Traveling Town Mystery Boxset

by Ami Diane

  “Or when they think you’re nuttier than a bag of trail mix.”

  Flo shrugged and clung to the banister as she descended the stairs. Halfway down, her voice creaked out, muttering to herself, “This girl’s a keeper.”

  When Ella joined them in the entrance hall, Jimmy gave Ella, Rose, and Flo a smile that revealed gleaming white teeth.

  “Looks like I get the pleasure of escorting three ladies this evening.”

  “Two ladies and Sugar Ray here,” Flo jerked her head in Ella’s direction.

  Ella looked at Jimmy. “I don’t think the crypt keeper qualifies as a lady.”

  “All my husbands seemed to think I was woman enough.”

  Jimmy crooked his elbows out, and Rose slipped her arm through one.

  “Let’s go before she recounts the tales of her wedding nights,” he said. A shudder rippled through him. “I still get nightmares hearing about that one.”

  Flo snorted and scooted out the door. “You’re just jealous that you weren’t husband number five.”

  “Six,” Jimmy called out to her hunched back.

  Flo didn’t respond, but Ella spotted her ticking off her fingers, silently counting.

  As they strolled north on Main Street, Ella filled Rose in on what happened in the forest, while Flo and Jimmy listened on. It turned out that word had already spread to the innkeeper about the incident.

  “I heard sheriff brought Six in for questioning about an hour ago,” Jimmy said. “He put up quite a fight. They had some shootout on the edge of town.”

  Ella lifted her eyebrows, surprised she hadn’t heard the commotion and equally surprised at the casual way Jimmy floated the information out as if a shootout was a regular occurrence in Keystone.

  At some point, they had all passed Crazy Flo, who now huffed a few yards behind them despite the short walk. Between gasps of air, her voice floated up, “Six is in the slammer again? Now where am I supposed to get my whiskey?”

  Rose gasped and glared over her shoulder at the elder woman. “Flo!”

  Ella looked back. Flo was now fanning herself.

  “Good Lord. I’m having my own private summer back here.”

  Ella grimaced. “That was an image I didn’t need.” She dabbed away beads of sweat and tried not to think about what it was doing to her makeup. If she didn’t show up at the meeting looking like the Joker, it’d be a miracle.

  Overhead, the sun was just starting to crawl towards Twin Hills. Ella wondered if Keystone Village had jumped to the southern hemisphere. If she’d paid more attention in astronomy—and had the proper equipment and several more IQ points—she’d probably be able to guess the location and date.

  A welcome breeze replaced some of the heat rising from the sidewalk, and Ella reveled in its relief.

  Swarms of people buzzed down the sidewalks on both sides, more than Ella thought the little town held. They shouted greetings at each other across the river of pavement separating them. Laughter floated on the breeze, mixing with the aroma of gardenias from the hanging basket in front of the library.

  As she passed the sheriff’s office, her gaze darted to the window. The scarlet sky reflected off the window, and she was unable to penetrate its glare.

  But she knew who was inside. She could still smell his tobacco, could still see the barrel of his revolver pointed at her. His words crawled over her skin.

  “It ain’t personal.”

  The town hall was one of the last buildings on the left side of the street and wasn’t so much of a hall as it was a church.

  Ella tipped her head. Actually, it was exactly a church, complete with white siding and steeple.

  “You gonna stare at it all day or go inside?”

  A sharp finger dug into her back.

  Ella hadn’t realized she’d been barring Flo’s entrance into the building. She took her time shuffling through the door, earning a glare from the curmudgeonly lady.

  Beyond the foyer, the church looked more grange hall or turn-of-the-century schoolhouse than sanctuary. The air buzzed with moving bodies and conversation, an electric hiss of whispers and excitement. Ella wondered if the noise was standard for a town hall meeting or if it was due to Kay’s murder.

  “I think that cotton candy on your head’s crooked,” Ella said as Flo passed.

  To her surprise, the older woman flipped her the bird, but the gesture didn’t go amiss by Wink who strolled through the entrance at the same moment. She gave a good whack to the backside of Flo’s head, causing the tumbleweed of hair to bounce.

  Ella hid a smile. She was definitely starting to like this town.

  “Watch it. I spent an hour on this.” Flo dabbed at her hairdo as they filed into the building.

  “Why? Who’re you trying to impress?”

  “None of your business,” Flo bit out, but Ella noticed her eyes dart across the sanctuary. Apparently, the movement was also noticed by Wink.

  “Oh, no you don’t. He’s at least twenty years your junior.”

  Flo mumbled something under her breath about Wink always ruining her fun as she scanned the rest of the crowd. Her eyes settled back on Wink.

  “What’s going on with this here?” Her veiny hand gestured to Wink’s pink tracksuit, the color reminiscent of cough medicine Ella was forced to drink as a child.

  “What? I look dynamite.” She turned sharply towards Ella. “Do they still say that in your time?”

  Ella was too taken aback by the abysmal attire and Chester—who she just noticed rode shotgun on Wink’s shoulder in a matching tracksuit—to answer immediately. “Um, maybe? I don’t really hear it that often.”

  “Oh, what do they say then?”

  “Hot, I guess. Maybe pretty. Depends on who you’re talking to.”

  Wink blinked at her. “Hot?”

  “Yeah, as in, ‘Damn, nice outfit. You look hot.’” A passerby glared at Ella, and she guessed it had something to do with either her swearing in a church or her KISS makeup.

  Flo took out a handkerchief and dabbed away sweat on her upper lip. “But she is hot. I can see the pit stains on her blouse.”

  Wink rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing compared to that bib of sweat between your bosoms.”

  “At least I got bosoms.”

  “Hush, you two,” Rose interjected. “We’re in public. Just pick an aisle and sit down.”

  “Thank you,” Ella whispered. She had no interest in hearing more about anyone’s bosoms. In a louder voice, she added, “Wink, I think you and Chester look adorable. It’s like looking at a set of twins.”

  Grandma Wink made a grandiose curtsy before leading them down the main aisle.

  “They do look a lot alike,” Flo said, her hand moving to her beehive again as she followed Wink. “Both small, hairy, and won’t shut their yaps.”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said, “save it until after the meeting.”

  “That’s what happens when you’re best friends with someone since the second grade,” Rose said in a low voice.

  Ella looked back at the innkeeper, mouthing, They’re the same age?

  Maybe it was Flo’s indeterminate multiple marriages and booze-addled skin or Wink’s electric-colored hair, but the two appeared to be a decade apart in age.

  Rose nodded. “Honestly, I feel like their mother half the time. Who needs kids when I have them?”

  Behind his wife, Jimmy’s eyes roamed the sanctuary. Ella didn’t have time to wonder who he was searching for because her attention was drawn to the center of the room. Wink and Flo had picked a row on the left, near the front. They stood arguing about who got the chair nearest the center aisle. Meanwhile, more chairs began to fill up around them.

  “For crying out loud,” Jimmy said, pushing past both of them and flopping down into an empty seat.

  “I need to be closest to an exit,” Flo said, ignoring him. She made a huffing noise.

  “Why? So you can empty that ancient bladder of yours?” Wink steadied Chester on her shoulder.

>   “No! You know I need to be near an exit in case there’s an emergency.”

  “There’s not going to be an emergency.”

  “You said that, then there was that tornado, remember?”

  “One time.”

  “And that herd of buffalo—”

  “Two times. Move over. I need the leg room. You know my arthritis gets bad in this weather.”

  The volume in the room had lowered considerably, and Ella became very aware that they were now attracting attention.

  “Both of you,” Rose hissed, “sit down.”

  She elbowed past them and settled next to Jimmy. Ella attempted to squeeze by as Rose had, but Flo picked that moment to put her hands on her hips, adding to her already ample width.

  “You know what? You can have it, Pearl. I actually see someone else I’d rather sit by.” She gave a Cheshire grin and flutter of her lashes to some far-off, unwitting victim. She moved to leave, then paused. “You with me, Ella?”

  Ella coughed to give herself time to formulate a response. When none came to mind, she held up her hand and continued to hack like a smoker.

  “You okay?”

  Before Ella could stop her, Flo slapped her back in a way Ella was sure shook a lung loose. The third hit sent her headfirst into a middle-aged woman in a bonnet. Ella rasped out an apology and batted Flo away before the old woman could render any more “aid.”

  Wink settled into her victory chair, a look of triumph on her face. “Oh no you don’t. El is new and doesn’t need your colorful interpretations of our town whispered in her ear the entire time. I don’t want her thinking Keystone’s Satan’s armpit.”

  “I would never,” Flo huffed. She situated her glasses on her nose and stalked towards her new seat and unsuspecting prey.

  “Do we need to go warn someone?” Ella asked, her eyes still following Flo.

  “No. Most single gentlemen between twenty and ninety know to steer clear of that storm.” Wink patted the empty seat between her and Rose.

  Ella climbed and tripped her way over the older woman and finally got to sit down. The cool cushion of the chair was a welcome relief from the stuffy air.

  “So, you two have been friends a long time?”

  “Fifty-three years. She grows on you—like a rash you can’t shake.” Wink sighed and glanced across the main aisle at Flo. “She wasn’t always like this, you know.”

  “Oh? What happened.”

  “Time.” Wink situated Chester in her lap then produced a couple of nuts from a pocket in her tracksuit. “Time’s a funny thing. I call it the Great Judge. Some people age like a wine, becoming better with time. Others spoil and become bitter. Rotten. It’s up to us to decide which we want. Life throws all this stuff our way, and we decide to make castles or landfills.”

  “So, how is it a judge?”

  “Has someone harmed you or wronged you in some way and gotten away with it?”

  Six sprang to mind, but Ella felt confident he wouldn’t get away with trying to kill her. Or at least, she hoped he wouldn’t.

  She nodded.

  “I guarantee you that they pay in their own way. Time is an equalizer.”

  Ella churned Grandma Wink’s words over in her mind then stole a glance over at Crazy Flo, wondering what had made her that way. Was she paying penance for a wrongdoing?

  Ella didn’t believe the woman’s gruff, sandpaper facade for a second. Still, in her experience, people tended to develop prickly behavior as a defense mechanism. Or maybe Flo had just decided she didn’t give a crap about social niceties.

  The room stilled by several decibels, and there was no more time to dwell on the fellow boarder and ghost hound. The small, quaint church was filled to the brim, nearly every seat taken, with a handful of residents forced to stand along the walls.

  Ella craned her neck as she scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces—one in particular. Her gaze kept snagging on random people who looked like they’d stepped straight out of a television set. Most of the folks wore clothes similar to Rose and Jimmy.

  However, a few stood out with their cutlasses or kilts or loincloths—especially the loincloths. Surely they’d been offered more appropriate attire? Although, given the dramatic change in weather, the narrow strip of leather appealed to her at the moment.

  She finally spotted Will across the aisle and back a row, sitting next to a man in unkempt clothes with white hair that looked like a tornado had been used on it in lieu of a comb. Ella guessed she was looking at the professor.

  His eyes darted back and forth, his movement furtive, not with shiftiness but a severe lack of comfort in his environment.

  “Who’re you looking at?” Wink’s voice sounded in her ear.

  Ella jumped. “No one.” And here she thought she’d been subtle. She was going to have to work on her spy skills.

  Wink’s eyes followed where Ella’s had been. Slowly, a smile crept over her face, her eyes twinkling.

  “Uh huh.” Then, the smile faded. “I wonder why he’s not sitting with us. He’s usually over here.”

  As if he could feel their gaze, the inventor turned his head, locking eyes with Ella. He smiled and dipped his chin in greeting, but his expression was tense. He snapped his head back to the front of the room.

  Ella frowned. Had she done something? Was he not sitting in his usual spot because of her? She recounted their last conversation and retraced her actions.

  Unless he took issue with her napping, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She inwardly shrugged it off as having nothing to do with her.

  A short man with a round midsection and a bowler cap approached the lectern at the front of the church. He turned to face the audience, his skin glistening in the stifling heat. Behind him, seven people took seats on a raised platform behind folding tables.

  Ella squirmed, suddenly feeling like she was on trial.

  “That’s the council,” Wink whispered in her ear. “And that,” she nodded at the man, “is Mayor Bradford.”

  Ella focused on the man fussing with his hat, the name rattling around in her brain until it clicked into place.

  “Wait—Bradford. As in, Kayline Bradford?”

  CHAPTER 15

  BEFORE WINK COULD confirm that the man at the front was related to Kayline, the mayor cleared his throat and tapped the microphone. It hummed through speakers strategically placed around the sanctuary.

  “Good evening, everyone. Thank you, all, for coming. Before we begin, I’d just like to personally thank everyone for their kind words over the last few days.” He slipped his hat off, worrying the brim in his hands. “As you all may have heard, my precious daughter, my June bug, has passed on.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, pausing, and placed his hand over his heart. There was something theatrical about the movement, Ella thought.

  “And to confirm the rumor that you all have no doubt heard, yes, Sheriff Chapman does believe her death intentional. Now, I will not be commenting further on this tragedy, and I’d ask that you respect my privacy during this difficult time. A memorial service is planned for Sunday at eleven o’clock. Everyone is invited. My Kay loved this town, and she would’ve wanted the doors open to all.”

  He cleared his throat and replaced the bowler on his head. “And now, Councilman Sal will begin by reviewing the minutes from last week.”

  A man rose from the table and read from a weathered legal pad. Meanwhile, Mayor Bradford strode over and seated himself with the rest of the council. The entire time he’d been speaking, Ella’s skin had tingled with dislike more and more. It wasn’t until his chair squeaked under his weight that she realized why she’d reacted that way.

  When he’d mentioned Kay, his expression fell with sorrow, but his eyes were dry, glittering with delight at all of the faces staring back at him. Maybe he was someone who preferred to mourn privately or maybe he was still in shock.

  Regardless, he clearly loved the attention. Even now, he leaned back in his chair, chest puffed out, fa
ce glowing with eagerness.

  The meeting clipped by at a rapid pace. Ella was interested, despite the discussion topics being about which crops should be planted next in the surrounding fields, how much wheat they had stored up in the silos, and discussing the town’s power supply shortage.

  The meeting took a tense turn when a councilwoman suggested they start implementing brownouts. Once the dust had settled and brandished swords and bows had been confiscated, it became rather dull by comparison.

  After most new business had been discussed, the mayor stepped up to the pulpit-turned-lectern again. “I just wanted to say that thanks to our rather reliable star charts and a brave volunteer who ventured over the border, we now know that we’re in Southern Africa in 1740. Jack had to hike a couple of miles out, but he ran into a traveling caravan.”

  A wave of mixed reactions rippled through the room. The mayor held up his hand for silence, his barreled shoulders arching back.

  “I just thought everyone would want to know. Any more new business?”

  “This is where these usually get good,” Grandma Wink said under her breath.

  “And here I thought that man throwing a hatchet at Sal was exciting.”

  “Naw, happens more often than you think at these meetings.”

  “Wh-should I be worried? Do I need to arm myself?”

  Wink waved her hand in dismissal. “You’ll be fine. And don’t let Flo overhear you talking about armaments. I think she has the largest arsenal in town, no matter how much the sheriff or I confiscate from her. I swear that woman could take over a small country.”

  “Where’s she getting it all?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Wink shrugged, unworried about her best friend being her own private militia.

  Ella glanced over at Crazy Flo whose arm now draped across the back of the man next to her. She made a mental note to never get on the woman’s bad side. Also, she needed to talk to her about potential self-defense given her encounter with Six and the alarming amount of weapons she’d seen tonight.

  She turned her attention back to the meeting. A middle-aged man with tattered overalls and a thick layer of grime covering his weathered skin walked up to the mic. “I’d like to lodge a formal complaint against Rodney Gunderson. My apple trees got a bug moving through ‘em, and he put it there.”