Advance Notice (A River Valley Mystery, book 2)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “I’m willing to accept the fact you’re on to something, yes.”

  “Come on, Bruce. Dottie needs police protection.”

  He reached for a stained coffee mug and eyed me over the rim. “She hasn’t been shot at and threatened. You have.” He took a sip and set the cup down. “We have the bare minimum of police here, Marsha. Me, and a recently hired part-timer. Are you willing to give up your protection for Dottie’s?”

  That was a tough question. It shouldn’t have been. I should have leaped to my feet, fist in the air, and shouted, “Yes, give Dottie the protection.” Instead, I remained quiet. Dottie had a few more weeks before her deadline. My danger was immediate. “Can’t you temporarily have some officers come down from Little Rock?”

  “Everyone has cut back on personnel.” Bruce leaned back in his chair. “We may have had our differences in the past, and you may make me want to shoot myself on occasion, but I’ll do my best to keep you walking this earth.”

  His words warmed my heart. He did care. I blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t start blubbering.” He rolled back in his chair and crashed into the wall behind him. “I can’t stand crying women.”

  “I’m leaving.” Sewing and crafts might be difficult to manage, but I could at least work the register at the store. I’d also decided to add last night’s happenings to my gossip post. Nothing better to divert attention from me as the writer, than by putting in something about myself.

  I headed down the street toward the coffee shop. A late night warranted a big Venti-sized coffee. My hand had throbbed into the wee hours of the morning and kept me from a deep sleep. I used my hip to push open the door, then stepped inside, relieved to see Duane wasn’t interviewing with Stacy.

  Instead of heading straight to Country Gifts from Heaven, I sat at a small table outside the coffee shop and watched the cars drive past. I’d promised Duane last night I wouldn’t go anywhere alone. Sitting in plain sight of River Valley’s residents definitely wouldn’t count as alone. Probably everyone who drove past could tell you what time they’d seen me and what I was wearing.

  I ran my good hand down the dark jeans I wore. Definitely better than my overalls. Paired with the cranberry sweater set, I looked better than I had in a long time, and of course, Duane was nowhere around. Being a Saturday, I’d hoped to run into him at the coffee shop. I glanced at my watch. Nine o’clock. Most likely he’d be in soon. My man was as regular as clock work, and if we hadn’t made a date for Saturday morning coffee at my place, it was always at the coffee shop.

  A Ford 150 truck cruised into a space in front of me. Duane climbed out, giving me a glimpse of scuffed cowboy boots, then long denim clad legs, before the ripple of muscles through a black tee, as he closed the truck door. He sauntered over to me and kissed my cheek. “Why are you sitting out here in view of everybody?”

  “You told me not to be alone. This is as public as I could get.”

  “I’ll get our drinks and be right back. You look great.” After glancing up and down the street, he shoved through the shop doors.

  His worry made me nervous, but I could be shot inside as well as outside. At least out here, there was less tendency for an innocent bystander to get in the way. My skin crawled with invisible bugs as I tensed and waited for something, anything, out of the ordinary.

  Duane returned with our coffees and sat next to me. “Your mom is watching out the window.”

  “I know.” I waved and watched her pull back behind the display of quilts. “She’s worried about it.”

  “We all are.” He took my hand in his. “After the last time… well, I’d rather not think about that.”

  “Other than Nina coming to ask for my help, I didn’t go looking for this. But then, seeing Dottie’s name…well,” I sucked on my straw. I really had no idea what to say. This case came to me. None of my family members were being fingered for a crime they didn’t commit. I had absolutely no reason to be involved, other than a woman’s cry for help. A woman I’d failed to keep safe.

  “I understand, and I know why you feel you need to solve this.”

  Did he? Because I certainly didn’t. I’d done very little sleuthing, come to think of it, yet someone still tried to kill me.

  “Did you fill out the report at the police department?” Duane pulled his gaze from the road and fixed it on my face.

  “Yes, right before coming here. Bruce is actually starting to believe something fishy is going on.”

  “Good. Before you head to work, I want you to have your hand checked out.” Duane stood and pulled me to my feet. “I cleaned it as well as I could, but not as well as a doctor.”

  “Fine, but just take me to the Little Clinic in the drug store. There’s no point in sitting for hours at the doctor’s office or urgent care.” Usually I balked at anything to do with seeing a doctor, but considering how much my hand throbbed, I was actually hoping for some pain meds.

  Duane escorted me down the block to the drug store. I’d never visited the clinic inside, but townspeople have raved at the convenience. Ten minutes later, I sat in a small back room with a smiling woman wearing a white lab coat.

  “Mrs. Steele, what have you managed to do to yourself?” She carefully unwrapped my hand and tsk-tsked. After flushing the cuts with some type of solution, she put on a pair of magnifying glasses and picked up some tweezers. “Whoever cleaned this did a good job, but missed a few little strays. Once I get these picked out, I’ll give you a shot of antibiotics, a prescription for pain meds, and send you on your way. Butterfly Band-Aids should be enough. I don’t think you need stitches.”

  Wonderful. People were right. How nice not to sit for hours in an emergency room or urgent care for something minor.

  “There.” She rewrapped my hand. “Try to take it easy for a couple of days. Don’t use your hand, and you should heal up just fine.”

  “Thank you.” I took the prescription and headed back to the waiting area where Duane waited. “Looks like I’ve got a couple of days to sit around on pain meds and rest.”

  “Good. You could use it.”

  “Mom won’t be happy. This will leave her short-handed.” At least I’d be back to work by next Thursday, when the quilting group met again. “And being stuck at home will put a damper on collecting gossip.”

  “Let’s catch some lunch while your prescription is filled.” Duane escorted me down the road to Wanda’s diner. Normally, all the walking along Main Street had no effect on me, but that day, my body dragged. Exhaustion covered me like a humid blanket. Sitting down sounded like heaven.

  Once inside, I slid with a sigh into a booth and laid my head back. “Order me a BLT on wheat with avocado, french fries on the side, and a diet soda. I’m beat.”

  “Maybe I should take you home and bring your prescription to you.” Duane’s eyes focused with concern on mine.

  “No, I still need to eat before taking a pill. Otherwise, my stomach—”

  “How dare you!” Stacy marched to our table and planted her palms flat with a slap onto the Formica top.

  I pushed back against the red vinyl seatback. “What?”

  “Your column and my chest. How dare you post something so outrageous?” Her face turned so scarlet, I feared for her blood pressure.

  “Need I remind you that it’s a gossip column?” Wanda, owner of the diner, set our drinks in front of us and took a few steps back, clearly more interested in Stacy’s tirade than in retrieving our lunch. “People don’t take it serious. They only read it for fun.”

  “You had implants?” Wanda asked. “Can’t hardly tell.” She stabbed a finger at Stacy’s chest. “Are they real?”

  Stacy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, before her steely gaze swung back to me. “Don’t touch me. Watch it, Marsha. You’re treading on thin ice.” She tried to stomp away on her four inch heels, but only succeeded in wobbling a bit on her way to the door.

  “This is why you can’t be left alone for even five
minutes,” Duane pointed out. “Stacy is not someone you want to make your enemy.”

  I shrugged. “We were never friends to begin with.”

  “Uh-oh. That’s my cue.” Wanda motioned her head toward the door where Dottie barged inside. “She looks madder than a hatter, and I’m not in the mood.”

  Dottie made a beeline for our table and scooted in beside Duane. She took a deep breath and expelled through her nose, before folding her hands on the tabletop, staring with wide eyes at me. “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. Is your mother the new gossip columnist?”

  Not exactly the question I’d expected. “No, ma’am, I’m pretty sure she isn’t. Why?”

  “Someone posted about me being on a dead line, no pun intended, and how I believed I’d win the retirement pageant again this year. Who else but your mother would post that?” Her penciled eyebrows moved to peaks.

  “Well…” I took a sip of my soda, enjoying the cool carbonation before answering. “The quilting group were all present when you were talking about the pageant.” They were there, weren’t they? I couldn’t remember for sure. I looked to Duane for help, but he suddenly became interested in the burger Wanda sat in front of him.

  “Hmmm.” She tapped a fingernail the color of poppies against her dentist-whitened teeth. “I didn’t think any of them knew about the obituary, but anything’s possible. Especially with the fuss your mother was making.”

  “Dottie, I think you may want to talk to Bruce.” Duane came out of his burger stupor and laid a hand over her wrinkled one.

  Her face flushed like a young girl’s. I grinned. My man had that effect on women. “I don’t care to speak to that man.”

  “But, darling, he’s beginning to feel concerned about your safety as well as the rest of us.” Duane gave her a tender smile. “For me. Talk to him.”

  “You, sir, are a good-looking rascal with a silk tongue. Flattery drips from your lips.” Dottie slid her hand free. “But you know as well as I do that our esteemed Officer Barnett is not capable of keeping a kitten safe, much less a feisty old lady. He even locked Nina in jail, little good it did, though.” She shook her head, then stood. “No, I’ll take my chances. Since Gertie and Marsha have warned me, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

  “You mean…you believe us?” I couldn’t believe the masquerade she’d put on.

  “I’d be silly not to. No, Gertie and I love to spar with each other. We’ve been doing it for years.” She tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Lunch is on me. You two young people are good for an old woman’s soul.”

  I slid from the booth and motioned for Duane to stay before I followed Dottie outside. “Someone shot at me last night.” I held up my bandaged hand. “Luckily, they only got the glass. Please, be careful. And when that day number thirty comes, I’ll spend it with you at the mall. We’ll stay in a public place. You’re right. The River Valley police can’t keep us safe.”

  Dottie patted my cheek. “You’re a doll, and I’d love a day at the mall with you. But sweetie, when it’s my time, it’s my time. I’m an old woman. When God calls me home, I’ll go.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I understand her words, but realized that as much as I loved my heavenly Father, I wasn’t ready to go to that mansion in the sky just yet. I waved as she climbed into a cotton-candy pink Cadillac and backed out of the parking spot without looking.

  A man I didn’t recognize, laid on his horn while flipping Dottie a gesture no gentleman would use toward a lady. He stuck his head out of the window. “Stupid old drivers! Ought to all be euthanized.” He roared into the spot she’d vacated, then got out of his truck.

  I stepped aside as the barrel-chested man barged into the diner. Duane came out a few seconds later, a paper bag in his hands. “You didn’t eat, so I had Wanda bag it for you. I want you to sit in my truck while I pick up your prescription.”

  “Do you mind dropping me off at the store, then picking me back up? I need to let Mom know I won’t be working today.” Thankfully, tomorrow was Sunday and the store would be closed.

  Duane dropped me off at Country Gifts, then left. I knew he’d be back within fifteen minutes, so I pushed through the door and struggled not to look as tired as I felt. “Mom?”

  “Back here.”

  I headed to the back room.

  Mom stood at the window, hands on her hips. “That kid, Danny, works hard, I’ll give him that. But sometimes, he just sits and stares at the ground like he doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

  I stepped beside her. Sure enough, Danny sat on a folding stool and stared at the ground between his feet. “Maybe he’s resting from all his work.”

  “Maybe. But something heavy rests on that boy’s mind.” Mom turned. “How’s the hand?”

  “Duane took me to the clinic. They cleaned it out, gave me a prescription for pain and antibiotics, and told me to rest for a couple of days. So, he’s coming to pick me up, and I’ll be at home the rest of the weekend. Can you manage?”

  “You bet. Go home and rest. I’ll check on you later.” Mom gave me a hug and then a gentle nudge toward the door. “Love you, sweetie.”

  Duane was just pulling up to the curb when I stepped outside. I climbed into the truck cab and closed my eyes. Duane patted my shoulder, then handed me a pill and a sip from his water bottle. “You’ll be home and in bed within ten minutes.”

  It wasn’t just my hand hurt that gave me pain and dragged me down, but that someone wanted to kill me. Add in that Dottie’s life was also in danger, and I didn’t know which way to turn to protect either one of us.

  Last time, the murderer had been someone I saw on a regular basis: A member of high-standing in the church. She’d been head of the women’s ministry. I ran through my mind everyone I knew that could possibly wire a house to blow up. I didn’t know anyone.

  Duane pulled the truck to the back of Mom’s house, making the distance to the cottage less. He thought of everything. By this time, my legs were starting to feel like rubber because of the pain meds, and I happily leaned on Duane’s arm while he half-carried me into the cottage.

  “Sofa or bed?” He pushed open the door.

  “Sofa, with the remote close by.”

  “You got it.” Duane settled me on the sofa, propped pillows behind my back, then headed to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a water bottle from the refrigerator. “Where’s Lindsey?”

  “I have no idea.” She’d been sleeping when I’d left the house that morning. “Maybe she’s still in bed.”

  “I’ll check.” He headed down the hall, returning seconds later. “Nope. I’ll text her to come home and take care of you until your mom gets off work. I have some football stuff to do.”

  “I’m not dying, Duane.” Yes, my hand felt like it was killing me, and I loved all the attention he poured on me, but I didn’t need a full-time babysitter for a few cuts. “I’m going to sleep, then watch some television. I’ll see you later.”

  He kissed me and left. I rolled over and gave in to the pain meds.

  *

  Loud voices woke me. Not angry, just voices trying to speak over the sound of a power tool. Tossing aside the afghan I’d covered with, I shuffled to the window and parted the curtains.

  “I’ll tell you right now, son.” Leroy wiped his face with a stained bandanna. “A man has to own up to his mistakes.”

  “What mistake?” Danny jerked, dropping the hammer. “How did you find out?”

  “The fact you nailed those two boards in the wrong place! Are you asleep? I can see your mistake with my own two eyes.” Leroy shook his head. “You swore you didn’t smoke any of that loco weed, but sometimes I wonder.”

  Danny visibly relaxed. Yep. Someday, that boy and I were going to have a long chat so I could ferret out his secrets.

  I stepped onto my tiny porch, more like a stoop really. “Leroy, what are y’all doing?”

  “Sorry, sweetie. Didn’t know you were home. I guess we’re making quite the racket out
here.” Leroy clicked off the sander. “Your mother wanted the back porch rails smoothed and repainted. Since the back room is almost finished at the store, and she complained of a headache, I thought I’d use Danny for another hour or two. He doesn’t mind the extra money, do you, boy?”

  Danny rolled his eyes and shrugged. “My mom is probably pacing the floor right about now. If I’m not home when she gets there, she starts to worry.”

  “A man your age shouldn’t have to worry too much about that. It isn’t good to rely on your mother too much at your age.” Leroy pointed at a stack of wood beside the back porch. “Check those for warped pieces, then go on home.”

  Obviously, I wasn’t going to get anymore rest. I moved back into the house, grabbed my bag of M&Ms from the cookie jar, and settled in front of the television with a chick flick. I might as well try to enjoy the rest of my day.

  Leroy might be noisy, but I felt a whole lot better knowing I wasn’t alone. The afternoon passed with the sound of sawing from outside and vows of love from the TV. Occasionally, I’d glance at the clock to check the time, wondering where Lindsey was, but at the almost tender age of sixteen, she flew off the handle when I asked too many questions. She had a dinner curfew and a night time curfew, and woe to the one who checked on her before those times.

  The closer she got to becoming an adult, the more of a stranger she became. Was every teenage girl such a nightmare? Last mystery we’d been involved in, Lindsey couldn’t wait to help me solve it. Neither could Mom. Maybe that’s why I was getting nowhere fast. The three Callahan women weren’t together.

  I sat up and grabbed my cell phone off the coffee table, then texted Mom and Lindsey for a meeting right after supper. With it being Saturday night, my daughter might balk a bit, but I was hoping she’d be thrilled at helping us brainstorm.

  Seconds later, I received a text from my daughter saying, ‘If I have to’ and one from my mother saying she’d bring cake and coffee. Maybe I should have texted her first, then relayed her message to Lindsey. Cake could sway the toughest opponent.

  The hours until the meeting time of seven o’clock dragged, despite Duane bringing pizza and Lindsey actually coming home in time to eat. Since she loved her uncle, conversation wasn’t stilted as I’ve heard it could be with prospective step-parents. But…she did get a glint in her eye when he spoke to her in a gruff voice about her attitude. How would she act if we decided to have another child?