Traveling Town Mystery Boxset

by Ami Diane

  She considered societal expectations during Dot’s era—and most of the townspeople of Keystone. Men and women spent a fair amount of time alone together if they were either dating or were okay with the rumors that would fly if spotted together—even if they weren’t a couple. And it was certainly frowned upon if one of them was married.

  Dot’s eyes glistened, and she looked away, pulling out an embroidered handkerchief. “He was a friend.” Dabbing at the corners of her eyes, she added, “And a visionary. He had great plans.”

  “For Keystone?”

  The handkerchief froze. “Yes.” Her tone gave the word away as a big, fat lie.

  Ella leaned back into the soda machine and crossed her arms, reviewing every fact she knew of Stan. She burned through brain cells picturing Stan as a “visionary,” and in the end, decided, it didn’t jive.

  The back door to the diner opened, and Wink’s voice floated in from the kitchen. Ella opened her mouth to inform her she had a visitor, but Dot jumped to her feet and stomped the linoleum with her heels.

  “Pearl Winkel! You get in here, right now!”

  Wink’s hot pink head popped up in the open rectangle of the passthrough. “Pardon?”

  “Hey, Wink, you have a visitor,” Ella said helpfully.

  “And an angry one at that.” Wink’s eyes twinkled. “You didn’t forget to throw out the old pie again, did you?”

  Ella looked over at the pie case and began inching her way towards it. “Nope.”

  “Wink!” Dot yelled.

  Ella stopped and braced herself in case the woman decided to jump the counter. She’d been dying to try more wrestling moves. Unfortunately for her, the diner was empty of customers and an audience.

  Dot’s face turned red, her fists clenched. Her demure facade crumbled, and Ella glimpsed the true person underneath.

  Spittle flew from the woman’s lips as she said, “Mr. Boyer, the Millers, Mrs. DiMerco, and more signed our petition. Then, your stupid little committee got to them, and they reneged their support. What did you say to them?”

  Wink ducked out of sight a moment before bursting through the swinging door. “The truth.”

  She marched forward. The lines in her face were hard and etched like granite.

  “I told them the truth, not those lies you and Stan spun for them. The footprint for the turbines would take up too much property. Half the proposed sites would have to have the houses demolished.”

  “That’s a small price to pay,” Dot spat. “Now the whole town’ll suffer.”

  Ella gaped at her. There was no way this woman had the good of the town in mind.

  Wink’s mouth made a tsking sound. “Don’t be such a feminine wash.”

  Dot recoiled, her face contorting in confusion.

  “You heard her,” Ella said, coming to Wink’s rescue. “Don’t be a feminine wash.”

  “You should leave,” Wink said, her voice barely contained. By now, the hue in her skin nearly matched her hair.

  Ella cracked her knuckles like a gangster in an old movie. “Ever hear of a pile driver? It’s a professional wrestling move.”

  Horatio kicked the door out and stood beside Wink, spatula held out like a weapon and glaring at Dot.

  Ella noted the strange choice of arms. “Really? In a room full of knives?”

  Dot’s eyes darted between the three of them. Ella took a step closer to Wink, more to get a better angle of attack than to show solidarity. But the effect was the same.

  “Fine! The coffee’s lousy anyway.” She whirled around and stomped towards the door.

  “That’s ‘mud’. I believe you mean, ‘the mud tastes lousy’.” Ella glanced sideways at Wink. “Did I get that right?”

  “Excellent, dear. You’re really coming along.”

  The bell over the door jingled pleasantly, incongruent with the nasty woman leaving. Once Dot disappeared out of sight in all her periwinkle glory, Ella let out a dramatic sigh.

  “I didn’t get a chance to try out my wrestling move.” In all reality, she probably wasn’t strong enough to lift Dot off the ground, turn her upside down, and slam her head into the ground.

  Wink eyed her. “You wrestle?”

  “No.” Ella collected Dot’s abandoned coffee cup. “My coffee’s not that bad, is it?”

  Wink chose that moment to smooth out an invisible wrinkle in her uniform.

  “Wink?”

  “Hm? You say something?”

  “I can brew it stronger if you want.”

  Wink patted Ella’s arm. “No, dear. Dot just likes it bitter.”

  “I mean, it’s practically the consistency of syrup.”

  “I know, dear.”

  “You should have let me at her,” Horatio said.

  Ella’s hands paused in grabbing the cream and sugar. “Should’ve let you? Who was holding you back? I wasn’t. Wink? Were you holding him back from letting him ‘at her’?”

  Wink held the kitchen door open for them. “We need you in the kitchen, Horatio, not in jail.”

  Ella dumped the coffee into the sink. It oozed from the cup and took several rinses to clean out the grounds. “Did you really get those people to side with you?”

  “And more. Wait till she canvases Lake Drive again.” Wink snorted. Just then, the front door chimed. “I’ll get it, dear. You take a load off.”

  Wink squeezed past her, scolded Chester to get down from the counter, and swung through the door.

  “You’re still coming over tonight, right?” Horatio asked. Ella stared at him. “You forgot?” His face fell.

  “No, of course not.” She bit her lip. “Okay, maybe. Things have just been so crazy. But I’m looking forward to it. What should I bring? I can grab a—”

  “Nothing. Just bring yourself.”

  “Et tu, Brute? Calm down. I wasn’t offering to make anything. But I could bring vegetables or something from the market. Maybe one of Wink’s pumpkin pies, but since you so sweetly—”

  “Sì, bring her pumpkin pie.”

  Ella stood in front of a one-story Tudor house at the north end of town and knocked. A smattering of pumpkins in various stages of decomposition decorated the front stoop like a jack-o’-lantern graveyard.

  The door opened, and Shelly’s face appeared, bringing a blast of warm air with it.

  Ella pointed at the moldy orange vegetables littering the stoop. “Not ready to give up on Halloween?”

  “We tried, believe me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “As a mom, you got to pick your battles most days.”

  She welcomed Ella inside.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Shelly asked, referring to the dessert cradled in Ella’s hands.

  “If you’re thinking it’s a board game, then you’re wrong.” She handed over the pumpkin pie she’d brought from the diner.

  After taking her coat, Shelly disappeared, leaving Ella alone in the living room. A warm fire crackled in the fireplace, and the air smelled of bread, cinnamon, and the holidays.

  Horatio floated in through a doorway, an adorable toddler in his arms. It was strange to see the cook outside of his uniform and apron and sans spatula. He wore slacks and a button-down shirt which currently had several wet spots she suspected was drool. At least, she hoped it was drool.

  “The bread’s nearly done,” Horatio said as Shelly joined them.

  “Thank you, dear.” She grabbed Jack from the cook’s arms. To Ella, she said, “We made a mushroom risotto, cranberry walnut salad, rolls, and homemade ice cream.”

  Ella’s mouth watered. “Both of you? How is it that neither of you is five hundred pounds? If I could cook like that, they’d have to cut me out of my house.” After a moment, she added, “You have a lovely home, by the way. How long have you lived here?”

  “We bought it just after we got married about two years ago,” Horatio said. “It’s an older home. The couple who’d built it passed away shortly after the first flash. It had been vacant since.”

  Ella foll
owed the couple through an arched doorway directly across from the fireplace and into the dining room. A lace tablecloth lay over the table, and two candlesticks flickered above decorations of gourds and garland.

  Ella settled into a seat as Horatio placed a dish of cheesy rice and mushrooms in front of her while Shelly strapped Jack into a highchair.

  Waiting until everyone was served up proved to be a challenge in patience. Risotto was her favorite. The moment Shelly picked up her fork, Ella plunged her own utensil in like someone who’d just broken a hunger strike.

  Conversation began lightly, with Ella pouring compliments between bites over how amazing the food was. By her third helping, she began losing steam, and her stomach felt like it was creeping up her esophagus.

  More food ended up on Jack’s face than in him.

  “You like that there, buddy?”

  Horatio and Shelly exchanged a glance, and the cook said gently, “He’s deaf.”

  “Ah.” She switched to American Sign Language and repeated her question. Of course, the toddler didn’t understand, having never been exposed to the language. Ella paused periodically between bites to show Jack the various words for objects on the table in sign language, while at the same time explaining to Horatio and Shelly how important it was for their son’s development to acquire a language.

  After the last grain of rice had been scraped from her plate, Ella tried to help clear away the dishes, but Horatio and Shelly insisted she stay seated which was good because she wasn’t sure she could walk without popping the button on her pants. A few minutes later, they returned with Wink’s pumpkin pie topped with homemade ice cream.

  As Ella dipped her fork into the vanilla bean and pumpkin flavors, Shelly brought up the newspaper article.

  “Have you given any more thought to that interview?”

  Ella gave a noncommittal shrug. The truth was, her mind had been so focused on other things.

  Horatio bent to pick a piece of pie off the floor that Jack had dropped. “It’s really painless. Besides, every newcomer does one. I did. That’s how my petite and I met.” He gave his wife a warm look and a quick peck on the cheek.

  Ella took a sip of decaf coffee. “How many people read Keystone Corner?”

  “Nearly the whole town,” Shelly said, and Ella’s eyes flew open. “There’s really not much for entertainment here. Look, if you’re still unsure, why don’t you go to the historical archives in the library and look up some old newspapers?”

  Ella considered the suggestion. She’d visited the Keystone Library once before when looking into Kayline’s death. It would certainly be more convenient than peppering Wink, the town historian, with questions.

  She’d been meaning to drop in since the Romani had shown up. Whatever information she found in the library, outdated as it may be, could give her more insight into them. She was no stranger to pouring through texts for research, but it also made her miss the days when a quick Internet search would yield information in seconds.

  Horatio tried his best to scoop up the ice cream soup off his plate using his fork. “Tell Ella what you told me earlier, about the committee.” Before his wife could respond, he said to Ella, “I was telling her about that dannata donna insopportabile—” His eyes darted to Shelly, and his face turned pink. “Pardon me. What I meant to say is I was telling her about Dot coming in and yelling at Wink about the committee. Anyway, she said—well, tell her what you said.”

  Shelly pushed her empty plate forward and leaned in. “We’ve been working on a special piece about the expansion project, getting both perspectives. Anyway, I asked Wink if I could interview her about the ‘Save Twin Hills’ committee, and she told me it’d be better to talk to the person who started it.” She paused, waiting for Ella’s reaction.

  Ella hunched over her plate, her eyes wide. “Wait, Wink wasn’t the one who came up with it?” They both shook their heads. “Then, who did?”

  “Jonas,” Shelly said, her voice tense.

  “Jonas? Scary Farmer John Jonas?” Ella digested the news. “He must’ve really hated Stan. Why else be against the project other than to burn him? He’s got no skin in the game, so to speak.”

  Horatio shot Shelly a confused look. “What is this game? And what does his skin have to do with the wind farm?”

  Ella waved aside the question. “Point is, why would Jonas start the committee in the first place? To what end?”

  They both shrugged, and Horatio said, “Maybe Jonas was jealous that Stan had two women.” He twisted his head to look at his wife. “Wasn’t he sweet on Dot for a while?”

  “What?” Ella said. The two were such an odd pair that she couldn’t even picture them together.

  Shelly’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that. But it was short, and it seemed the parting of ways was mutual.”

  Ella leaned back in her chair. “Crap on a cracker, is it such slim pickings here for single people?”

  Neither answered her, both becoming far too interested in stacking their dirty plates together. After depositing them in the kitchen, Shelly said good night and took a sleeping Jack to his room.

  Ella helped clear the table, then she thanked Horatio for the lovely evening. He tried to get her to stay longer, but she was afraid that between the warm, crackling fire and a stomach full of pumpkin pie and risotto, she’d be out like a light.

  After Ella said good night, she meandered down the sidewalk, humming a few bars of a Christmas song. Nearly every house she passed had a wreath on its door, and a few had Christmas trees in their windows.

  Another pang of homesickness swept over her. The holiday was definitely going to be hard this year without her family. Jimmy, Rose, Wink, and even Flo were quickly becoming family. And Will… he was becoming something, but she wasn’t sure what yet.

  Being with them for Christmas would be lovely, maybe even fun, but it wouldn’t be the same. The manor wasn’t her childhood home. Her room didn’t have posters plastered over the wall, and Rose probably didn’t cook a dry turkey or have lumpy mashed potatoes.

  Ella took a deep breath, letting go of the pain. Maybe it wouldn’t be the same, but she could make new memories and new traditions.

  She’d just reached Main Street and wrapped her scarf tighter around her face when a shadow emerged from an alley.

  Six’s cold voice crept over her skin. “Been waitin’ for you.”

  Ella stopped short, the scarf muffling her gasp. She took a step back, prepared to run.

  “What do you want?”

  Was this just going to be a repeat of their previous encounter?

  His hand dropped to his waist where she could make out the faint outline of his gun. His fingers grazed the wooden grips, and a coy smile tugged his mouth. “Seems you got a lot of bodies stacking up. How many you find now? Two?”

  “Three—well two and a skeleton. So, three.” She swallowed, unsure why she’d just corrected him.

  She made a move to walk around him, but he sidestepped in front of her. Tobacco and alcohol wafted off of his sweatshirt, making him smell like a walking pub.

  That’s when she realized she hadn’t heard his familiar spurs. Glancing down, she saw his boots were bare.

  Ella silently cursed. That had been the only way to hear the outlaw coming, although it hadn’t served well in the past. He’d still managed to get the drop on her a few times.

  “What do you want, Jesse?” Anger edged her voice. What was it going to take for him to leave her alone?

  “Name’s Six, woman. Six.”

  “I know, Jesse.”

  He growled. As he shifted on his boots, lights from a nearby porch bathed him in a soft amber glow. His skin was clean-shaven, a foreign look since she’d met him.

  Ella was struck for the first time by how handsome he was—different than Will’s classic, old Hollywood appeal. The color of Six’s hair, the way he moved about, everything about him was wild as if the outlaw carried the frontier with him.

 
His hand dropped from the gun and fished through a pocket. He brought out a rolled cigarette, and she caught a gleam in his eyes. It was the same look she’d seen in Fluffy when stalking Chester, and it finally dawned on her what a fool she’d been. This was just a game to him. A sick and twisted game.

  Anger coursed through her. She was not going to spend the rest of her days in Keystone afraid of this man, constantly scared of shadows and alleyways because he might be amongst them.

  Ella spoke through gritted teeth. “You know what I think?” He raised an eyebrow. “I think if you were going to kill me, you would’ve done it by now. I think you’re bored and lonely. You don’t have friends. So, you go around, hurting people, threatening them, breaking things, and terrorizing the town, because you’re all alone. All alone in that sad little cabin of yours.”

  Her voice had steadily grown louder, bolder. Another porch light across the street flickered on.

  “If you want to hurt me, Jesse, I’m right here.” She spread out her arms and took a step closer to him.

  His hands hovered near the unlit cigarette dangling between his lips as he stared at her.

  “You’re broken, Jesse. And threatening me won’t fix you. But when you’re ready for a friend, I’ll be waiting.”

  “You think I wanna be your friend?” He released a throaty laugh.

  “Yes.”

  His laughter died, and he studied her with a shrewd expression. “Darlin’, you don’t wanna be my friend. Trust me. I wasn’t lying ‘bout killing people.”

  “I know.”

  Their eyes locked, and they stayed that way until a breeze broke the spell, a swirl of leaves traveling the gulf between them.

  “It’s your call,” Ella said, “but no more following me or threatening me.”

  She shoved past him, hitting his shoulder hard. Two steps later, he shoved her spine like a freight train and sent her flying into a rose bush. The tiny razor blade-like thorns ripped through her clothes and her skin. Ella grimaced as her hip jarred into the ground.

  “Really? Again with the bushes?!” At this rate, she was going to have to bath in Bactine.