by J. R. Ripley
I was half-tempted to give the whole shebang a good swift kick and get it all out of my sight. Lately, the spirits had been nothing but trouble.
I yawned, the sweet strong wine was already having its effect on me.
Unfortunately, I was also half-tempted to ask the spirit board for advice. I think that half-tempted part of me was controlled by the half-drunk portion of my brain.
Double unfortunately, the soused side won out.
I finished my sangria and stretched my arm back to place the coffee mug on the end table. I then leaned over the coffee table, one eye on the spirit board, one eye on the antics on the screen—Milly was teaching her six brothers-in-law how to dance—and one eye on my sanity.
Yes, I know how to count. Math just seems less precise and more fluid after midnight and alcoholic beverages.
I placed the planchette near the center of the board. “Oh, Ouija,” I began. I couldn’t resist rolling my eyes even though there was no one present to appreciate the gesture. Well, except the spirits.
Potential spirits.
“Oh, Ouija,” I started again. “Share your wisdom with me.” I thought a moment. “Who killed Yvonne Rice?”
t-h-e-m-u-r-d-e-r-e-r.
“Well, sure.” I hiccuped. “That was an easy one.”
I tilted my head ceilingward—number one, to think about my next question, and number two, to check for any kindly or malevolent spirits hovering silently overhead.
The coast was clear.
“Oh, Ouija.” Thank goodness, Kim couldn’t see me now. She’d razz me all the way to my grave!
I cleared my throat. “Will I ever get married?”
Trust me, it was the booze talking. Not me.
I waited. My fingers were sweating all over the plastic planchette.
u-r-m-a-r-r-i-e-d.
I gulped. The planchette jumped to goodbye.
My cell phone began singing, and I dug it out from between the cushions, where it had fallen. Sometimes the space between those cushions was like quicksand.
I read the screen: unknown caller.
Before I could answer, the call dropped.
Who had it been? A crank caller? A wrong number? The spirits playing tricks on me?
Or had it been my future husband?
I’d never know…I tossed the phone gently to the end of the table and went to bed.
I crawled under the covers and shut my eyes. I’d had enough fun for one night and made a big enough fool of myself for one night, too.
* * * *
I slept well but had strange dreams. Was it the secondhand smoke or all the odd and sinister goings-on?
I grabbed my binoculars from the bedside table and watched the titmice and cardinals as they attacked the feeders down in the yard. I’d have to refill them soon. This time of year, the birds seemed to double up on their feeder time.
I started the coffee and threw a slice of white bread in the toaster. Lamentably, the birds ate more nutritiously than I did.
I wished my mother would get home. There was something comforting about her presence.
I got downstairs late. Esther had already opened up the store. I had to listen to my employee berate me for my lack of commitment and poor work habits.
I sighed and shuffled off to the kitchenette, our little oasis of caffeine and sugar. There would be sustenance there. Sadly, it was bagel day, and I had to settle for half a toasted blueberry bagel rather than something more exciting, like a blueberry-filled jelly donut.
I carried my food and drink to the counter and watched as Esther popped a DVD into the machine. This one featured a series of lectures on bird-watching. We liked to keep something playing on the TV monitor for the customers to watch while they shopped. Hopefully, they found the videos educational, and just maybe, it led to impulse buying.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes for the umpteenth time. Where did all that crud come from? My only impulse was to crawl back into bed. Instead, I planted my elbows on the sales counter and dipped a chunk of bagel in my sugary coffee.
The phone rang like a bedside alarm, prodding me awake. “Hello, Birds and Bees.”
“Good morning, beautiful.”
I smiled. “Now, that is the way I like to start my day.” It was Derek. His smooth voice washed over me like a warm, sensual wave. “Couldn’t you call me like this first thing every morning?”
After the briefest of pauses, the reply was, “Better yet, I could whisper it in your ear.”
My toes curled. Other parts made moves I didn’t know they could.
“What’s wrong with you?” barked Esther. She nudged me aside so she could ring up a sale for a customer who had come in for her monthly supply of seed.
I cleared my throat and moved to the storeroom. “What’s up?”
“Can you come by the office? I have something to discuss with you.”
I pinched my brows. “Can we talk over lunch? My treat.”
“This is business. It would be better in the office. We can hit Jessamine’s afterward,” Derek replied. “My treat.”
We agreed to meet at his office at one o’clock and rang off. Kim came in the back door, unwound her scarf from her neck, and threw it atop a stack of boxes. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem.”
And no surprise. So there was no point in making a big deal out of it.
Kim hastily tied on her store apron. “Anything special going on today?”
“No. It’s delivery day. The truck should be arriving sometime after three. Other than that, all’s quiet on the Ruby Lake front. And I, for one, am glad of it.”
I followed Kim to the front of the store. Esther was stalking another customer in aisle two.
“Did you get Violet home okay?”
“Yeah.” Kim idly checked the seed bins. “Did you know she lives at the radio station?”
“I had no idea. Makes sense, though. The woman lives for that station.”
“I suppose.” Kim moved from one bin to the next.
“And men,” I couldn’t resist adding.
“Amen to that,” Kim was quick to agree.
“What are the others up to today?” The others being Dan and Paula. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to say the P word.
“Paula and Dan are spending the day in Asheville.”
Apparently, the P word wasn’t verboten.
“Paula’s never been, so Dan offered to show her around the city. She’s only in town for a couple more days.” That last sentence had a certain happy bounce to it.
The artsy city of Asheville was a close neighbor, a mere day trip away. “And you didn’t go with them?”
“No. Dan asked me, but I decided to stay in town.”
“Why?” That didn’t sound like Kim at all.
“I figured they could spend the day together. They’re friends. It will do them good.” Kim rearranged suet cakes on the shelf in front of her.
All wrong.
She was sticking the cakes with the later dates in front of the ones that should be sold first. I’d fix it later.
“Besides, I want Dan to see how mature I am.”
“Are you planning on driving up later and spying on them?” I teased.
“So I am going to need the afternoon off.” Kim planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I was only joking.”
“I knew you would understand.”
But Kim wasn’t listening. She untied her store apron and threw it in my face. “Thanks, Amy!”
By the time I had untangled myself and could breathe again, my best friend was out the door and hurrying to her car. Watching her alacrity, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had left the motor running the entire time.
I looked at my watch and sighed. It was only ten a.m.
I parked in
the public lot near the town square and made a beeline for the offices of Harlan and Harlan. Ben Harlan was at his desk in front, speaking on the telephone. He smiled as he looked out the big window and waved to me.
I purposefully avoided looking at Dream Gowns, Amy-the-ex’s boutique next door. It would only annoy me. I pulled open the door to Harlan and Harlan, expecting to find Derek and Ben’s latest receptionist, a stiff-haired woman who was about as friendly as a kiss from a blooming cactus.
But no, my luck was worse than that.
Derek’s ex-wife sat behind the heavy mahogany desk. She wore a tight white sweater designed to show off her significant assets, made all the more so by the sheerest of bras. Her platinum hair glistened in the light spilling in the windows. She smiled broadly as I entered and hung up my coat on the tree to the left of the door.
That smile did not reach to her eyes.
“Can I help you, Ms. Simms?” Amy-the-ex asked in a voice that held more frost than my freezer.
I looked around wildly. Had I gone in the wrong door? Had I somehow ended up in Dream Gowns? No. That shop held fancy wedding and ball gowns. This place held simple yet elegant furnishings and a reception desk behind which sat a…well, you get the picture.
Was I dreaming? Was I still asleep, deep in an alcohol and secondhand-weed stupor?
“I’m here to see Derek.”
Amy-the-ex set down her nail polish brush, blew frost across her fingernails, shook her hands in the air like a pair of pinwheels. “I’ll see if he is available.”
She daintily picked up the phone at the desk and punched a button. “There is a Ms. Simms here to see you, dear.”
Dear?
I fought to maintain my composure. So much blood was rushing to my head and filling my ears that I barely heard Amy-the-ex tell me to go on back to Derek’s office. It was only when she waved persistently at me that I understood.
I stumbled down the narrow hall and through the open door into Derek’s office.
“Hi, Amy.” He smiled and greeted me with a kiss.
The merry-go-round that had replaced my brain went on relentlessly, moving in circle after circle after endless circle.
“Have a seat.” Derek motioned for me to take one of the two comfy seats provided for clients. “I’ve missed you. I tried calling last night. I couldn’t get hold of you. I couldn’t get hold of my ex, for that matter.”
“How is everything with the two of you?”
“Okay. Fine, I guess. Same old, same old. Why?”
“Just curious.” I fingered the fancy silver pen and pencil set at the edge of Derek’s desk—a gift from his father when he joined the office.
“Are you all right?” Derek peered at me with interest.
“Huh?”
“I asked if everything was okay.” He swiveled as he talked and extracted a folder from the file cabinet behind the desk.
“Yes, fine.” In a not-so-fine-at-all sort of way. I felt a bead of sweat forming on my brow and wiped it with a finger. “You wanted to see me about something?”
Derek nodded and opened the manila folder. “It’s about this.”
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, wishing I had changed out of my Birds & Bees clothes and into something sexier. “What is it?”
Derek leaned back in his plush chair and tugged at his red tie. “Gar Samuelson came to see me recently.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He wanted us to prepare his will. It didn’t take long. It was quite simple, and he didn’t have much.” He tapped a finger on the typed sheets in the open folder. “This is it.”
“You mean he came to town, had a will written up, and then—”
“And then he died,” Derek finished my sentence. “Under somewhat murky circumstances.”
“This is so odd. Did you tell Jerry?”
“Oh, yeah. Like you, he thinks it’s suspicious. But,” Derek folded his hands, “that is not why I asked you here.”
“Why did you ask me here?” It couldn’t be to rub my nose in the fact that his ex-wife was now working in the outer office. Derek was no cad.
“Mr. Samuelson mentioned you in his will.”
“Me?” My hand flew to my heart.
“Yes, you. And Chief Kennedy finds that a bit suspicious, too.”
“He would,” I muttered. “Why on earth would Gar Samuelson mention me in his will? I barely knew the man.”
“Apparently you knew him well enough that he named you his sole beneficiary.”
“Me?” I said again.
“Well, his only human beneficiary.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pep has been provided for too.”
I smiled fondly. “His Irish setter.”
“So he said. He really loved that dog.” Derek picked up the sheets of paper and tapped them against his desk. “I’ll skip the legal mumbo jumbo and tell you that, after funeral expenses, you’ve inherited a small sum of money in the local bank, enough to cover the current taxes and expenses, dog care, plus the cabin at Webber’s Pond.”
“I don’t know what to say.” And I didn’t. “When is the funeral?”
“You’ll have to ask Chief Kennedy that question. I believe it is still on hold, pending further investigation. At least, that’s what Dan told me.”
“I see.”
“Speaking of funerals, I did hear there is going to be a ceremony for Yvonne Rice tomorrow at the lake. Her body is being returned to Hawaii.”
“I hadn’t heard.” Why hadn’t anybody told me?
“Amy told me.”
I ground my teeth. “Speaking of Amy,” I turned my head toward reception, “I didn’t know she worked here now.”
“Heaven forbid.” He grabbed his suit jacket from the hook on the wall. “She’s filling in while Mrs. Edmunds is out sick.”
He slipped his arms into his coat and motioned for me to go first. “Nice of her to help out on such short notice.”
“Yes,” I managed to say, despite my sudden-onset lockjaw. “Nice.”
There was a good crowd at Jessamine’s Kitchen, a Southern-style eatery near Derek’s office. We squeezed into a table for two in the back. Derek ordered the fried shrimp po’boy. I ordered a peanut butter and banana sandwich with cole slaw and a glass of Cheerwine, North Carolina’s legendary cherry soda.
Forget comfort food. I needed a comfort feast.
“A cabin,” I said, sucking at my soda. “What am I going to do with a cabin?”
“Move in?”
“It’s more convenient living above the store.”
“I know what you mean.” Like me, Derek lived in an apartment above the law offices. “You could always sell it,” he suggested.
“Is there a mortgage on it?”
“A small one.”
“That is an idea. Still, I feel bad coming into it this way.” I used my bread knife to carve off a chunk of Derek’s po’boy. I popped it into my mouth and chewed. “Poor Gar Samuelson. Poor Pep. What’s going to happen to him?”
“Ross is taking care of the dog for the time being.”
“Yes, I know. I saw them together.”
“Maybe he’d like to keep Pep.”
“Maybe. That would be nice. Pep would get to stay at Webber’s Pond. That is, it would be nice if Ross isn’t the person responsible for Gar’s death.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I have a suspicious nature.”
“That you do. Tell me,” Derek took my hand, “were you suspicious when you saw my ex sitting at the reception desk?”
“Not at all,” I replied. “Shall we order dessert?”
Derek laughed. “Pecan pie?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Pie was served and mostly eaten by me.
“Are
you sure you don’t want more?” The tines of my fork hovered over the last bite on the plate between us.
“No, thanks. I enjoy watching you eat.”
Judging by the grin on his face, that was no lie.
“Maybe you should consider keeping Pep,” Derek said as I wiped the remains of crust from my lips.
I was stuffed. “I love dogs, but with my life, the way things are, I couldn’t give him the attention he needs.”
“Too busy running your business?”
“Something like that. And I don’t have a yard.”
Derek picked up his glass and began making damp circles on his place mat. “Have you ever thought about, you know, maybe having something more?”
My heart fluttered like the heroine’s in a romance novel. “Do you mean—”
“Did you hear?” blurted our young waitress, Lulu. She planted two fresh glasses of soda on our table.
“Hear what?” Derek asked.
I was unable to speak because my heart had lodged somewhere up near where my tonsils sat.
“It was on the news. That dead guy they thought was that convict wasn’t that convict at all.” Lulu brushed a dark brown lock of hair from her right eye. “He was just some other dead guy.”
I blinked in confusion.
“I think what Lulu is trying to say,” said Derek, “is that Alan Spenner is still very much alive.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Lulu grinned. “Will there be anything else?”
20
As we exited Jessamine’s, Derek’s cell phone chirped. He extracted it from his inside coat pocket. “Yes?”
It was his ex. I shuffled my feet while he hemmed and hawed and finally agreed to meet with a client in the neighboring town of Swan Ridge.
“I forgot that I had a meeting with a client and his attorney this afternoon.” We cut through the farmers market holding hands. “What are your plans?”
“Would it be possible for me to take a look at Gar’s cabin?”
“I don’t see why not. It will soon be yours. You can’t remove anything from the premises yet, however.”
“I only want a look around. Maybe it will give me some ideas.”
“Why do I get the idea that you are planning to do some snooping?” Derek asked.
“Maybe because it is you who has the suspicious nature?” I countered.