A Curio Killing

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  Then there was the surprising statement of Duane’s that he’d found no missed calls from Krystal on his phone the night of the murder. What did that mean? Was one of them lying, and if so, which one? Or was there a simple explanation related to the pitfalls of using a cell phone?

  As she mulled that over, Callie became aware of a change. The ongoing chugging of Brian’s generator had stopped. She knew what that must mean and stepped outside to confirm it. A small cheer came from the direction of the café, and Callie saw light shining through both Karl Eggers’s and Delia’s cottage windows. Nothing, of course, from her own. But her phone signaled a text that informed her that the siding people were on their way to check out her damage.

  She gave a small cheer of her own at that news. Progress! With the siding fixed, she’d be able to get her meter replaced. At least on that front, things were looking up.

  The man in the gray uniform looked down dourly at the corner of Callie’s cottage. Hawkins Siding was emblazoned in yellow across his back and on his truck, which had arrived three hours after his text. Since Hawkins Siding was an Eastern Shore company, Callie wondered about their GPS system and where it had routed him, or if “on our way” was code for “we’re thinking about it.”

  “Gonna have to special order this,” he said.

  “Special order? Why?”

  “That color red. It’s not your everyday red.” He opened up the thick catalogue he’d brought with him and flipped through it, stopping at Callie’s particular type of siding. Red, for that siding, apparently came in three standard shades. The one Aunt Mel had chosen was not one of them.

  Callie remembered her first sight of the cottage as her aunt led her out the back of House of Melody. The little house, with its beautiful red siding set off by a sage green door and a white, rose-covered trellis, had looked like something out of a fairy tale. Aunt Mel had picked everything for her home with an eye to what she most loved, and it had worked. Except for now, when Callie needed to match part of it.

  She sighed. “How long will it take?”

  “Depends.”

  Callie hated that word.

  He gave her a long explanation, which she tried her best to follow and which ultimately came down to he’d have to get back to her. He left, and Callie considered trying another siding company but opted to wait on his call first. It was, after all, the company Aunt Mel had dealt with, and therefore seemed most likely to come up with what Callie needed. She only hoped she wouldn’t be waiting three hours or more for the promised information.

  Realizing she was rapidly running out of clean clothes, Callie thought she should make a run to the laundromat, as Delia and Jill had done earlier. Both Lyssa and Delia had offered their facilities for her use while her electricity was off, but she’d take them up on that when things got a little more dire—which she hoped would be never. With everyone else in Keepsake Cove back to normal, the laundromat would likely be available, so she gathered up her clothes and drove there.

  Inside, Callie loaded two washers—one for light-colored, one for dark—and sat down to wait. She pulled out her phone to call Brian.

  “Hi! Are you enjoying your lights?” she asked as he picked up.

  “I am. I assume you’re not?”

  “No. I’m sitting at the laundromat watching my clothes churn.”

  “You could have brought them here.”

  “Thanks. Maybe next time. I called to get Earl Smith’s number.”

  “Hmm. Should I be jealous?”

  Callie grinned. “Only if you want to be.” She told him about Earl’s apparent interest in Jill at the festival. “I want to ask him about that.”

  “Good idea.” He paused to find the number, then read it off to her.

  “Thanks. I don’t suppose you’d want to take a trip to Dave’s Pub tonight if it comes to that?”

  “I can’t, sorry. After I put away the generator, I have to make a supply run. Everything to do with the café got off schedule with that outage.”

  “I know. Maybe I can handle it all over the phone. We’ll see.”

  Callie let him get back to work and tucked away her phone. As she stared at the chugging washers, a woman who’d been quietly doing the same from a few blue-plastic seats down said, “You’re Callie Reed, aren’t you?”

  Callie turned in surprise toward the woman, who was wearing jeans and an orange tee that set off her mocha-colored complexion. “I am. I’m so sorry. Have we met?”

  The slim woman, who looked to be in her late thirties, laughed. “No, but we should have, a long time ago. My fault. You were pointed out to me at an association meeting but I never made it over to say hello.” She slid closer and held out her hand. “Kendra Hollins. I have a collectible doll houses and furniture shop.”

  Callie shook her hand. “Hi, Kendra. I’ve been in the Cove a year and thought I’d caught up with everyone but apparently not. Your shop sounds really cute. Where are you located?”

  Kendra described an area near both Duane’s Glorious Glass and Krystal’s Forever Dolls. “Mine is Marvelous Miniatures.”

  Callie smiled. “Then too bad you weren’t named Mavis, or, um, Minnie.”

  “I know! If my folks had only had the foresight.” Kendra grinned, then turned serious. “Your aunt lucked out with her name, Melodie, having a music box shop. I’ve only been at the Cove a few months, so I didn’t know her. But I’ve heard she was a lovely woman.”

  “She was. I’m trying my best to carry on her tradition.” Callie swallowed the lump that still rose in her throat at the mention of Aunt Mel. “Your part of the Cove didn’t lose power. What are you doing at a laundromat?”

  Kendra grimaced. “Broken washer.”

  “Oooh. Bummer.”

  “I know. Maybe it can be fixed. We’ll see. Getting a new one wasn’t exactly in my budget. But what can you do, you know?”

  Callie nodded.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation a minute ago.” Kendra gestured to how small the seating area was. “You mentioned Earl Smith. Skinny guy, kinda down at the heels?”

  “That’s him. Do you know him?”

  “No, but I remember him hanging around the festival. I had a booth across from the photographer, Jill.”

  “Did he strike you as particularly interested in her?”

  Kendra shook her head. “I wouldn’t say so, but then I was busy a lot of the time. He just seemed to be trying to drum up work by going around to all the vendors. He asked me if I needed help moving my merchandise back to the shop after the festival, but I told him I was okay. He left his name and number with me in case I changed my mind.” Kendra took a quick look at her washers, which had shifted into the spin cycle. “The grounds person didn’t like Earl hanging around. He hustled him away from our area more than once.”

  “The grounds person? Gavin Holder?”

  “I guess. I don’t know his name.” Kendra described Gavin perfectly. “Maybe he’d been asked to handle some kind of security as well? I got that impression.”

  Asked to do security, or took it upon himself to do it? “How did Earl react?”

  “He didn’t like it, but he moved on. Though he showed up again later. I thought it was a bit uncalled for, myself, chasing him off like that. But maybe I missed something.”

  Gavin had enlisted Earl’s help in cutting down Krystal’s tree, so apparently there was no lasting problem between them. Of course, Jill wouldn’t have been at Krystal’s at that time, if Earl’s interest in Jill was what had bothered the landscaper at the festival.

  “Ah, time to switch.” Kendra got up to move her things from the washers to a dryer. When she finished, she turned back to Callie. “Hey, it’s been great talking with you, but I’ve got to run to the drug store. Maybe I’ll catch you when I get back.”

  She took off, leaving Callie with thoughts that chur
ned about as much as her two loads of sudsy clothes.

  Thirty-Four

  The next morning Callie knocked at Delia’s door, fresh clothes and a towel in hand. She’d tried to reach Earl the night before without success. She vowed to try again later.

  “Hi!” Delia cried when she opened the door. “Water tank finally out of warm water?”

  “Yup. I don’t care for showers quite that refreshing. Is it okay if I run my hair dryer too?” Callie asked as she came in, noticing that Jill wasn’t up yet.

  “Sure. That shouldn’t disturb Jill.”

  “Still taking the sleep aid?”

  “I think so, though she said she’s cut the pills in half.” Delia shrugged. “Want your eggs scrambled or fried after you’re done?”

  “Thanks, but neither.” Callie wasn’t about to impose more than she already was. “I’m going to run over to the café for breakfast. There’s a couple of things I need to check with Brian.”

  “But at least have some orange juice. You should have something in your stomach.”

  To take a shower? Callie smiled, knowing Delia needed to fuss, and accepted the glass, sipping at it on her way upstairs. It was delicious and probably freshly squeezed. Jill was very fortunate to be looked after by a friend like Delia. And the thanks she appeared to give was minimal. Callie made a mental note to find a special gift for Delia as her own thank you. Maybe in Oregon, which she had to fly to in three days. The reminder that she was leaving soon was worrisome, and she banished it soon with a stream of luxuriously hot water. First things first.

  She was sitting at Brian’s counter, scraping up the last of his fluffy pancakes, and had just reached for her mug of coffee when Lyle Moody walked in.

  “You folks hear the news?” he asked the room at large.

  Callie, Brian, and the four customers seated at various tables all turned, the grim look on Moody’s face warning them it was not going to be good.

  “A drowning,” he said. “Over at the Kentmorr Marina.” He paused. “It was Earl Smith.”

  Callie’s jaw dropped as gasps sounded from the others. She didn’t know if they all knew the man, but a sudden death, relatively close by, was always alarming.

  “How did it happen?” Brian asked.

  Lyle shook his head. “They’re investigating. Nobody saw it happen. A marina worker discovered his body early this morning. Might have been accidental, but we won’t know for sure for a while.” Lyle shook his head. “Damned shame. He was just talking about landing a good-paying job. For all I know he might have celebrated a little too much and lost his balance near the water.”

  “What was the job?” Callie asked. “Something to do at the marina?”

  “He never said, exactly. But I got the impression it involved his van ’cause he said he’d be getting it fixed up right and proper first off so there’d be no more breakdowns. I don’t know. Maybe he just meant he’d finally have the money to do that.”

  “Poor guy,” a lone, heavyset man at one of the tables said. “Finally getting a break, then this happens.”

  Lyle nodded. “Well, I’ll be on my way. Just wanted to let you know.”

  Callie rubbed at her arms, shaken. She turned to Brian. “We just spoke to him Saturday night.”

  Brian leaned closer. “Right,” he said quietly, “and I thought at the time that he was holding back on us.”

  “About there not being any other car there before the tow truck arrived.”

  “Uh-huh. Ben is still sure of what he saw. I’d love to know who was wearing a sweatshirt that night with the number five reflected on it.”

  Had she ever seen a shirt like that? Callie searched her memory for times she’d been with Gavin, Jill, and Krystal, then moved on to anyone at all in Keepsake Cove, even her new acquaintance Kendra Hollins. Had a number five shirt possibly been spinning in one of the washers?

  Finding this effort ridiculous, she gave up. As more people arrived at the café and the news was shared and discussed, there was little chance to talk privately anymore with Brian. She took off to open up House of Melody with its single, battery-powered lamp, and to mull over the latest death and what it might mean.

  When Tabitha arrived for her shift, her puzzlement over the dim shop reminded Callie that her assistant had been out of the loop since last working there on Saturday afternoon. Callie updated her on everything, but particularly the fire. Tabitha’s shocked reaction matched Lyssa’s of two days ago.

  “I had no idea,” she said.

  Callie pictured her busily working on her beaded jewelry most of the weekend. “I should have called to let you know.”

  “No way! You had enough to deal with. Mind if I run out back to take a look?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  Callie watched Tabitha hurry out, aware that as distressed as Tabitha was over the problem, there was a certain amount of excitement there too, just as rubberneckers react to a highway accident with an adrenaline rush along with genuine sympathy. For that reason, Callie was glad her damage was in back and out of public view. Though, as she considered it, something to see at the front of her shop might have drawn more customers than she’d had so far.

  Tabitha commented on just that when she returned. “We need to have a better way to let people know you’re open. That cardboard sign you have out front? I’m sorry, but it’s pitiful.”

  “What?” Callie cried in mock-indignation before ruefully agreeing. “I know. It was the best I could do on short notice.”

  “I think I can perk things up. Okay if I make a run to the craft shop?”

  “Please do.” Callie pulled out her credit card and handed it over. “Just please don’t break my bank,” she added with a smile, though she’d seen Tabitha put together her amazingly creative outfits for pennies and wasn’t worried.

  Left alone and tired of wandering about her dim shop, Callie soon stepped outside, thinking a visible presence might be some improvement to her sad homemade sign. Since she’d never managed to install the small bench in front of her window that she’d long had in mind, she strolled, occasionally extending her path in front of Delia’s shop. That caught her neighbor’s eye, and Delia soon came out to join her.

  “Lovely day,” Delia said, lifting her face to the sun.

  “It is.” Callie decided not to bring up Earl Smith’s drowning right then. Instead, after small talk of a more pleasant kind, she simply asked if Delia had ever seen anyone wear a sweatshirt with a prominent number five on it. “Like a football jersey,” she said. “The five would have been reflective.”

  Delia frowned in concentration. “I don’t think so. Does it have something to do with Bobby Linville’s death?”

  Did it? Callie shook her head. “For now it’s just an unanswered question. Would you let me know if something comes to you?”

  “Of course.”

  Their attention was drawn to two women who began crossing the street, heading directly for Shake It Up! As they reached the sidewalk, Delia welcomed them, adding that Callie’s House of Melody was open as well despite having temporary lighting problems.

  “Oh, I thought it was closed!” one of the customers said. She quickly veered toward Callie’s shop, telling her friend she’d rejoin her in a few minutes.

  As Callie followed the woman into her shop, she thanked Delia with a smile. By the time Tabitha returned from the craft store with an armful of supplies, Callie had sold a very nice music box to the pleased customer.

  She gave Tabitha free rein in the back office to work on her project, which turned out to be a vast improvement over her own with its large, brightly colored lettering and much more visible sandwich board arrangement.

  “Perfect!” Callie cried. They set it up outside and stood admiring it for some time, after which Callie said she’d leave the shop with Tabitha for a bit. She explained about the sweatshirt with the num
ber five that she hoped to track down. “You don’t happen to have seen one like that around, lately, have you?”

  “It’s not that noticeable,” Tabitha pointed out. “Unless the person wearing it was doing something really unusual—like, oh, holding up a convenience store?—I don’t think it would stick in my head.”

  “I know. It stuck in Ben’s head, though, and Earl Smith denied the existence of the person Ben saw wearing that shirt. Now Earl is dead. Why, I don’t know. Did it have anything to do with his van breaking down in front of Annie’s house? Another thing I don’t know. But if I can somehow identify the person wearing that shirt, it might help us find out.”

  “Good luck.” Tabitha went back into the music box shop as Callie struck out on her possibly hopeless quest.

  One shopkeeper after another shook their head at her question about the sweatshirt. All commiserated with her on her ongoing lack of electricity, but none could say with any conviction that they’d ever seen that particular kind of shirt. Kendra Hollins was delighted to see Callie again after their laundromat meeting, but she couldn’t help out either.

  “But I’ll be glad to ask around for you,” she said.

  “That’d be great,” Callie said, checking the time. “I didn’t talk to everyone at this end of the Cove, and it’s getting late, so I better go back to relieve my shop assistant. Love your shop, by the way!”

  Kendra beamed, obviously proud of her unique collection of doll houses and their furnishings, and with good reason. If Callie had had more time, she would have enjoyed looking through many of them—Victorian, modern, Barbie doll houses, and even one that resembled her own cottage, minus the damaged siding, of course.

  She took off, hurrying past shops busy with customers, returning to her own, empty except for Tabitha.

  “I did have one sale,” Tabitha said, striving to be upbeat. “And one guy said he’d be back … sometime.” She grabbed her purse. “Don’t worry. It’ll get better.”

  Callie appreciated the thought, only wishing there could be a timeline attached.