by S F Bose
Despite the help, the Bean Family B&B struggled for the first few years. We built a clientele, but it was very slow. When Grace eventually divorced her husband, Addie immediately invited her back home with an offer of managing our B&B. Grace was ecstatic and came back to Mystic Grove with Ryan, Chloe, and Olivia, her three children. They moved into the coach house, their new home. Grace’s return was a miracle because she turned the B&B around and made it a genuine success. My younger sister, Katie, and I became fast friends with Grace’s kids and had our own band of playmates.
Even after my parents divorced four years ago, Martin and Cecille remained friends with both of them and with Addie and Nana Anna. They continued to visit the B&B for dinner and conversation with my family.
I felt a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. Shaking my head, I went back to work and tried to push Damian out of my mind.
Chapter 9
When Sam returned at 3:00 p.m., I joined him in his office and sat in the nearest guest chair.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I gave him my best pitch, but he was a hard guy to read. We’ll have to see if he calls,” Sam replied, hanging his parka and then his suit jacket in the small office closet. He carried his Glock 22 on his right hip in a Bullhide holster on his belt. The holster had an FBI cant that angled the gun about twenty degrees forward, which made it easier to draw.
“Those bags are for you,” he said, nodding at his desk.
I looked toward his desk and saw two bags with the Village Tavern logo. I jumped up and grabbed both of them.
“What is it?” I asked, opening the first bag.
“It’s a BLT sandwich, two bags of chips, and a Sprite Zero. Given your obsession with bacon, I knew I couldn’t go wrong,” he replied and smiled.
My stomach growled as I inhaled the sweet smell of bacon. “You are the best boss ever! Thank you!” I said, scooting my chair up to his desk. I arranged the sandwich, chips, and napkins on the flattened bags. I grabbed a coaster for the soda. He was right about bacon. I was obsessed.
“You had a call while you were gone,” I said. Sam had removed his tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. He sat in his big padded chair and sighed.
“Really? Who?” he asked. I offered him some chips, but he shook his head.
Between small bites of the BLT, I related the conversation with Damian from start to finish.
“I was afraid of this. He said to call his cell?” Sam asked and I nodded. He pulled out his cellphone and called Damian. I stood up to go but he waved me back and I sat down again.
“Mr. Fletcher? Sam Nolan. I got your message,” Sam said and listened.
“No, I’m sorry we don’t have that information. He used a pseudonym at the motel. He covered his tracks really well. I’d expect now he’ll be even more cautious.”
Sam listened again and then replied, “Well, in my experience talking to him may not be the best idea.” He looked at me and arched his eyebrows as he listened to Damian’s reply.
“Pay him, you mean? I don’t know if that would be wise, either,” said Sam. “But it’s a moot point. We have no idea who he is.” Once again, he was quiet and listened to Damian.
“No, sir, those were the best photos we got. I deleted the others.” At that point, he pulled the phone away from his ear. I heard Damian shouting. When Sam brought the cellphone to his ear again, his eyebrows shot up again. He put the phone on his desk.
“He hung up?” I asked and Sam nodded.
“Do you think Fletcher is capable of violence?” he asked. I spread my arms out, palms up.
“Today was the first time I talked to Damian in years. The man I remember was shy but friendly. Addie said he was warm, friendly, and had a great sense of humor. When I talked to him today, he was up and down like a yo-yo.”
Sam nodded and stared at a point on the far wall. “Well, it’s possible the affair has him going nuts. I don’t like that he’s trying so hard to get Finn’s name, though. What really worries me is a man with Fletcher’s money could hire someone to find Finn and hurt him.”
I felt a frisson of fear. “Damn. I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think you should call Finn and warn him?
Sam thought about it and then nodded. He found Finn’s name in his phone contact list, and called him. While he did that, I inhaled the second half of the BLT.
“Hey Finn, this is Sam. Sorry I missed you. Listen, Damian Fletcher called the office today. He’s trying to find out your name, which we didn’t give him. He’s angry and he’s looking for you. We wanted you to know. Be careful. Talk to you later.”
Sam ended the call and spun his cellphone on his desk. Then he looked at me and said, “I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.”
After checking his watch, he stood up. “I have some email and paperwork to catch up on. Are you still doing background checks?”
I stood and stretched. “Yeah, I have three to go. I want to get them done today,” I said. “Thanks again for lunch.”
I brought the remains of my meal back to my office. As I nibbled on a chip, I thought briefly about the love triangle of Damian, Sherry, and Finnegan. Finnegan wanted Damian out of the way. Damian was trying to find Finn. Any way I looked at it, it felt like a disaster waiting to happen.
Chapter 10
I was engrossed in my final computer search of the day, when colored lights suddenly pulsed on my desk and on the office wall across from me.
Sam shouted, “Liz, come here!”
With an adrenalin surge, I jumped up. I yanked the connecting door open and ran into his office, my hand on my Glock. I quickly scanned the room. Nobody else was there except Sam. I dropped my hand and looked at Sam. He stood at one of his windows, the blinds pulled up, and flashing lights coming in from outside. I hurried over.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Something happened at the Emporium.”
I looked outside. County sheriff cars and Mystic Grove police cars sat at various angles around the Emporium. Blue and red LED strobe lights pulsed from the light bars on the police vehicles. The sun had set over an hour ago and the darkness intensified the flashing police lights. I squinted to see more clearly. A small crowd of people stood outside the Saucy Shop, staring at the Emporium.
“I’m getting my coat,” I said and ran back to my office. After pulling on my parka, trapper hat, and gloves, I hurried to the front door, where Sam was waiting.
We raced down the hall and clattered down the stairwell steps to the first floor. When we pushed out the front door into the frigid night air, we both stopped to catch our breath. Sam pulled up his parka hood and jammed his hands into his pockets. I snapped my trapper hat closed. Then we ran across Bridge Road.
As we got closer to the Antiques Emporium, I saw an ambulance parked along the east side of the building with the big Crime Scene Unit van parked behind it. In the small municipal parking lot west of the Emporium, the Medical Examiner’s vehicle sat on an angle. Deputies were searching the area in front of the Emporium.
“God, I hope it’s not Peter and Martha,” I said. Abbie had said Peter and Martha Church were visiting Madison and due back sometime today.
“Me too,” Sam agreed.
We stopped on the other side of Bridge Road and scanned the people around the house.
“There’s Matt,” Sam said. I followed his glance and saw Matt Durand, the Chief of Police of Mystic Grove, standing near the front porch. He was listening to an animated man I didn’t know. Born and raised in Mystic Grove, Matt was two years older than me. He was the first boy I ever kissed in high school. After he graduated, he enlisted in the Marines and we lost touch.
When the stranger stalked away toward the Saucy Shop, I blasted a loud whistle, using my thumb and forefinger. It was piercing.
“And yet another skill is revealed,” Sam muttered. I cut him a dirty look.
Matt looked around. “Mattie,” I shouted and waved. He saw me and flashed h
is killer smile. When he saw Sam, the smile dimmed a bit. He strode over. Matt was six feet tall, muscular, and in his late 20’s. He still had the ramrod straight military bearing he acquired in the Marines. He wore an olive green knit hat with “Police” in white lettering on the front and an olive-green police parka over his uniform. He reminded me of his dad who had been the police chief before him.
“Lizzie. Nolan. What are you doing here?” Matt asked, stopping in front of us. He looked at me and smiled again.
“We saw the lights and all. What happened?” I asked.
“Now Lizzie,” he said.
“Matt, please. We won’t say a word,” I said. “We’re just worried about Peter and Martha.”
Matt exhaled through his mouth. A condensed cloud of vapor puffed out from his mouth and disappeared. “Okay, it’s probably hit the rumor mill already anyway. Justin Church is dead.”
“Justin?” I repeated in surprise.
“Natural death?” Sam asked.
Matt looked at him and shook his head. “Not very natural. That’s all I can say, you know?”
Sam nodded. “Gotcha.”
“Peter and Martha?” I asked.
“They were on their way back from Madison when we reached them by cellphone,” Matt said. I had been holding my breath and exhaled in relief.
Then Matt looked at me. “I can’t say anything else. Gotta run. Good seeing you, Liz. Give my best to your family.”
“I will, Matt. You do the same. You should come out to the B&B. Everyone would love to see you,” I said.
“Thanks. I will,” Matt replied. Then he nodded at Sam and strode back to toward the house. I could feel Sam tensed up next to me.
I glanced at him. “I thought you two were friends. Did you have a fight or something?”
“About six or seven weeks ago, I solved a tricky case and Matt’s nose is still out of joint about it,” Sam replied. His jaw relaxed. “It’s okay. We’ll work it out eventually on the ice.”
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.
“Hockey,” he said sharply, “We play hockey with some other guys. The holidays messed up our schedule.”
I just shook my head and thought, Men! I will never understand them. Heaven forbid they should just talk to each other over lunch and work things out without body checking each other.
I looked back at the Emporium. “Justin. I didn’t see that one coming. When I walked over to the Farmhouse Café this morning, the ‘Closed’ sign was still up in the Emporium front window. What if the killer was in the house then?”
“We don’t know the time of death, yet. Hey there’s Newmont,” Sam said. Ron Newmont was a police deputy who worked for Matt Durand. Years ago, he worked with Sam as a County Deputy Sheriff and remained one of Sam’s good friends. Everyone called him by his last name. I saw Newmont leaving the Saucy Shop. When Sam shouted his name, he scanned the perimeter until he saw us. Then he ambled over.
Ron Newmont was in his late 30’s and moved deliberately. He was descended from Montana cowboys, spent his early years in Big Sky Country, and always looked like a man in search of a horse. He stood a little over six feet tall, had a weathered face, a thick, black chevron mustache, and a slight paunch. Newmont was perpetually calm in all situations, which made him a great police deputy.
He visited Sam at the office at least once a week. In his off-hours, Newmont usually wore a cowboy hat, flannel shirt, jeans, and western boots. Tonight, because of the cold weather, he wore his uniform under a green police parka with the hood pulled up over a green knit cap with “Police” on the front. When he reached us, he and Sam shook hands. Ron gave me a slow nod. I looked him in his blue eyes and nodded back.
“We heard it was Justin Church,” Sam said.
“It was,” said Newmont. He had a deep voice and spoke slowly with a slight drawl.
“Can you say how he died?” Sam asked.
Newmont looked over his shoulder. Then he looked back at us. “This is confidential, okay?” Sam and I both nodded. Newmont looked around again and said slowly, drawing out every syllable, “Justin had multiple gunshot wounds. He was also bruised like he’d been in a fistfight.”
“Anybody report gunshots?” asked Sam.
Newmont lowered his voice. “Not that I heard. The shooter must have used a silencer. The Farmhouse Café and Saucy Shop are in the same area and nobody said a word about gunshots.”
“Who called it in?” Sam asked.
Newmont looked at his notebook. “It was called in by... Mark Sweet at 5:20 p.m. He was pretty rattled.”
Sam frowned. “Mark Sweet. The name is familiar but I can’t place him.”
“Local builder and land developer,” I said.
“Do you know him?” asked Sam.
“It’s more like I know of him. He and his family go to the same church my family attends. And he and his family have been out to the B&B,” I said. Then I looked at Newmont. “Do you know time of death yet?”
Newmont shook his head. “No. The Medical Examiner just got here a few minutes ago.”
“So, self-inflicted, or otherwise?” Sam asked.
Newmont lowered his deep voice. “Otherwise.”
“This is why Mystic Grove should allow surveillance cameras in the historic district,” Sam said, frowning.
“Tell me about it. It would help in so many ways. Maybe this will drag the Village Board into the 21st century,” Newmont replied. He and Sam nodded at each other. Newmont was turning away when I asked,
“Hey Newmont, why was Mark Sweet at the Emporium?”
Newmont stopped and looked over at the Emporium again. “He said he came to talk to Justin about a possible business deal.”
“Thanks,” I said. That was curious. What business deal would Mark Sweet have with Justin Church?
We watched Ron walk back toward the Emporium. Then Sam and I hurried back across Bridge Road and into the Bowman Building.
“Did you know Justin?” Sam asked, as we trudged back up the stairs.
I shook my head. “Not really. I sometimes saw him at the Emporium when I was shopping. He was more of a business manager and worked in the office. Peter and Martha usually handled the customers.”
“I can’t picture him at all.”
I thought about Justin. “He was a big guy. Six feet tall with a barrel chest like Peter. He was in his late thirties and had reddish brown hair, starting to gray. He also had a mustache and goatee. Glasses. That’s all I remember.” We went through the stairwell door at the second floor and went back to the office.
“No, I can’t say I remember him. Was he connected to building or land development projects?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I thought he just worked at the Emporium.”
We went back into the office. “It’s so weird to think that a murder took place over there. So close,” I said.
“Yeah, too close for comfort,” Sam said, his eyebrows pulled together into a frown.
We decided to call it a night. I shut down my computer and slid the laptop into my messenger bag. Sam got his bag, closed his office, and waited at the front door. As we left, he activated the alarm and turned the lights off.
We walked downstairs in silence. When we got to our cars, we both looked over at the police scene. A murder that close was very sobering. I said goodnight to Sam and got into my Mini Cooper.
After warming the car, I headed back out through the small municipal lot and made a right turn onto Mystic Road. As I drove north, I thought about Justin’s murder. Had it been a botched robbery or something more personal? Then I thought of Peter and Martha and felt sad for them. They only had two children and Justin was the older of the two. What a nightmare for them.
When I arrived home, the coach house was dark. I clicked the garage opener and the door slid up, revealing an empty garage. I pulled Lulu into the middle space and turned off the engine. I watched the garage door slide back down and headed for the path.
Chloe and Olivia must
still be at their Mystic Grove business, THE Herb Shop. As long as there were customers, they kept the shop open. Olivia was the main herbalist and worked with our great grandmother, Bridey Shaw, to create herbal health and beauty remedies that they sold in the shop. Bridey grew many of the herbs they needed on the Shaw farm while Olivia maintained a smaller herb garden at the B&B. Chloe and Olivia also stocked the shop with natural products made by a network of trusted herbalists and companies. THE Herb Shop was popular and did a brisk business.
Chloe was the business mind behind the shop. She developed the original business plan, found the storefront for the shop, pooled her savings with Olivia’s for the start-up, and built a website for online sales. She also came up with the simple shop name, and argued that they should call it ‘THE Herb Shop,’ to stress it was the best shop for herbs. Her mind was always spinning about ways to improve and promote the shop.
When I opened the front door and snapped on the hall light, Snap and Sam, my two cats, were waiting for me. They were “cow cats” with black, white, and gray fur. Snap was bigger with beautiful eyes and a mellow disposition. Sam aka Sammy was smaller and still had a lot of feisty kitten in him.
“Hi guys,” I said, giving them both some quick pats.
After hanging up my winter gear in the hall closet, I walked down the front hall, past the stairs on the right, small bathroom on the left, and through the kitchen door.
Most of the coach house walls and woodwork were a warm white and the floors were red oak. The exception was the kitchen. A few years ago, Chloe and Olivia painted the walls and cabinets a very light gray to match the gray mosaic floor tiles. Then they worked in a lot of yellow accents. It was a warm and homey kitchen. I snapped on the lights and fed the cats. Since I wasn’t in the mood to cook, I toasted an English muffin, smeared it with peanut butter, and ate it while I leaned against the center island.
