by S F Bose
After eating, I couldn’t keep my eyes open and decided to turn in early. I left the front hall light on and went up the stairs to my bedroom. I slid my Glock into the nightstand drawer. Minutes later, I was in my pajamas.
I cracked open the door to the bedroom so Snap and Sammy could come and go during the night. Then I slid under the sheets and blanket and pulled the handmade top quilt to my chin. I thought briefly about Justin Church and then the Damian Fletcher case. There was more going on under the covers in Mystic Grove than I realized.
Minutes later, I felt familiar thumps as Snap and Sammy jumped up on the bed. They kneaded the quilt and settled next to me. I petted both of them and then fell into a deep sleep to the sound of their rhythmic purring.
Chapter 11
I was in the middle of a weird dream about Finnegan Daley stroking my cheek, when I woke up abruptly. I was on my back in bed and Snap was on my chest, purring and swatting my face with his paw. I laughed and hugged him. He rewarded me with slow blinks of his beautiful eyes, cat talk for “I love you.”
“O.k. buddy, give me a few minutes to wake up,” I said, getting out of bed. Sammy sat by the bedroom door watching us. His eyes were slits and his tail whipped back and forth. When I said, “Good morning, Sammy,” he threw himself on the rug and rolled over.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was 6:00 a.m. Maybe I could get a run in. Checking the weather on my phone revealed it was -16°F outside with the wind chill. I shivered and abandoned any thought of running. I also liked to box. After I moved into the coach house, I had hung a heavy bag and a speed bag in a small room off the kitchen. However, on a morning this cold, I couldn’t stir up the motivation to wrap my hands and get in a workout.
“Slug,” I muttered.
On my way to the bathroom, I stopped to give Sammy a tummy rub. He rewarded me with purrs. Then I took a fast, hot shower and dressed in jeans, a deep blue turtleneck sweater, and warm socks. I glanced at my hair in the mirror and fluffed the short pixie cut with my fingers. The silver-white color shimmered and I smiled.
Nate had loved my longer red hair and said it looked like fire. But it had been time for a change. I looked in the mirror again. My eyes glistened as they filled with tears. I growled and tucked into a boxer’s stance. I danced into the bedroom and jabbed at the air, sparring with my memories until they dissolved.
After ten minutes of shadowboxing, I stopped and bent forward, a hand on each knee. I caught my breath and splashed cold water on my face. Then I went to the nightstand and retrieved my Glock 19 from the drawer. I slid it into its Sticky holster inside the waistband of my jeans on my right hip. Snap and Sammy had abandoned me. I ran downstairs to the kitchen. Chloe and Olivia sat at the table in the breakfast room, just outside the kitchen.
“Morning,” I called out.
They both grunted. With the exception of my Aunt Grace, we were not morning people. Grace was a cheerful morning person. You’d never know Chloe and Olivia were her daughters or I was her niece. The rest of us were grumps in the morning.
“I fed Snap and Sammy,” Olivia said in a loud voice.
“You’re officially my favorite cousin,” I replied. Olivia giggled and Chloe snorted. Snap and Sammy glanced up from their food dishes in the kitchen and gave me dark looks. Then they went back to eating.
Shrugging, I made some toast and spread butter on top. Then I poured some coffee into my mug and loaded it with cream and sugar. I joined Chloe and Olivia at the table with my breakfast. They sat opposite each other. I took the chair next to Chloe.
I was facing the patio door and could see part of the fence line and meadow to the northwest. Straight ahead was the driveway and larger family garage. In the spring and summer, wildflowers filled the grassy area between the driveway, big garage, and fence line. Now, everything outside was muted shades of gray and brown.
I took a generous bite of toast, drank some coffee, and glanced at Chloe. She shoveled raisin bran into her mouth methodically. Chloe was a power eater and loved raisin bran with extra sugar. She was 24 years old, 5’ 4” tall, and voluptuous. She dyed her longer pixie cut blue to match her baby blue eyes. She was my trendy, normally high-energy cousin with a great mind for business. The high energy didn’t kick in until 10:00 a.m. or so. Chloe also had many sharp edges.
“What?” she snapped, catching me watching her eat.
“Nothing!” I snapped back. You had to be aggressive with Chloe or she’d roll right over you.
“How’s the PI gig going?” Chloe asked. “Get fired yet?”
I laughed. “Not yet. Did you guys get in late last night?”
“Yeah, we had a late rush of customers,” Olivia replied in her soft, melodic voice. She was the opposite of Chloe. Olivia was 22 years old, 5’ 5” tall, and reed thin. Her red hair fell in soft curls to her shoulders and her blue eyes exuded warmth. Once she was fully awake, Olivia was usually in a good mood. She was our young Earth mama who created herbal remedies, did tai chi, meditated, and had a university degree in folklore studies. While Chloe filled me with energy, Olivia calmed me. I looked at her across the table and smiled.
“That’s the price of popularity,” I said and they both groaned.
Olivia was eating muesli and berries. She chewed each mouthful slowly and thoughtfully, while staring at some point on the table. It was no wonder that Chloe was usually the first to finish a meal and Olivia was the last. It had been that way since we were kids.
I gritted my teeth. “I have some news.”
They both looked at me expectantly.
“What’s wrong?” asked Chloe.
I knew the gossip mill would probably be talking about the murder already. In addition, their shop wasn’t that far away from the Antiques Emporium. So I decided to tell them the truth. “No easy way to say it. Justin Church is dead. They found him yesterday in the Emporium. It looks like it was murder.” I said.
Their eyes bugged out in surprise and they said simultaneously, “What?”
Olivia shook her head. “Justin murdered? Who would want to kill him? He was a nice guy.”
“We had a murder in Mystic Grove. That’s scary,” Chloe said, her eyes still wide in shock. “Are Peter and Martha okay?”
I took a gulp of coffee. “Yes. They were in Madison. The police contacted them when they were on their way back.”
“How terrible,” said Olivia. “Do the police know who did it?”
“Not as of last night,” I replied and Olivia’s lips tightened.
“Justin was so...harmless,” said Chloe and Olivia nodded in agreement.
“Did you know him?” I asked, my eyes darting back and forth between them.
Olivia looked sad and tapped the wooden table with her forefinger. “He came into the shop once a month. He liked a blended herbal tea we carry. He always asked for good luck talismans, which we don’t carry. It became a joke, sort of.”
“What else do you remember about Justin?” I asked. ”Was there anything that might have made him a target?”
Chloe took a sip of her coffee and said, “Nothing specific. He could be overbearing sometimes. Like when he talked about developing some of the protected land around here, he’d go on and on about it. He didn’t know when to stop. Maybe he upset some of the conservation people?”
That was a possibility. Conservation of the wetlands and other undeveloped land was a hot issue in the area. There were people on both sides of the subject and debates about conservation usually ended up in intense arguments.
“Did Justin ever mention being involved in a development deal with anyone?” I asked, thinking of Mark Sweet.
Chloe frowned. “No. He’d talk about some of the proposed developments, but he never said he had a business interest in any of them.”
Olivia chewed her lower lip. “I felt sorry for him. Abbie mentioned once that he was divorced and had some failed businesses. That’s why he moved back in with Peter and Martha. Justin always made it sound like he moved back to help his
older parents. He didn’t always tell the truth.”
“He bragged too,” Chloe said. “He’d say that big things were going to happen for him, but he’d never say what. Then nothing would happen. After a while, I thought he was just puffing himself up.”
“It’s so scary to think there’s a murderer running around Mystic Grove,” Olivia said.
“The murderer has probably left the area already,” I said. “It’s also possible that someone targeted Justin.”
“You think so?” Olivia asked in a tight voice. I nodded my head and gave her an encouraging smile.
Chloe reached across the table and covered one of Olivia’s hands with hers. “Until they catch the killer, we’ll make sure that neither one of us is alone in the shop. We’ll also carry our pepper spray in our pockets. And we’ll drive into work in the same car too.”
Olivia’s face brightened. “That’s a good plan,” she said and patted Chloe’s hand.
We sat in silence for a bit. Justin sounded like a guy who had experienced a lot of bad luck in life and hoped for something, even magic talismans, to turn things around for him. Unfortunately, time and luck had run out for him.
Chapter 12
It was another gray, sub-zero, January day. I pulled Lulu into the small Bowman parking lot and parked next to Sam’s Jeep. With the engine off, I stared for a minute at the Antiques Emporium across the road. Crime scene tape now surrounded the building and a county sheriff’s cruiser stood guard on the east side of the building. I wondered where Peter and Martha had stayed last night.
With a shiver, I jumped out of the car, locked up, and ran toward the Bowman building. I took the stairs two at a time and was starting to warm up by the time I reached our office door.
“It’s me,” I called out above the door chime.
“Morning. Grab some coffee and join me,” Sam shouted.
“Will do.”
When I walked into his office minutes later with my steaming cup of caramel cappuccino, I saw a big bag from the Just Desserts Bakery sitting on the floor to the left of Sam’s desk. There were three, white pastry boxes on his desk. Sam hunched over a large piece of cake on a paper plate.
“Oh wow thanks Sam! I really needed this,” I said, setting my mug of coffee on his desk. He quickly reached for a coaster and slid it under my mug.
“Sorry,” I said. I pushed a guest chair closer to the desk. He slid a paper plate, plastic fork, and napkins over to me.
“You’re welcome. I needed it too,” he said, swallowing a piece of cake. He wore a faded pink and grey check flannel shirt unbuttoned over a black tee shirt and jeans. His gray tweed Irish cap sat on his head, as usual. However, there were dark shadows under his eyes.
I stood and looked in the three boxes. There was an assortment of cupcakes, donuts, and carrot cake nestled in bakery tissue paper. I slid a yellow cake cupcake with fudge frosting on the paper plate and sat down.
“You eat cake and pastries?” I asked, scooping a little fudge frosting into my mouth. A little moan slipped out but I nipped it in the bud. I glanced at Sam and saw a smile playing on his lips.
He nodded. “Sure, I eat cake if I have a taste for it. I’ll probably have the rest of the carrot cake later in the day. Unless you want it?”
“No, it’s all yours.” I washed down a bite of cupcake with coffee. I added cake and pastries to my mental list of the foods Sam would eat. “Did you sleep okay? You look tired.”
“I’m dog tired. Newmont called me late in the evening and gave me some information about the murder. It was hard to get to sleep,” he said. “Let’s enjoy breakfast first.”
“Sounds good. I got some insights from my cousins that I can share,” I said. I polished off the first cupcake and selected a second one. It was lemon cake filled with lemon cream and topped with sweet lemon icing. After the first bite, a heartfelt “Mmm” escaped my lips and Sam just laughed.
“I can’t help myself. This is a sinfully delicious cupcake,” I said, enjoying the mingling of the slightly tart lemon cream with the sweet lemon icing and cake. It was perfection.
After we finished eating, Sam leaned back in his chair and locked on my eyes. “Here’s the rundown from Newmont. They found Justin in the parlor of the Emporium. He had some facial bruising, so had been in a fight recently. We don’t have a Medical Examiner’s report yet, so Newmont didn’t know if the beating happened before the shooting or at the same time.”
“Did he die from the fight?” I asked.
“No. Justin also took a bullet to the stomach and a bullet to the chest. Looks like a third bullet went into the wall behind him. It embedded to the right of a window frame. They also found one 9mm shell casing.”
“Newmont still says nobody heard any gunshots?”
Sam nodded. “Nobody has reported any gunshots near the Emporium. Like Newmont said last night, the shooter must have used a suppressor.” I knew that suppressor was the technical term for a silencer.
“That doesn’t really narrow it down,” I said. “Quite a few hunters around here use suppressors. Some think they improve their aim when they hunt. Others use them in rural areas to hold down the noise when they shoot varmints or target shoot.”
“Very true.” I watched as he wiped some crumbs from his lips.
“Did Newmont say if Justin ever opened the Emporium yesterday?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“And Mark Sweet found him?” I asked.
“Right. Sweet told Newmont that he wanted to talk to Justin about a business deal. He got no response when he knocked on the Emporium front door. Then he called Justin’s cellphone and didn’t get an answer. Sweet left the porch and walked to the back of the Emporium where he found the door ajar. After going in, he found Justin dead on the floor of the parlor and panicked. Sweet told Newmont he was afraid the killer was still in the Emporium. He ran back outside and stopped to catch his breath. Then he kept running until he hit Founders Road. He stopped there for a while until he calmed down. Then he came back around the Saucy Shop until he was on the other side of Bridge Road near the Emporium. That’s when he called the police.”
“Do you know what time the call came in?”
Sam checked a sheet of paper on his desk. “5:20 p.m.”
“I wonder what the business deal was about.”
“Newmont didn’t say. He said Sweet was shaking badly yesterday, so they plan to talk to him again today,” said Sam. “They also talked to Peter and Martha and got the names of some people Justin’s had run-ins with.”
I shuddered. “Poor Peter and Martha.”
“That’s all I got,” Sam said and looked at me expectantly.
I filled him in on what Chloe and Olivia had told me about Justin.
“That’s quite a snapshot,” Sam said. “So Justin was overbearing about local land development, lied about being divorced, lied about being a failed businessman, and lied about why he moved back in with Peter and Martha. Then he bragged about great things that were going to happen for him, but they never crystalized.”
“Don’t forget the good luck talismans.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Right, the talismans. What does all of that tell you about Justin?” he asked. His eyes bored into me. A warning alarm went off in my head. Red alert! Red alert! This is a test. I quickly reviewed all of Chloe and Olivia’s points about Justin in my mind.
I spoke slowly, thinking it through as I talked. “He was a man who had experienced failure. He failed in his personal and work life and was embarrassed enough to lie about those failures. He also lied about why he returned home to live with his parents and work in their business. He was likely embarrassed about all of his failures. Nevertheless, he also had hope. He was a man who thought something big was going to happen for him, but was secretive about the details. Maybe he didn’t want to jinx it. It’s possible the big event was related to land development or Mark Sweet’s business deal. It could also have been something completely different. Justin was also sup
erstitious and willing to buy luck, if he could.”
Sam watched me, his mouth slightly open. Then he smiled and nodded.
“Very good. No offense to the deceased, but he profiles like a loser.”
Anger flared through my body. “Failing at some things doesn’t necessarily make him a loser. And why would anyone kill a failure or a loser?” I asked sharply.
Sam shrugged and stretched his legs. After a moment, he said, “Fair enough. It’s possible that the murder had nothing to do with anything in Justin’s life. Maybe it was just a random robbery gone bad. A shooter could have gone in, demanded money, and for whatever reason, things went south. Then he beat and shot Justin.”
I rolled that idea around in my head. It would explain both the beating and the shooting. However, the idea of a random murder almost made things worse. Justin’s life sounded like it had been a sad struggle lately. The idea that he might have died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time made his death even sadder.
Chapter 13
I was in my office later in the day when my cellphone rang. I picked it up and before I could say anything, I heard my mother’s voice.
“Liz, is that you? This is your mother.”
I wondered if all mothers announced themselves that way to their children. If I were in a coma, I’d know Mom’s voice. I could also tell she was upset.
“Hi Mom. What’s wrong?”
“We need your help, Liz. That Durand boy came out here to talk to Ben about Justin Church’s death.” I sat up straight in my chair. To Mom, the only real police chief was Matt’s father, who had retired. Matt would always be “that Durand boy” or “young Durand.”
“What? Why?” I asked. I heard my mother breathing rapidly into the phone. I could also hear Ben, her boyfriend, complaining in the background.
“It’s insane. Ben and I were at the Emporium two weeks ago. Justin and Ben got into a lively debate about a new development near Black Earth.”
