Traveling Town Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Ami Diane

  A thump from the ceiling announced that Six was awake.

  “Has he been down yet?” Ella asked.

  Rose shook her head.

  After getting a plate, Ella loaded the small dishware with four more pastries. At the looks this garnered from the others, she explained, “They’re for Six. Well, three of them anyway.”

  Flo snorted.

  “Fine, two of them are for him.”

  She added another muffin to the plate as she passed the table. “Okay, now two of them are for him.”

  After laying the plate and two cups of coffee on a tray, she made her way back upstairs. The contents jiggled and more than a little bit of the dark brew sloshed out by the time she made it to the outlaw’s temporary quarters.

  Since her hands were full, she was relegated to kicking the door with her foot. Without shoes, the sound was a muffled thump, thump.

  He grunted for whoever it was to come in.

  “I can’t. That’s the point of me pounding.”

  Through the door, she heard him grumbling as he moved to open it.

  “Wait, are you decent?” She squeezed her eyes closed just as the door opened.

  “Do you want me to be?”

  When she still refused to open her eyes, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m decent.”

  She peeled them open to find a haggard Six slumping back onto his bed. Several days’ growth of a beard poked through his pasty skin. One eye was still partially swollen shut and sported a purple ring around it.

  She rested the tray on the nightstand. The anachronistic sight of the gunslinger sitting on a floral bedspread lifting a jade cup from the 1950s jarred her anew. A man out of time, lost in the churn and just trying to swim ashore.

  When he was halfway through his first muffin and had taken several sips of coffee, she said, “You know, just putting this out there, but we do have a bathroom. It’s just down the hall, as a matter of fact. With running water.”

  “I’ve used a bathroom before, darlin’. What’s your point?”

  “But have you used a bathtub before? They’re these amazing inventions—”

  “I got one at home. You sayin’ I stink?”

  “Well, now that you ask, you are smelling a bit ripe.”

  He grunted. When she didn’t move to leave, he stopped mid-chew and stared.

  Ella studied the scuffed floor. “I just have to ask… I read about you… about that family that you and your gang attacked… is it true?”

  The air felt tense. It fell so quiet that she could hear the clank of the dishes downstairs in the sink.

  She’d expected a reaction, one fueled by rage where at the very least, he pointed his six-shooter at her. Instead, he studied her with his good eye.

  “Do you think it’s true?”

  “No.” She paused then grew more confident in her answer, shaking her head as she said it again. “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, it is.”

  It took a moment for her brain to catch up. “What?”

  “That’s right. I killed ‘em.”

  Her voice cracked. “N-no. I don’t believe you.”

  “You’re the first one’s asked, though. E’erybody just assumes it’s true. Doesn’t surprise them that Ol’ Six is the murderer they always thought I was.”

  Ella’s throat felt like sandpaper as she swallowed. “Tell me what happened, please.”

  His gaze drifted past her. “We were moving our way across Nevada, hitting coaches, trains, and wagons. Gettin’ rich. But things started going bad. I was losing control of ‘em.

  “One day, we was full as a tick when we came across a wagon travelin’ west to hit some gold. When I saw it was a family—at least five youngins—I wanted to move on. But the others didn’t wanna. And instead of following me, they went along with my right-hand man, Ike Brown. Thought the family’d be flush, see, ‘cause they had moved all their belongings.

  “Well, the father starts shootin’, and that just riled Ike up and, well, you know the rest.”

  The way the last statement was rushed out, told Ella there was more to the story.

  “You tried to stop Ike, didn’t you?”

  Six nodded slowly. “Me and a couple others. He’d gone too far.”

  “And that’s why you turned them all in?”

  “I was done with the Rough Riders. Didn’t settle right with me what he done. I couldn’t sleep for days after that. There’s just some things a man should ne’er do.”

  Pain glimmered in his good eye. Reaching out, Ella squeezed his hand.

  He gave a shuddering breath and continued. “So, I approached a lawman, one I knew’d hold his end of a bargain.”

  “Chapman.”

  “Yeah. Told him where we’d be ridin’ next. Told him he and his badges could take the lot of ‘em for all I cared. I only wanted to be left alone. I planned to ride north. Start a new life in a small town I’d heard hit gold.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ike put up a fight. None of them went quietly. They all ended up eating bullets and in earth baths. As I was riding north, one of the sheriff’s deputies got wind of me and cut me off. See, he didn’t know the agreement I had.

  “Chapman was forced to come after me. Must’ve thought if his deputies were hunting me, they’d shoot me on sight.”

  “That day you two stumbled into Keystone, he was chasing you?”

  Six nodded. “I don’t think he had much choice.”

  “And once you two figured out you were stranded…”

  “He honored his word. Here, we could both start over. Nobody knew what I’d been, what I’d done.”

  It was a long while before either of them spoke again. He finished off his muffins, moving onto hers, and she didn’t stop him.

  “Why did you say you killed them? You didn’t.”

  “Maybe I didn’t light the match, darlin’, but I was there. We’d become what we were ‘cause of me.”

  “You’re wrong, Six. You tried to save them. You’re not like the others. Even Chapman thinks so. Otherwise, you would’ve been left behind in a jump a long time ago.”

  He ignored her.

  “Six, let me help you.”

  “You can’t. No one can. I’m beyond redemption.”

  “Nobody is beyond redemption. You’re not alone, and you’re not broken. I can help you.”

  He glowered, dropping the muffin in his fingers. “You came for your story, and you got it. Now get.”

  “Fine. You seem hellbent on punishing yourself. If you ever want to quit feeling sorry for yourself, you know where to find me.”

  She stomped across the hall and slammed the door for the murder room. Dropping onto the bed, she stewed in her anger for several minutes before realizing she’d left her coffee behind, as she had the rest of her breakfast.

  “That Tombstone wannabe ate my muffins,” she seethed to the empty room.

  Armed with more coffee and another plate of muffins, along with a thick slice of warm banana bread, Ella returned to the murder room to stare at the mirror. She kept the door closed so as not to chance seeing Six if he ever emerged.

  While trying to fall asleep the night before, an idea had formed on how to help the man. It seemed, however, he was determined to turn away all aid and friendship.

  Fine by her. She no longer cared.

  A slow breath seeped from her chest. That wasn’t true. She cared very much, but how could she help someone bent on drowning in their own abyss?

  Rolling her shoulders, she shrugged off the ennui and focused on the list of names. She’d stared at them so often over the past few days that she could envision them with her eyes closed, could picture the slanting handwriting and the smudge marks from Wink.

  This case was all over the place, with little leads and even less evidence. Overshadowing all if it was the upheaval of the election and her friends’ lives. Her focus had been strained and elsewhere, and she knew it.

  She reviewed what she knew. Sal had ordered lamb, a
s well as met with the victim just before the attack. The problem was motive. As neutral as she was about the acting mayor—although, that was rapidly changing—she didn’t think the barber capable of taking another life.

  Her eyes drifted from the candidate’s name to another name she hadn’t seriously considered until this moment.

  Patience Chilton.

  She’d been in the butcher shop where she would’ve had access to Mary’s purse. Incidentally, she’d also been the one to discover the body—or what was left of it. And the councilwoman had proved crazy enough to want to murder.

  But there were two problems with her as the killer. She hadn’t ordered lamb, and there was no obvious motive.

  A knock came at the door, and Ella tensed, expecting to see Six. She was relieved when Wink and Flo traipsed into the room, arguing. From the biting remarks that followed, Ella gathered that Flo wanted Wink to wipe her record if she won the election.

  Ella chewed on another muffin while waiting for them to settle the matter.

  “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t do that.”

  Flo threw her hands in the air. “Then, this has all been for nothing. I don’t know why I bothered.”

  “Because you’re my friend and would rather see me in office than any of the others.”

  “Whatever.” Flo pouted on the bed, or at least Ella guessed she was pouting. The woman had neglected to fill in her eyebrows today, so her expressions were a bit of a guessing game.

  Shaking her head, Wink approached the board. Without preamble, she asked, “Where are we at?”

  Ella told her about considering Patience then her line of reasoning for dismissing her just as quickly.

  “Agreed.” Wink pointed at the name above the councilwoman. “What about Henry?”

  “His motive’s weak unless we missed something. She was a bad boss. Nothing more.”

  “Didn’t you say she threatened him?”

  “He implied that, yes. But how would he have slipped the meat into her purse?”

  They’d gone over this before, but she appreciated being thorough and reviewing all of the names.

  “Also,” she continued, “Brandon vouched for him, which I guess doesn’t mean much if they’re good friends. He could be covering for the kid.” She paused. “Henry wasn’t in the butcher shop that morning, was he?”

  Wink shook her head. “Maybe he slipped the meat into Mary’s purse earlier that morning.”

  “It’s possible. But you’d think she would’ve discovered it.”

  “Not if her purse is anything like Flo’s.”

  They both twisted their heads to look over at the crazy boarder who produced a toothpick from her trouser pocket and began picking her teeth.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Ella said under her breath to Wink, “but how old is that toothpick?”

  “Since the potluck.”

  “Oh, I guess that isn’t so—”

  “No, the very first potluck the town threw.”

  Ella gagged and looked back at the mirror before she lost her muffins. Her finger tapped on a name.

  Dirty-jeans Guy. He had to be the one. He had the trifecta: means, motive, and opportunity. And in a murder with such little evidence, that was all they had to go on.

  She had seen sheep at his ranch, so he had access to lamb. Did he butcher his own?

  “Remind me again who was there in the butcher shop that morning.”

  “Let’s see… Me, Flo, Patience, Mary, and George.”

  “Who’s George?”

  Wink sighed.

  “Oh, he’s the rancher, isn’t he? He was there?”

  Flo piped up. “‘Course he was. Where do you think all the meat comes from? Looked like he was making a delivery.”

  “He was behind the counter,” Wink said. “In the back. He didn’t come near Mary. Matter of fact, they didn’t exchange a word.”

  “A little weird for neighbors not to at least say hello, isn’t it?” Ella’s eyes narrowed. “But that’s not why I’m asking.

  “This whole time, I’ve been hung up on the fact that if he was the killer, that meant he would’ve had to have slipped the meat into her purse at the library. Meaning, he would’ve had to have known when she was there and brought it with him. Not impossible, but just odd and less likely. And certainly, an odd death to plan out.”

  Wink shrugged. “Not necessarily. It was nearly ruled accidental, remember?”

  “True.”

  Flo inspected her toothpick. “So, you think the man got the lamb from the butcher shop and followed Mary into the library where he slipped it into her purse?”

  “That’s my theory, yes.”

  They’d never solved a murder with so little to go on. Once again, she was bumbling around, searching for the horizon.

  “Alight,” Wink said. “How do we prove it?”

  Chapter 29

  ELLA TUGGED ASIDE the blue curtain partition for the voting booth, having just filled out her ballot. Near the double doors of the church, Wink looked on nervously, putting on a brave smile that trembled slightly at passersby.

  When Ella reached her, she brushed her hands together, saying, “Done. I voted for Lou. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Very funny.”

  She scanned the waiting lines. “Where’s Flo?”

  “Still voting. Not sure what’s taking her so long.”

  “Hmm, maybe she’s having trouble reading the print on the ballot. Or maybe she forgot why she was in there in the first place.”

  “Did not,” Flo said beside them.

  Ella jumped. “Where did you come from?”

  The older woman pointed a knobby hand at the booth at the far end. “From over there.”

  “What took you so long?” Wink asked, flashing a quick smile at Pauline who sauntered past in her signature jacket.

  “I wanted to add my personal touch to the ballot.”

  Ella didn’t like the sound of that. “You filled it with curse words, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I simply enhanced it with some of my one-of-a-kind artwork. It’s a Florence original that’ll be worth a lot of money one day.”

  Her “artwork” typically consisted of offensive drawings, ranging from sacrilegious to a morbid gorefest.

  “Did you draw Sal? How bloody did you make him?”

  They descended the steps outside, and a cool breeze tugged at their clothes.

  Wink pointed them towards her vehicle. “I’m more concerned that it didn’t nullify her ballot.”

  Ella and Flo stood at the passenger door, stuck in a staring contest. As their hands swatted for the handle in a battle, a small marching band assembled nearby.

  Their uniforms drooped and bubbled in all of the wrong places, and had the words, “Keystone High” across their chests. More than a few had either bleach spots or dark stains on them.

  Wink caught Ella gaping. “That’s the high school marching band.”

  “I see that. What are they doing?”

  “Warming up for the parade.”

  “Parade?” Behind the band sat three people on horseback. One carried a tattered American flag. “Where’s the rest of it?”

  “That is the rest of it.”

  Ella’s staring had cost her the front seat, but she didn’t protest as she slid into the backseat and continued to gawk at the saddest parade she’d ever seen.

  At first, she thought the students were warming up their instruments before she realized that they’d actually started playing. Someone threw confetti that looked like grains of rice that turned out to be dried bread crumbs.

  Wink pulled the car away from the curb.

  “Are we sure Brandon’s home?” Flo said from the front. As usual, her head listed to one side to make room for her beehive hairdo.

  “I called and checked before we left the inn,” Ella said.

  She hadn’t wanted to tell him their plan—if she could call it that—over the phone. It would be best to request the f
avor in person. Also, she’d discovered it was easier to coerce people in person, should he need convincing, which he probably would if he were a sane person.

  They reached the dirt lane that led to both the Kirklands’ and the rancher’s residences. Outside the first house before the Kirklands’ place, a woman tended to a lush vegetable garden. A tall, wire fence enclosed it, but part of the enclosure must’ve recently encountered a reptile, given the way it bent and the state of plants strewn everywhere.

  “Stop,” Ella said abruptly.

  Wink slammed on the brakes, spraying dirt up. “What’s wrong?”

  “I want to talk to her.”

  The buckle clicked as she undid her seatbelt. As she opened the door, Wink hollered at her to quit scaring her while driving.

  When Ella reached the woman, they exchanged pleasantries.

  The lady straightened, massaging her back. She appeared to be in her late fifties. She peered at Ella from beneath a sunhat.

  “Nice to finally get out and tend to my garden.” The woman turned bright eyes to the semi-destroyed patch. “Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

  Wink approached, having parked the car, while Flo was just now closing the passenger door.

  “Roberta, how do you do?”

  “Fine, thank you, Pearl. I was just explaining to this young lady how I got my work cut out for me.” She shook her head in disgust. “It’ll be a miracle if I can salvage half this.”

  Bending, she uprighted a fallen tomato plant and began repacking the soil around it. Ella squatted and helped.

  “What brings you ladies by?” Roberta glanced up at Wink.

  “Good question. El?”

  Ella bit her lip, wondering how much to reveal. “We were on our way to visit Brandon.”

  “That poor boy. I’ve tried to check on him since his mamma—well, you know. But it’s been hard.” Roberta’s head tilted up, and she gazed out across the stretches of landscape. “We had it tougher at this end of town than most folks. I checked on him or called nearly every day.”

  “It is terrible.” Ella uprighted another plant. “Were you close with the family?”

  “Not Mary, so much. But Brandon’s a sweet kid. Comes to help me from time to time.”