Traveling Town Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Ami Diane

  Whoever Mary was talking to was getting an earful of rushed monologue. Ella made a show of picking up a metal object that was either an ancient dental device for extracting teeth or for torture and pretended as if it was the most fascinating thing, all the while, eavesdropping on this side of the conversation.

  “Sal, trust me… it’s the smoking gun we’ve been looking for.”

  The heavy metallic object slipped from Ella’s hand and made a loud clatter. Mrs. Kirkland spun and glared at her.

  Coughing, Ella retrieved the apparatus from the floor, replaced it on the shelf, and picked up another random object, a red foam finger that had “#1.” Meanwhile, the store owner was listening intently to whatever Sal was saying on the other end.

  “When people find out what he’s done, you’ll be a hero for telling them. It’ll get you elected for sure.”

  One of Mrs. Kirkland’s hands rested on the library book as she glanced over at Ella again. Ella dropped her gaze to the foam finger.

  “I don’t care what your big secret is—you think it’s bigger than this?” Another drawn-out pause. The woman’s mouth parted. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes glinted as a corner of her mouth smirked up. “Oh, this is perfect. It’ll ruin him.” She glanced over at Ella again.

  “Look, meet me at our usual spot in ten minutes.” A pause. “Yes, I know it’s nearly time for the debate. Do you want to win this thing or not?”

  She hung up just as Henry was returning with the floppy drive that plugged into the antique computer. For whatever reason, she divided a glare between Ella and Henry before scooping up the book. She rushed towards the door, grabbing her purse from its hook.

  Henry held up a hand to catch Mary’s attention. “Mrs. Kirkland, don’t you want—”

  The door closed behind her.

  “—a gun.”

  “Maybe she’s got one in her purse?” Ella suggested.

  “You want to buy that too?” He gestured at her hands, and she realized she still held the bear paw.

  Grimacing, she exchanged it for the floppy drive, wondering just how she was going to cart the monitor and the keyboard back to the inn. Her answer came a moment later in the form of Brandon as he reemerged, a rag in hand, sweat streaking down the sides of his face.

  “Want help with that?”

  She nodded gratefully. After he hefted up the monitor and she collected the keyboard and mouse—which looked more like it belonged in a doctor’s office than attached to a computer—they stepped from the sweltering swamp inside to the sweltering one outside. She was anxious to get back to the inn. From the what she’d overheard, Sal was up to something involving the election, and she needed to warn Wink.

  Walking in silence for several paces, she popped her lips in a bored sound, searching for a conversation topic. “This weather, huh?” She whistled.

  Unsurprisingly, the statement was a nonstarter.

  She coughed. “I’ve seen you around the store before but never introduced myself.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen you, too. People warned me to stay away. Said you were trouble.”

  “Seriously? Who said that? Was it Flo? I bet it was Flo. She’s far more trouble than I am. Although—” She glanced over at the young man “—in your case, it would be a different kind of trouble. If she ever asks, tell her you’re under eighteen.”

  A rare smile touched the corners of his eyes while the rest of his face remained tense.

  “I haven’t seen you in the store the last couple of times I’ve been in,” she commented, wanting to fill the void with a semblance of a conversation, even if it was mostly one-sided.

  A light breeze picked up the scent of polish wafting off of him and mixed with the musty, earthy aromas of the lake and distant jungle.

  “Yeah, I took an apprenticeship with an electrician. Douglas Fulk?”

  Ella shook her head, signifying she didn’t know him. “Good for you. That’s wonderful.”

  After she glanced at her watch, they picked up their pace, partly because of the dinosaurs lurking about and partly because the debate was about to start.

  In the distance, a distant speck of a jean-clad woman with a mullet darted left into a side alley in the direction of the lake.

  “How long has your mother owned the General Store?”

  “About seven years now,” Brandon replied after a moment. His brows were knotted, and a storm brewed behind his eyes. Ella recognized the tortured soul of a youth who felt misunderstood.

  “That’s nice. Where are you from?” The way he spoke and his mother’s appearance told her they weren’t native to the town.

  “This is your place, right?” He nodded at the inn’s wrought iron arch.

  She hadn’t realized they’d arrived. “Yep, this is me.” He followed her inside. After depositing the computer and all its components in the study, she turned to thank him, but he’d already ducked out, leaving a vapor of cleaning solution in his wake. A moment, the front door opened and closed, and Brandon was gone.

  Chapter 3

  ELLA HAD ONLY a moment to consider Brandon’s hasty getaway before rushed footsteps darted through the entrance hall. Stepping out of the study, she found Rose tugging a pair of white gloves on, her cheeks flushed.

  “Ella? What on earth are you still doing here? You should be at the church with the others.”

  “I had to go pick up Will’s present before the store closed.”

  Rose’s red lips turned down in a frown before she said, “That’s right. We’re celebrating tomorrow, and I still need to figure out what to make. Although, we might have to postpone until the town jumps.”

  “You could, but think how great it would be for him to come over, spend time with friends, laugh—”

  “Is this because you want to give him his present?”

  “Are you asking if I would put him in danger by driving out here just to give him his present?” While she’d been speaking, she’d been nodding. “Because the answer is yes. Yes, I would.”

  The two swept out the front door and down the stoop. Ella asked how long Rose had been planning a party for Will while they power-walked up the sidewalk in the direction Ella had just come.

  “I wouldn’t call it a party. Just a small gathering with friends like we usually do. He didn’t want anything extravagant.”

  “And you’ve been planning it for…?” Ella prodded.

  “At least a month now. I’m sure I mentioned it to you.”

  “You sure? I don’t think you did.”

  “I’m certain. I remember we discussed it because we were talking about what to do about dessert. You insisted on homemade ice cream, and then you stopped listening, and I said, ‘Ella? Are you listening?’ And you told me you were.”

  “Huh. Sounds like someone else.”

  Pushing cat-eye glasses up her nose, Rose prattled on about a gelatin mold recipe she wanted to try for the occasion, obviously nixing the idea of homemade ice cream. Ella caught the words “tuna” and “sprinkles” in the same sentence and held in a shiver.

  Her hand patted the slingshot at her back pocket to ensure it was still there then interrupted Rose. “Where are Jimmy and Flo?”

  Typically, they went to the town hall meetings and the potlucks as a group, meeting up with Wink and Will at the church-turned-grange-hall.

  “They went early to save a seat. I had to run back for my serving spoon.” She shook her purse which hung demurely from her elbow.

  No doubt the spoon was for a gelatinous tray she’d contributed to the potluck. “And you walked alone, unarmed?”

  “Who says I’m unarmed?” She winked.

  “You borrowed one of Flo’s weapons, too, didn’t you?”

  “A pink grenade she says will disable anything in a fifty-foot radius.”

  “Which means you have to throw it and run that far or you get caught in the blast.”

  Smoothing out her dress while walking, Rose said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

&n
bsp; At the church, they found the front yard, which normally teemed with loiterers, empty save for a couple of volunteers pacing back and forth, shotguns in hand.

  Even the more garrulous of the townsfolk had taken their conversations inside the safety of the building, as evident by the muffled sound humming from the other side of the closed doors. But the building only gave a false sense of security as, undoubtedly, its structural integrity couldn’t withstand a reptile twice its size.

  As soon as she and Rose opened the double doors, they were blasted by a wave of stuffy air, loud voices, and music. A live band was set up on the podium, slapping a bass and blowing into a trumpet, filling the room with jazz in the flavor of Miles Davis. Adding to the din were a dozen electrical fans planted around the room, which did little more than push the muggy air from one pocket to another.

  Ella craned her head, searching the rows of chairs for their party. Rose said something beside her.

  “Hmm? Is it just me or is the music a little loud?”

  Bending closer to Ella’s ear, Rose said, “They’re hoping the music will keep the wildlife away.” She pointed at a row of chairs and navigated the crowd while Ella followed.

  The blaring band and lack of cool, breathable air made the sanctuary feel more crowded than it was. Although she bumped into several people, it was the least packed she’d seen a Keystone potluck.

  She bumped into a lithe figure in a well-tailored suit. When she turned to apologize, she found herself staring into dark eyes beneath slicked-back hair.

  “Ella.”

  “Count Chocula,” she greeted Sal.

  The sharp widow’s peak framing his forehead, along with his hairstyle and angular features were reminiscent of the cartoon figure on the cereal box. And his voice and smile were slicker than his hair, better suited for a car salesman.

  “I would’ve thought you’d postpone the debate until after we jumped.”

  “I considered it.” His features arranged into a serious expression, one she’d often seen him use while working a crowd. “But others felt it necessary before the election. I made it clear anyone who shows up is risking their life on their own volition. It’s also being broadcast on the radio for those staying home.”

  The Keystone Village radio station—which played a mix of the same music, shows put on by the local drama club, bored radio jockey ramblings, and dead air—occasionally came in handy to disseminate important information. Like last week when a dinosaur called a Kentrosaurus had decided Main Street was a nice place for a nap. Or like a month before when Gladys, who ran the greenhouses, had lost her glasses.

  “Right, well, so long as you warned them.”

  But he’d stopped listening, his head turning about in search of someone. “Have you seen my campaign manager?”

  “Maybe. Who is your campaign manager? Is it that guy in the lime green suit over there? Seems to be your kind of people.”

  He let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. “Mary Kirkland.”

  Ella’s brain somersaulted. “Mary Kirkland who owns the General Store? That Mary Kirkland?” Now, the phone call made more sense.

  How was it that while helping Wink these past few weeks with her campaign, Ella had never known any of the other candidates’ campaign managers? Although, now that she thought about it, the title seemed overkill for a small-town election. Then again, being essentially cut-off from the rest of the world, local elections were all that they had by way of politics.

  “Didn’t you just see her?” Ella glanced at her watch, not wanting to let on that she’d eavesdropped on Mary’s phone call with him. According to the side of the conversation she’d overheard, they’d arranged to meet up less than ten minutes ago.

  He stared at her in confusion. He stood close enough for her to see the sweat glistening across his forehead like a constellation of stars.

  A woman in a breezy summer dress approached and whispered in his ear.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said. “We have to get started.”

  Ella quickly located her seat between Will and Flo, scanning the sea of faces for Wink. She still hadn’t warned the diner owner about Sal. After the band wound down and walked off the stage, a hush settled over the crowd. She took the opportunity with everyone seated to scope out the spread of food on the tables against the right wall. During the previous week, the Keystone Gators, as Ella was still calling them, had come up with a new potluck strategy and had even run drills in preparation for tonight.

  The band’s setup was rearranged, and four chairs were placed behind a table, each with their own, old fashioned microphone. The sound of marching echoed around the room as mayoral candidates Sal, Wink, Patience, and Lou traipsed across the stage and seated themselves at the table. When Wink spotted them, Ella flapped her hand in an enthusiastic wave like a proud mother watching her child in a school play.

  “That outfit’s atrocious,” Flo muttered under her breath, but there was no mistaking the hint of pride in her voice.

  On Ella’s other side, Will fidgeted with the fedora resting on his lap. “It would be swell if she became mayor. Has she been practicing for tonight?”

  “If by practicing you mean baking lasagna and running drills, then yes.”

  He shook his head.

  On their left, Sheriff Chapman edged nearer the stage and stopped. He leaned against the wall and stroked his handlebar mustache, watching the candidates intently.

  At stage right sat a small table with two occupants, Stewart of Stewart’s Market. Beside him sat a lanky man Ella didn’t recognize, but he resembled a grasshopper in the way his legs folded behind the table, too long to fit underneath. A shared microphone rested between them.

  “I didn’t know Stew would be moderating tonight,” Ella whispered to Will.

  The speakers hammered with a thumping noise as Stew tapped the shared microphone, quieting the buzz of conversation to the sound of rustling leaves. His sweeping hair glinted silver from the light cast by a nearby window.

  “Before we get started,” the grocery store owner and Wink’s suitor began, “I’d like to welcome everyone here and those listening on the radio at home. The town council would like us to first discuss an important issue regarding—” he consulted his notes “—our livestock and crops. We need volunteers as round-the-clock sentries for protection until we jump to a new location. George?”

  A member of the crowd stood, and Ella recognized him as the man she’d bumped into coming out of the library earlier. He’d not changed out of his dirt-stained clothes.

  When he reached the table, he snatched up the microphone and pressed his lips to the device. “I’m spearheadin’ the group of volunteers. You like food, your burgers, your salads, and what not? Then help us protect it before it’s all gone. I’ve already lost ten cattle to them lizards. Can’t afford to lose no more.”

  “Why not just install electrical fencing?” someone near the back hollered.

  Ella shook her head and shot Will a smug smile. She’d watched Jurassic Park and knew exactly how that scenario played out.

  “Glad you asked.” George curled his lip and breathed into the microphone, sounding not unlike Darth Vader. “I tried to buy some from the General Store, and the owner wouldn’t sell me none on account she doesn’t like me.

  “Now, I’m losing cattle left and right.” Turning, he leveled his eyes at the candidates on stage. “Any mayor who’ll step in and force her to sell to me before we all starve to death has got my vote.”

  Without ceremony, he slammed the microphone back on the table and walked away, hollering, “Oh, and anyone interested in protecting what’s ours from those monsters, see me after the debate.”

  Clearing his throat, Sal spoke up. “As acting mayor, I’d like to point out that neither myself nor the council can step in and dictate how a business operates.”

  Ella inclined her head and glanced around, unsure if that was true. She knew as much about politics as she did about cooking, but surely some exce
ptions warranted the council’s overreach, such as not going hungry.

  “Yes, well…” Stew seemed to be fighting a smile. “And that’s George. You heard what the man said. We need volunteers before our livestock and crops are depleted.”

  The lanky, grasshopper man beside Stew leaned into the store owner’s personal space and in a radio-announcer voice said, “That’s right, folks. Come on down and help the town out, you hear?”

  Ella immediately recognized his voice as that of Ukulele Joe, the man who hogged the airways three evenings a week, crooning while simultaneously learning to play the ukulele.

  One of Stew’s eyebrows rose good-naturedly before he slid the mic a little further away. Speaking in his soothing, dulcet tone, he explained how the debate would go.

  The two moderators would take turns asking the candidates questions; responses and rebuttals would be allowed at their discretion, as well as followup questions. Each candidate would have forty-five seconds to respond. Closing statements would be made at the end in a random order, and candidates would have one minute to make them.

  “As a reminder, this is the last public forum before Election Day.”

  With that, they were off with a bang—literally. One of the council members had thought it a good idea to use a starter pistol to kick off the debate. Once people had uncovered their ears, Stew and Ukulele Joe rapid fired questions at the candidates in turn on issues ranging from proposed energy source alternatives to what they would do in the current dinosaur crisis to their favorite dishes at the potluck.

  Ella choked back a snort at this last question, drawing a shush from Will. It turned out, the topic drew more heat than any of the mundane ones discussed so far, especially when Stew brought up zucchini bread and asked Wink if she thought it qualified as a dessert. The candidates exchanged heated threats over the issue, and several in the audience became involved, calling them names and throwing things at the stage. It finally died down when Ukulele Joe distracted everyone with an off-tune rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner.

  Except for the zucchini bread debacle, it was all going along rather smoothly and dryly, and not at all in Keystone fashion until the radio jockey asked Patience why she would be better suited for mayor as opposed to the other candidates.