Freezer Burn: A Maggie Mercer Mystery

by Jill Behe

  “Which one?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Which leg?”

  She paused, thinking. “I do believe it’s his left.”

  “Anything else you can remember?”

  “Other than he’s becoming a pest?”

  With a smile, Wyatt nodded. “Is he causing problems?”

  “Only that he persists in coming in here every single day, sometimes more than once.”

  “What, exactly, did he say about this alleged kidnapping?”

  There was speculation in her eyes. “Alleged?”

  “No one’s reported a kidnapping.”

  Her face fell. “Oh, I see.”

  “Why did he think there’d been one?”

  “He said he’d been over at the Inn at the End, and there was a big to-do about a girl getting kidnapped, practically snatched right out of her room.”

  “Any time frame?”

  “Dear me, no. But as I said, we open at eight, and he was here on the dot.”

  She’d obviously misunderstood.

  “I see. You do realize, if someone had been kidnapped, or even been reported missing from The Inn at the End, Dandelion would have contacted Maggie.”

  “Yes.” Lavender sighed. “Yes, you’re right. She would have, without question.”

  My mouth quirked. “You seem almost disappointed.”

  Her indignation was loud. “What? Good heavens, no! I’m, I’m relieved. We haven’t really recovered from little Miranda’s death last summer. We don’t need—” She huffed. “Don’t get me started, Miss Maggie Mae.” She waggled a finger in my direction.

  I grimaced at the nickname. “I apologize if I offended you. It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Oh. Posh and piddle. Offended? Honestly, Maggie. Now then, what did you two come in here to see me about, anyway? We seem to have gotten sidetracked. You’re not here to chat about the weather, and you aren’t looking to buy anything. I can tell.”

  “Would you tell us more about this Jarrod fellow? You’ve said he’s been in here every day, bugging you. Your sisters are concerned he might be … casing the joint.”

  “My sisters can be a pain in the butt, more often than not. I should have known.” She looked at me, almost accusative. “It was Sythie and Oleo, wasn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 25

  ONE MYSTERY SOLVED, ANOTHER DEEPENS

  WYATT CLEARED HIS THROAT.

  I tried not to, but the snicker won. “Oleo? Surely, you don’t mean—”

  “Oh, dear Lord!” She grabbed my arm. “That did not come out of my mouth. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.” Her eyes darted wildly, crimson bloomed through her rouge. “Gladiola will skin me sideways for letting that slip. If you can’t forget you heard it, can you promise me you won’t tell her? You won’t repeat it, to anyone, ever?”

  Still fighting a grin, I nodded.

  Wyatt tried for bland. “Sorry, I guess that means our illustrious post mistress was a lot heavier—”

  “Lord have mercy.” Lavender’s hands covered her face. “I’m so mortified.”

  I bit my lips together, and fought not to snort the laughter out m’ nose.

  Wyatt chuckled, patting her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m just giving you a hard time. Gladiola won’t hear a word from either of us. I promise. Right, Maggie?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you.” Visibly shaking, Lavender laid a hand on her abundant bosom, and took a breath that seemed to calm her nerves. “The word just rolls off the tongue, you know? It was only until she got to junior high school, and it wasn’t because she was heavy, or anything. But good gracious, I can’t believe I let it slip out.”

  “Your secret’s safe with us. But to clarify, yes, it was those two particular sisters.”

  “And who else would it have been?” She recovered quickly. “Sythie, especially, always poking her nose where it’s not supposed to be. Meddling in things that don’t concern her. Granted, she’s mellowed a lot in the past year, but—”

  “They’re worried.”

  “Yes. I suppose you could call it that.” Another sigh. “It does get so tiresome, though by now I should be used to it.”

  “You said this Jarrod Sorensen is becoming a pest?”

  “It’s just that he is in here so often, walking the aisles, leafing through old photos, just dawdling. He makes me nervous, but not in a dangerous way.”

  “Does he seem to be interested in anything special, any piece in particular?”

  “No. I really don’t think he’s going to steal anything. But it seems like every time I turn around, I almost bump into him.”

  The buzzer over the door sounded, and we all turned to see who else was braving the weather.

  “Well, well. Speak of the devil,” Lavender murmured under her breath.

  The young man strolled in, slightly off-stride, swiping snow off his camel-colored overcoat. He looked up, as though realizing he had an audience.

  At the sight of Wyatt’s uniform, the man’s eyes went wide and he stumbled over the foot of a very pricey, very heavy, wrought-iron coat tree. The thing wobbled, dangerously. He grabbed hold of it to gain his balance, and to keep it from tipping over.

  Once more in control, he proceeded, limping more heavily towards us, hand outstretched. “Good morning, Mrs. Grayson.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Sorensen. This is our chief of police, Wyatt Madison, and Maggie Mercer. Chief, Maggie, this is Jarrod Sorensen.”

  Wyatt and Jarrod nodded to each other.

  I shook his hand.

  Hmm. The man was uneasy.

  Was it Wyatt’s presence?

  The kid would be good at poker. If I hadn’t felt his damp palm, I’d never have noticed.

  “Mrs. Grayson, I realize I’ve been in here quite a bit. I hope the presence of the law doesn’t mean you suspect me of anything illegal.”

  “No, they’re here about something else.”

  Frowning, the man opened his mouth.

  Wyatt stepped closer. “May I ask why you come in so often?”

  Jarrod stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat, looking first at Wyatt, then Lavender, and back again. Sweat beaded.

  Fascinating.

  Although, he could be over warm. Lavender must have the heat cranked to 85.

  “Is there a legal issue I need to be aware of?”

  Stalling?

  “About what?”

  “About my visiting an establishment that makes me feel at home? I love coming in here, seeing all the different merchandise.”

  “You have your own place, back in Cleveland, according to your business card. What’s different about this?”

  “I so enjoy comparisons, seeing how others display their wares, their pricing. This is an antiques store. A real store just for old valuable keepsakes. At home, my main focus has been on art: pictures, photographs, wall hangings, rugs, that sort of thing. Because of what I’ve seen here, I’m thinking I need to make a few changes.”

  “That’s it? That’s why you’re always in here?”

  Jarrod nodded. “That, and picturing in my head where to place certain items, how to display others to their best advantage. You’ve done a marvelous job, Mrs. Grayson. I’m very impressed.”

  “Why thank you.” She blushed prettily. “I wish you’d told me that sooner.”

  “I apologize. Didn’t realize it was causing problems.”

  “Not at all. If I can help in any way, I hope you’ll ask. We should discuss business strategies.”

  “An excellent suggestion. I’d like that, but it looks like you’re otherwise occupied. I’ll stop in a bit later.” He turned to Wyatt and me. “Very nice meeting you, Chief Madison, Ms. Mercer.”

  We shook hands and the man left.

  For a moment, there was silence, then Lavender coughed delicately into her lilac-colored linen hankie. “Well, that was— I’m glad that’s all cleared up.”

  Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps now we can g
et to the real reason we’re here?”

  “Oh, but I thought—?” She looked at me. “They have very suspicious minds, those two. They told you I’d been robbed, didn’t they?”

  I nodded.

  Wyatt shifted, and she refocused her attention.

  “Well, Chief, what do you need to know?”

  “Anything you can tell us. From what Maggie relayed, Forsythia and Gladiola are convinced you’re being systematically burgled.”

  “I wouldn’t say systematically. And, contrary to what I told them, I do know what’s missing. I didn’t tell them that because they tend to … yell. This is my business, not theirs, and maybe it could be run better, or more efficiently, but they don’t need to be judging how I manage my own store. It may look disorganized, but I know every last piece of stock, right down to the number of silver napkin rings.”

  The frost-tipped words gave away her annoyance. I didn’t understand exactly how she felt, as I didn’t have siblings, but if it was anything like being a citizen of a small town and its busybody mentality, I could sympathize.

  “As for those missing pieces,” she continued. “There are about a dozen. Only a few are what I would call really valuable. One is a small set of six jade green figurines. The tallest about three inches, with each a different animal. Very old, and magnificently hand-carved. The other is a guardian angel about six inches tall. She is exquisitely made of cream-colored marble, not soapstone.

  “I’m just sick that they’re gone. I can’t think how they could have been taken right from under my nose like that, or when it might have happened. We’ve never had a break in before, and the alarm has never gone off. At least not since I first opened the store and was learning how to set it.

  “I’ve contacted the insurance company, but compensations won’t be anywhere near satisfactory. I want those pieces back.”

  “Would you say the figurines are different enough that someone would have to be an antique aficionado?”

  She thought for a moment. “Yes and no. Someone randomly picking up things small enough to conceal in their pocket, or purse, may not care about the value. On the other hand, there are smaller pieces that an indiscriminant shoplifter could snatch.”

  “So, in your opinion, someone deliberately looking to steal something would know exactly what he was seeing?”

  Lavender shifted, clearly distressed. “Yes. I would have to agree.”

  “And in order to get that knowledge, he would’ve had to visit this store more than once?”

  “Hmm. Perhaps. Although, if he were good enough, he’d only need to come through once, and he’d know what was where. As I mentioned, not all the missing pieces are that valuable.”

  “Is it possible, whoever this is, may have wanted it to look random?”

  “That is a possibility, yes.”

  “Do you suspect anyone?”

  “No, and there’s really no way I can accuse anyone. I didn’t see it happen, obviously, and don’t have the vaguest notion of when. And, until just a moment ago, I would have had no qualms suspecting that young man who just left.”

  “You’re sure it isn’t one of your employees?”

  “As sure as I can be,” she said with a nod. “I’ve been keeping my eye on the most recent part-timer I hired. A high-schooler, just a couple afternoons a week. I don’t really think it’s him.”

  “I could check him out for you.”

  “Not yet. Please? Give me some time to look around here again. I will call you soon, though, either way. A week?”

  “All right, but remember, the longer you wait, the colder the trail.”

  “I understand perfectly, Chief Madison.”

  “Don’t hesitate to let me know if more of your inventory comes up missing, or anything changes.”

  “Oh, you’ll be my first call. Believe me.”

  “Good to know. Maggie, you ready to roll?”

  “Right behind you, Chief.”

  He flipped his notepad shut and stuck it in his shirt pocket, offering his free hand. “Thanks for your time, Miss Lavender.”

  “Thank you for stopping by.” Smiling, she gave it a dainty shake, fluttered her lashes, and did a little curtsy. “I feel so much safer knowing you’re on the case, Chief Madison. You stop on by any old time you like.”

  He settled his hat, and tipped it. “Ma’am.” Pivoting smartly, he strode to the front door.

  I followed.

  On our way back to the office, I mulled over both visits, and wasn’t making a lot of sense out of either one.

  “What’re you thinking, Miss Marple-Mercer? Made any headway?”

  “No. Not really.”

  CHAPTER 26

  BACK TO THE OFFICE

  I TURNED as sideways on the seat as I could and still be buckled in. “That man, Jarrod, I was studying him. He’s not the same man who was at the post office. I know there are clever people out there who can change their appearance, but for one, he didn’t have a scar, and his face was a different shape. He was shorter, too.

  “I didn’t get a good look at the one who almost tossed me over the railing, the one Dandy was telling me about, but I’m fairly certain he’s the same man I saw at the post office. Magnolia is the only one who’s seen the second man. And he’s the only one with a scar that we know of. So it seems we’re dealing with three men.”

  “That’s an obvious assumption. They’re all from Cleveland.”

  I hadn’t been expecting an answer, but we were on the same wavelength. “Right, but why are they here? What is it about Mossy Creek that attracted them to us?

  “And where is Sybil Tolliver? How does she fit in? What story was she working on? Did it involve any, or all of these guys?”

  I frowned.

  So many avenues to pursue. So many dead ends. So many questions. So … few, answers.

  How cliché.

  I know, I use them all the time, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I do try not to, but they just … fall out of the mind and off the tongue so easily.

  Wyatt drove out of the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare. “Huh. More than I figured.”

  “What?”

  “I wasn’t prepared for— You have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours. I can’t help you right now.”

  “I wasn’t asking for help. That’s not why I told you.”

  “Makes me feel like a blockhead.”

  “You’re not going to pull that one out are you?

  “What one?”

  “I’m the cop, this is what I trained to do, so I should have all the answers already.”

  He frowned at me. “No.” Then paused. “If it came out like that, I apologize. It’s not how I meant it to sound.”

  “And I sound like a Miss-know-it-all.”

  “Not a bit. But it seems so easy for you.” He cleared his throat and winked. “Makes me a little jealous.”

  “Huh. Gee. Thanks. Seriously though, what’s swirling around up here—” I smacked my forehead. “—isn’t making any sense. I need time to ruminate.”

  “Ruminate? That’s your secret?”

  “Ha ha. Mostly, yes. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle. You have all these pieces that are supposed to fit together eventually. The trick is to figure out what goes where.”

  “Well, good. I think. Keep it up. I have a feeling we’ll be getting more for you to chew on.”

  “Please. I need to deal with what’s in here now. Anymore, and I may go catatonic from information overload.”

  “Maggie, honestly, that is what you’re good at, pulling all the pieces together, fitting them into a solid picture. I’ve seen you do it on numerous occasions and with amazing results.”

  “Thanks, but as I said, it’s chaotic in here at the moment.” I tapped my forehead again. “Kinda like a skein of yarn the cat’s been playing with. Time and patience are needed to untangle the snarls. Neither of which we have in much abundance. We did learn a few things we didn’t know before.”

  “That we
did. The most surprising was Gladiola’s best-forgotten nickname.”

  “Indeed.”

  Ricky gave us the evil eye as we stomped snow off our boots.

  “Just so you know, there’s still half a dozen in that box.”

  “We’re not the donut patrol, Rick. Who cares if you eat them all?”

  I glared at Wyatt. “I do!”

  Their health may be their business, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t bug them about unhealthy habits. I’m not a hypocrite about it, though. When the mood strikes, I can be even worse than they are.

  Wyatt shrugged out of his coat. “What I meant to say was, he’s.… You’re a grown man, Rick. If you want to eat the whole dozen, you don’t need my permission.”

  “Wyatt?” I hid a grin by hanging up my parka.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

  “You should quit now, before your foot gets stuck in your throat.”

  “Uh huh. We good, Rick?”

  “Course.” The kid stood. “But you were right to say what ya did. I tend to overdo it when it comes to sweet stuff. Always have. So, thanks for the poke.”

  “Anytime.”

  Wyatt walked over and they did the manly-hug-back-slap thing.

  “So what’d y’all find out?”

  “Not what we expected.”

  “No?”

  “Let’s go in my office and hash things over.”

  I stowed my purse. “Coffee?”

  “Good idea.” Wyatt went for his cup.

  I filled mine and added milk from the mini fridge.

  “Might as well leave that out, I’ll need it.” Wyatt gestured to the carton in my hand. “Think I’ll have me a donut, too.”

  CHAPTER 27

  A CLUE, A CHAT

  WISELY KEEPING HIS MOUTH SHUT, Ricky sidled past me, chuckling.

  Wyatt was also partial to sweets, especially chocolate chip cookies, but didn’t always indulge. I can attest to the great shape he’s in—boy, can I—but he works to stay that way.