Jackson ended the phone call without even saying goodbye.
* * *
There was broken glass all over the place, but nothing seemed to be missing. All the money in the register was still there and nothing had been taken.
Jackson took my statement anyway. "Is there anyone you think might have done this?"
Yeah, several, I thought. Gus, Romeo, take your pick of the litter.
"Hey, Jackson," a voice called out. "We found something."
I spun around to see Detective Crawford standing there holding a broken video surveillance camera in her hands. "Looks like they were looking for this."
My security camera?
"Where does that footage go to?" Jackson asked in a super serious tone.
"It gets sent to my computer, an old laptop that I keep behind the counter. It's not good enough for anything else."
We both hurried behind the counter. Gone.
Someone had wanted that footage.
"Which way did this camera point?" Detective Crawford asked.
"Towards the street," I whispered quietly. I was starting to get an idea of why the thief had wanted it.
Detective Crawford glanced at Jackson. "We need to find that footage."
He nodded at her and they walked out together after Jackson advised me to take the following day off and to keep out of harm's way. The two of them looked rather cozy as they climbed back into their police car, I thought.
I sat down with unsteady legs at a table towards the back. "I saw Romeo down at the police station when I was called in," I said quietly as Pippa joined me.
"What?" Pippa sat down next to me. "Why didn't you say anything?" Then she hung her head in her hands. "Oh no," she groaned.
"Oh no, what?"
Pippa sat upright. Her tears had dried up by this stage. "Oh, Rachael, I need to admit something to you."
I braced myself for a revelation about Tegan and the paranormal society.
But she had something quite different to reveal to me.
"Please don't be mad at me."
"Okay," I said unsurely. "Pippa, just tell me what it is."
"That night when I called you late at work...upset and crying..."
"I remember."
Pippa hung her head. "It was because of Romeo. He was at your apartment. We started to argue and he got angry again just like he did that day he stormed out of the bakery."
"Pippa, why didn't you tell me that!"
"I was embarrassed about all of it, Rach. It was easier to pretend I was scared of something paranormal than to admit to anything else."
I placed an arm around her. "It's okay, Pips. I'm just glad you aren't with the wretched guy anymore."
She dried her eyes and sat up. "Do you think it was him that broke in?"
I shook my head. "I have no idea. But promise me that you will stay away from him from now on?"
She nodded.
"How did you meet him anyway?" I asked.
Another look of guilt snuck over her face. "You aren't going to believe this, Rach."
"Oh, please don't tell me he is a member of the paranormal club?"
She shook her head. "No, but I did meet him while I was investigating something to do with the club." Her voice trailed off as she frowned.
"What were you investigating?"
She was quiet for a second. "The painting," she finally said. "In Gus's shop. Romeo was looking at it as well. He seemed super interested in it. I thought he might want to buy it so I had to warn him about it. So I told him all about the curse. He seemed really sweet and interested, so I kept talking and talking. He asked me out and we started dating."
I had to ask. "Pippa, is the reason you don't want me buying the shop because it has memories about Romeo?"
She let out a little laugh and shook her head. "No. Come on. I am a little more resilient than that."
She suddenly grew deadly serious. "But, Rachael, I have to tell you something. Even though I love this job and appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm sorry, but I have to tell you this. If you buy that shop, I will quit."
* * *
"Bronson...is it?" I asked, glancing over the guy's resume. He was young, but at least he already had a few years experience working in a bakery. Plus, he was here at 6:00 A.M. for an interview. You’ve got to want a job pretty badly if you’re up and going at that hour. Plus, I was desperate.
The young man with the carrot-colored hair and freckles nodded eagerly. "That's right, miss." He had a rather charming southern accent. "I'm a quick learner. I can guarantee that you won't regret hiring me, ma'am."
I couldn't, not with the run of luck that I was having. "Can you start right away?"
I was just showing him into the kitchen when I heard the jingle that let me know we had a customer. "Sorry, we're not open for another hour or so...Jackson." I straightened up. "Sorry, Detective Whitaker. I assume you're here in an official capacity."
"Are you okay, Rachael? You're looking kind of green around the gills."
Great. Now the curse was turning me green on top of everything else. "Just a bit under the weather."
"Still? You really ought to see a doctor."
"Like I have time for that."
"Really. You have to go to one."
I nodded and promised to make an appointment as soon as he left. Not that it would do a lot of good. If I was cursed, what was a doctor going to do for me? I didn't say any of this to him, though.
Jackson cleared his throat. "Have there been any further incidents?"
"You mean has anybody else broken in? No."
He glanced around the room. "I thought I advised you not to open today."
"I chose to ignore that advice. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Jackson leaned against the counter, his lips slightly pursed. "Have you seen Gus Sampson about?"
I shook my head. "I thought he was no longer a suspect."
Jackson looked down at the ground. "He's not." I could tell he wanted to say something, but was holding back.
I took a step closer and lowered my voice so that Bronson couldn't hear us. "Then who is?"
Jackson cleared his throat. "No one." He turned to leave. "Please let us know if you see Gus Sampson."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why? Is he still in Pottsville? Seeing that antiques dealer, right?"
"That's right," Jackson said. "As far as we know, anyhow."
He was just about to leave. "Hang on," I said suddenly. Jackson turned back to me. "If Gus is about to sell his shop—go out of business—then why is he out of town speaking to an antiques dealer?"
Jackson stood still for a moment. "That's actually a very good question."
I thought about it. "I suppose he could be, theoretically, buying for his own private collection. But with all the unsold stock he has, and his financial position, that seems unlikely."
"You're starting to think like a detective," Jackson replied. There was a hint of admiration in his voice, which surprised me.
"I thought you didn't like me sticking my nose in police business," I said playfully. "I thought you didn't want me having anything to do with this case."
"I never said that." He paused to correct him self. "Well, not recently. Your help did prove to be invaluable last time. I have to admit that. If you come up with something of interest again, I'd gladly listen to it."
I frowned. "Then why were you acting so cagey around me down at the station? Like you were afraid someone was going to see you talking to me? Seemed like you were kind of ashamed to be seen talking to me.”
A blush of red crept up the sides of Jackson's neck. "That wasn't the reason for my furtiveness."
He didn't seem to want to continue. "Oh?" I prodded. "Pray tell then."
"I didn't want Detective Crawford to see me taking to you. I was afraid she might get the wrong impression."
"Right," I said. Now it was my turn to start blushing. So, they were seeing each other then.
"It's only rec
ent, Rachael. We've only been on a couple of dates."
"Hey, it's none of my business."
I turned back towards the counter, performing my old trick of pretending I was cleaning a really stubborn stain out of the counter. The awkward silence hung between us both for a few moments.
"Hey," I said all casually, just as I sensed that Jackson was about to leave for good this time. "What was the name of the antiques dealer that Gus was meant to be visiting?"
"Maureen Tatler," he answered. "Why's that?"
"No reason. Just curious."
I could see from the look on his face that he regretted being so candid, regretting the accidental spilling of information that he otherwise would have guarded, if not for the desperate need to cut the awkward tension between the two of us.
I forced a smile at him as he backed out of the door. I thought he might tell me not to go to Pottsville. To leave well enough alone.
But he didn't.
And I wouldn't have listened to him even if he did.
* * *
"Gus!" I said, stopping with my car key in mid-air, pointed towards my car. “You're back."
"You sound disappointed," he said gruffly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Still keen to throw me out of my shop then?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's not like that. It's never been like that Gus." I put my hand down and walked over to join him behind his shop. "I hope you don't think that. It's never been anything personal. I just want to expand my business." I nodded towards he store. "And this is the most convenient location."
He leaned against his own car. "Ah, I know that, sweetheart. It's just hard."
I wanted to bring up his trip to Pottsville without letting on how much I knew. "You've been away then?" I nodded towards the rear of his car, which was filled with luggage. "Was it a vacation?"
He let out a scoff. "Not exactly." He narrowed his eyes and shot me a sideways glance. "Actually, I was meeting up with someone who might be a little competition for you, if you really want to know."
"What do you mean? You were meeting with a baker?"
"No. Someone who might be interested in buying this joint." He nodded towards the shop. "And keep it in tact, not fill it with cakes and pastries."
Maureen Tatler. "Oh. So...what happened then?"
"Wouldn't you love to know?"
I would, actually.
Gus stood up straight. "You don't have to worry about her, sweetheart. Turns out she was only interested in buying one very specific item."
"Which item?" I asked quietly.
He shrugged. "Some painting of two little kids. But I told her, that painting ain't for sale."
* * *
My keys were already in the ignition and my car ready to pull out when a figure stepped in front of me, forcing me to slam on the brakes.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I called out.
The guy, wearing army camouflage and a yellow hat, gave me a weary look before he continued walking like nothing had happened. I stared after him and watched him go through the back exit of Gus's Antiques.
I recognized him from somewhere, but it took me a moment or two to figure out where I had seen him before.
"Huh," I murmured. "That's strange. That's that guy that was there the morning of the wedding. The one who wanted to come in, that we turned away."
He never did come back the next day.
"Well," I said out loud, as I finally pulled out of the parking lot. "I guess we're going on a road trip."
Chapter 10
Finally, I had something to go off of. I could have kissed Gus, I was so grateful for the tidbit that he had accidentally let slip about Maureen Tatler. There had to be a reason she wanted that painting. And it had to be connected to the killings.
There was no time to waste now. Word about the two homicides had spread around all of Belldale and it felt like history was repeating itself as our customer numbers dwindled down to a small trickle. People didn't feel safe venturing down to our once safe and cozy little enclave. And I didn't blame them. That was why I had to restore our reputation quickly. We needed to put the killer behind bars.
But I wasn't sure I could travel out to Pottsville on my own. Not without backup.
I needed Pippa's help.
More than that, I needed her company. I knew that once we actually got out on the road, and actually arrived in Pottsville, that Pippa would enjoy herself. It could be a chance for us to repair our friendship. I was even fairly sure that she'd enjoy investigating again once she was doing it. Especially if she knew the painting was involved.
I just needed to show her that.
So I had to rely on subterfuge.
I caught her just as she was pulling on her boots, about to head to another meeting of the Belldale Paranormal Society. "Hey, Pippa, you know how I haven't been feeling very well lately? I was thinking that some clean country air would do me a world of good. What do you say we get out of town for a day or two? Go on a little road trip, just the two of us?"
She sat up straight, a smile curling on her lips. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah. We should pack an overnight bag, throw it in the car and just drive out to the county, see what we find. How about out towards Pottsville?"
Pippa nodded thoughtfully. "But what about the bakery?"
"Bronson will be fine on his own for a couple of days." Normally I would never leave a new hire in charge of my business, but there was something about Bronson I felt like I could trust. Plus, we had very few customers these days.
"So what are we waiting for?"
Pippa's eyes widened. "What, you want to go right now? But I have a meeting! "
“This early?” I asked, looking at my watch. It was barely 7 A.M.
“We’re meeting at Stanton Park to see if we can catch a glimpse of the mystical cat,” Pippa said as she stuffed her camera and extra batteries in her purse. “Everyone knows he hunts in the morning.”
I waved my hand dismissively. "Come on, you can miss one meeting. We may as well go now, make a long weekend of it."
It took us about three hours to reach Pottsville, an even smaller town than Belldale with a population of roughly four thousand people and a heavy reliance on apples as the prime source of industry and tourism. Neither of us had ventured there before, so it was new to both of us.
I had the name, Maureen Tatler. And I was pretty sure of the location, even though the old website Maureen had up only had the street name, not the full address of the house that also doubled as her place of business. And even though I had to rely on memorizing a map of the area before we left so that I could make my discovery of the street look totally innocent, I figured I would take my chances on both those fronts.
Halewood Road. I thanked my lucky stars that I'd been able to find it without driving around for hours or needing to make an excuse for why I needed to check my phone.
I pulled the car onto the street and slowed down until I saw what I was looking for.
That has to be it.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound both chirpy and casual. "This place looks cool. Looks like an old antiques dealer or something. Why don't we pull over and have a quick look inside?"
"I dunno, Rach, I've kind of had enough of antiques lately. Haven't you?"
Oh my gosh, yes. But I didn't say that. "This could be interesting though. And, come on, it's not like there's gonna be a wealth of things to do in this town."
She sighed. "Okay then, you've twisted my arm."
There was only one way to describe Maureen Tatler's house, and that was...haunted.
"It looks like a witch's castle," Pippa whispered as she stared up at the grey, gnarled building. She sounded more awe-struck than scared, though. "Tegan would LOVE this."
I suppressed my eye-roll. "You'll have to take some photos for her then. And for the rest of the club, since you missed the meeting. Get something to show them. So, are we going inside?"
I knocked on the door. "Hello?" Tapped agai
n. There was no sound of movement on the other side of the door.
Pippa read out the plaque that hung beside the door. "Maureen Tatler, PhD. Antiques dealer and artist." Pippa paused. "It says her open hours are weekdays 9 - 4. So she should be inside."
I knocked again, harder this time, and the door pushed open thanks to the extra force.
Pippa and I looked at each other and shrugged. "Should we just go in?"
"What the heck is this place?" Pippa whispered as we moved through the dark creepy hallway. A spider's web hit my face and I cringed as I pulled off the sticky thread, shuddering at the thought that there might be a spider making its way down my shirt. Maureen clearly didn't have many buyers through the house. In fact, it seemed like no one had walked down this hall in weeks. Months.
"Can you smell that?" Pippa asked. She'd always had a far more sensitive nose than me so it took a moment or two for me to realize what she was talking about.
"What IS that?" I had to cover my nose with my hand.
"It smells like something died in here."
* * *
"Maureen?" I called out.
Pippa had to run back to the car for a flashlight. We needed it as we entered the back of the property.
"I think we located the source of the smell," Pippa said, grimacing as she waved her hand in front of her face. "It's all this junk."
As she shone the flashlight over the room, I took in the stacks of newspapers and piles of old junk. I'd expected the property of an antiques dealer to be full of valuable items, collector's editions, stuff like armor and war memorabilia and hundred year old furniture. But this was just junk. Garbage that was festering and rotting, lining every inch of the room.
I still wasn't convinced that was what the smell was, though.
"How are we going to get through to the next room?"
We'd come to a dead end, a wall of newspapers blocking our way in the maze.
The papers smelled as bad as anything else in the house.
"I think we should just get the heck out of here," Pippa said. "This is dangerous, Rach. I don't know what we're here for anyway."
BDM02 - Donuts, Antiques and Murder Page 7
