Traveling Town Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Ami Diane

  “My prints are on it ‘cause it’s my gun.”

  Chapter 5

  “YOUR GUN?” WINK stared open-mouthed at her best friend.

  On his stool, Chapman ran a hand down the stubble along his jaw. The air grew thick with silence.

  Ella felt the need to break it. “I’m sorry, are we really going to pretend to be shocked that one of the myriad of weapons in this town belongs to Flo?” Her voice rose a full octave. “Really? Frankly, I’m more shocked it hasn’t happened sooner.”

  “Thanks, cotton head.” Flo lifted her head. “You can’t think I had anything to do with him dying, do you, Sheriff? I was with you when Patience came in screaming to beat the band.”

  His nod was so subtle, Ella nearly missed it. “That you were. No, I don’t think you killed him, Ms. Henderson, but what I want to know is how did the murderer get your weapon?”

  Flo lifted her pudgy shoulders in a shrug.

  “Earlier, in the basement, when you asked what gun had killed him and I told you, did you suspect it might’ve been yours?”

  “Maybe.” It may have been the booze, but Flo’s cheeks flushed.

  “Why didn’t you say nothing?”

  “Because I needed to be sure.”

  “Where do you normally keep the gun?”

  Ella could almost hear a collective, sharp intake of breath around the table. Not a muscle moved in anticipation of Flo revealing where she kept her hidden arsenal.

  The old woman’s chin jutted out. “Can’t say where, but I promise, ain’t no one can get to it.”

  “Someone obviously did, Ms. Henderson.”

  “Then, I must’ve left it out in my room.”

  Chapman continued to assess her with his steely gaze and stony expression. Ella got the impression he didn’t believe for a second Flo had been so careless with one of her precious weapons.

  However, he unfolded his lean body from the stool and stretched to his full height, his hat brushing the metal ceiling. “Alright. That’s all for now, but I suggest you make yourself available in case I need to ask you any more questions.”

  As he reached the door, Ella called out to him and told him about Sal, that neither she nor Will had interviewed him. “Do you remember getting his prints?”

  Chapman’s eyes held in a brewing storm. “Can’t say as I do. But I’ll be darn sure to get ‘em now.”

  He thanked her then brushed the brim of his hat and strolled out into the night, his spurs jingling along the sidewalk like a song.

  Ella let out a breath as she turned over this new information. “This third, unidentified set of prints is obviously the killer’s. So, how in the Charles Dickens did he or she escape without getting fingerprinted?”

  Will’s mouth set in a grim line. “Someone escaped our net.”

  “Sal,” everyone said together.

  Ella stepped into the inn library, tea in hand, relishing the deep quiet. They’d spent another hour going over their notes, searching for anything they could’ve overlooked and speculating how someone had escaped the dragnet.

  Flo was adamant no one had come nor gone through the side entrance that led through the conservatory. Wink had been stationed at the front door and only let people leave who’d already gone through the line getting fingerprinted and questioned.

  Ella planned on asking Jimmy tomorrow about his sentry at the back door, but seeing as how it was nearing eleven, he was already in bed.

  The cup clinked on the saucer as she laid it on an end table near the fire. Her eyelids weighed like bowing branches, but inside, she was too keyed up to sleep.

  As she turned to hunt for a book, the shadows in the far corner shifted.

  Ella choked back a scream.

  Six Shooter stepped into the amber glow from the dying fire. “Easy, darlin’. If I knew you were gonna get that excited to see me, I’d come by more often.”

  “Six, what are you doing here? And why are you covered in dirt?” She winced at the mud covering his trousers and boots. Rose was going to have a fit.

  “Been lookin’ for buried treasure.”

  Ella blinked and decided to leave that comment alone, unsure if he was serious.

  His spurs tinkled as he shuffled forward. He slid off his gray cowboy hat, revealing several days-worth of stubble along his sharp jawline. Even without his Stetson, his eyes remained in shadows, sunk and haunting.

  “You okay?” Ella stoked the dying embers in the fire and threw on a small round of lodgepole, sending sparks dancing into the air. She moved towards the wingback chairs beside her tea, indicating for him to sit in the chair across from her.

  The outlaw was slow to sit, his grimy hands brushing the fabric of the furniture with reverence, as if unaccustomed to such refinery, which, given what she’d seen of his homestead, was true. He perched on the edge as if he might bolt at any moment, much the same way Chapman had sat at the diner—a comparison Ella kept to herself.

  She crossed her legs and sipped her tea, waiting for him to speak first. His eyes stared into the growing flames. He had bags underneath, a recent sagging that marred his handsome features.

  When he finally spoke, his gravelly voice came from far away. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  The question took her by surprise. Ella formulated her response carefully. “Depends. If you mean the kind of specters Flo believes in, then no. But I suspect that’s not what you mean.”

  She watched the light flicker over his skin. After setting her teacup aside, she leaned forward.

  “Six, we carry our pasts with us. In them are ghosts. Always. I’m tired of everyone in this town burying that fact. It does you no good to pretend you didn’t have a life before Keystone.”

  “Even if that life was full of bloodshed? Tell me, darlin’, you ever kill someone?” When Ella didn’t respond he continued. “How ‘bout several someones? No? Didn’t think so. You’ve no idea, then. You can hold onto your past ‘cause it doesn’t fill you with…”

  “Pain? Regret?”

  “Shame.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “When I close my eyes, I see their faces. Every last one of ‘em. It’s been gettin’ worse.”

  His skin glistened as if he had a slight fever. Ella reached forward and touched his forearm. The contact seemed to break the spell.

  He shook himself and pulled away, standing.

  “Six—”

  He waved her away. “Just ramblings of a gunslinger with too little sleep.”

  “Six,” Ella repeated, “you have to learn to forgive yourself. You have to let your past go.”

  He let out a throaty, bitter laugh.

  Despite his demeanor, she forged ahead. “Grace is a powerful force simply by the fact that it’s undeserved. Grant yourself grace, Six.” She took a steadying breath as he slid further away, folding the shadows around himself like a blanket. “I mean it. Maybe you don’t deserve it, maybe you think it’s impossible, but if you don’t, your ghosts and your guilt will eat you from the inside out.”

  He already bore the signs, and she feared her words were too late.

  His eyes were glassy when he spoke. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  “Yes because you’re my friend, and I care.”

  “Darlin’, you’re the only one in this godforsaken town.” With that, he departed through the conservatory, leaving behind a chill that Ella couldn’t shake.

  Chapter 6

  ELLA WRAPPED TWO of Rose’s warm blueberry muffins in a cloth napkin and shoved them into her jacket pocket. She took a step, glanced back at the muffin tin on the stove, then grabbed two more.

  In the foyer, she stepped over a sprawled Fluffy and made sure to pay the toll by scratching his large belly. After pulling her beanie down over her ears and zipping her down jacket up to her chin, she plunged into the cold mist outside. By the time she reached the sidewalk, her skin was slicked with moisture.

  Will stood beside his classic marine blue Chevy pickup. After a swift greeting, he opened the door fo
r her then jogged around to the driver’s seat.

  Plucked from the 1920s, the man still bore many of the period’s social conventions. For the most part, she found them endearing rather than oppressive.

  However, if he ever asked her to cook him dinner and clean his house, she had a slew of comments cocked and loaded for that conversation. She was sure he never would, though, as much to support women’s liberation as to avoid her cooking.

  He nosed the vehicle down Main Street, past patches of snow and through deep puddles. The fog dropped visibility down to about ten feet in front of the hood of the car and obscured the quint town, giving the impression that the buildings were born from the mist.

  She dug out the muffins and handed him one.

  “Where would you like to start?” He took a large bite of the baked good and let out a long sigh. “Rose makes the best muffins. Don’t tell Wink I said that.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  After swallowing, she brushed crumbs from her fingers and pulled out her cellphone. She opened the gallery app on her phone and zoomed in on the picture she’d taken of the town map hanging up in the Keystone Library.

  “Let’s see. Might be best to go north—the town’s north—to the end of the road. We can park then hike from there.” Her mouth turned down as she stared at her screen. “This is going to take more than a day, isn’t it? It’s at least a few miles across in either direction.”

  Beside her, he nodded. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, and they rode in silence. She watched the library and the sheriff’s office, ghost buildings in gray, swim past.

  Her mind drifted to her conversation with Six the previous night. The glimpse of vulnerability was rare from him. Maybe she could get him to open up more, talk about what had happened. He’d alluded to his past before, told her that his gang had betrayed him, led by his best friend. In return, Six had hunted and killed them in revenge, a fact she still struggled to reconcile with her image of the outlaw. She knew he was capable of killing, but it was a truth she chose to forget. Therefore, each time she was confronted with this fact, it felt like a splash of cold water to the face.

  She imagined Chapman, who’d arrived in Keystone while chasing Six on horseback, knew of these past transgressions but had no evidence with which to charge him. Maybe Six’s ghosts were justice in some form.

  As the town shrank in the rearview mirror, Ella dug out a second muffin for each of them. She considered telling Will about Six’s impromptu visit the night before but thought better of it. They weren’t officially dating, and she didn’t owe him an explanation each time a friend stopped by for a heart-to-heart.

  So, why did she feel guilty?

  The inventor’s eyes remained fixated on the straight road, and she knew his vigilance had less to do with the fog and more to do with her charting the town boundary.

  She broke the quiet with a sigh. “You still don’t think I should be doing this, do you?”

  He spared a glance her way. “Mapping the town? I have no problem with it. I think it’s a good idea. Whenever newcomers become stranded here, we can show them where it’s safe to go. Heck, might even benefit the older transplants. Some of them get complacent and wander over the border without knowing it. Just two months ago we lost a guy… Terry something, who went too far through the woods.”

  “But…?”

  “But you’re doing this for more than cartographical reasons, aren’t you?”

  It was Ella’s turn to stare ahead at the road.

  “You think it will lead to a clue, some reason for why the town moves.”

  Even though the landscape outside hadn’t changed, he slowed the pickup. It became apparent a moment later why. The road ended abruptly, as did the large patches of snow, abutted against… what was that? Volcanic rock, she finally decided.

  “So what if I do think this might lead to some answers? Maybe it won’t, maybe it will. What does it hurt to try?”

  “Nothing,” he said, turning off the engine. “But it’s your hope that might be the problem. I don’t want to see you disappointed. Many have tried, El.”

  He didn’t have to say it, but she knew he was thinking it. Many much smarter than her.

  “That moment you realize it’s fruitless, you’re stuck here, it’s the worst feeling in the world. I guess I just want you to ease into it.”

  The back of her eyes began to sting. “Are you sure it’s not because you feel threatened? That I have the audacity to think I might succeed where you or the professor have failed?”

  She swallowed, wishing she could take back the toxic words. A pregnant stillness stretched until, wordlessly, Will opened his door and stepped into the gray world.

  Ella cursed and leaped out of the pickup, slamming the door closed. “Will, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Forget it.”

  “No. It was wrong of me. You mean well; I know that. It’s just…” She didn’t want to qualify her hurtful words because there was no excuse. “It’s just, it seems like you’re trying to stop me. Maybe I can’t solve this. I’m not claiming to be as smart as you or the professor. You think I don’t know that you all have been working on this for ten years?

  “I just need to try for myself. This is a failure I need to walk through. I appreciate you trying to protect me from that, but maybe just walk beside me instead?”

  His back was to her as they crunched and sloshed through the snow. “I can do that. And when your heart shatters, I will hold your hand and help you pick up the pieces.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. She swiped it away before he could see it. It took her a moment to pull herself together enough to start marking the map on her phone. Her finger dragged across the screen, doing her best to match the edge that she was seeing in person to the pixels on the screen.

  They reached a grove of trees on the Keystone side and paused. All to their right, stretching through the dense fog was a bleak landscape.

  They hadn’t spoken for several minutes, and Will’s voice shook her from her reverie.

  “I’m afraid if you fail, but I’m even more afraid if you succeed.” His head hung, and his hat hid his eyes. “El, what if you figure out what’s causing this?”

  “Then, we figure out how to stop it.”

  “And then what?”

  “We get back to our own, respective times—” Air escaped her lungs. He’d gone there. The reason their relationship was a nonstarter. “You cannot fault me for wanting to go home. I don’t fit in here. I’m from the days of the internet, where everyone shares far too much personal information. I miss showers—which is really more of a plumbing issue at the inn, I realize that, but still. And drive-thru coffee stands. And indoor plumbing—”

  “You have indoor plumbing now.”

  “And flying cars.”

  “You have flying cars?”

  “No. Not yet. But it’s going to happen, mark my words. And I miss…” It struck her how most of the things she missed were plush, modern amenities and nothing more. “And I miss my parents. Don’t you miss your sister? Wouldn’t you do anything to get back to her?”

  “I do miss her, and I did do anything to get back to her, El.”

  “I know. I only meant—”

  “And then I let her go. Not because I loved her any less or because I didn’t want to return home, but to survive. It was killing me. Heartache is its own kind of poison.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “Can you think of no reason to stay?”

  She knew what he was asking, but she couldn’t entertain that question. “Will, I’m not there yet. Don’t ask me to give it all up. Not yet.” Her voice broke, and she dropped her eyes to the mud, trying to collect herself.

  When she could look up again, his blue-green eyes pierced her heart. “El, have you met a problem you couldn’t solve? You’ve solved three murders.”

  “Four,” she corrected, but her heart wasn’t in it. “And I had help. No one’s going to he
lp me with this.”

  He let out a long breath, the air coming out in a cloud before his face. “I will. I will help you. And you’ll find the answer like you always do.”

  He turned and strode forward, his shoulders slumping slightly but his back held straight in that quiet confidence he exuded.

  Ella felt a vice tighten her chest. The question lingered on her tongue, but she was unable to voice it.

  Where did that leave them?

  Two hours later, Ella and Will were rounding the northwestern part of the map. The mood had lightened considerably since their talk. Scraping his boots over the snow, the inventor cracked jokes, helped her over rocks, and had the decency to only tease her a little when she slipped in a mud puddle and doused her rear end in muck.

  She checked her phone’s display. “So, who owns this section?” They were still a couple of miles north of Six’s tract of land.

  “The town.”

  As they rounded a copse of trees, the ground dropped off abruptly to a short, rocky cliff. Ella leaned out, trying to see where the snow ended and the volcanic landscape began so she could sketch it on the map.

  Brown framework the size of the diner rose from the mud, set against the mist, like a giant carcass. Shredded fabric clung to the wooden frame and played in the icy breeze.

  “Will, there’s a shipwreck down there.”

  He dropped to his haunches beside her. “Yes, ma’am. Isn’t it a dilly?” He lifted his gaze to the clouds swirling across the black ground beyond the border. “It wrecked ashore a few months back when we flashed to a beach somewhere. It’s a pirate ship, late seventeenth century if I’m remembering correctly.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  Snippets of past conversations stitched themselves together. Wink and Flo mentioning being chased by pirates. Perhaps Six’s comment the previous night about searching for buried treasure hadn’t been in jest.

  She stared at the wreck below. The sail caught in the wind, desperate to break free. “Any idea where this treasure is?”