Cruel Candy (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 1)

by Mildred Abbott

  I started to walk in farther, then paused, pulled a tie out of my pocket, and twisted my hair into a quick ponytail. I might not see any animals, yet, but the place was filthy. The last thing I needed was spiders getting in my hair.

  I moved through the rooms, flicking light switch after light switch. With each room I entered, my excitement grew. I might be sandwiched between Opal and Lois, for better or worse, but this little shop was everything I’d hoped for and more.

  At least it would be.

  Barry had mentioned the shop had been designed as a little house ages ago and had never been renovated to a more open concept, which would better suit a store. I had planned to hire a construction team to remedy that. As I explored, I changed my mind. Each room was connected to the other, surrounding the central area. All I needed to do was take off the doors. Each room could have a different theme. Kids’ books in one room, cookbooks in another, romance, mysteries—every genre would have its place.

  My entire goal for the shop had been to create a warm, inviting environment where people could not only shop for books but also hang out and enjoy reading them. A cozy sanctuary from the rest of the world, tucked away in an adorable tourist trap of a mountain town. This was turning out even better than I’d envisioned. A couple of the rooms even had fireplaces in the corners. I could get a few mismatched armchairs and sofas to spread around. The Cozy Corgi was going to be something special.

  Near the rear of the main room, a beautiful wooden staircase led up to the second floor. I could just make out the spindled banister running around the circumference. I knew the previous renter had lived up there, and I hadn’t decided if I was going to rent it out or make it part of the bookshop. Probably would have to use it for storage and inventory.

  From Watson’s reactions, it was easy to tell where the taxidermy had been. He was especially interested in the corners of the rooms, sniffing around, then looking up the wall as if he could see what had been there. In most of the places, I could just make out an imprint in the dust of where something had hung. The previous tenant had passed away in the summer, and the shop had stayed empty. I could’ve sworn Mom and Barry said they hadn’t had a chance to do anything to the place, what with my moving the date up so suddenly, but maybe they had just been referring to a deep clean. Finding it all in good shape was a nice surprise. Deep cleaning I could handle myself. Trying to figure out what to do with mounted bears, foxes, cougars, and Lord knew what else would have been a completely different story.

  There were two closed doors at the back of the shop. I opened the first one, and flicked on the light to reveal a bathroom much in need of updating. I checked to see if the toilet worked; it did, a good sign. The other room opened into a tiny storage space—not nearly enough for what a bookstore would require. Which only reinforced the possibility that upstairs would need to be used for storage. Just as I started to close the door, Watson barged in, continuing his sniffing exploration. He made his way around the circumference of the room, then paused at what appeared to be a small deep freezer in the corner.

  He stuffed his nose between the wall and the back of the deep freezer, then shoved against it with a wiggle of his butt. With a whine, his attempts grew more frantic.

  Something about his reaction caused my skin to prickle into gooseflesh. “Come on, boy. Let’s check out the upstairs.”

  Watson looked over his haunch at me, let out another whine, and returned to pushing against the deep freezer.

  Feeling like the first victim in a slasher film, I crossed the room and stood in front of the appliance. I was being ridiculous. If anything, the freezer was probably just full of meat which Watson could smell.

  The sensation of being nervous about a deep freezer overrode feeling like the dumb bimbo in a horror movie. I threw open the lid with a flourish just to get it over with and move on, then glanced inside.

  Two huge black eyes gleamed up at me from the darkness. With a scream, I released the lid and practically threw myself backward. It shut with a bang.

  With all the commotion, Watson let out a startled yelp and rushed past me.

  I nearly turned tail and follow him out of the storeroom but couldn’t rip my gaze away from the deep freezer. What had I just seen? An animal, obviously. I was in a taxidermy shop, for crying out loud. Granted, I didn’t know they put animals in deep freezers, but I supposed that made sense. Those eyes, however, were unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  It was an animal. Right? Had to be. I didn’t need to look at it again to figure that out.

  I turned to leave the room again and found Watson staring at me warily from the doorway. “Well, you were absolutely no help.”

  With a sniff, he padded back into the room and returned to sniffing at the base of the deep freezer. He managed to get his head all the way behind it—apparently slamming the lid had moved it a few inches from the wall. He let out a growl, wriggled his butt some more, and then popped back out, looking the epitome of satisfied.

  Watson was nearly out the door again when I realized he had something in his mouth. Without thinking, I reached down and snagged it, fearing it could be poisonous or harmful.

  It wasn’t. Just a feather. Angling it toward the light, I gave it a twist. It was a soft brown with white spots across it.

  Watson growled softly.

  I looked down to find him glaring up at me. “Not for you, buddy. Sorry.” His gaze remained focused on the feather, so I stuffed it in my jacket pocket, hoping it would be out of sight and out of mind. “We’ll go get you another of those dog bones when Healthy Delights opens later this morning.”

  He didn’t seem impressed.

  I looked over at the deep freezer once more, a strange sense of dread wriggling in my gut. “Oh, for crying out loud.” I was being ridiculous, again. Reminding myself that I was a self-made businesswoman and the daughter of a cop, I stomped back over to the deep freezer. I paused long enough to pull out my cell phone and flick on the flashlight. With another steadying breath, I opened the lid and angled the light inside. This time, I didn’t make a noise, but was still unable to repress a shudder.

  A large owl stared up at me.

  Just an owl.

  Nothing dangerous or even all that surprising. I supposed when Barry and Mom got rid of all the other taxidermy, they hadn’t thought to check the deep freezer. Though who in their right mind would? You expect to find dinner or ice cream in a deep freezer, not whole animals. Though the owl was frozen, obviously, I couldn’t quite tear myself away from its gaze. Even in death, its eyes were huge and gleaming.

  Behind me, Watson growled again.

  It was enough to break the spell. I closed the lid, softly this time, and turned to Watson. He started to head back to the deep freezer, but I scooped him up. It always surprised me how heavy the little guy was. “No way! We’re getting out of this room, shutting the door, and neither one of us is coming in here until I find someone to do whatever you’re supposed to do with dead owls.”

  Watson hated to be carried, and he thrashed in my arms until I placed him on the floor outside the storeroom. He continued his reproachful glare as I shut the door. Letting me know just how over me he truly was, Watson waddled into the main room, cast a dismissive glance in my direction, and galloped up the stairs.

  The second floor. Crap. Maybe Sid What’s-his-name had several deep freezers filled with animals upstairs.

  Might as well get it over with.

  Keeping the light on my cell phone on, I walked up the wide staircase. To my surprise, the steps were in good shape, not even a creak. I found the light switch easily enough and turned off the flashlight and stuffed my cell phone away once again, then looked around. The upstairs was the same size as the first level, but here the layout was open concept, like a studio apartment. Sid’s old bed, sofa, and entertainment center spread out in different clusters. Against the north wall were two separate rooms. The first one stood open and revealed another bathroom. The second door was closed, and Watson lay
happily in front of it, knob of a tail wagging as he chomped down on something.

  “Seriously? Again?” I hurried over to him and attempted to pull whatever it was out of his mouth. He jerked away and shuffled back several feet. From his deepened glare, it was clear I’d be getting attitude from him for my rudeness for the next several days. At my feet, where he’d been, were two pieces of wrapped candy, and an empty piece of ripped cellophane. I scooped them up and inspected them. They were round and hard, almost looking like gumballs except for their deep black color. I sniffed one to make sure it wasn’t chocolate. Although in that small quantity I doubted it would hurt Watson if he managed to eat one. Even as I thought it, I could hear him crunching on the piece he’d successfully gotten out of the wrapper. The scent was instantly recognizable. Licorice.

  I pocketed the candy as well, simply to get it out of the way, and gave Watson a glare of my own. “Never mind. I don’t see a large all-natural dog bone in your future today, after all.” At least it hadn’t been chocolate. I loved Watson, but his food obsession drove me nuts. He refused to eat dry dog food of any kind, yet absolutely anything we found out in the world was surprisingly edible—even if it wasn’t.

  Deciding not to do battle to try to get what remained of the licorice out of his mouth, I opened the door, flicked on the lights, and stepped into a large kitchen.

  The floor was littered with candy. More of the hard licorice scattered among pieces of chocolate, marzipan, and peppermints. An overturned pan of brownies was scattered across the countertop. A cardboard box was stuffed with something, and another was overturned, spilling out a variety of copper cookie cutters.

  Something brushed against the hem of my skirt, causing me to jump, and I looked down to see Watson sneak past me into the room.

  “Oh no you don’t. No more candy for you.” I started to reach down to scoop him back up, but he let out a low, dangerous growl.

  I flinched back. I’d only heard that growl, which sounded surprisingly vicious, a few times, both occasions when some stranger was at the door. He’d never growled at me like that.

  It took me a moment to realize he still wasn’t growling at me. His front shoulders were drooped down and his back was rigid, rump in the air as he showed his fangs. He crept toward the counter, still growling.

  For the second time that morning, gooseflesh broke out over my arms. This time, however, as I followed him, I felt even more like the first victim in a horror movie.

  As Watson rounded the corner, he sank lower, his growl deepening.

  At his feet was a large wooden rolling pin, the end of which was stained a dark red.

  I moved a little farther in to see behind the L-shaped counter, and sucked in a breath.

  Opal Garble lay on her side, between the counter and a metal island laden with cooking supplies. She was in a deep-purple bathrobe, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair spread out on the floor in a pool of blood.

  It was rare that another woman could make me feel small. Truth be told, it was rare that a man could make me feel small, but next to Officer Susan Green, I might as well have been a petite waif. Though I’d inherited my father’s strong build, adding my own softness and curves to the equation, Officer Green was every ounce as sturdily built as I was. But she looked like she spent every weekend carrying boulders up the side of the mountains. In addition to her girth, she matched my five-foot-ten height, and her gaze leveled with my own. Her pale blue eyes were narrowed and hard.

  “You’re the one who called in the murder, correct, Ms.—” She glanced at her notepad. “—Page?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” The floorboards above our heads squeaked, and I glanced up. At least three officers were taking care of Opal, while Officer Green stayed with me. She didn’t seem overly happy with the arrangement. “I’m the only one here, well, me and Watson.” I motioned down to where Watson lay at my feet, his muzzle resting between his stretched-out front paws.

  Officer Green made another note without looking at Watson and spoke as she wrote. “Why exactly were you here?”

  “I’m opening a bookshop.”

  “In Heads and Tails?”

  I nodded. “Yes, though it will be called the Cozy Corgi.”

  She lifted her pen and cocked her head at me. “I was under the impression Opal and Lois Garble were going to take over the lease and expand their businesses.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Honestly, I wasn’t aware of their desire to do that until I met them when I got into town yesterday afternoon.”

  “You just moved to Estes Park?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The police officer had to be a good ten years younger than me, but being deferential seemed the best way to go.

  Impossibly, her gaze grew colder. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you just moved in from out of town, and yet you managed to snag the lease of a coveted piece of property away from two local women who’ve lived here their entire lives? One of whom is now lying dead above our heads.”

  Again I glanced toward the ceiling. I could almost hear Opal applauding the accusatory tone in the officer’s voice. “Well, this piece of property is owned by my mother and stepfather, so….” I licked my lips. “I didn’t know anyone was interested in the property when I decided to move out here. My stepfather is a native as well, and my mother was born here, though she only moved back fairly recently.”

  It seemed having native ties to the town was important, though I wasn’t quite sure why I shared all that information. It wasn’t like I had done anything wrong, even if Officer Green seemed to think differently.

  And it appeared I’d only scratched the surface of how cold both her gaze and her tone could become. “Your stepfather is Barry Adams?”

  Suddenly I wanted to lie. It wasn’t a sensation I was used to, but since driving into town, it was starting to feel like a habit. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And your mother is Phyllis Adams?”

  I nodded.

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Well, that explains a lot.”

  “It does?”

  “Yes. It does.” She scribbled some more notes. “My brother owns the magic shop.”

  I waited for an explanation of that statement, then realized none was coming. I also realized I probably didn’t need one. Barry had inherited a ton of property from his family. My mother helped him manage them. They were both wonderful people, and I loved them dearly, but I often pitied their tenants. Despite their good intentions, I was certain that forgetting the code on a lockbox and not knowing which key opened the door was the tip of the iceberg of what their management style was like.

  The officer checked her watch, appearing to do some mental calculations before speaking again. “You reported that you got here around five in the morning?”

  I nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You can call me Officer Green.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I shook my head, wondering if I was intentionally trying to channel my mother in that moment. “Sorry. Yes, Officer Green.”

  She grimaced. “And yet you called dispatch over an hour later. What took you so long to report the death?”

  “I called less than five minutes after I discovered Opal. Probably less than three.” I gestured around the shop. “Watson and I were inspecting the place. Making renovation plans and how to lay out the bookshop.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Watson?”

  I pointed down at my feet.

  “Oh.” Another eye roll. “Is your dog a master of renovations, or just a literary scholar?”

  “Neither, I’m afraid.” The officer wasn’t a dog person, obviously. Why wasn’t that a surprise? “He did discover an owl.”

  “An owl?”

  This time I pointed toward the back room. “In the deep freezer. There’s an owl. Watson found it.” What was wrong with me?

  “Miss Page, a beloved member of the town has been murdered in your shop. Do you really think I have any concerns about an owl?”

 
“No, ma’am—err… Officer Green.” I needed five minutes to clear my head, maybe then I could stop answering questions like a maniac. No, actually, breakfast. I needed breakfast.

  She let out a long-suffering sigh, then leveled her stare at me once more. “And where were you before arriving here this morning?”

  “At my house. Sleeping.” I almost added that it wasn’t so much sleeping as trying to sleep, but then reminded myself that I didn’t need to ramble incessantly. And that I needed to get ahold of myself, hungry and tired or not. Very few people made me nervous. It was ridiculous that I was allowing Officer Green to get to me. Though, I rationalized, it wasn’t every day I stumbled across a dead body. I supposed I was allowed to be little thrown off.

  “Can anyone confirm that?”

  I pointed at my feet again.

  She glanced down at Watson and then returned to her notepad. “Okay then.” She scribbled something, then opened her mouth to speak again, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught her attention.

  I followed her gaze and managed to keep my jaw from going slack. It was a testament to just how overwhelmed I’d been at the sight of Opal that I’d somehow missed this police officer, who carried a briefcase, coming into the shop. At well over six feet tall, he looked like he’d just stepped off the set of some television police drama. I placed him at around forty years old. His stunningly handsome face was all sharp angles and chiseled features. From the way his body moved beneath his uniform, it seemed the chiseling kept going below his neck.

  I kicked myself mentally. There was a dead woman upstairs. The last thing I needed to notice was how handsome one of the police officers was. Or that his swept back raven-black hair made him look like an old-time movie star. On top of all that, the last thing I needed or wanted in my life was another man.

  He flashed a smile at Officer Green which didn’t meet his eyes, and then his bright green gaze flicked my way. He appeared to halt for a heartbeat, his gaze making a quick trip down my body, then back up, and then his smile did meet his eyes. “You must be Ms. Page. You made the initial call, correct?”