, you live in Jericho?”

  Smith nodded. Jericho was a neighboring town to Pippin, about the same size and just forty miles west. Dana snapped her fingers. “I know! I saw you just last week in Pippin when I went for a walk in the park. You were there with one of our local girls.”

  Smith looked at her. “I was at the park last week, yeah.”

  “With Laney Winston, right?”

  “Yes,” he said curtly, his fists tightening over the steering wheel.

  “Are you two going out?”

  “I don’t know if you’d call it that.”

  “Oh? Well, I don’t know what you kids are calling it these days.”

  “I mean I don’t know what we’re doing. She’s so—” he abruptly fell silent.

  “Girls can be complicated at that age,” Dana offered.

  Smith scoffed. “I guess complicated is one way to put it.”

  Dana remained silent, knowing that sometimes men needed a little space to fill in before they started talking.

  The truck rumbled over the uneven road in silence for a few moments, but sure enough, Smith started up again. “It’s just that—I like her a lot. And I think she likes me. She says she does, when we’re together, that is. But whenever I see her just in the street with her friends or whatever, she acts like she’s too good for me. Doesn’t say hi or anything. Hardly acts like she knows me at all. I just don’t get it.” He sighed. “This morning, I called her up to hang out. And she said she wanted to, but couldn’t
‘cause she wasn’t in town. She said was sailing down to the Bahamas with her older brother. I was surprised, but not that much. Laney’s always been a free spirit. So, I said, ‘Okay, hit me up when you get back.’ But then I hear in the background someone says, ‘It’s time to go. We’re going to be late for church.’ So, I got a little…I don’t know…Suspicious, I guess. Who goes to church when you’re sailing in the middle of the ocean? I figured if she was lying, it was because she didn’t want to hang out. But I wanted to know for sure. I knew there was only one church in Pippin, so I drove up here today.” His face grew red. “And…” he shrugged and rubbed a hand vigorously down the side of his face. “And she was there. With her family. Plain as day. I didn’t even see an older brother.”

  Dana sat silently. She could feel the young man’s pain. But there was still one thing she had to know for certain. She swallowed and asked slowly, “Where was she sitting?”

  “The middle. On the left side. Next to a really tall guy that I guess was her dad. She had on this long pink dress, like a Mennonite or something. So weird.” He shook his head, biting his lip.

  That was Taylor¸ Dana thought. The certainty she’d been looking for didn’t feel anywhere near as good as she had expected though. Instead, it hit her like a brick to the stomach.

  So, it is Taylor, she thought to herself, picturing the girl’s sweet smiling face. But why the charade?

  Dana decided that she had to find out—and perhaps Smith could help.

  “Smith, I have a small confession.”

  “What?” He looked at her blankly. They were just pulling into the square. The rain had picked up considerably, pelting the sides of the truck.

  “Oh, the blue one on the corner,” Dana said, pointing out her home. “Just pull right up onto the driveway. There. That’s perfect.”

  Smith put the truck in park and looked at her. “Okay,” he said simply.

  But Dana didn’t get out. “I lied when I said I just needed a ride. I wanted a chance to talk to you and ask you about Laney.”

  “Why? You know her?”

  “Yes, sort of. But I know her as Taylor Reinhart.”

  “What?”

  “That girl you said at church was Laney, was actually a girl named Taylor Reinhart. And she was sitting with her family, Lloyd Reinhart and Sara Beth Reinhart, and her little brother—oh, Franklin! That’s his name.”

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve known the Reinharts for five years. That was them at church. But something funny happened the other day that I’ve been trying to make sense of. Taylor ran into me on the street and introduced herself as though she didn’t know me from Adam. She called herself Laney Winston. I asked her mother about it, and she didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. Then I spotted Taylor with you in the park…I suppose I just wanted to know if you knew her as Taylor or Laney.”

  Smith stared at her, his mouth slightly ajar. He rubbed his hand down his cheek. “So, you’re saying that Laney—er, I don’t know, Taylor—has been lying to me about her name? About everything?” He looked straight ahead but remained composed though Dana suspected he was deeply disturbed by the news. “I just—I just don’t understand why she would do that. We’ve been going out for three months. I…”

  Dana’s heart went out to the boy. “Now, I don’t know if she’s lying—”

  “But you just said she’s not Laney!”

  “Well, yes. But I don’t know if I’d say she’s lying, exactly.”

  Smith looked at her balefully.

  “No, no, hear me out, Mr. Cox,” she continued. “I think there’s something deeper going on than a young girl lying to a young man for no reason. Like I said, I’ve known Taylor for a long time. I don’t think she would just play with your heart for entertainment. She’s a sweet, down-to-earth girl.”

  Smith flinched at the phrase ‘play with your heart’ but then nodded. “I don’t think she would either,” he said somberly.

  Dana patted him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. So—what do you say you help me get to the bottom of this little mystery? I think with your help, we’ll clear this matter up in a jiffy.”

  Smith swallowed. “Okay,” he said firmly. “I’ll do it, Ms. Potter.” He looked out the window. “I’m in love with her, you know?” His eyes grew wide and glossy and his chest rose heavily.

  “Well, we’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

  Chapter 6

  The Plan at the

  Blue Swallow

  Dana sat on her porch, watching the rain stream down. Thunder rolled in the distance and the air smelled of wet grass and dense earth.

  She had taken her book out to read, but instead found herself thinking about what would become of the plan she’d concocted with Smith for the following day. She hoped, for his sake, they wouldn’t discover that Taylor was far less innocent than Dana presumed. Smith had been nearly heartbroken to find out that his first love was not who she said she was.

  Sometime later, a particularly loud clap of thunder woke Dana from a doze.

  Oh goodness, she thought. The sky was dark—not storm dark, but night dark. She checked her watch and saw that it was eight o’clock. She clucked at herself and headed back inside to prepare a light dinner and a cup of herbal tea.

  After a quiet night alone, save for a friendly conversation she had with a friend of hers in Florida, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Dana grabbed her shopping basket and walked into the Blue Swallow, making a beeline for the young man sitting in the corner booth. Smith looked around nervously. As she approached, he jumped up and stuck one of his hands out.

  “Hi! Thanks for coming!” he said in a loud rush.

  “Well, I said I would, didn’t I?” Dana said, laughing slightly in attempts to relax the boy. Feeling how clammy and sweaty his hand was, she hoped their plan would work and that he wouldn’t throw in the towel and just start demanding answers from Taylor. That sort of thing would get him nowhere. If Taylor was truly lying so thoroughly, confronting her about it directly might only push her to deepen the lie, making up some excuse for the ‘confusion.’ Dana suspected the lie would likely go something along the lines of: “Oh, Ms. Potter is a sweet old lady, but she’s been acting strangely for a few months now. Mom says it’s dementia…”

  Hence, the only way to clear things up was to force Taylor to confront her lie in public and by surprise. If, for instance, she was faced with Smith and her mother at the same time, she couldn’t possibly pretend to not recognize her own mother…

  “Is she coming?” Dana asked.

  Smith nodded. “She said she would meet me here after school. I didn’t bring up the fact that she was supposedly sailing in the middle of the Caribbean with her older brother right now though, like you said to.”

  “Good.” Dana suspected Taylor might have forgotten all the lies she’d told, and therefore might not remember her fib to Smith the day before. “You just sit here and act normal when she arrives. Remember that you think she’s Laney Winston, and you didn’t see her at church yesterday. All you have to do is keep her here until I walk in with Mrs. Reinhart, which should be…Oh, just about ten minutes after she arrives. I’ve asked her to meet me here to discuss a Bible study group I want to start. Told her I wanted her advice.” Dana winked.

  “Okay.” Smith nodded vigorously. When he picked up his glass of water, his hands shook so badly, Dana feared he would spill it all over the place.

  She plopped down in the booth and looked him in the eyes. His nerves about pulling off this trick meant he probably didn’t do this sort of thing often. He wasn’t a deceitful fellow—a detail that warmed Dana’s heart. Nevertheless, she needed him to pull himself together. If Taylor noticed he was on edge, she might get spooked and leave before Dana could walk in with Sara Beth.

  “Mr. Cox,” Dana said slowly, “all you have to do is just sit here, order some French fries, and l
isten to Taylor talk for ten minutes. That’s it. All right?”

  Smith nodded. “All right.”

  “Good.” She patted his hand and then left without looking back, knowing she would just have to trust him on this one. It was time for her to meet Sara Beth.

  Within five minutes, Dana spotted the petite dark-haired woman stepping lightly over the curb a few blocks away.

  Quickly, Dana darted along a side street until she could cut directly in Sara Beth’s path.

  “Oh! Well, hello! Fancy seeing you here,” Dana joked as she approached.

  Sara Beth gave that tingling laugh of hers. “Looks like we had the same idea, taking the long way around to the café. Isn’t your house just a hop and a skip away from the Blue Swallow? What are you doing down here?”

  “Oh, I was out doing some errands. Checking in on Jenny. You know, Jenny Meltzer?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I love Jenny! Well, this works out well then, doesn’t it?” Sara Beth turned on the full intensity of her southern-lady-smile.

  Worked out due to careful planning, Dana thought and returned the smile. “That it does,” “So,” Sara Beth said, linking a supportive arm under Dana’s elbow, “what were you thinking for the structure of the Bible study? I can tell you that of all the ones I’ve run and been a part of over the years in this town, what usually works the best is a weekly schedule.”

  Dana nodded along as Sara Beth continued to prattle in her soft voice the rest of the way to Blue Swallow Café. When they arrived, Dana opened the door for her and held her breath, waiting to hear her exclaim her daughter’s name when she spotted her in the corner booth, specifically chosen for its visibility to the front door but not the outside windows.

  But Sara Beth just said a pleasant hello to a passing waitress and continued explaining the delicate social balance one must try to strike when choosing members of a Bible study group. “It’s definitely important to have some range in age, you know? Otherwise, it becomes too much like a social club and not enough Jesus. However,” Sara Beth paused and held up a finger, “no Bible study should have too many generations. It gets too messy then. People are afraid to get personal when someone three times their age is in the room. What you want is to have two generations—close in age, but not exactly.”