Advance Notice (A River Valley Mystery, book 2)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “So, do you think the obit thing is a ploy to garner sales?”

  “What?” I frowned. “No. Do you? Do you really think someone is posting their names and killing them just for publicity? Or… wait.” I stared through the window for a moment. “What if…Frank or Stacy are posting the names, but someone else is taking advantage of it.”

  “That’s a thought.” Mom tossed the rag she’d used into a basket. “Possible, I suppose, but how would we find out who?” She thrust a finger in the air. “I know! We’ll put my name in.”

  “Are you nuts?” Seriously, she might need committed to the crazy house. “Do you know how dangerous that would be?”

  She lowered her voice. “Not if you stay with me every single minute of the thirtieth day.”

  “So we could both die? No, thanks.” I pulled out a chair and sat. “There has to be another way. Besides, Leroy and Duane would never go for it.” What if the end came when Lindsey was with us? I couldn’t stand to think that way.

  “I’m with your daughter on this one.” Leroy barged through the back door. “If you’re going to talk crazy, at least close the door and window.”

  “But, honey.—” Mom batted her eyelashes.

  Really? Women still did that?

  “Don’t honey me, Gertie. I’m putting my foot down.” Leroy’s face reddened. “I told you I’d let you play around with another mystery, since you don’t fit the profile of those poor unfortunate women, but I will not allow you to purposely put yourself in harm’s way.”

  Thank you, Lord, that I didn’t have to be the one to stand up to my mother this time. She was definitely a force to be reckoned with when riled.

  Mom took a deep breath, opened her mouth, closed it again, then finally spoke. “Well, if we don’t figure out something, Dottie won’t ever have a chance to win her second pageant.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, I sat in the newspaper office, staring at Stacy, who filed her nails. Where was Frank? I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes late.

  “He’s always late,” Stacy said without looking up. “But don’t you dare come in late. That’ll be the time he shows on time. The man is a bear when mad.”

  Considering one of my pet peeves was being even two minutes late, I didn’t see any danger of me angering Frank that way. I slid the manila folder with the single sheet of gossip around on the table, and envisioned Stacy’s reaction when she read the post. If she read it, of course. Somehow I figured she would think that column beneath her. The folder also contained a wonderfully cute advertisement for the store. Lindsey had outdone herself with a picture of a time-out baby standing in a corner and the words “Don’t be sent to time-out. Catch the bargains while you can.”

  “Sorry I’m late.” Frank banged through the door and took a seat at the end of the table. “Stacy, what do you have?”

  She slid a file to him. “A short write up on that stupid quilter’s group, and one on the football team. I’d like to do another one, featuring the coach, after their first game tonight.” She shot a simpering smile at me.

  The first game was tonight? How could I have forgotten? I never missed any of the home games, especially since Duane and I got together.

  “Marsha?” Frank narrowed his eyes. “You must pay attention. We don’t want these meetings to go on forever. I have a newspaper to run.”

  “Sorry.” I handed him my file.

  He opened it, read, then glanced at Stacy’s chest, then at me. I could’ve sworn I saw the flicker of a smile cross his lips. “Good job. Keep up the good work. See y’all next week.” He grabbed the two files and left, all in less than five minutes.

  “Then why do we have to mark two hours on our calendar?” I asked.

  Stacy shrugged. “Sometimes he’s an hour late. Sometimes, he doesn’t like what we’ve written and waits while we fix it. Who knows? We’re talking about Frank. Count your blessings it was quick.” With those words, she left me alone in the conference room.

  I wasn’t due at the shop for almost two hours. What in the world would I do with that time? I had no suspects to interrogate and very little clues. Maybe I could badger Bruce into letting something slip.

  Grabbing my purse, I headed out of the newspaper office and next door to the police department. In a town the size of River Valley, businesses tended to congregate, thus giving business to each other. In this instance, having the paper next to the police probably made gathering news easier.

  The station receptionist lifted her head from her desk, frowned, then waved me through. Oh, how Bruce must love that folks did that for me. That’s what happens when people like you. Of course, the receptionist knew from experience I wouldn’t leave her alone until she waved me back.

  “Good morning, Bruce.” His door was open, so I sailed in and planted myself in the chair in front of his desk.

  “What do you want?” He crossed his arms and leaned back.

  “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” I set my purse on the ground at my feet, catching sight of my very well-worn flip-flops. Maybe I should’ve taken the extra time I had to go shopping.

  “I’m a busy man, Marsha.” He fiddled with a stack of papers on his desk.

  “Did Duane talk to you about the obituaries?” Might as well get right to the point before he threw me out.

  “Are you still on that kick? It’s pure coincidence, and nothing more. I have burglaries and vandalism to worry about. I can’t go charging around on speculation. And I don’t appreciate you sending your bulldog to do your dirty work.”

  Duane was a bulldog? I sure loved that man. He’d made a promise to me then left an impression. “Well, if Dottie turns up dead, then you’ll be sorry, won’t you, Officer Fife.” I grabbed my purse and lunged to my feet. “Sometimes, you need to listen to the wisdom of other people.”

  “When I see a wise person, I will.”

  Ugh. I slammed his door shut behind me. With over an hour before I had to report to work, I decided to visit a little boutique down the street, with the hopes of finding a few things to liven up my wardrobe. Wouldn’t Duane be pleased to see me dress as a woman instead of a teenage boy? Yet, the darling man loved me anyway.

  A chime sang out as I opened the boutique door. Immediately a myriad of colors and textures assaulted my senses, sending me into overload. A girl with dyed black hair, a piercing in her eyebrow, and another in her lip, kind of smiled, if you can call a grimace a smile, and welcomed me. “Welcome to Heaven’s Fashion. I’m Amber. May I help you?”

  Somewhat at ease because Heaven was in the store name, I smiled back. “I’m lost. I’d like to dress my age, yet attractive.” How could a Goth princess possibly help me?

  “Our women’s department is over here. We have several sundresses you may like, along with walking shorts, capris, and some blouses on our clearance rack. Warmer clothing is over here.” Amber led the way to the back of the store.

  These clothes were more to my taste. I riffled through them, almost excited to be shopping, and thankful I’d chosen to go alone. My mother would have me dressing like her. Elastic waistband pants, flowing skirts, and gauzy blouses. “I’ve never heard of this boutique,” I said. “I’ve only seen the sign in the window. Maybe y’all should put an advertisement in the paper.”

  She shrugged. “My mom might be interested. She isn’t here now.”

  “Here’s my card.” I pulled the craft store’s business card from the bib of my overalls. “Have your mother call me if she’s interested.”

  “Would you like to try something on?” Her phone rang out a heavy metal tune. “Just a sec.” She answered it. “Hey, Danny. I can’t talk right now. Got a customer. Call me later.”

  I hung several outfits over my arm. “I’d like to try these on. Was that Danny Vera?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “He’s helping my stepfather build a room onto our store. A real quiet boy, isn’t he?” I stepped back while she unlocked one of the fitting rooms.

  �
��Until you get to know him. But I like my men quiet and broody. Makes them mysterious.” She pushed the door open. “Let me know if I can help you with something else.”

  I wanted to ask Amber more questions about the young man I’d almost run over, but if I’d thought Danny sullen, she took first place. Instead, I marveled at how much better I looked out of my overalls. Why hadn’t I noticed how much weight I’d lost? Probably because the overalls were shapeless, and I’d been so busy, I had little time to head to my main source of stress relief. My M&Ms.

  Thirty minutes later, and several hundred dollars poorer, I left the store with the beginnings of a new wardrobe. I couldn’t wait for Duane to see me in one of the dresses.

  I went to work and stashed my bags under the counter, trying to ignore the sound of hammering. Would Leroy and Danny ever finish?

  “What’s all that?” Mom carried in two glasses of tea.

  “I went shopping.”

  “What are you shipping?” She handed me a glass.

  “What?” I guzzled the sweet tea like a woman dying of thirst. I never realized how parched you get when shopping.

  “What?”

  I stared at her like she’d gone mad, which at moments, wasn’t such a long stretch. “Clothes! I went shopping for new clothes.”

  She remained impassive for a minute, then pulled a wad of cotton out of her ears. “That hammering is going to drive me nuts. You went shopping? Thank the good Lord!” She pulled out one of my new dresses. “This is lovely. So glad you finally took my advice.”

  “Danny’s girlfriend works there. Strange girl, but nice.” I tied my apron around my waist and glanced around the store to see what crafts needed to be made. Still crowded. Moving to the order book, I flipped to the first page. Somebody wants a leprechaun? How was I supposed to make that? I pointed at the order. “Did you take this?”

  “Who else would take it?”

  “Any ideas?” Mom might own the store, but most of the crafts were a result of my two hands.

  “A time-out doll that looks like a leprechaun. Sew a green outfit, go to the party store for a hat, and glue on some orange hair and beard. There, you have it.”

  Sure, easy for her to say. I searched our book of patterns for a toddler boy’s short suit. St. Patrick’s day wasn’t for almost a year. Why would these folks want one now? Sometimes, I thought Mom had a personal agenda: to kill me. Good thing I had a couple of time-out babies in the closet from a canceled order. All I’d have to do would be to change the clothes.

  “Those people are having some kind of Irish party. You know me, I don’t ask a lot of questions.” Mom looked out the backdoor. “Who’s that woman?”

  And some people suffered from delusions. I joined her. “That’s Darla from the newspaper.” What was she doing here? I opened the door and stepped outside. “Darla? Is something wrong with my column?”

  “No. I’m here to check on my son. You slave drivers have him working all day.”

  “Danny’s your son?”

  “Didn’t I just say that?” She stomped over to where he sat on a folding stool, nursing a glass of tea. That boy could keep Lipton in business all by himself.

  “Don’t embarrass me, Mom.” Danny stood. “I told you I get off at five, same as any other worker. Same as you.”

  “But you’re only twenty-four. That’s too young for such long hours.” She patted his cheek. “You should be out having fun. And not with that girl you’re seeing. Someone…else.”

  Interesting. Momma didn’t seem to like Amber. Once you got past the piercings and dark clothes, she didn’t seem too bad. Besides, if I’d learned anything from being a mother, it was that the child would gravitate to the very thing I wanted her away from.

  “Leave it be!” Danny threw the red plastic cup that had once held his drink. It landed at his mother’s feet, splashing the buff-colored pumps she wore. “Don’t you tell me to do enough things?”

  “Nothing that doesn’t need doing, Danny.” Darla straightened her shoulders and marched away, leaving the rest of us silent, and with our mouths hanging open.

  “Go on, boy.” Leroy wiped his hands on a rag that looked as if it had been run over by a truck. “Your mama needs you. This room will be here tomorrow. Now that the boards are all cut, we can set up the walls in the morning.”

  Thank goodness. If the weather held, they should be finished in a week. Hopefully by the next quilting get-together. Too many more days of hammering, and I might just nail my head to the floor.

  Danny followed his mother, and Mom and I went inside. “Seems kind of early for her to pick him up, doesn’t it?” Especially considering it was only a little past one.

  “He’s twenty-four, for crying out loud. Not a child. You had a baby by his age.” Mom grabbed the broom and started sweeping. “Women who coddle their offspring make me furious.”

  “It’s really none of our business.” I searched the shelves for a bolt of emerald green fabric. Nada. “Do you have any green fabric at your house? I really don’t want to go to the store.”

  “I might.” She leaned on the broom handle, crushing the bristles. “I told Leroy that come this summer, we could buy an RV. You sure you’re okay with that? If you’d set a wedding date, then I’d have a better idea of when we could actually leave.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Because, once you’re Duane’s problem, I don’t need to follow you around on your crime-solving adventures.”

  Chapter Ten

  First game of the season. I sat on the bleachers, prepared for the weather in long pants, a blanket folded under me to cushion the hard metal seat, a serving of nachos beside me, and a cold diet soda in my hand. It might still be a bit warm during the day, but the nights had a tendency to cool off. Maybe I should focus on shopping for some stylish jeans and long-sleeved tees.

  Duane turned and scanned the bleachers. Finding me, he waved. I gave him a thumbs-up, trying to ignore Stacy, who grinned beside him like some deranged cheerleader. There to take notes on the game, I was sure, once she got finished ogling my man.

  So be it. Duane either loved me or he didn’t, and I was pretty sure he did. Mom was right. Life was too short to be spent on jealousy when there was no reason.

  Lindsey strolled by with one of her friends. They stopped along the fence. Most likely to stare at River Valley’s quarterback, Bobby. Lindsey wouldn’t tell me why they broke up, and I didn’t ask. She’d tell me in due time.

  Danny and Amber shuffled by, the bored look on their faces exactly like so many of their generation. Young people seemed to think it was a cool look. That young man acted like a teenager and looked like a teenager. Finding out he was twenty-four came as a shock. But, if the one time I saw him and Darla together was any indication, the woman refused to loosen the apron strings.

  The ball was airborne: River Valley Copperheads received and made their first down. I picked up my nachos, desperately trying to enjoy the taste, knowing they’d land right on my hips. A girl had to break her diet once in a while, and football season was as good an excuse as anything.

  Interception! The Copperheads were going to have to get it together if they wanted to win. I leaped to my feet, yelling, sending my dinner sliding between the bleacher seats to the dirt below. Now, I’d have to climb under there to pick up my garbage. I pouted and plopped back to a sitting position, trying to locate the spilled nachos through the space between the boards.

  “The game is on the field,” Mom said as she and Leroy took their seats next to me. “We’re late.” She smiled and gave Leroy a glance I’d rather not interpret.

  “It’s still the first quarter. We gave the ball away.”

  “We’ll get it back.” Leroy situated himself on his bleacher chair and set a small cooler at his feet.

  “How’d you get that in here?” The watchdogs at the gate prohibited anyone bringing in their own food and drinks.

  “I have connections.” He winked.

  “I
lost my supper. Do you have anything in there to spare?” I kept my gaze locked on the blue and white cooler.

  “Your mom has hot dogs in her purse.”

  Mom pulled out a foil wrapped dog from the quilted bag slung over her shoulder. “I figured you’d be hungry. You always are.”

  “You know me so well.” I unwrapped the dog and took a bite of spicy mustard and relish. Just the way I liked my hot dogs.

  “You dropping your nachos was God’s way of telling you not to eat garbage.” Mom handed Leroy his own wrapped meal.

  Somehow, I doubted God would go to such extremes, but Mom was right. I needed to eat healthier, and chips drowned in canned cheese sauce didn’t qualify. But they sure were good.

  By the end of the first quarter, the Copperheads were up by one touchdown, and my stomach hurt from two hot dogs and a bag of chips. When would I learn to pace myself?

  Bobby leaned across the fence and talked to Lindsey until Duane called him away. Lindsey turned toward the bleachers, a wide smile on her face. Hmmm. I decided to head under the bleachers to collect my napkin and nacho box before asking my daughter why the grin.

  After collecting the trash from Mom and Leroy, I headed down the bleachers and to the nearest trash can. Under the bleachers, I scanned the area for a stick or rock big enough to scrape up my mess. No way was I touching the nachos with my bare hands. Not after they’d been lying in the dirt for thirty minutes.

  “I told her I didn’t want to, but she won’t leave me alone.”

  I froze, trying to discern where the voice came from. It was a young man, of that I was certain.

  A girl answered. “You need to stand up for yourself. I don’t know what it is that has you so bothered, but no one should be able to dictate your actions. Not at your age, at least.”

  A sense of de ja vu came over me. During the last mystery I’d been involved in, I’d found myself under the bleachers eavesdropping. Maybe the police should take up this line of investigating.

  “Hey, Mrs. Steele. What are you doing?”

  I sighed and closed my eyes, recognizing the voice of the mascot, Timmy Weldon. Why wasn’t he on the field? Now, I’d learn nothing more tonight. “Hi, Timmy.” The voices had stopped. I scooped up the nachos the best I could and climbed through the poles holding up the bleachers. “Good game, isn’t it?”