I nodded. “This gives me a good place to start.”
“What do you want us to do? We can’t do much,” Mom said, “since we have baking to do, but we could maybe set up a meeting with investors about the possibility of selling the store.”
I shook my head. “Not without me there. That could be very dangerous.” The timer on the stove alerted us to the fact lunch was ready. “Since I’m co-owner of the store, it would make sense for me to be there.”
I pulled plates from the overhead cabinet and stacked them on the counter before pulling the casserole from the oven. Baked cheese and tomato greeted me. I sniffed deeply, wishing I had thought to make fresh garlic bread. No problem. We had frozen slices in the freezer.
“Do y’all think we’ve ruined any chance of asking Mrs. Worthington about who is buying the bookstore?” I covered the casserole with tin foil and pulled the bread from the freezer, sliding the foiled package into the oven. “I mean, the last time we were there was clearly for nothing more than snooping.”
“You could always go on the pretense of pretending we’re going to sell and want the best price.” Mom poured us each a glass of tea. “What’s the worst she can do? Run you off her property? Call the cops? We’ve been there, done that. Nothing new.”
The doorbell rang, pulling me away from lunch preparations. “Watch the bread,” I told Mom. Wiping my hands on a dishcloth, I moved to the front door and peered out the window.
Ugh. Officer Jones stood on the porch, looking very unhappy.
I opened the door. “Yes, sir?”
“May I come in?” No smile, no niceties, just business. This couldn’t be good news.
I sighed and stepped back. “Please do. We’re in the kitchen having lunch. You’re welcome to join us.”
“No, thanks. This won’t take long.” He followed me into the kitchen where Mom was cutting and serving the casserole. “Ladies.” He took a deep breath. “Have you been discussing ways to kill Mrs. Rogers?”
So, that’s who was listening at the window. “It’s a plot for one of my books. We aren’t murderers, Wayne. You know that.” I crossed my arms. “Can’t I have her arrested for trespassing and eavesdropping on private property?” That’s what she got for being so sneaky.
“Do you want me to arrest her? She’s an old woman.” He looked at me as if I was a bad person for saying such a thing and using his first name.
“At least talk to her and tell her to stay off my property. Eavesdroppers rarely hear anything good.”
“I can’t wait until Matt returns.” He breathed sharply through his nose. “You’re too much work.” He turned and stormed from the house, muttering something about talking to Mrs. Rogers.
I couldn’t wait until Matt returned either. At least when he scolded me, he followed up with a hug and a kiss. Wayne Jones didn’t even bother with a smile.
I ate in silence, my mind going over what little we knew about Jim’s murder and what I needed to do to find out more. Without some kind of schedule, I’d get very little actual work done on my writing. “Mary Ann, as my assistant, we’re going to snoop before lunch and do writing related things after lunch. It might take longer to solve this crime, but I do have to make a livng.”
“You need to delegate,” Mom said. “We can cover a lot more ground if you do.”
This must be how Matt feels when I venture out on my own. The thought of Mom questioning potential murderers chilled my blood. I wanted my family as far away from this new “hobby” of mine as possible. Difficult, since Mom enjoyed the investigating as much as I did.
“I know that look,” she said. “You can’t do this alone. Either you don’t do it at all, or we all help.”
Sometimes I felt badgered into the crime-solving business. All to sell a book? Was it worth it? The danger, the excitement, the time away from my laptop? Yes. I loved it.
“Okay.” I assigned her the task of finding out who the investors were, but not to actually meet with them until I could be there. Mary Ann and I would visit Mrs. Worthington and her neighbors. Maybe one of them would give us something to go on as to where Jim was actually killed. The main stipulation Matt had put on my investigating was that I not do it alone.
“Smells good.” Angela moseyed into the kitchen and plucked a piece of baked cheese off Mom’s plate. “I’ve got news,” she sang. “Can’t stay long. I’m on my lunch break, but I thought you might be interested in knowing that there was blood splatter found in the alley outside the bakery. Forensics are checking to see whether it’s a match to Jim or not. We won’t know anything for a few weeks.”
“That’s wonderful!” I jumped up and almost hugged her, stopping only when her lip started to curl. “Now we know where he was killed.”
“Thank you.” She ate a forkful of Mom’s lunch. “I wanted to tell you in person rather than over the phone. Too many ears at the station. Bye.” With a wave of her fingers, she was gone.
Maybe I didn’t give my sister enough credit. She had just come through in a big way. I wrote down alley next to the question of where Jim was killed.
Mom twisted her mouth, deep in thought, and twirled her fork in her spaghetti.
“What’s bothering you, Mom?”
“If Jim was killed in the alley, then how did the killer get my rolling pin?”
Excellent question. “Who wants to take a ride?”
We raced from the house like a bunch of puppies heading for the feeding dish. I got behind the steering wheel first. Mom grunted and climbed in the back seat. “We’ll need a lookout,” I said. “I’m sure the alley is roped off now.”
“I can do that,” Mary Ann said. “Then, if Matt finds out, I can pretend I was only walking by and saw you three up to no good.” She grinned. “I’ll say I tried to stop you—”
“Very funny. Matt knows you’re as guilty as the rest of us.”
“Maybe so, but if I talk long enough, he gets distracted with something else. You might want to try it. Just make sure your story doesn’t change.”
“Are you trying to teach me how to lie?” I peered in the rearview mirror.
“No.” She grinned. “Just showing you how to perfect your craft.”
I never would have guessed sweet little Mary Ann was such a conniver. I shrugged. You just never could tell about a person. Look at Mrs. Worthington. Not that I knew her before, but according to Mary Ann, she had been a cowed, timid thing. Now, she radiated joy when she should be mourning.
“Park here.” Mom tapped my shoulder. “We can walk over from the coffee shop. No one will suspect a thing.”
No one would think twice about us parking in front of our own shop, but okay. I stopped the van and reached for the handle of the coffee shop.
“Where are you going?” Mom hissed.
“I need caffeine.” I never could pass up this place, no matter what time of day it was.
“We don’t have time.” She dragged me across the street, around the strip of stores, and into the alley, not releasing my arm until we reached the strip of yellow crime scene tape.
“We’re too late.”
“For you, maybe.” Mom ducked and went under, leaving the rest of us with our mouths hanging open. “What? Either I clear my name or I’m going to jail anyway. What have I got to lose?”
True. I lifted the tape and joined her. God, forgive us for our stupidity.
6
Blood splatters in the alley. Hmm. I turned in a slow circle, my gaze landing on any and everything. How much walking around should we do? If they found the blood, then they already cased the place, right? We wouldn’t actually disturb a crime scene, I hoped.
Now, if I were going to bash someone in the head, where would I do it? Those little sign placards they used to photograph a crime scene weren’t conveniently placed to make my job easier.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine meeting someone in a dark alley. Someone with ill intent. Perhaps, Jim had taken out the garbage and found himself jumped. No other reason for hi
m to be out there after dark made any sense. I opened my eyes and paced around the dumpster while Mom and Greta walked the area inside the crime scene tape. Head wounds tended to bleed a lot, so finding something shouldn’t be … there!
On the cement wall next to the dumpster were the telltale rusty spots I’d come to recognize since changing my writing genre to romantic mysteries. I glanced down, noting more dotting the gravel next to a spilled box of used packing material. He had been taking out the garbage.
“Mom, did you lock the bakery the night Jim was killed?” None of us were good at setting the alarm at the house, so it wasn’t unthinkable that she would have forgotten.
“Of course, I did.” She glanced at the back of the building. “It would be irresponsible of me not to lock it.”
“But, the lock was sticking last week,” Greta said. “Did you get that fixed?”
“No.” She grinned and reached for the doorknob. The door swung open. “Voila! Now, to find my rolling pin. The police may think they have it, but I’ve been framed. Rocking Reads isn’t the only business someone wants to shut down.”
With a shrug toward Mary Ann, who stood at a safe distance away with a look of alarm on her face, I joined Mom and Greta. We’d crossed one line, why not another. I ran into Greta’s back and glanced over her shoulder.
Black fingerprint powder covered every surface. Boxes were out of place, supplies knocked over. Why couldn’t the police be neat while searching for something? My heart ached for my mother. She took such pride in an orderly shop.
“We’ll help you clean up,” I said, putting an arm around her shoulder.
She sniffed. “We can’t do anything until they say so. Let’s find my rolling pin. I usually keep it on that top shelf for safe keeping. If the wood gets scratched, it doesn’t roll right.” She grabbed a step stool and set it under the shelf. She climbed up and shoved her hand into a plastic bin and gave a shout of triumph. “This is my pin.”
“Why didn’t the police find it?” I took the pin while she climbed down.
Mom took a couple of steps back and, with her hands on her hips, studied the shelf. “It doesn’t look like they searched anything up there. We need to find out from Officer Jones where the pin was found. If it wasn’t up there, it isn’t mine. They found a murder weapon and looked no further. Typical incompetence. Our town really needs a woman on the force.”
“Since your back door lock is broken, anyone could have placed the weapon in here.” I bit my lip. “Who knows you use that kind of rolling pin?”
She looked at me as if I were dense. “Anyone who has ever been in the shop and watched me baking.”
Half the town, then. I leaned against the counter. How could I question Officer Jones without alerting him to the fact we were in the store before he gave us permission? I couldn’t. My shoulders slumped. We’d have to confess.
“Let’s go see Officer Jones.” Feeling every bit like I was being led to the guillotine, I headed back to the alley.
Mom and Greta whispered behind me. “Is she crazy?”
“He’ll lock us up.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Outside, Mary Ann laughed with a handsome young man in uniform. Thankfully, his back was to us. Her eyes widened, and she waved her hand to get us to hide. When he tried to turn to see what she was waving at, she grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. Very subtle, Mary Ann.
We ducked behind the dumpster as she hooked her arm through his and led him away. That was close. I didn’t want the first time I met the new rookie to be while breaking the law.
Once they were out of sight, I stood. “Let’s go. We have to let Wayne know they have the wrong murder weapon.”
“Can’t you just call Matthew and let him tell them?” Mom brushed off the seat of her pants. “Officer Jones is going to scowl and arrest us for entering a crime scene. It won’t matter to him that they’ve already checked things out. The tape is still up, and that man seems to go by the book. I have no idea why your sister has the hots for him. He’s handsome, but he has the personality of a rock.”
I could wait until I spoke with Matt and see what he says. He called every day or so. A few hours wouldn’t hurt, right? Wayne had no idea we were at the store.
We made our way around the strip of shops and mingled on the sidewalk as if we had no sense and no place to go. My gaze kept straying to Delicious Aroma. It was never too late in the day for my favorite caffeinated beverage.
“Mrs. Nelson?” Two men in dark business suits approached us. “Owner of Heavenly Bakes?” A man with dark, slicked back hair and smelling of expensive cologne raised an eyebrow.
“That would be me.” Mom wiped her hands on her thighs and extended one.
He took her hand. “Steve Larkin of Larkin Enterprises. This is my associate, Thomas Blackwell. We’d like to discuss a bit of business with you. Over coffee, perhaps?”
I recognized his voice from the bookstore. No way was Mom meeting with him alone. “We’d love, to. I’m Stormi Nelson, owner of the property. My mother owns the business.”
His eyes widened. “I wasn’t aware. Please, join us.” He motioned his head toward Delicious Aroma.
“Well, I guess I’ll find Mary Ann and hang out here on the sidewalk,” Greta said, scowling. “I’m just the hired help.” She stomped away.
The rest of us glanced at each other, then strolled across the street and into the coffee shop. Mr. Larkin led us to a corner table, away from the bustle and noise of the counter. “Thomas, take the ladies’ drink orders, please. I need to make a phone call. I’ll return in a moment. Please, excuse me.”
We gave Thomas our order, then leaned close. “He didn’t do his homework, if he didn’t know you actually owned the real estate,” Mom said. “From the look on his face, he expected me to be an easy sell. You … not so much.”
True. I straightened in my seat and studied the man talking on his cell phone across the room. He oozed money and didn’t look like the type to dirty his hands by killing a man and trying to frame a middle-aged woman. I transferred my attention to Thomas. Now, the muscular sidekick looked like he could handle just about anything.
Thomas brought our coffee at the same moment Mr. Larkin joined us. “Sorry about that,” Mr Larkin gave a thin-lipped smile, “but business calls.”
“Yes, it does.” I took a sip of my frozen mocha. “What, exactly, is your business with my mother and I, Mr. Larkin?”
“Steve, please.” He pulled a business card from his breast pocket and slid it across the table. “We’re an investment firm that buys prime real estate and improves the quality of living in the town or city in which we purchase.”
Sounded like a lot of mumbo jumbo to me. “The quality of living in Oak Meadows is excellent.”
“Don’t you agree that Main Street is old-fashioned? Imagine what this town could do with a mall and more modern establishments. Why, money would flow into the commercial businesses.”
“The old-fashioned feel is what draws people into settling here.”
“We’re offering owners more than the property is worth. We’re willing to do almost anything to get what we want.”
“That sounds like a threat, Steve. Let’s take a look at Mrs. Worthington.” I leaned my arms on the table and speared him with a glance. “How convenient that her husband died, in my mother’s bakery, and she sells Rocking Reads to you immediately after. She did, right? She accepted your offer? Well, dead body or not, my mother and I are not in the market to sell.”
“As for a body, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His light blue eyes hardened. “If we can’t get all the businesses to sell, our idea for improvement won’t work.”
I shrugged. “Then, Steve, you need a new idea. Thanks for the coffee.” I stood and marched from the shop, leaving Mom to follow.
“That was excellent.” She clapped her hands once we reached the sidewalk. “Now, we stand back and see to what lengths that man is willing to go to get our sto
re.”
Hopefully, he wouldn’t go as far as murder. “Our suspect list is growing. Mrs. Worthington is happy her husband is dead, and Steve wants our property. Both have motives for murder. The only thing that doesn’t feel right is the method of getting what they want. Larkin Enterprises can’t kill off every property owner here. That would be like hanging a sign around Steve’s neck saying he’s the killer.”
Greta and Mary Ann pushed away from where they leaned against the van. “Did you learn anything?” Mary Ann asked.
“Only that we can add Steve Larkin and his henchman, Thomas, to our list of suspects.” I climbed into the passenger seat. “I’m finished investigating for the day. I need to let what we’ve learned simmer in my mind.” Maybe then, something would become clear.
Once home, I took my half-drank coffee to the backyard and stretched out on a lawnchair. Sadie laid her big head in my lap, offering comfort after a long day.
“Hey, Stormi.”
I glanced up to see Tony Salazar, my neighbor, on a ladder. Being a “little” person who liked to chat over the fence, the ladder was a permanent fixture. All I could see were his hands clutching the wood and his eyes peering over. I hid a grin behind my cup. He was so cute. “Hey.”
“The wife and I will take the watch tonight.”
“Great.”
“Especially since Mrs. Rogers is on the war path.” He laughed. “She’s trying to get a petition to have you run out of town. I told her you were here first and people didn’t do that anymore. She said you’re trying to kill her.”
“She told the police the same thing.” I sighed and approached the fence. “She was eavesdropping through my kitchen window and overheard me and Mary Ann talking about the plot of a book.”
“Don’t worry about her. Most of us like you.”
“Thanks. Have fun on your walk.” I patted his hand, thinking I needed to have him and his wife over for dinner sometime. Speaking of dinner, with the mood I was in, I needed to do some cooking to soothe my nerves.
“Come on, Sadie. You’ve been outside enough today.” I let her into the kitchen where she sat and stared at every item of food I pulled from the pantry.
Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery) Page 50