by Eve Langlais
6
My day proved to be less than productive because the moment I arrived at my shop, so did a stream of people. Word of my car troubles had travelled.
Trish arrived first, with Marjorie in tow. They came bearing a tray with coffees along with crustless bacon quiches that Orville had whipped up.
“Oh, my goodness, I heard what happened to your car. Are you all right?” Marjorie embraced me in a perfume-filled hug.
“I’m fine. A little shook, but I’ll get over it.”
“I wouldn’t,” exclaimed Marjorie, pulling away. “I’m still freaked out by the fire that took my place.”
“She made me get rid of all the candles in my house,” Trish stated before taking a sip of her coffee.
“At least yours was an accident. What happened to me wasn’t,” I stated.
“Someone tried to kill you?” Marjorie squeaked.
“Yes.” I’d had the night and this morning to bolster my certainty.
“You have proof?” Trish asked.
“I don’t have proof, but I know someone was there. They caused the accident with the tree, and then when that didn’t succeed, they lit everything on fire.”
Their eyes widened.
“Who?” Marjorie exhaled.
“Orcs.” Trish looked utterly somber as she said it.
“I don’t know who, but I intend to find out.”
Now if only I had a clue where to start looking. Top of my list, Kane. What better alibi than to claim he’d left town?
He had motive. He wanted my grandma’s cottage. But my death would only pass it on to my kids who might also not sell.
Then there was Martin, on the lam and blaming me for everything that went wrong in his life. Problem was, I doubted he could lift an axe, let alone swing one.
Jace? He worked for the same company as Kane. They had the same goals. He happened to be in the right place at the right time. But why attack me and then save me?
To make me trust him.
Could it be he thought he’d win me over and then convince me to sell?
Or was his ploy not to kill but to scare me into unloading the place and skipping town?
After Trish and Marjorie left, it was Mr. Peterson, town mayor and owner of the hardware store, who popped in to check on me. Then Orville himself just before the dinner rush, dropping off a grilled chicken Caesar salad. No words. Just a grunted, “Eat,” as he thrust it at me.
By the afternoon, I’d submitted a statement to the police officer that came to see me. They were calling it a fluke accident and gave me a report for my insurance company so I could file a claim. I kind of didn’t have insurance but was hoping to be able to afford it really soon.
Just when I thought I might have five uninterrupted minutes, there was another knock at the door, but I had a smile for that person. “Darryl.”
“Hey. Heard you had a barbecue without me last night.” He made light of my problem but couldn’t hide the fact he scanned me head to toe.
“Guess when a tree falls in a forest, it likes to go with maximum impact.” The lamest joke ever.
Didn’t matter since he grinned. “Glad to see you’re okay.”
“Me, too.”
“Sorry I didn’t make it this morning. I had to deal with some stuff at the gas station,” he said, apologizing.
“No worries. I was kind of busy, too.”
As I shyly looked at anywhere but him, he eyed the blank sign above my shop. I’d painted over the old letters but had yet to replace them.
“What are you going to call the place?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Antique something, I guess.”
“Are you sure about that? You might want something more generic.”
“Why? You predicting it’s going to fail already?”
“If I thought that, do you think I would have brought a load of stuff?” He swept a hand at his truck. Indeed, he’d brought a large load of things, covered in a tarp that humped in the cargo area.
It was only then I wondered, “Other than antiques, what else do you think I should sell?”
“I’ve got an idea for that, but we’ll need to unload for me to show you.”
Intrigue had me pointing. “Bring the truck around back and we’ll carry the stuff straight into the storage area.”
I propped open the rear door and helped him unload the stuff from his basement, cushioned with old blankets and sheets.
While I had the muscle handy, I had Darryl place the two tables he’d brought and the credenza right into the showroom area. The rest we piled on shelves in the storage room. I’d go through and inventory them before I put them out for sale.
Only one item in the truck remained, and by its shape, I had a funny idea I knew what it was.
His boots thumped as he walked to the back of his truck and put a hand on the last sheet. “Here’s the present I brought you.” He whipped off the covering and showed me the pottery wheel from his basement.
“I’m sure it will bring a good chunk,” I said, wondering if it would be unethical to buy it off him myself. I could go online and make sure I gave him a fair market price.
“I’m sure it will make you lots of money, especially since you’re not going to sell it. You’re going to use it.”
“You lost me. Use it to do what?”
“Make stuff, of course. You know like bowls and, uh, vases and shit.”
“I’ve no idea how.”
“Then you’ll learn. I know that second storage room in the back still has an old brick oven from when this used to be a pizza place. I’ll check and make sure the chimney is still good.”
“But I don’t know the first thing about pottery making. No one will want to buy amateur stuff.”
“They will if it’s made of a certain mud.” He hinted, reminding me that I was the only person who still owned property bordering our very special lake. The only person other than Airgeadsféar who could actually get her hands on some of Maddiogo Lake’s sediment.
“No one is going to buy crappily made stoneware just because I claim it’s made from Maddiogo mud.”
“Are you sure about that?” He heaved the pottery wheel onto a dolly he’d brought. He wheeled it down the ramp, and I followed him as he brought it straight through into the smaller storage room, empty now except for that defunct oven and the wheel.
“It’s a crazy idea,” I said, still arguing. “No one even knows about the mining effort yet except our town and the workers.”
“Key word being ‘yet.’ It’s coming. Something this big won’t stay quiet forever. And when it does, it will blow up. People will flock to Cambden, looking to get a gob of mud, but we both know Airgeadsféar will have that lake locked tight.”
“Except for my property.” So long as I didn’t sell, I would have access to the lake. “You really think people will want to buy it?”
“Tell you what. If I’m wrong, I’ll owe you dinner in a fancy restaurant.”
“And if you’re right and people do want it?” I asked.
“Then you make me dinner. At my place. I’ll provide the wine.”
I frowned. “You seem pretty confident about this.”
“And so should you. Do you really think Airgeadsféar would be going through so much trouble and secrecy if they weren’t sitting on a gold mine?”
Good point.
I ran my hand over the spinning stone. “I guess it won’t hurt to try.”
Even if the pottery idea failed, he did give me an idea. Worst-case scenario, I could bottle the stuff. How much would it sell for? What would I call it? For some reason I could hear Winnie’s voice from the other night saying, “Come one, come all, and partake of Maddy’s magical shit.” Never mind the monster didn’t exist; Winnie thought it made a good spin.
She might be right. Although I thought making bowls would be a tad classier.
I spent the rest of that day after Darryl left making an inventory list. Clearly marking his items and giving them sti
cker SKUS for tracking. I’d enrolled in an online billing system that allowed me to enter all my products, give them descriptions and prices, and in return, it spit out SKUS I could scan. It was almost dummy proof.
Despite the anxiety knotting my stomach and the conviction I had too much to do, in reality, I was just about ready to open. The only thing left was choose a name and run my suggested prices by Darryl. Hopefully he would agree with them. People could be funny about what they thought their things were worth.
I remembered browsing garage sales in my old neighborhood where people were convinced things bought a decade ago and barely used, so they claimed, were worth almost the full purchase price. Sentimentality had to be taken out of the equation.
Since I passed the gas station on the way home, I stopped in to see if Darryl was still there.
Byron manned the counter. A youngish man with piercings galore, but a nice guy, so long as you didn’t try to rob the place.
“Is Darryl here?” I’d not seen his truck.
“Nope.”
“Do you know if he’s at home?”
Byron shrugged. “No idea what the boss does when he leaves.”
I could call, but I hated talking on the phone. For a moment, I thought about swinging by his house. Would he think it an invitation if I showed up unannounced? I bit my lower lip.
Better if I went home. I could print out my list and drop it at the gas station tomorrow. He’d see it the next time he went in.
It was as I entered my driveway that the first snowflakes fell, which, considering we were past the midpoint in December, was pretty late in the season for Ontario, Canada.
Winnie’s car was parked by my new garage, and I pulled mine to a stop beside it. I patted the hood on the way past to the house and muttered, “See you in the morning, Betsy.”
No laughing. My grandmother had always acted as if that car could hear her and obey. Having read Christine and seen the movie, I wouldn’t take any chances.
Walking into the house, I found Winnie dancing in the kitchen, waving a spoon around as she occasionally dipped it into a pot. It smelled heavenly.
“Is that spaghetti sauce?” I asked, hanging up my coat.
“From scratch, the way you taught me,” my daughter boasted.
It warmed my heart, especially since I’d learned from my grandma. My own mother, who’d died when I was young, never spent any time in the kitchen with me. Spent little time with me at all.
My cat emerged, a dark gray streak that raced across the floor, hit the small rug by the door, spun, and then bolted off in the opposite direction.
“Did you feed him catnip again?”
“Just a little,” Winnie said with a smirk. “He was whining up a storm when I got home around lunch.”
Poor kitty. I’d been neglecting him for work of late. I’d buy some fresh fish for him next time I went to the store.
“Come here and have a taste,” Winnie demanded.
I sat on the stool by the island and reached for the spoon she offered. I almost burnt my tongue on the hot sauce, but it was worth it. I licked it clean with a groan of pleasure.
“It’s perfect,” I declared.
“Good, because he’ll be here any moment.”
“Who?” I looked a mess. I put my hand to my hair and wondered if I had time to tidy up.
“My new boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Silly me, I’d assumed someone else. “The same one that you went out with last night?” The guy she’d spent the night with.
She bobbed her head. “He is absolutely dreamy. He wanted to see where I lived, so I invited him to dinner. I hope that was okay?” Her expression took on a concerned cast.
Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a stranger. It had been a long day. However, I wasn’t about to rain on her plans.
“This is your home. Of course, you can invite a friend over. But I don’t know if I’m ready for sleepovers here yet.” And yes, that sounded a tad irrational. I wasn’t stupid, I knew Winnie hadn’t been a virgin in a while, but I didn’t need to accidentally hear it or worry about it happening a floor below me. To me, she’d always be my baby girl.
“Such a prude,” Winnie snickered. “But that’s cool. We can always go back to his place.”
“How did you meet this guy?” I asked as I debated if I had time for a quick shower.
“He came into my work, and he wouldn’t deal with me. Gave the commission to that asshat Bernie. Which at first made me mad, but then Jude explained it was because if we did business together then he couldn’t ask me out to dinner.”
“That’s responsible of him.”
“Right? Not like Eric.”
Eric was her ex and a married college professor who should have known better than to mess around with a student. I didn’t feel bad at all about the anonymous letter I mailed the dean advising they should look into his inappropriate relationships.
“He’s a bit older than me, so don’t freak,” Winnie warned.
The warning gave me pause. “How much older?”
“Forty-ish.”
“Winnie! That’s almost twice your age.” And much too close to mine.
“What can I say? I like my men mature. Which reminds me”—she shook her stirring spoon at me—“don’t you go flirting or stealing my man.”
“Me?” No need to fake incredulity.
“Yes, you. You don’t need to add another guy to your harem.”
“I do not have a harem.”
“Un hunh. Sure, you don’t. Meanwhile, you got two sets of flowers today.”
“I did?” I spun on my stool and saw them sitting in the living room. One was a giant bouquet of roses, bright red and expensive, the other a potted plant in a terra cotta container. “Who are they from?”
“I didn’t look. Kind of assumed it was private.”
I rose and went to the roses first. I had a feeling I knew who they were from. I reached for the envelope tucked between the blooms and managed to scrape myself on a thorn. I sucked the blood from the scratch before pulling out the tiny card.
No message. It just had two letters flourished on it: KD. Kraft Dinner? Kill Death, like in that game Geoff used to play? Kentucky Derby? All kinds of possibilities but only one real answer: Kane D’Argent.
I let the card flutter to the table and thought about dumping the flowers. I really shouldn’t encourage the man, but it seemed a shame to waste such beauty. I moved to the potted plant next, an ugly thing actually, dark green on the stems and leaves, hinting of red and smelling odd.
A strange gift with no card attached.
Knock. Knock.
Winnie squealed. “He’s here.” As she spun with the spoon, sauce spattered down the front of her blouse and her eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”
“Go change,” I offered. “I’ll get the door.”
“I’ll be fast.” She raced for her room while I took my time heading for the entrance. Before I could reach out and grab the handle, Grisou bolted between me and the door, yowling and swiping at me with a paw.
“What the hell, kitty?” I exclaimed as his claws narrowly missed scratching my leg.
He arched his back and growled at the door.
“You’re high, kitty. Go have a nap or something.”
I went to reach again, but he jumped up and hissed, startling me enough I retracted my hand.
The person outside knocked again.
“Just a second!” I hollered. I glared at the cat. “Move,” I mad-whispered.
Grisou craned his head to growl some more at the door and I kind of wanted to add the sign of the cross as I saw frost creeping under the sill and limning the edges. I didn’t know we were dropping into a deep freeze tonight. I’d better make sure I threw some extra wood into the stove.
I should also answer the door, even if I kind of wanted to just leave it closed. But Winnie would kill me if I ruined this thing she had going with… What was his name again?
Before Grisou could act, I da
rted and quickly opened the door, mentally apologizing as it swept my cat to the side. Rather than attack, my feline sped off into the cottage, probably looking for a snack to calm his crazy catnip high.
A man stood on the porch, or so it appeared if I went by his height and breadth. Lanky rather than thick, wearing a dark peacoat and a brimmed hat, the kind men used to wear back in the day. A rush of cold air swirled around me, chilly enough my lashes frosted.
The man turned around, and for a second, with his bearing and size, I half expected to see Kane. Only the man didn’t come close to matching Kane’s silver fox looks. The only foxish thing about him was his red hair and sly grin. The guy took off his hat and offered me a short bow.
“Evening, beautiful lady.”
A compliment and yet I wanted to wipe myself clean because of how slimy his words felt.
“Hi. Nice to meet you, uh…” My mind blanked on his name.
“Jude.” He held out his hand, and I hesitated at the thought of touching it. Yet if I didn’t shake it, I’d appear extremely rude.
Thrusting out my hand, I grabbed his for a quick pump, and then I snatched it back. Done and done. So fast it probably came off as rude. I didn’t care. Even that brief moment made me want to wipe my hand on my pants. Something about this guy seemed off.
Was it his eyes? They were dark, not brown, not blue. I’d swear they were pure black, in a face so white, he put freshly fallen snow.
Winnie had said he was around forty. He looked it, lines creasing around his eyes and mouth. He might have been attractive if he didn’t have such sharp features. I especially didn’t like the smirk.
“I’m Naomi. Winnie’s mom.” A lame reply since he’d probably surmised who I was already.
“I know all about you.” The word hung like an icicle threat between us.
I really should invite him in and close the door. Stop heating the outside, as my grandma used to say.
“Really? Because Winnie hasn’t said squat really about you. Do you live close by?” I asked, talking for the sake of being polite. It beat inviting him in. I really wasn’t keen on it.
“I’ve recently relocated.” Which wasn’t really an answer. “Did you get the plant I sent?”
“Plant?” I blanked for a second before remembering the hideous thing. “Um, thanks?”