Detective Shorts glowered at me. “Can you think of anyone who might want to break in here?”
“No,” I replied. “We just sell candles. Nothing worth stealing and we never have that much cash in the register. Most people pay with debit cards these days.” I pointed at the sign in the store window with the familiar logos of credit card institutions and that read, “We take all major cards”. Mr. Stilton had finally decided to upgrade to the 21st century and start accepting credit/debit cards. It was easier than dealing with the amount of bad checks that some people wrote.
Movement caught my eye. I turned my head and saw a man, he stood in the shadows and seemed to be unaware of the commotion around him, loitering in a corner. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Miss Summers?”
“What?” I snapped back to the present and remembered why I was here. When I looked back to where the man had been, no one was there.
“What happened?” Mr. Stilton ran up to us in a huff, his big, disbelieving eyes darting from one police officer to the next as he gawked at the scene. Poor man. I was just an employee here. I’m not sure what I would have done if it had been my business that had been broken into.
“Mr. Stilton,” said Detective Shorts, trying to calm the man down, “my name is Detective Shorts. You’re store is the scene of a possible robbery.”
“No kidding!” shouted Mr. Stilton.
“I need you to go through here and make a list of anything that is missing. Miss Summers says that the safe is intact, but I would like you to do your own assessment. One of my officers will accompany you.”
Still in a state of shock, Mr. Stilton just nodded and allowed himself to be led away, while the officer made notes of anything he said.
My phone buzzed again. It was a text from Greg. Are you okay? I’m coming over.
I texted him back, telling him that I was fine and there was no need since I was busy speaking to the detective.
Another text arrived. Are you sure? I can take time off from work.
Smiling, I replied that, yes, I was sure and that I would see him later. Before I had a chance to put my phone back in my pocket, it buzzed for the fifth time that morning, this time, from Jackie.
Mel! OMG! You okay?!
Ignoring the others round me, I texted her back, telling her that I was surrounded but a bunch of cops, so she needn’t worry. After I put my phone back in my pocket, I looked up to find Detective Shorts staring at me with an annoyed look on his face.
“Do you think you can put a cork in your social life for a moment to concentrate on this?” he asked.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
My phone rang. It was Greg. Before I could answer it, Detective Shorts snatched my phone and put it up to his ear. “Miss Summers is busy right the moment and will have to call you back. And unless you want to be arrested for getting on my nerves, I suggest you quit interrupting my investigation.”
He handed my phone back to me and I took it, looking mortified. Poor Greg! I could just imagine what he was thinking.
“I need you to walk me through everything that you did after arriving here this morning,” said the detective.
I just nodded my head in response.
For the next hour, Detective Shorts followed me as I explained how I had arrived, unlocked the door, found the place a mess, and went to the back room. He frowned when I demonstrated how I poked my head through the hole in the wall while trying to not touch it. We were on our way back out when…
“Ma’am!” shouted Detective Shorts, running up to a woman (mid-30s I guessed), trying to enter the Candle Shoppe. “You need to step away from here right now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Detective Shorts.
“Nothing. I… This place is usually open by now and I was hoping to get a gift for my aunt.”
“Did you not notice all of the officers here and the broken glass?” asked Detective Shorts, his arms crossed in that doubtful pose of his.
“I did,” replied the woman, “but I’m afraid I got a little curious and just forgot myself.”
“I need you to leave.” Detective Shorts waved an officer over to escort the lady away. “This is an active crime scene. You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested for obstruction.”
“Oh, I would never…” began the woman.
Detective Shorts got a thoughtful look on his face, almost as though he recognized her, but couldn’t place where he had seen her before. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t see how,” said the woman. “We’ve never met.”
“You look familiar.”
“I’m sure I just got one of those faces,” said the woman.
“Perhaps,” Detective Shorts replied. He motioned for an officer to escort her away, while I just stood there trying to figure out their little exchange. I had never seen her before, but that didn’t mean much—this was a city—and he sees so many people each day because of his work, that she must just look familiar.
“Miss Summers,” he said, “I believe we are done here, unless there is something else you can think of.”
“Sorry,” I replied, “no.”
“You can go home then, but I want you to remain available in case I have any more questions.”
“Thanks, detective,” I said.
I walked down the sidewalk, not sure what to do or where to go. I didn’t want to leave anyway because I wanted to know who would break into a candle store. I stopped in front of the flower boutique. With everything that had happened, I had forgotten about Rachel and a thought occurred to me: where was she? When trouble happened, and if Rachel was nearby, she was the first to show up. So, why wasn’t she here now?
As I stood on the sidewalk, I saw the same man again, except… Was he inside the flower shop? How’d he get in there? As I stared at him, I realized where I had seen him before. Ever since the first day I had started working at the Candle Shoppe, I had seen this man and pegged him as one of those customers that regularly stop in small stores and look around. If he worked at the flower boutique, which was next door to where I worked, then that would explain why he was always around. I’m afraid I do not know the people who work at the little shops near the Candle Shoppe, but I was never as good at making friends like Jackie was. I started to head over to him, but a voice stopped me.
“Do they know anything?”
I turned. It was the same woman that had tried to walk into the Candle Shoppe earlier. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.”
“No, I understand,” said the woman. “I was just hoping…” She shuddered, and not from the cold.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“It’s just a little scary. You know?” said the woman. “Having a place I shop at robbed.”
“A little,” I said, though I didn’t feel that freaked out about it, considering that I tend to attract trouble the way honey attracts ants.
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Not really,” I said. “Trouble tends to find me, so let’s just say that I’m used to it.”
“Not me.”
I was about to leave, but the woman just stood there, looking like she might have an emotional breakdown; so, I stayed. “Do you want to go get some coffee? There’s a place right over there.”
“Sure.”
We walked across the street to a café, welcoming the warmth that wafted over us, sending the chill that seized our skin away, as we stepped inside. There wasn’t much of a line, sort of a misnomer, allowing us to get our coffees and find a place to sit.
“You never did tell me your name,” I said.
“Jillian. Jillian Modsen.” Her black curls brushed the dark skin of her cheeks as she sipped her coffee.
“Mellow Summers, but everyone just calls me Mel, except for my aunt who is a bit on the insane side.”
“She’d make a room full of nuts look sane,” said Rachel, answering the question of where sh
e was. “God bless her certifiably insane soul, but I’m kind of glad she’s not around.”
I smiled at her, but tried to pretend I was smiling at Jillian. It wouldn’t be a good idea to let her think I was crazy.
“So, I heard this little rumor,” continued Rachel, but only I heard her, “that your place of employment has been robbed. And you didn’t call me!”
“It’s not like you have a cell phone,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth to her.
“What?” said Jillian.
“Nothing,” I replied, taking another sip of my coffee.
“Yeah,” said Rachel to me, “that might have something to do with it. So, come on! What are you sitting here for? We need to investigate!”
I looked at Jillian, hoping that Rachel would understand my dilemma.
“What, her? You worry too much,” said Rachel.
“Oh,” said Jillian, “now I know why your name is familiar. You’re that psychic, or whatever.”
“Or whatever?” Rachel put her ethereal hands on her hips. “I’ll have you know…”
“I don’t really think of myself as a psychic,” I said, cutting Rachel off.
“Well, the word around town is that you can speak to spirits and have even been very instrumental in helping the local PD solve certain cases.”
“I can’t really talk about all of that,” I said.
“Though, I’m not sure if I believe in all of this ghost nonsense,” said Jillian.
“Nonsense!” roared Rachel, causing a few heads to turn in our direction.
“I mean, I have a friend who is into to all of that stuff,” continued Jillian, “but I am a bit skeptical. Not trying to insult you or anything, but let’s face it, there are a lot of fakes out there.”
“Do you believe in me now, huh?” Rachel kicked the legs of Jillian’s chair.
“Sorry,” I said. “I tend to forget that these tables are so small.”
“Hey, where’s my donut?” demanded one grumpy customer at the counter; his rolls of belly fat pushed against his already strained belt.
“You don’t need it pork-butt!” shouted Rachel, allowing the entire café to hear her.
I put my head in my hands.
“Are you okay?” asked Jillian.
“Just a little tired,” I said. “So, why are you telling me all of this about your friend? Did you agree to come with me here just to belittle me?”
“No! Sorry. I tend to be skeptical by nature, but my friend just lost someone close to her and… well… I was wondering if you’d like to…”
“We will,” Rachel answered for me and Jillian heard her, but mistook her statement as my answer.
Great. So, now I have a séance to perform. I glared at Rachel. What was she trying to do? Get me into even more trouble?
“Great! Um… six o’clock tonight?” said Jillian.
“Sure,” I replied, knowing that since Rachel had committed me to it, there was no getting out of it.
“About that candle store today,” said Jillian, “with your sleuthing reputation, are you going to just let the police handle it? I know I wouldn’t if it was where I worked.”
“I should say not!” said Rachel, remembering to keep her voice where only I heard her.
“For now, I think it’s best to let the police do their job,” I said.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Rachel said to me.
“Excuse me,” I said, “I need to get some napkins.”
I scooted my chair back and walked over to the napkin display, hoping that Rachel would get the message and follow me, which she did.
“What are you doing?” I whispered to her.
“Your work gets robbed and you’re just sitting here, sipping away on your coffee like nothing’s happened,” Rachel replied.
“Somehow, I don’t think that is why you are really upset.”
“Miss African-American over there doesn’t believe in ghosts. In me!” Rachel turned towards Jillian. “I’m right over here you dingbat!”
I shushed Rachel. We didn’t need a scene.
“Come on,” said Rachel, tugging on my arm, “let’s go to the Candle Shoppe.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The police are probably still there. My poking around will attract attention. You, on the other hand, can go unnoticed.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” teased Rachel.
“Maybe,” I said. “Look, I know Detective Shorts. He’ll be expecting me to show back up, but he won’t be looking for you.”
“Okay, then, you have a deal,” said Rachel, shaking my hand and causing my triceps to jiggle. “And don’t even think about skipping out on that séance tonight. I know where you live. I’m so looking forward to it!”
Rachel sauntered through the coffee shop, bumping into Jillian’s chair as she passed and causing her to spill her coffee. I just shook my head and went back to my seat with a handful of napkins, which I used to clean up the spilt coffee.
“I’m not so sure about this séance tonight,” I said. “I don’t normally do such things.”
“Oh, please come,” urged Jillian. “It will make my friend happy.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Here”—Jillian handed me a slip of paper with an address on it—“this is where she lives.”
“All right,” I said, taking the paper, and knowing that Rachel would never let me get out of this anyway. “I should go.”
“No worries! I’ll see you tonight.”
Smiling at her, I picked up my coffee and left the café, glancing at the address she had given me. Since I wasn’t familiar with its location, I pulled out my cell phone and looked it up on the internet. It wasn’t far from where I lived. I put my phone away, hoping that Rachel had a plan.
Chapter 3
I stood on the sidewalk leading up to a quaint, single-story, ranch home in the last rays of the late afternoon sun. There didn’t seem to be any life in the house. It was quiet. Too quiet for my taste. I checked the slip of paper which Jillian had given me in the coffee shop. Yep. the address matched.
Deciding to get this over with, and knowing that Rachel would never let me get out of this since she volunteered me, I shoved the slip of paper in my jeans pocket and walked up to the pale blue door with a wreath, smothered in red hearts and flowers, hanging from it. Whomever lived here hadn’t taken down their Valentine’s Day decoration, which came as no surprise, since Valentine’s Day was only a few days ago.
I stepped up onto the porch, being careful to avoid the small patch of ice, and knocked. No answer. I knocked again. As I waited in the cold, wondering if Jillian had given me the wrong address, hurried footsteps echoed from inside and the door opened. A woman greeted me, but it wasn’t Jillian.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m Mellow Summers. Jillian asked me to come.”
The woman’s face brightened upon the mention of Jillian’s name. “Yes, yes, come in! We’ve been expecting you.”
She opened the door wider, allowing me inside. I tried to knock the snow off my boots as best I could, not wanting to track any in the house or on the floral rug that stretched down the length of the hallway.
“We’re through here,” said the woman, leading me down the hallway. “I’m so glad that you’ve agreed to come. I’m, Lily.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Lily took me through the hallway with full of soft lighting and to a small den. The curtains had been drawn and a table was set up in its center, complete with a table cloth coated in stars and moons with a crystal ball sitting atop it, and three chairs.
“Uh… I can see you’ve been busy,” I said.
“We thought that we ought to try and set up the proper atmosphere,” replied Lily. “You can put your coat and purse over there.”
I set down my things on the credenza that Lily had pointed me to. “Where’s Jillian,” I asked.
In answer to my question, Jillian waltzed in, in a
jovial manner, and a huge grin, beaming at me. “Mel! I’m glad you made it. I know this was all short notice.”
“I don’t normally do these sorts of things,” I said. “I’m not into all of this showy stuff.”
Where was Rachel? She was the one who had pushed me into this.
“I hope we got everything set up properly,” said Jillian.
I looked at the table and its stars and moon table cloth. Really? Does everyone take what they know about séances from movies and television shows?
“It’s a bit much. A basic table would have sufficed,” I said, “and we don’t really need that.” I pointed at the crystal ball. “I never use one, “ I added, in an attempt to not sound insulting. I was a guest, after all.
“Oh, leave it,” said Rachel, sitting crossed-legged on the table. Thank God she showed up. This was her idea. I could tell by the way Lily and Jillian ignored her that only I saw and heard Rachel.
“Shall we get started?” asked Jillian with excitement.
I guess there was no time like the present. “Sure,” I replied, taking a seat at the table. “I guess we ought to dim the lights.”
Lily had beat me to it and darkened the room, before sitting next to Jillian.
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing, even though I was winging the entire thing, “first I need to know a bit about whom you are trying to contact.”
“Well, his name is Ronald,” said Lily. “He’s my brother.”
“Doubt it,” snapped Rachel.
I glared at her.
“Oh, come on. Does she look like she knows a Ronald?”
“Are you sure that is your brother’s name?” I asked.
Jillian got a surprised look on her face.
“You’re right,” said Lily. “Sorry, to trick you, but I wanted to be certain that you are the genuine article. I’ve been to fake psychics before.”
“I’m not really psychic,” I said.
Both Lily and Jillian passed off my objections as though I was being modest.
“My brother’s name was really Doug,” Lily said.
“Bingo!” Rachel blurted out, but only I heard her, holding up a photograph of a man that had a striking resemblance to Lily.
“What would you like me to do?” I asked.
Double, Double, Nothing But Trouble (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 10) Page 2