This is weird.
“That should do it,” Dom announced, stretching as he stood up. “All that’s left is to program your passcodes in and you’ll be all set.”
“Great, thank you so much.”
“Looks like someone used the walls down here to let off steam,” Dom observed as he looked around the room.
“I know. Weird, huh?” answered Tabby. “Let’s go hook up my internet.”
Twenty minutes later Tabby was connected to the cyber world again. She thanked Dom and told him she would see him tomorrow at work.
Once he was gone, she pulled her debit card out of her wallet and settled in to do some serious online shopping. All the supplies she needed for jelly making were ordered with rush shipping. Tabby wanted everything in her hands by the week’s end so she could flood Main Street with the wonderful smells of her gram’s jams and jellies. Several shops on Main Street were opening this weekend so there would be a lot of foot traffic in the center of town.
Locals would be welcoming the snowbirds back and this coming week the tourists would begin to outnumber the locals; it would stay that way until late October.
Tabby remembered the smells that used to waft through the town when her gram was alive and cooking. The locals treasured her jams and jellies; her finished products were not like any other out there. Excitement would build for the first batch of the new season and gram would usually sell out within the first hour. That afternoon you could smell the next batch cooking. It got to the point where people would pre-order several jars at a time to keep ahead of the back-up of orders. The local inns and restaurants would put their orders in prior to the start of the season. Tabby was counting on these established orders to help her business take off.
Many people tried to get gram to tell them the secret ingredients, but she kept it to herself. The recipes were stored in her mind. When she got older and couldn’t cook anymore, she wrote the recipes down on paper. The only one to ever see them would be Tabby.
She hoped the excitement for the jams and jellies would still be there. She would find out when she cooked the first batch with all her windows open to tempt the shoppers passing by.
It was shortly after five when Tabby decided to treat herself to supper at the diner since she still hadn’t made that trip to the market for her big first grocery purchase. That was on the plan for tomorrow night after work. She changed her clothes and brushed her hair. Samantha Moon had given her daughter an ornate vanity set for her bedroom. Painted in brushed gold, the triple mirror folded outward so the person sitting on the matching bench could see her reflection on all sides. Tabby didn’t really care for the gold color of the mirror, and she decided that when she had more time she would paint it a color she preferred.
Tabby looked in the mirror; staring back at her was a pretty woman, not beautiful, but okay looking. Her waist length, auburn hair had just enough wave to it to make the blond highlights stand out. She had green eyes that were the color of shamrock fields that could be seen all over Ireland. She must have inherited her dad’s eyes because her moms were dark brown. Five-seven, and a great figure, she could turn heads if she wanted to. She wondered if she could make Greg’s head turn her way.
What are you thinking? You don’t even know if he has a wife or girlfriend.
Tabby arrived at the diner at the height of supper hour. Monday night specials were the best of the week. Shepherd’s Pie, Fried Shrimp Basket, or Vegetarian Omelet were written on the blackboard just inside the door announcing the nightly specials. The board was more for the benefit of non-locals because the regulars had the nightly meal deals memorized.
She looked around for an open table; nothing. There wasn’t even an open stool at the counter. The door opened behind her. Without looking, Tabby stepped aside so whoever it was could enter.
“Man, is this what it’s like during tourist season?”
Tabby turned and her heart gave a little flutter as she realized who it was standing behind her.
“Truthfully, I don’t know,” Tabby offered, blushing scarlet. “I lived outside town limits and had a boyfriend I cooked for every night. I haven’t been in here for supper in a while.”
“Had a boyfriend?” Greg asked, smiling.
Tabby blushed again. “Yes, had a boyfriend.”
Judy Montgomery, one of the owners of the diner, approached them.
“Tabby, I can have a table for you in a couple of minutes. Mr. Stone, it will be about fifteen more minutes or so before I can get you seated. I don’t know why we are so busy tonight. Vacation doesn’t actually begin until next week; this is crazy.”
“I can share my table with Mr. Stone, that is, if he doesn’t mind,” Tabby offered quietly.
“Well, Mr. Stone?” Judy asked.
“I wish you all would call me Greg. I would love to share a table with Miss Moon,” he said, flashing that gorgeous smile that made Tabby melt inside.
“I’ll be right back to get you,” Judy replied, rushing off to clear a now vacant table.
“Do you eat here a lot?” Tabby asked, making small talk.
“Almost every night; I’m not a very good cook. Flowers, I’m a whiz. Cooking, not so much,” he answered, chuckling.
An awkward silence descended upon the pair. Tabby’s mind went blank as she tried to start a reasonable conversation with Greg. Why had she been so stupid to invite him to sit with her? She wasn’t thinking straight at all; the little butterflies inside her stomach had done the thinking for her.
“All set,” Judy said, returning with menus in her hand. “This way, please.”
Judy seated the couple in a back booth in the corner and then winked at Tabby as she handed them each a menu.
“Bea will be right with you. Enjoy.”
“I really like the Shepherd’s Pie.”
“It’s good?” asked Greg.
“You won’t find any better anywhere else. Listen to me; I sound like a commercial.”
Bea Jones walked up to the table with order pad in hand. She spotted Tabby, broke into a smile, and gave her a big hug.
“How’s your new place, hon?” she asked.
“It’s beautiful. I’m going to make a batch of gram’s jellies and give them out to the townspeople on Saturday as a thank you for all they have done for me.”
“I’ll be first in line. I really miss your gram’s jellies. The diner always served them while she was alive still making them.” She leaned in close to the young woman. “Of course, The Mouth has already spread it around town that you’ll be making them again from your gram’s recipes.”
“The Mouth?” Greg quizzed.
“Tabby will explain it to you later. What are we going to have for supper?”
“I think we have both decided on the Shepherd’s Pie,” Greg stated.
“I’ll have a mocha frappe with mine, please,” Tabby requested.
“Sounds good to me. Make that two,” Greg said, picking up the menus and handing them to Bea.
Bea headed off to the kitchen to place their order.
“She is such a nice lady. Bea waits on me almost every night that I eat here. She is always smiling,” Greg admired.
“Bea is like a second mother to me. Remember Jenny who was with me in your shop yesterday? Bea is her mother,” Tabby explained.
“So, tell me, who is The Mouth?” Greg asked.
“Gladys Twittle. She and her husband Donald own the Penny Poor Antique Shop in the middle of town. He is really nice, but Gladys is loud, pushy and a pain in the butt. She has to know everything going on in town and will do anything to be on top of the latest gossip. Her favorite spot is the first stool closest to the register at The Tilted Coffee Cup every morning.”
“I think I have seen her there. I guess I decided to set up business in a colorful town, haven’t I?”
“You have no idea,” Tabby agreed, laughing.
“Tell me about your shop. What is it and when will it open?” Greg questioned.
“I
t’s called Jellies, Jams, and Weddings. I am a certified wedding planner, but I needed something besides weddings to pull customers into my shop. I will be cooking and selling my gram’s preserves and homemade biscuits. People love her recipes and I am the only one she trusted them with. It’s quirky, but I think it will work well together.”
“Sounds interesting. What kind of account did you want to set up at my shop?” Greg inquired.
“I need an open account that I can order flowers for my own use or send my clients to you for their flower needs. It should bring in extra business for your shop.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? I heard Jenny say that your flowers were better than mine,” Greg teased.
“She’s biased. What can I say?”
“Maybe we need to have a flower-off some night when the shop is closed. I don’t do the wedding flowers; my arranger Margaret Cook does them.”
“Somehow I don’t think that would be a good idea. We don’t want to upset Margaret. She might quit on you,” Tabby frowned.
“True. Not a good idea, I guess,” Greg admitted.
Bea came to the table with their drinks. A few minutes later she arrived with hot steaming plates and set them on the table.
“Enjoy,” she said, walking to another table to deliver their bill.
“Enough with business talk. Tell me something interesting about yourself, Tabby Moon.”
“My favorite holiday is Halloween.”
“Mine, too,” Greg laughed. “What else?”
“I am an avid reader like you and my favorite genre is mystery. My secret wish is to someday solve a real mystery. My mother says I am too nosy. I’m not nosy, I just pay attention to things going on around me, that’s all.”
“I love mysteries, too.
“Maybe we should team up together and find a mystery to solve,” Tabby declared, blushing.
“I think that is an excellent idea,” Greg said, flashing that million-dollar smile.
In the middle of their supper, Gladys and Donald Twittle were seated in the booth next to Tabby and Greg. Bea walked to their table frowning. She leaned in and whispered something to Tabby, then walked away.
“What was that about?” Greg whispered.
Tabby leaned in close and beckoned him to move in closer.
“The Mouth saw us sitting here and requested that they be seated next to us. She smells new gossip to spread around at the coffee shop in the morning. Gladys wants to be close enough to hear what we are saying,” Tabby whispered.
“Want to have some fun?” he asked, winking. “Follow my lead.”
Tabby nodded.
“We won’t tell your mother a thing,” Greg suggested, in a voice a little louder than normal.
“I don’t know,” Tabby stuttered.
“We’ll elope now and let your mother plan the big wedding she wants to at some point later on.”
The young couple heard a spoon drop at the next table. Tabby put her hand to her mouth to stop the laughter that threatened to burst out of her. Greg signaled her to keep the conversation going now that they were sure Gladys was listening.
“I suppose we could do that. Do you think we can sneak off this weekend? Can you get someone to cover the flower shop for you? I’m off on Saturday and Sunday.”
“I’m sure I can. Where do you want to get married?” Greg questioned, stifling a laugh as out of the corner of his eye he could see Gladys’ ear edging around the booth wall.
“I think a private ceremony at Fuller’s Point would be beautiful. What do you think?”
“Did you hear that, Donald? They’re going to secretly get married,” Gladys exclaimed with glee.
“No, I didn’t hear it. I don’t make it a habit to listen to other people’s conversations and neither should you,” her husband chastised. “No wonder people call you The Mouth.”
Tabby and Greg almost fell out of the booth, laughing. Since both of them had finished their dinner and were ready to go, they signaled Bea for the bill. As they got up to leave, Gladys couldn’t worm her way back into her own booth fast enough. She hit her tea and spilled it all over herself.
“Mrs. Twittle, I didn’t know you were here. Are you okay? Was the tea hot?” Tabby commiserated, attempting a fake smile.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she answered curtly, not bothering to look up.
“Okay, well, have a good night,” Tabby said, trying to keep a straight face.
Greg grabbed hold of Tabby’s hand. He leaned in but still talked loud enough for Gladys to hear him.
“I hope she didn’t hear what we were talking about,” he said as they walked to the register.
Bea met them at the counter. They told her about the prank they pulled on Mrs. Twittle. Greg asked the waitress to play dumb if the gossip queen asked her any questions and she quickly agreed. They walked outside, turned the corner, and fell into fits of laughter.
“Do you think we did enough damage to the town gossip for one week?” Greg spit out between laughs, leaning against the diner wall.
“I can’t wait to tell townspeople I don’t know what they’re talking about when they come to me for verification. That was classic, Mr. Stone.”
“We make a pretty good team,” Greg affirmed as he looked into her eyes.
“I guess we do,” Tabby said blushing.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home. You can explain to me on the way what all the town’s people did for you and why.”
They walked down Main Street towards Tabby’s place. She told him about the breakup with Finn and then the next night how her place was trashed. The police thought Finn had done it, but he didn’t since he had an airtight alibi. She told him about the pickle jar and how the town had donated money for her to get a fresh start.
“I like this town better by the minute. Keep your ears open for me. I need to find a place to live so I can stay here and not travel to Larsen every night. I like small town living versus city living.”
“I’ll see what I can find out for you. We’re here. That’s my place across the street; I live over The Baseball Card Shop.”
As they crossed the street, a flashlight beam could be seen moving towards the back room of the dark card shop.
“Did you see that?” Tabby asked, not giving him time to answer. “Come on.”
Tabby took off in a run with Greg close behind. They ran into the rear parking lot behind the building. They saw a dark figure haul himself over the back fence and take off running. There was no use in chasing him.
The back door to the card shop was open. Tabby stepped through the door, calling Mr. Pierce’s name. She found the light switch in the backroom. A very familiar scene met her eyes when the lights flared on; the shop had been trashed just like her apartment. Tabby began to shake as she stared in horror at the damage that surrounded her.
“Mr. Pierce, are you here?” Tabby finally yelled.
No answer.
They barged into the main shop and discovered that it had been vandalized just like the backroom. The cellar door was wide open. Greg walked over to the top of the stairs.
“Mr. Pierce, are you down there? Tabby, do you know where the light switch is for the cellar?”
She stepped in front of Greg and reached for the string that would light up the area. Laying at the bottom of the stairs was a lifeless body; a body that was covered in blood.
Chapter 7
* * *
“Call the sheriff,” Greg ordered as he flew down the stairs.
Tabby made the call as she followed Greg down into the cellar. The sheriff said he would be there in less than five minutes and not to touch anything. Tabby ended the call and reached down and tentatively felt for a pulse; there was none.
“Is it Mr. Pierce?” he asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s not going to be hard to figure out what the murder weapon was,” Greg observed, pointing to a bloody baseball bat laying in the corner of the cellar.
“Let’s wait
upstairs for the sheriff,” Greg suggested.
Sheriff Puckett and his deputies arrived with sirens blaring. As Tabby let them in the front door she noticed that a crowd was gathering in front of the shop.
“Where is he?” the sheriff asked.
“He’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Greg responded.
“You can’t stay away from trouble, can you? It always seems to find you, Tabitha Moon,” the sheriff said, shaking his head. “Stay up here.”
The three men descended into the cellar as Tabby and Greg remained at the top of the stairs.
“Is this exactly how you found everything?” Deputy Small yelled from the cellar.
“We didn’t touch anything except to feel for a pulse on his neck,” Tabby stated.
Sheriff Puckett returned from the cellar and walked around upstairs surveying the area. He headed to the back room where he checked the door and found it had been jimmied.
“The victim must have surprised whoever was in here. There’s blood on the stairs suggesting he was attacked up here and fell to the bottom.”
“We saw the person run through the back-parking lot and jump the fence,” Greg informed them. “He was dressed all in black.”
“And you would be?”
“Greg Stone, sir.”
“The owner of the new flower shop in town?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nice to meet you,” the sheriff said, sticking out his hand. “How did you get mixed up with our town sleuth?”
“Give me a break, Sheriff Puckett,” Tabby stuttered as her face turned pink.
“We shared a table at the crowded diner,” Greg answered, smiling at Tabby.
“You say you saw the guy?”
Bodies and Blueberries Page 8
