"So that's what all this is about? You're so scared of all this silly superstition that you want me to drop it? What are you so worried is going to happen to you, Pippa?"
"Rach," she whispered, "I'm worried that something really bad is going to happen to you."
She didn't sound so worried about me right then. Sounded like she was more worried about being overworked. But I didn't want to say that. "Pippa, I really appreciate you helping me out. You know that, don't you?" We were getting well off track now. This was not how I'd imagined the conversation going in my head.
She nodded. "And I appreciate that you gave me this opportunity, Rach. I feel so bad about what happened with Romeo and I want to make it up to you. Sorry if I complained about feeling overworked."
"No, I'm sorry, Pips. How about I let you have tomorrow off and I cover both shifts?"
"But we still haven't gotten anyone to replace Romeo."
"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine. You take the day off and hang out with your friends from the paranormal society, if you like." I thought about telling Pippa about my run-in with Tegan earlier, but something about the whole interaction had creeped me out. I didn't really want her coming back to the house, but I figured bringing it up at all would only cause another potential argument.
I suggested we take a break. A proper one. "You need to eat, Pips. Anything you want is on the house."
* * *
"Okay, so tell me your theory about Gus then." Pippa had chosen to have a donut and a chocolate shake for her 'dinner,' which was fine by me. Though I couldn't help but think that it wouldn't hurt us to eat some vegetables one of these days. "Why do you think he did it?"
"Well, think about it, Pippa. He is the one with the most to lose out of the whole sale of the antiques store, isn't he?"
Pippa nodded and took a sip of her shake. "That's true."
I leaned in closer. "So what if he made up all these stories about the painting to try and scare off potential buyers. What if he even killed to keep potential buyers away?"
"I dunno, Rach. I don't think Gus was the originator of that story about the painting. That story has been around for years, and why would he make that up about his own shop while he was still trying to make money from it? Presumably, he wanted to sell that painting at some stage. The rumors would have done nothing to help him."
I was silent for a moment. Pippa was right. It was unlikely that Gus had invented the story. "There's still something that isn't right, Pippa. You should have seen the way he was acting before."
"Well, this must be a tough time for him."
Again, true.
"This isn't Scooby Doo, Rachael. Gus isn't pretending to be a ghost to try and drive potential buyers away. He's a middle-aged man. I'm sure he has a little more dignity than that. And I'm sure he could have come up with a better plan."
"Then what was he doing fooling around with that painting earlier? It definitely had some kind of wires hanging off of it. I didn't see enough before he caught me, but it looked like he was trying to remove them."
Pippa gave me a slow look. "Do we need to go back in there? Check it out? Maybe tonight after dark."
I picked up my latte and took a sip to buy me a little time. I knew, logically, that I wasn't cursed. I also knew, logically, that the antiques shop wasn't haunted. And I knew, more than likely, that it had been Gus screwing around with the painting that night.
So why was I still scared to go in there after dark? "I dunno, Pippa," I said when I finally gave an answer. "Gus already thinks we were snooping around the other night. If we get caught red-handed, it's not going to look good."
Pippa narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure that's all it is, Rachael? You're looking a little pale there."
"Just need to get some fruit and vegtables into my diet," I said quickly. "Still can't quite kick that flu from last week. I can't survive on brownies indefinitely by the looks of it. I just think we ought to back off sneaking around the antiques shop for a day or two."
Pippa shrugged and picked up her garbage to throw in the trash. I sat there for a moment trying to collect my thoughts while Pippa cleaned up. Once she'd taken the trash out back, I sighed and stood up to lock the front door. The sun had long disappeared from the sky and the street looked particularly eerie that night. I looked over my shoulder. I couldn't wait for Pippa to come back inside. Quickly, I grabbed my keys and locked the front door, pulling on it three times to make sure it was locked properly.
That's when I froze. There, standing on the other side of the street, staring straight through the window and into my soul, was Tegan.
Chapter 6
My cold seemed to be getting worse. I woke up with eyes so puffy that I could hardly see out of them and an awful pain in my gut.
"Rach, you look freaking terrible."
"Thanks," I said, pouring hot water over a peppermint tea bag. The smell was immediately soothing, even though I winced when I took a sip. The flavor always reminded me of being sick, as it’s what my mom always used to give us kids when we had a flu or an upset stomach.
"I'm serious. You have to stay home." Pippa began to pull on her jacket, but I told her to take it off.
"It's okay, Pippa. I promised you the day off and I am going to stick to my promise. I'll be fine once I get there and the adrenaline sets in." I was actually hoping I'd be so rushed off my feet that I wouldn't have time to think about how rotten I felt.
Pippa pulled a face of semi-horror as she stared up at me. "Rach, you really don't look well enough to go to work. I'm worried about you."
"I'll be fine," I tried to reassure her, cringing at the crackling in my voice. "It's just like I said: I need some more fresh fruit and veggies in my diet. I promise I won't snack on cakes and cookies all day."
But when I got to the bakery, those were about the only things I could stomach. As I forced a slice of brownie down, hoping to get my sugar hit to kick me into gear, I felt even worse.
What’s happening to me? Doubled over, I clutched my stomach, wondering if I should go back on my word and ask Pippa to come in to cover me.
But then the morning rush began and I was right. I didn't even have time to think, let alone focus on my puffy face and labored breathing. And I managed to get through the day without throwing up.
But there was a downside to running around all day with no backup. I hadn't been able to clean as I went, and I was left standing in the middle of what looked like the wreckage of a tornado at the end of the day.
I grabbed a broom and mop and got to work. Now that I had time to think, all I could focus on was the aching in my limbs and the pulsing in my head.
The bakery's phone began to ring in a shrill pitch, cutting right into my headache. I limped over to it and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Rach, it's me. You weren't picking up your cell."
"Battery's dead. Didn't have time to charge it. What's up, Pippa?"
"Are you going to be home soon?"
I glanced at the mess and chaos surrounding me. "Not for a few hours."
There was heaving breathing on the other end of the line. When she didn't reply, I asked if she was okay.
"I just don't like being all alone in the house after dark."
I glanced out the window. The days were getting shorter and shorter. 5:00 P.M. and the streets were completely dark. "I'll be home as soon as I can. You'll be fine though, Pippa. What do you think is going to happen to you?"
"Please, Rach, I'm really frightened."
"I've got a mountain of a mess to clean up. If I leave it like this, there'll be ants by morning, maybe even rats if we're really unlucky." I was growing a little impatient with Pippa. "You're stressing about nothing. I'll be home in an hour or two, I promise."
I heard her gulp on the other end of the line. "You're right," she whispered. "I'm probably just being silly. I have to go!" she added suddenly before slamming down the receiver. I cringed, the sound doing nothing for my headache. Thanks, Pippa.
&nbs
p; * * *
"Okay," I said out loud to myself as I swept the last of the mess into the trash hours later. "It might be fun to be busy occasionally, but I really need to find some more staff. Today was just ridiculous."
I let myself out the back and locked the door, barely even aware of what I was doing as I stumbled towards my car.
Suddenly a body stepped in front of me.
I screamed. Boy, I really was jumpy these days.
"Sorry, it's only me," a gruff male voice called out. I could see him holding his hands up in the dark. "I came back to collect my final check."
I thought Romeo had some nerve coming back to collect money, but at the same time, I didn't begrudge him the money that he had actually earned.
I nodded and sighed. "Come on in, I just need to unlock the door again."
He followed me back into the bakery and to my office where his check lay on my desk.
I paused just as I was about to hand the check over. "So are you going to tell me why you stormed out that day? You kind of left us in the lurch here. I'm asking because I am genuinely worried that we did something to upset you, Romeo."
He grabbed the check out of my hand and stared at the tiles. "I just wasn't happy here," he said, before glancing up at me with guilty-looking eyes. "Sorry that I left like that, though. I do appreciate you taking the chance with hiring me."
I sighed. "Something must have really upset you that day. Was it just because I was late getting back with your coffee? I know the early hours can be a drag..."
Romeo let out a little laugh and shook his head. "It wasn't that, Rachael." He started to walk back out.
"Just tell me then," I called out. "Look, we're really overlaoded here lately. If you want your job back, I'm willing to give you another chance."
He spun back around. "After what I did?"
I sighed. "I know. I'm not a total pushover, just let me make that clear. But I do believe in second chances. Plus, we're kind of desperate," I had to admit.
He stared at me for a long while before finally shaking his head. "Sorry, Rachael. It's nothing personal, but I can't work here."
"Why not?" I asked, chasing him as he left out the back via the kitchen. We were out in the dark alley before he finally answered.
"Why don't you ask, Pippa."
Then he spun around and disappeared into the dark night.
Ask Pippa? What did Pippa do to make him leave?
I threw my head back in a silent scream. I had a pretty good idea. She could frighten anyone away.
Maybe it wasn't Gus who was making up the ghost stories to drive people away. Maybe the real culprit had been living in my home the entire time.
* * *
"Pippa!" I called out as I stormed into the apartment. I threw my coat onto the hall table and stepped over the broken glass shards that were still lying in the hall, even though I could have sworn we'd cleaned all of them up. "I need to talk to you!"
But Pippa wasn't in her usual spot on the sofa. "Pippa?"
I found her shivering on top of my bed with only a lamp on besides her. "What's happened, Pippa? Have you caught my flu?" She was holding the blanket up to her face, and she was white and pale and clammy when I felt her forehead.
"Rachael...I...I..." Her teeth were chattering too hard for her to be able to speak properly.
Shoot. Something was really wrong with her. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" I wrapped the blanket around her tighter, hoping that would stop the shivering.
She shook her head. "I'm not sick, Rachael."
I sat down besides her, understanding now. "Pippa, what's frightened you so much?" I felt a stab of guilt over the fact I hadn't come home as soon as she'd called me. "Sorry, Pips. I should have left the mess to clean up in the morning."
Pippa was still shivering as she stared off into the distance. "I saw something, Rachael," she whispered.
I stood up, thinking about the glass shards in the hallway. "Did someone break in?" I asked, terrified as well now.
"Not someone," Pippa whispered. "Rachael, the thing I saw wasn't alive, it wasn't human."
I stomped over and turned the lights on properly. "Come on, Pippa," I said. "You're freaking me out."
"I don't mean to," she whispered. Her eyes were filled with tears now. One of them spilled down her cheek. "I’m not making it up, though. Rachael, there was a ghost in the house. I heard something in the hall. I went to investigate, and I saw it."
I was fighting not to show that I was scared as well, but I was losing the battle. "Pippa, I think you've just caught my flu," I said gently, completely forgetting about all the drama with Romeo earlier. "Maybe you’re just hallucinating?" I asked hopefully.
She shook her head. "I feel fine. Besides, have you been hallucinating?"
No, I had just been feeling sick to my stomach. No ghostly apparitions.
"Rachael." Pippa tried to steady her voice. "It told me to stay away from Gus's shop."
I just stood there staring at her.
I wasn't sure what I believed at that moment.
"Pippa," I said gently, but firmly. "I know you're scared right now, but you have to admit that sounds a little ridiculous. After all the crazy stuff you've had in your head, don't you think it's possible that maybe you just imagined it?"
She shook her head. "That's it, Rachael, I'm out."
"Out of what?"
"The investigation for one thing. No more snooping around at night, no more asking questions. I'm done with all of it. And if you want my advice, you should leave it alone as well." She shot me a look. "And if you decide to go ahead with buying Gus's shop, then I am done with the bakery as well."
Chapter 7
So now there was one. Just me, alone, trying to solve this mystery. Gus was still my prime suspect.
I had found out earlier from another shop owner on our street that the guy who was murdered was someone named Jason Hamilton. I knew a lot of people in this town, with my business and living here as long as I have, and I was thankful that I didn’t know him. The shop owner from the yarn store, Knitwit, had told me that the police weren’t releasing his name, but she had found out from her brother-in-law that works at the station. That explained why Jackson wouldn’t answer any of my questions about the murder victim. It was supposed to be all hush-hush.
I sat down at my kitchen table and got out a notebook. It was still hours before Pippa would rise so I knew I had a little time before she caught me. I started scribbling down the ideas I had so far.
Access. Gus owns the shop, so he had the opportunity to kill Jason.
Motive. Gus has a big motive for killing Jason. He wants to keep his shop. The murder—and the freaky stories surrounding it—means that no one will want to buy the shop.
I paused and put the pen to my lips. Hmm. In fact, the stories could actually attract more attention to his store. People like antiques with a story. And it would also buy him a little time before he has to sell.
I glanced at Pippa sleeping over my shoulder. All of a sudden, I was desperate to wake her up and tell her my theory. She'd thought that Gus wouldn't make up ghost stories because it would be bad for business.
But what if they were actually good for his line of business?
But Pippa had said she was done with the case. Sadly, I turned around and let her sleep. I was going to have to do this on my own.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing!" I slammed the notebook shut. "Just writing down a list of stock we have to order for the wedding reception."
Pippa frowned. "The reception? The one that’s today? A little late to be ordering supplies, isn't it?"
"Just a few last minute things I need to get. The bride had some special gluten free requirements for some of the guests."
"Oh," Pippa said, nodding. "We don't want to poison any of the guests." She cringed. "Sorry. Poor choice of words." The memory of a customer being poisoned—and one of my pies being to blame—was still a little too fresh. But I told her not
to worry about it.
"We need to get going. It's big days like this that can really make or break the bakery!"
* * *
"Hey, you guys are opening really late today," a man wearing an army jacket and a bright yellow hat said as he waited by the bakery door. I pulled out my key, struggling as I juggled boxes of the gluten free supplies I'd been forced to buy while Pippa accompanied me to the specialty store. That's what I got for lying: three hundred dollars out of pocket. Oh well, the reception we were about to host would make up for that little loss.
"Sorry," I said, putting on an apologetic face as I struggled with my boxes. "We're closed for a private function this afternoon. Hence the late start. A wedding reception."
"Oh," the man said, scowling as he craned his neck to try and get a look through the window. "That sounds mighty interesting. Is anyone welcome to come along?"
Out of respect for my guests' privacy, I stood in front of him. "No, sorry." But I couldn't help thinking what a strange request that was. Who asked that? "We'll be open to the public again tomorrow morning. I hope to see you then!"
I wasn't sure I really was, but I watched him trudge away.
"Who was that?" Pippa asked.
"An unwanted guest," I said. "Wow!" My breath was almost taken away by how beautiful the inside of the bakery looked, all decked out in pink, silver, and white. "You did an amazing job, Pippa."
She grinned at me. "Let's get ready this wedding reception!"
I was dressed to match the decor in a short pink and silver dress, partly because I wanted to blend in with the scenery. I was there as staff, not as a guest. Still, it was exciting to see the bakery come to life like that, to see it full of people dancing and eating and enjoying themselves. I cast a glance next door. If only we'd been able to use the second store, we could have fit in even more guests.
"What are you thinking about?" Pippa nudged me and nibbled on a cupcake.
"Nothing," I said quickly, straightening up. "Just admiring the shop."
BDM02 - Donuts, Antiques and Murder Page 4
