A Curio Killing

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “Keepsake Cove,” Callie said. “But I’ve been there a year.”

  “Oh yeah? Where’d you move from?”

  Callie said West Virginia, skipping the many other parts of the country she’d lived in after leaving Oregon.

  “My brother lives in West Virginia!” Dave went on to name the town, Berkley Springs, which Callie said she’d been to and liked. That brought on a lively listing of the pros and cons of the area, and by the time a stone-faced waitress delivered their food, Callie felt that she and Brian had become Dave’s new best friends. At least for the day.

  As they dug into their dinners, Dave tended to a few other customers. When he wandered back, Brian brought up Earl Smith’s name. “Is he here, by any chance? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “Earl?” Dave glanced around, shaking his head. “He might show up later. You looking to hire him for something? He does a little bit of everything, you know.”

  “That so?” Brian asked.

  “Yup. Works crew as a waterman, off and on. Does plenty of odd jobs.”

  “Do you know how I can reach him?” Brian asked.

  Dave rubbed his bristly chin, then turned to a man sitting across the way. “Joe! Got a number for Earl? This fellow wants to talk to him.”

  “A number? Uh-uh.” The leathery-faced man lifted his ball cap briefly to scratch his head. “He hangs around the Kentmorr Marina a lot. You might find him there.”

  Dave turned back to Brian. “Know where that is?” When Brian nodded, he added, “He’s probably looking to pick up jobs there. It must work, ’cause he’s in here most every night for a beer or two. Just your luck tonight isn’t one of them. At least so far.”

  Callie was disappointed for Brian, though she was enjoying her dinner as well as the casually friendly atmosphere. She understood its appeal to Lyle and Gavin and all the others. Despite its décor and the ratio of its current patrons, it wasn’t strictly a male gathering place. She spotted a few women chatting in the booths.

  She was nibbling one end of a French fry when Gavin Holder walked in and sat several seats away at the bar. When he spotted her, he didn’t look all that happy about it. He nodded but then turned away, making it clear he wanted to be left alone.

  Callie wasn’t surprised to see Gavin, but she blinked when, a little while later, Duane stepped through the door. She wasn’t sure why, except that the pub—even with its wide-ranging appeal—didn’t seem like Duane’s kind of place. She leaned back to be less noticeable, hoping Brian blocked any view of her as he held his burger to his face. She watched curiously. Duane glanced around and stopped at the sight of Gavin.

  “Holder,” he said, acknowledging him pleasantly. Gavin tilted his glass at Duane in response. Neither showed any interest in further conversation, and Duane continued on to an empty booth.

  “That’s surprising,” Callie murmured to Brian.

  “Hmm? What?”

  “Duane Fletcher just came in. He went to sit by himself in the booth over there.” She gestured subtly toward it.

  “Why is that surprising?” Brain asked, looking toward the booth, where all that was visible of Duane was a sliver of his left side.

  “Well, first because this place doesn’t seem quite his style. Then he goes and sits by himself in a booth instead of at the bar. He’s a talker. Gavin Holder would be the one I’d expect to want privacy. But Gavin’s sitting up front.”

  “Maybe Duane’s just here for the food. It’s pretty good. And he might want some time off. Even garrulous types get tired.”

  Dave came by and asked if they wanted another beer. Both declined, and Brian asked for the check. They were waiting for it when a new patron came through the door, on the thin side and wearing denims that had seen better days along with a faded ball cap. He grinned at one man who turned and greeted him with a straight-faced “hey!” and then exchanged a couple of halfhearted high fives before slipping onto a stool.

  Dave had his back turned, so the new arrival called out, “Hey, Dave, how about some service here!” He rapped on the bar jokingly.

  “Keep your shirt on,” Dave answered, handing Brian his bill before turning. “Hey, Earl! Wondered when you’d come by. Guy here’s been looking for you.” He jerked his thumb toward Brian.

  “Yeah?” Earl’s face lit up. He scrambled off his stool and came over to Brian and Callie. “What can I do for ya?” As he drew closer, Callie caught a strong fish odor. She also noticed at least one tooth missing in his eager smile.

  “Earl Smith?” Brian asked. “How about we take a booth. Can I get you a beer?”

  “Sure, sure, thanks!”

  Dave heard and started reaching for one of the cheaper brands, apparently the man’s usual. Earl asked instead for a draft Coors. He carried it to the empty booth Brian and Callie had moved to, two away from Duane, who was now giving his order to the waitress.

  Earl slipped in, his fishy aroma intensifying in the closer quarters. “So what can I do for you?” he asked again, before taking a swallow of his beer and wiping his mouth.

  “It’s not a job,” Brian clarified, to Earl’s obvious disappointment. “I wanted to ask you about the night this week you called for a tow truck. Wednesday, or actually very early Thursday morning, around two a.m.”

  “That tow’s paid up,” Earl quickly said. “I have the receipt.”

  He started reaching into his pocket for proof, but Brian stopped him. “That’s not why I’m here. What I need to know is if there was a particular reason your van ended up where it did. It was in front of my sister’s house.”

  “Huh? Oh, heck, no. It just happened. Engine belt broke, that’s all. Sorry if I woke her up.”

  “Belt broke?” Brian grimaced. ”Bummer.”

  “Yup. Here I am, out in the middle of nowhere, and my dash lights start dimming, then the power steering goes.”

  “That’s what happens with a belt problem.” Brian nodded. “Temperature gauge probably shot up, too, right?”

  “You’d better believe it.” Earl’s head bobbed up and down as Callie watched the bonding take place.

  “So it was just by chance that you stopped where you did?” Brian asked.

  “That’s it. Just rolled to a stop. Couldn’t do a thing about it.”

  “Lucky you had a friend come by. I mean, before the tow truck showed up.”

  “A friend?”

  “Right. The guy who helped unload your van?”

  Earl looked confused. Or was it nervousness? Whichever it was, instead of commenting, he dove into his beer for a long swallow. The stone-faced waitress appeared at their booth at that moment to ask if she could get them anything. Brian shook his head, waiting for Earl to respond. When he finally set down his glass and wiped the foam off his lips, he pulled up a gap-toothed grin.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you folks are thinking of someone else. Nobody was unloading my van. Nothing to unload.” He grinned and bobbed his head. “Wish there was. I could use the job. Sure you don’t have anything you want hauled?”

  “Not at the moment. But something might come up. Is there a way to reach you if it does?” Brian pulled out his phone and entered the number Earl gave him. “Any limits on what you’ll carry? Or distance?”

  “Nah, I’ll take anything you want, go anywhere, too. You pay, I’ll play.” He snorted and bobbed some more.

  “Well, great,” Brian said. “And if you need to reach me for any reason, I run the Keepsake Café.”

  “Oh, yeah, over in the Cove, right? I know someone from there.”

  “Lyle Moody?” Callie asked.

  “Moody?” Earl looked puzzled again, but then he nodded. “Yeah. He comes in here.”

  A dark figure suddenly loomed. Gavin Holder nodded briskly as the three of them looked up, then said, “Smith. I need help cutting down a tree tomorrow. You up for it?�
�

  “Yeah! Sure.” Earl scrambled out of the booth, taking his beer with him, and moved off without further comment, presumably to get Gavin’s details.

  Brian glanced at Callie wryly and shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s it.”

  Callie grimaced. “At least we enjoyed a good dinner.”

  They went back to the bar, where Brian settled his bill and added Earl’s beer to the tab. Callie caught Dave before he turned away.

  “Do you recognize this man? He might have been in here a week ago Saturday.” She held up the cell phone photo of Hank that she’d given Tabitha. “It would have been late in the evening, and he might have had too much to drink.”

  Dave took the phone and studied the photo but eventually shook his head. “Sorry, no. Friend of yours?” When Callie nodded, he said, “Then I hope you find him.”

  Callie thanked him, and she and Brian took off. It had been a long shot, since Hank had described driving farther away than this pub. But she’d had to try.

  Thirty

  So excited about your visit! Callie read the email from her mom with mixed feelings. It included the details of her flight reservation for Friday evening.

  Friday evening! It was coming up too soon. Leaving in four days meant leaving Hank behind bars and might effectively end her efforts to get him released.

  Still, she had four days left to work on getting Hank out. She had to look at it that way. And if her electricity wasn’t restored, there was less reason to open her shop, which gave her more free hours. Callie laughed ruefully at herself. That was positive thinking carried to the extreme and a denial of the problems the loss of business would cause for her, such as trouble paying her bills.

  But since it was Monday and all shops in Keepsake Cove were closed anyway, even those that hadn’t lost power, she could brush that concern aside and make the best of her free time. Doing exactly what, Callie hadn’t yet figured out. So she began by crossing over to Brian’s café for breakfast, which his chugging generator promised to make available.

  Several other shopkeepers were already seated in the café, their own cottages affected by the outage just like hers. They greeted her as she walked in. Callie glanced around for Howard Graham and was relieved not to see him, then remembered he lived outside of the Cove. She received smiles and a few friendly words from several shop owners, with no one blaming her for their inconveniences, which, logically, they shouldn’t. Howard, of course, didn’t always slow down for logic.

  Brian was bustling with the larger-than-usual crowd but still managed to whip up a plate of bacon and eggs for her within minutes. She was impressed but didn’t dare speak to him beyond the minimum, not wanting to throw off his rhythm. It was as she nibbled at her last piece of toast that Lyssa surprised her by walking in.

  “Wow! Full house,” Lyssa said, slipping onto the stool next to Callie at the counter. “I thought it’d be quieter on a Monday.”

  “You’re back!” Callie gave her friend a hug. She complimented her on the two TV appearances she’d watched, then explained the reason for the crowd at the café—the power outage—and told her about the fire that caused the outage.

  Lyssa’s jaw dropped. “Somebody tried to burn your house down?”

  “Well, maybe, maybe not.” The people who’d been sitting on either side of them at the counter had left, and the noise level in the café was high enough to cover her words, so Callie felt comfortable saying more. “It was definitely arson, but the fire was set under my electric meter. The boom from the transformer woke me up, along with half the neighborhood, in time for me to put the fire out. The intention might have been to cause enough trouble to keep me from asking questions.”

  “But what if that fire had really taken off?”

  Callie shook her head. “It didn’t. I’ll need a new meter and breaker, which is a pain, plus repairs on the siding. Nothing worse.”

  Lyssa looked at Callie as though amazed at her calm attitude. Callie might have been amazed herself, except she had too many other things to think about.

  After Brian stopped long enough to take Lyssa’s order, they chatted a while about the author’s experiences in New York racing from one TV interview to the next. “Of course, I use ‘racing’ metaphorically. Those midtown taxis move slower than turtles in mud. By the last interview, I’d gone into auto-mode. If you look carefully, you’ll see the glazed look in my eyes. I couldn’t relax my perma-grin until I was halfway home. But my editor says they’ve seen an uptick in book sales, so I guess I wasn’t too bad.”

  Callie assured her she’d been terrific. She told Lyssa about stopping by her house and the talk she’d had with Gavin. “When I pressed him about Jill, he told me about her apparent suicide attempt after Bobby crushed her hopes and plans so drastically. But Gavin only revealed this to stop what he considered to be my badgering of Jill. He’s very protective of her. He tried to conceal it, but there was love in his eyes and in his voice when he spoke of her.”

  “Aha. And what does she think of that?”

  “She barely acknowledged knowing him when I mentioned him over breakfast yesterday morning, and she got angry when Delia suggested dropping by your place to see his work.” Callie then explained about Jill’s claim of having slept through the entire fire event.

  “From an over-the-counter sleeping pill? I suppose she could have been highly susceptible to it, but …” Lyssa shook her head skeptically.

  Brian brought Lyssa’s order of French toast and coffee and refilled a few coffee cups at the counter and tables before disappearing again into the kitchen. Callie let her friend enjoy her breakfast a while and sipped at her own coffee. Then she mentioned the stop at Dave’s Pub the previous night and Brian’s less-than-productive talk with Earl Smith.

  “What was he looking for?” Lyssa reached for her steaming mug.

  “He wanted to get a better understanding of the situation. His nephew’s overactive imagination has been giving him a hard time since that night. Smith didn’t strike us as particularly scary, but he seemed evasive. And we’re pretty sure he lied about no second person showing up. Brian doesn’t think Ben was dreaming about that.”

  “It was the middle of the night,” Lyssa pointed out.

  “Yes, but Ben didn’t dream up Earl Smith and his van. A neighbor confirmed that part, as did Earl. Brian trusts that Ben saw everything he claimed to, including the man with the SUV. Unfortunately we didn’t get the chance to press Smith on it. Gavin came over to hire him to help cut down one of your trees.”

  “What! I don’t want that!” Lyssa realized she was screeching when several heads turned their way. “Sorry, folks. I just learned my landscaper wants to cut one of my trees. I love my trees.” She scrambled through her purse for her cell phone. “I’d better get hold of him before it’s too late.”

  “It’s okay,” a voice piped up from a corner table. Rhonda Furman stood up to get Lyssa’s attention. “It’s one of Krystal’s trees that Gavin’s cutting down. The top cracked and was kind of hanging. She was afraid it would fall on her fence. He should be done by noontime.”

  “Oh, thank heavens. Thanks, Rhonda.” Lyssa put her phone away. “Crisis averted,” she said to Callie, smiling.

  With more people looking their way and unabashedly listening by that point, they ended their discussion of Smith and any others. Lyssa finished the rest of her breakfast, then asked to see the fire damage. After a quick goodbye to Brian and waves to his remaining patrons, they walked over to Callie’s cottage.

  “Hoo-eee!” Lyssa cried, looking at the curled and melted siding. “That’s scary. I don’t know that I would have handled it as well as you did.”

  “You’d be surprised at how fast your adrenaline kicks in when you need it.”

  “You’re back!” Delia’s voice startled them, coming from the rear door of Shake It Up! They turned to see her heading into Callie’s yard, J
ill lagged behind. “It was so exciting to see you on TV, Lyssa! You looked so poised and calm. I would have been a basket case!”

  “All pretense,” Lyssa claimed. “Inside I was a mess.” She tipped her head toward Callie. “She’s the one with nerves of steel, handling the fire as she did.”

  “I agree. That was pretty amazing. Is there any structural damage?” Delia asked.

  Callie shook her head. “The firefighters said no, just to the siding. I need to get that fixed before I can get the meter and my breaker replaced. I’ll probably be without power a lot longer than everyone else.” She grimaced.

  “You’re very welcome to come to my place for whatever you need,” Delia said.

  “Mine, too,” Lyssa said.

  Callie was grateful for the offers, which would help mightily with her personal needs. But neither of her friends could help her run her music box store without electricity.

  Lyssa looked toward Jill, who hung several steps back. “How’s the job search coming?” she asked.

  “Still looking,” Jill said, crossing her arms. Callie noted the dark shadows under her eyes and the fact that she seemed to be looking everywhere except at the damaged area of her cottage. An uncomfortable silence followed.

  Delia clapped her hands together briskly. “Well! We just came back to get a few items for the laundromat that we forgot. Better get going before somebody unloads our washers for us!”

  The two women left, Jill wordlessly and Delia calling out good wishes for Callie’s repairs over her shoulder.

  “That woman looks guilty as hell,” Lyssa muttered as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “Maybe. But definitely miserable. Poor Delia.”

  “I hope she’s sleeping with one eye open.”

  Callie looked at Lyssa, startled. “Surely Delia isn’t in danger. She’s been nothing but wonderful to Jill. If—and I think it’s still a big if—if Jill is guilty of murdering Bobby Linville, it would be because of his bad treatment of her. She’d have no reason to turn on Delia.”

  “She would if she thought Delia had figured it out and planned to turn her in.”