by Jessa Archer
He emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Sure do, Pepper. It’s nice to see you finally coming around. I heard you bought one of those old houses right across from August Beach. Oh, but what else was it that I heard?”
Pops bent his head down, and I could see the shiny bald spot in between his two wings of white hair. He stopped at the cash register and scribbled something on a piece of paper, then looked up at me. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. I have to write everything down these days.” He scratched his head. “So what did you ask me?”
I laughed. “It wasn’t what I asked you. It was what you asked me. You said you heard something about me?”
“That’s right, that’s right.” He came out from behind the cash register and leaned down to pet Mr. Woogles. “This is a handsome doggy you got here. Did you bring him down from the big city?”
“Yes. This is Mr. Woogles. Woogie, this is Pops Peterson. You can call him Pops.”
Mr. W sat down in front of Pops politely. He offered his paw, and Pops bent down slowly to shake it. He stood up. “Oh, now I remember. You killed somebody.”
I stepped back in surprise. “What?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to say that. That just slipped out. What I meant to say was somebody died. Or somebody was killed.” His blue eyes stared out at me through the wrinkles around them. He smiled. “I don’t think you killed anyone, Pepper! That’s just crazy. Who could believe that? Though somebody told me that somebody said that you killed somebody. But I didn’t believe that somebody at all.”
I nodded and tried to smile. “You probably heard that somebody died in the house next door.”
He beamed at me. “Of course! That’s what I heard. Are you okay, my dear? You safe and sound?”
“Absolutely.”
“You have to be careful about those old houses. They may be beautiful, but they can be treacherous. In fact, it seems to me that the fellows who were working on that house—was that the one where they’re going to have the cathouse?”
I blinked. “Cathouse?” I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right.
He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore, Pepper. People say things. Other people say other things. Somebody said it was going to be a place for the ladies of the night... you know, a house of ill repute.”
“A spa. It’s going to be a spa, Pops. For beauty treatments and relaxation. Facials, massages, things like that. Perfectly legitimate.”
“All right, then. Sounds like a good business proposition. Just as long as you’re safe, dear. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” He took a few steps over to a chair beside the cash register. “I hope you’ll excuse me. I have to sit down a lot these days. The business is... well, it’s a little challenging for me at my age. I always thought that my nephew might come and take it over, keep it in the Peterson family. But, oh well...”
“How old are you now, Pops?” I asked. I was worried about offending him, but not too worried, because I didn’t think he’d remember my asking the question for very long.
He looked up at me with his blue eyes twinkling. “Is it polite for a young lady to ask a man his age?”
I found myself flustered for a minute. “I didn’t mean—”
He laughed so hard that he slapped his knee. “I’m just joking, Pepper. I’m eighty-six. Why do you ask?”
“It must be tough for you to run this place alone, Pops.”
He nodded. “Well, I have a young lady that helps me sometimes, during the day. She’s very nimble. And she doesn’t mind getting up on the ladder to get things from the higher shelf. I’ve got stuff up there must’ve been around for forty, fifty years. I might even have some things that my dad bought before I was born.”
He stopped and scratched his head. “Some of the items are beautiful old pieces from houses on the water, like yours. People would give them to me when they updated and made everything all modern, shiny, and new. In case anyone else came along looking for an old part...” He trailed off. “You know they had a big celebration for me in the store last year. One hundred years old! Not me, the store.” He laughed again.
“That’s quite a remarkable achievement, Pops.”
“Yes, indeed. And I plan to keep going for as long as I can. Though sometimes I wonder how long that will be.” He shook his head. “I’m having trouble paying the rent these days, what with how popular Misty has become. Misty-on-the-Sound, they call it now! Did you hear that? That’s the new name.”
That had been the new name for almost ten years now, but I didn’t tell him that. “I know. Have you considered selling the store?”
He looked up at me from between the two wings of white hair and squinted his eyes. “I sure have. But there aren’t any buyers for a hardware store in a little town like Misty. I’ve thought about changing the location so the rent would be cheaper, but I barely get enough traffic as it is, even down here on Main Street.”
I felt Mr. W nudging me, and I finally remembered what I had come into the store for. “I nearly forgot to ask you, Pops. I was down in the basement the other day and found some bits and pieces that the prior owners must have left. Turns out the ancient dumbwaiter goes all the way down to the bottom level. And it still works! So cool.”
Pops nodded. “Lots of these old houses have them.”
“I didn’t even realize it was there until after I bought the place. Probably the realtor didn’t know, either.” I looked around the cramped store, full of lots of useful things, both new and old, and marveled at the thought of all the history here in an enterprise that had been launched not too long after my house was built.
“Anyway, while I was down there, I found a couple of lovely decorative tiebacks for drapes that looked very old. I’d like to use them in my bedroom. I have a window that overlooks the water, and it deserves some special curtains around that spectacular view. So I need four screws to hold them securely to the wall around the window. Is that something you might be able to help me with?”
He stood up with a creak and smiled at me. “Now we’re in business. I can definitely help you out with that.” He headed to the back of the store, with me and Mr. W following. “So over here are all the loose screws. How long do you think they’ll need to be?”
He placed a couple different sizes in my hands, and neither one seemed long enough. “I think longer. These are pretty heavy pieces.”
“Okay. What’s the vintage of your house?”
“That makes a difference?”
He nodded. “Oh, yes. The old ones have walls that are made of plaster and lath. It’s tougher to find support for heavy pieces in them.” His brow furrowed, and he looked down for a minute. “I was just talking to someone else about an old house...” He shook his head. “Don’t remember.”
I had to get going on my errands, and I could sense that Woogie needed to get outside to do his business. But as usual, my pup was being very polite.
“Do you think you have some longer screws?”
Pops looked around at the many little bins in front of him. “I think I have something like that up on a high shelf. Maybe I can wait until my helper... what was her name? Sweet girl. Maybe I can wait until she comes in to climb up there.”
“I’m glad you have help.”
“I remember now. Scarlett.”
“Scarlett? The young woman who works at the Mermaid’s Tail?”
“I think she said something about that. She can’t work nights or early mornings, so that’s why she usually comes in to help me out in the afternoons. She should be around in a couple of hours.”
“I have to get going, Pops. Maybe I can stop by in a few days to see if you were able to find something that you think would work better. Or should I just get some of the shorter screws for now and see if they work?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do it. If you put in a screw that’s too short, your drapery gizmos will just fall down and pull some of the wall with them. That’s the trouble with these old
houses. They can be kind of delicate.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll stop in another time and see if you have the longer ones.”
I headed for the door with Mr. Woogles beside me, and as I pushed it open, the bells chimed, and Pops called after me. “That’s what I told that other fella about these old houses by the Sound. Gotta watch the construction!”
I waved goodbye and headed out onto Main Street. Poor old guy was having a hard time. I wondered how long he’d be able to stay in business.
Chapter Nine
Heading down the street with Mr. W, I was greeted by a number of people. Even the ones who didn’t stop to talk to me seemed to look at me curiously. It was beginning to sink in that everyone knew I lived next door to the house where Winthrop had met his unfortunate end.
Mrs. Katz, holding the leashes of two dogs in each hand, rushed up to me in great excitement. “Oh my goodness, Pepper. I heard all about what happened. And I hear you’re a suspect!”
It was an effort not to roll my eyes, but I resisted. Petunia Katz, who went by Pet to her friends, was the owner of Katz and Dogs Canine and Feline Services. I’d known her since I was a kid, and she had been a cool teenager. She’d grown up to be quite a character.
I preferred to stay on her good side in case I ever needed someone to dogsit Mr. Woogles. As a smart animal wrangler, she always carried pet treats in her pocket, and even Mr. W was not immune to her aroma. He sat down right in front of Pet and fixed his irresistible brown eyes on her.
Immediately she pulled out a doggy treat. Looking up at me, she asked, “May I?”
“Of course,” I said. I wasn’t going to deny Woogie his treat, even if I was a little annoyed.
She gave him the treat, which he promptly gobbled up, and then leaned down to pet him. “So are they going to arrest you?” She was smiling, but I figured that was because Mr. W was so irresistible and not because of my potential as a resident of the jail. She looked up at me. “You didn’t do it, did you?”
This time I did roll my eyes. “Of course not. I wasn’t there. I didn’t want him dead. I wouldn’t know how to rig a balcony railing so it would fall apart. And they’re not even sure it was rigged—it could simply have been an accident.”
She put her hand to her mouth as though she suddenly realized what she had said. This had the effect of jerking the two dogs, whose leashes she was holding, closer to Mr. W, at which point all three dogs commenced a mock fight in the middle of the sidewalk on Main Street. Other pedestrians who were inconvenienced gave us looks as they skirted around the commotion.
“I’m so sorry, Pepper. Sometimes my mouth gets away from me.”
“That’s all right. Everyone seems very interested in what happened, so I don’t blame you for having the same curiosity. I wish I knew what happened too.”
Both Pet and I had pulled our respective doggies back to our sides, and the canine contingent was calm at the moment.
“I heard you sang beautifully at the wedding. Everyone always said you were a great singer. And a lawyer now too! That’s why they say you hated Roger Winthrop.” She clapped her hand over her mouth again, this time pulling the other two dogs toward her. All four dogs surrounding Pet were getting impatient. One of them had lifted his leg over a nearby plant, with the result that he sprayed a second dog, and another canine quarrel ensued.
With a guilty look at me and a wave, she pulled her charges away. I looked at Mr. W as Pet moved down the street and spoke quietly to him. “This town is just too small. Everybody knows everything. Or they think they do.” I sighed. “Do you know what we’re going to do, Mr. W? We’re going to go out to lunch. I think I deserve that today. And you do too.”
He barked in agreement, and we headed toward the water. It was only four blocks to my favorite little crab shack, Seawall Seashack. By the time we got there, I was not only hot and hungry but ready to be done with all of the stares I was getting from people I passed.
When we arrived, I found a table outside under an umbrella, where I could look at the waves from the Sound as they lapped onto the tiny beach in front of the restaurant. Years ago, in high school, I had worked at this place, and I figured I would be safe from nosy folks here. Nobody was likely to bother me with questions about whether I was the murderer.
Janet, who had been my boss twenty years ago, came by and gave Mr. W another treat. “Hi there, Pepper. How’s this cute little guy doing?”
“You’re getting spoiled today, aren’t you, Woogie?” I said to him before turning to Janet. “He’s doing great. Mr. Woogles loves the attention. Me, not so much.”
Janet was a tall woman with a large pile of platinum blonde hair that looked like it came from another era. She smiled down at me from atop the high heels she always wore. I never understood how she managed to stay on her feet that long in those shoes.
“I heard about your troubles, Pepper,” she said. “So sorry. People love to talk around here. You’re not in any danger, like, from the law, are you?”
“I hope not. They’re not even sure what actually happened yet. But whatever it was, it had nothing to do with me.”
“Glad to hear it. So can I get you the usual?”
“Yes, thanks.” I smiled at her, and she gave me a pat on the shoulder. She headed off to the kitchen to get me my favorite, the hot buttered lobster roll. Nobody made them like the Seawall Seashack.
I tried to forget about Winthrop while I waited. I let my eyes rest on the beautiful water of the Sound and the way the gentle waves came in and out. There really was nothing for me to worry about, right?
Still, I hated to be at the mercy of town gossip. It wasn’t that the people here were nasty—they were very nice. But not much happened in quiet little Misty, and a sudden death—or murder—was going to be the talk of the town for... well, forever.
It would be great to put Winthrop’s death behind me. I needed to be spending time drumming up business for my new law practice. I didn’t have enough savings to pay the mortgage on the new house without a reasonable income. And I wanted to be able to continue taking voice lessons from Madame Sofia, so that I could work toward performing more.
The other thing I wanted to do, if I was honest with myself, was figure out my tangled feelings for Logan. When I decided to move back to Misty, I hadn’t given him much thought. He was happily married, or so I believed, and it was only when he said he was separated from his wife that I realized how much I was still attracted to him. And when we shared a sweet but tantalizing kiss, it awakened me to other possibilities.
For about a minute, I’d thought of Jared as a serious prospect. But now that I’d gotten to know him better, I was relieved not to have let the relationship go further.
Janet showed up with the lobster roll and a bowl of water for Mr. W. The food looked so delicious that I was practically drooling, but before I started eating I grabbed my emergency stash of dog food and put it in a bowl Janet offered. Once Mr. W was happily snarfing up his food and lapping the water, I took my first bite.
Heaven. I was enjoying the succulent, buttery lobster and looking out at the Sound when I overheard a couple of teenagers talking at another table.
“I heard the house was haunted, anyway.”
“Which house? The house of the guy who was pushed off the balcony, or the lady who lived next door who killed him?”
Suddenly the delicious food tasted like a sodden mass in my mouth. They had to be talking about me. And despite the many ways they had gotten the story wrong, it was still pretty horrifying to note that strangers—kids, even—were chatting about my murdering someone.
I swallowed the food I had in my mouth, pulled out some bills from my wallet, and put them on the table. I gathered up my belongings and wrapped the rest of the lobster in a couple of napkins. No way I was going to leave that. It would taste better later, when I didn’t have to listen to conversations about my supposed criminal activities.
As I left my seat, I deliberately walked over to the teenagers and
stopped at their table, smiling politely. “My house isn’t haunted. There are no ghosts. The guy didn’t live there. And I didn’t kill him.”
Their mouths opened, and both of them stared at me in shock.
“For that plot, you’ll have to go to some horror movie.”
Woogie backed me up with a calm but deliberate growl, and one of them jerked his chair back suddenly in surprise.
I walked away from the restaurant, directly onto the beach, and headed down to my house. I could see the Misty lighthouse in the distance, and I thought about all the dreams I had in mind for my future here... the place I had decided to come back to after leaving the rat race at my old Manhattan law firm.
“Mr. Woogles?” He looked up at me as he trotted alongside. “I’ve got to clear my name. I can’t just sit around waiting for someone else to do it.”
He barked at me and then took off down the beach, running along the edge of the waves.
Chapter Ten
I was doing online research on the porta-potty incident and feeling a little bit ridiculous. But at least there was no screaming going on at the moment, no men falling to their deaths and no histrionics from Mrs. Grumbauer. I was half thinking she might eventually come and ask for her old job back, which I would probably give her if I could still afford her. She was definitely one of the things that made it possible for me to get legal work done.
Mr. Woogles was lying across my feet under the desk. It was inconvenient for him when clients came, in and he was banished to the upstairs. But today he was in his happy place.
“Mr. W, let’s go over our agenda for today. First, look into whether the new Mrs. Trixie Johnson Dingle has any prayer of winning a lawsuit against the folks who rented her the fancy bathroom for her wedding... which I doubt. And if I find out she has no case, I can politely tell her that I’m not going to represent her.”
I glanced down at Mr. Woogles, who was looking suspiciously like he was snoozing. I decided not to be offended by his lack of attention. “As a matter of fact, I wonder why she came to me about that. It would have made more sense to go to the dearly departed Roger Winthrop for her case. He does—or did—a lot of business for her dad. For that matter, though, she might have gone to him first, and maybe he turned her down.” After a pause, I shook my head. “Never mind. He wouldn’t have turned her down.”