by Kay Finch
“Eight.”
“How about I pick y’all up and drive you over there? We could have a drink after.”
I’d rather spend the night with Luke to begin with. Having him there might prevent Jane from going off on a tangent.
“Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” I said.
An hour later, we arrived at the library in Luke’s game warden pickup. The building sat at the edge of town just over the bridge that crossed the Glidden River. I wasn’t too crazy about the recent increase in development around Lavender, but a library was a different story. Until now, I’d satisfied my library cravings by traveling to the branch in Riverview.
The full moon cast an eerie glow over the construction site and illuminated a black Ford four-by-four truck parked in the temporary dirt lot. Hitchcock stood on my lap with his front paws on the door sill to look out the window. I clipped the leash to his harness. With the piles of dirt and construction debris around the red brick building, I had to keep him close.
“I didn’t take Jane for a pickup driver,” I said as we climbed out of Luke’s vehicle.
“It’s not hers,” he said. “Truck belongs to Keith Barker, works for the contractor. I met him when he did a side job over at the feed store.”
“I guess Jane isn’t here yet.”
“Doesn’t look like it.” Luke waved to a broad-shouldered blond man approaching us with some sort of tool in one hand. He wore jeans and work boots with a denim shirt.
“Hey, warden,” the man said. “What’re you doing out this way?”
“My friend is meeting somebody.” Luke introduced us, then said, “How about you? Kind of late for you to be working.”
“Forgot my nail gun.” Barker lifted the hand holding the tool. “This kind of thing can grow legs and disappear if you’re not careful. Thought I’d come after it right quick.”
“Good idea.”
Barker eyed Hitchcock, who was meandering around my legs. “What’s up with the cat?”
“He has a photo op,” I said. “His name is Hitchcock, and before you ask he is not a bad luck cat.”
By the way his brows creased, I guessed Barker didn’t know about the bad luck cat legend. That made me a fan of the guy.
“Is Hitchcock like a cat food commercial actor or something?” he said.
I laughed. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
“Sabrina’s a mystery writer,” Luke said. “She has a book coming out soon, so she’s getting some publicity shots.”
“Super,” Barker said. “I wouldn’t mind checking out your book. Might need to remind me when the time comes.”
“I’ll make a note.” I smiled at him. “We’re supposed to be meeting Jane Alcott here. You know her?”
“Sure I do,” he said. “She was here midafternoon. Haven’t seen her since then. But you can count on one thing.”
“What’s that?” I said.
“If Jane said she’ll be here, she will.”
“I only just met the woman, but that’s the impression I got. We’ll wait.” I looked to Luke for confirmation and he nodded.
Barker said his goodbyes, then got into his pickup and left, driving slowly over the bumpy, unpaved lot.
I looked at Luke. “What time do you have?”
“Twenty minutes after eight.”
“I can’t believe Jane’s not here. I’d have thought she’d come way in advance and have her camera all set up.”
Luke shrugged. “Some people don’t believe in arriving on time for anything.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t get that feeling from her at all. Not for a second.”
“I thought you first met her today.”
“True. Still—” I frowned. “I’ll text her. Lord knows she’s into texting.”
I got my phone out and tapped in a message. At the library. R U on your way?
I dropped the phone back into my pocket as a light breeze kicked up. Though the night was a relatively mild sixty-something, the air chilled me enough to raise goose bumps. I crossed my arms and held them close. Luke put one of his around my shoulders and gave me a hug.
“Nice to have you all to myself,” he said. “No book. No Aunt Rowe antics. Just you and me and the night.”
“And Hitchcock.” I grinned up at him. “But you make a good point.”
“Mrreow.” The cat tugged at the leash, trying to get closer to a pile of wood scraps and crumpled food wrappers.
My phone made a noise, and I extricated myself from Luke’s hold to pull it from my pocket. “A weather alert,” I said. “Not Jane. No response to my text. I’ll try calling her.”
I placed the call, and the phone rang four times before going to voice mail. “Hi, this is Jane. Leave me a message.”
“Jane, it’s Sabrina. Hitchcock and I are here at the library for the picture-taking. It’s way after eight. Give me a call to let me know if you need to reschedule. I’ll wait here for a bit.” I ended the call and looked at Luke.
“She might have had a change of plans,” he said.
I glanced at my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed something and didn’t find anything recent.
“She sent me a zillion texts,” I said. “They seemed nonstop, but the last one came in almost three hours ago.”
“Maybe she went out to eat,” he said, “and got hung up at the restaurant.”
“But why didn’t she answer the phone or my text?” I said. “Something’s wrong.”
“Take it easy,” Luke said. “Maybe her phone’s dead or stuck in a purse where she couldn’t hear it. Or something unexpected came up.”
“I think she would have told me,” I said. “I know she would. You’d have to meet her to understand.”
“Okay,” he said. “You can get in touch with her tomorrow, and she can fill you in on what kept her.” He turned me to face him and wrapped his arms around me. “C’mon now, don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” He backed away and used a forefinger to tip my chin up, then kissed me gently on the mouth. “You want me to snap a few pictures of you and Hitchcock with my phone, say the word.”
I smiled. “That’s okay. This can wait.”
He kissed me again, lingering a little longer.
The kiss made me feel better, but that didn’t mean my concern about Jane had disappeared. A cloud crossed the moon, leaving us in utter darkness. Hitchcock strained at the leash.
Luke switched on a flashlight. “That seems like a sign for us to get out of here. What do you say?”
“Good idea.” I stooped down. Hitchcock tensed when I picked him up. “C’mon, boy, we’re leaving now.”
“Mrreeeooowww.”
It seemed as if the cat was disagreeing with me, especially when his meow morphed into a low growl.
“Take it easy.” Luke patted the cat’s head. “Everything’s okay.”
He headed toward the truck. I lagged behind, glancing around anxiously as I walked. I didn’t see or hear anything unusual, but despite Luke’s reassuring words, my worry was growing by the second.
Chapter 4
I woke the next morning to the sound of Hitchcock purring. The cat sprawled across the pillow above my head. I reached up to pet him and thought about how happy I was to have two special guys in my life—Hitchcock and Luke Griffin. Last night, after Jane Alcott had about driven me crazy with the text messages and then not shown up for our meeting, Luke succeeded in taking my mind off the woman. The memory made me smile, but my curiosity about Jane pulled at me. What was up with her anyway?
I climbed out of bed and checked my phone for any response to my calls and texts. There were none.
Odd.
I should rejoice that Jane stopped bombarding me with text messages. I could go with that for now and check on Jane a bit later if I didn’t hear from her. My more immediate concern this morning was Aunt Rowe. I wanted to make sure she didn’t plan to do something completely crazy today—like skydiving or Lord knows what else.
Fifteen minutes later, Hitch
cock followed me through the back door and into Aunt Rowe’s kitchen. Glenda was at the cooktop turning bacon in a skillet. Hitchcock went straight to her feet, sat down, and watched her expectantly.
“Mornin’, all.” Glenda glanced down at the cat. “If you expect me to sneak you some people food with your mama right here, you have another guess comin’.”
“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.
I went to the coffeepot and filled a mug. “He already ate breakfast.”
“I think that cat works off all his calories,” she said, “with the miles he puts on trotting all over the place.”
“That may be true, but I need to keep him as healthy as possible.” I turned and noticed a row of cell phones sitting near the refrigerator. “What’s with all the phones?”
Aunt Rowe entered the kitchen in time to hear my question. “My friends and I have declared this an unplugged day. No electronic devices allowed. It’ll be like the good old days.”
“Why?” I said.
“I know you heard about the bucket list project.” She took the mug of coffee Glenda offered her. “One of the gals wants to spend twenty-four hours disconnected from the world. Not a bad idea you ask me, so we’re all joining in.”
After my experience with Jane Alcott’s texts, I could understand the appeal. I checked out Aunt Rowe’s outfit—dressy navy slacks with a stylish striped tunic and leather wedge sandals. Not skydiving attire, thank goodness, but if they were going out they should have a phone in case of emergency.
“I guess y’all can take advantage of the peace and quiet to work on your scrapbooks,” I said.
Aunt Rowe sipped her coffee, then said, “We do that in the evenings.”
“What kind of wild and crazy things are on the bucket lists?”
“That’s privileged information,” Aunt Rowe said, “and I object to answering.”
“Have you been hanging out with that lawyer again?” I said.
“If you’re referring to Rita Colletti,” Aunt Rowe said, “not lately. We have a guest that takes charge like Rita does, though, and she suggested we keep things fresh and fun by only revealing a few items per day. Then we decide what we’re going to do the following day.”
I loved suspense in my fiction, but not in situations like this. “Please tell me you don’t plan to skydive.”
Aunt Rowe smirked. “I don’t plan to skydive. No reason to risk breaking my leg again.”
I breathed easier. “I’m relieved to hear that. Are you allowed to tell us what’s on today’s agenda?”
“I don’t see why not,” she said. “We’re touring a few of the local wineries. And before you get your panties in a twist, we have a dedicated driver. Suellen won’t drink. She wants to watch us all get silly.”
Glenda and I exchanged a look.
“Sounds like fun, Aunt Rowe,” I said. “Tyanne and I took one of those tours. Perfect weather for that today.”
She looked at me. “Do I hear a but coming?”
“Maybe a little one.” I glanced at the phones. “You should take one phone along. You can keep it turned off unless there’s an emergency. Those wineries are widespread and far from town.”
Aunt Rowe shook her head. “It won’t kill us to disconnect for a day. We spent more than half our lives without cell phones, and we’ll survive.”
“I agree with Rowe on this one,” Glenda said. “If they need a phone, they’ll find one.”
The talk of phones reminded me of Jane Alcott. Had she made a conscious decision to ditch her phone for some unknown reason? Nah, it’d be more likely she dropped hers in the toilet and it quit working. But then why hadn’t she found a way to get in touch?
“Glenda, I thank you for the support,” Aunt Rowe said. “Now, how about some of that bacon?”
I looked down at Hitchcock. The cat was licking his lips, and I’d have bet anything Glenda had already slipped him some of the greasy meat when I wasn’t looking.
• • •
After breakfast, Aunt Rowe and I went our separate ways. Hitchcock stayed with Glenda—no surprise. I was heading back to my place to write and reminding myself where I’d left off in the story, when my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and fully expected to see Jane’s name on the screen. It was Tyanne.
“Good morning,” I said. “How’s your day?”
“Could be better. My washer quit, and I’m at the big box store shopping for a new one. Do you have any idea how much the price of these things has gone up in the last fifteen years?”
I didn’t know what washers cost then or now, but her question didn’t require an answer. “Yeesh,” I said. “That’s no fun.”
“I might have to find a second job,” she said, “but that’s not why I’m calling. I heard from Floy Anderson, one of the women on the library planning committee. Jane was supposed to be at their breakfast meeting, and she’s not. Floy can’t reach Jane. She thought maybe I could, but Jane doesn’t answer her phone.”
“Oh, no.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” Ty said.
“No. I’m completely serious because—”
“Jane called the committee meeting in the first place.” Ty didn’t seem to realize she’d interrupted me. “Floy was rattled, so I offered to check with you to ask if Jane said anything last night that might explain why she didn’t show for the meeting. I know it’s a long shot.”
“Longer than you think,” I said. “Jane didn’t come to meet me at the library last night either.”
“Oh.” Tyanne paused. “That’s disturbing.”
“I thought so.”
“Did you call to ask her what was up?”
“Called and texted. I couldn’t reach her.”
“This doesn’t sound like Jane at all,” Ty said.
“There could be a dozen reasons, so I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions.”
Ty laughed. “Spoken by the queen of jumping to conclusions.”
“Guilty.” My brain was off and running over the possibilities. I’d never be able to concentrate on my writing until this little mystery was solved.
“Do you know where Jane lives?” I said.
“Yeah. She’s renting a garage apartment from Mrs. Honeycutt. It’s that bright yellow house in town—with the black shutters and overflowing window boxes.”
“I know it, and I’ll go over there. See what Jane has to say about these scheduling glitches. Good luck with the new washer shopping.”
As soon as we hung up, I notified Glenda that I was heading into town for a bit. Hitchcock could stay with her until I solved this problem.
The yellow house was easy to spot. Though I had never met Mrs. Honeycutt, I assumed the frail white-haired lady clipping dead leaves from the plants in the window boxes was the homeowner.
She turned her attention to me as soon as I pulled into the drive. When I approached the woman, she called out in a quavery voice.
“Did the sheriff send you?”
A blue car sat in the driveway ahead of mine, but no other people were in sight. She had to be talking to me.
“No, ma’am. I’m Sabrina Tate.”
Her forehead creased. “When will the deputies come?”
I crossed the lawn so we wouldn’t have to shout at each other. “I don’t know. Do you expect them?”
“Yes, I do.” She frowned. “What do you want?”
I wondered why she expected the authorities, but she might not appreciate me asking. Plus, I’d rather ask my questions and be gone before any deputies showed up, if in fact they were coming.
I looked toward the windows above the garage, then back at Mrs. Honeycutt. “I came to see Jane Alcott. Does she live here in your garage apartment?”
“I don’t give personal information to strangers,” she said.
“That’s a good habit to have.” I smiled. “Yesterday, I met Jane. She and I are going to do some work together.” I pulled out my phone. “If it will help, I could show you a whole string of messages she sent
me. I need to talk to her, but she’s not answering her phone. Frankly, Mrs. Honeycutt, I’m beginning to worry about her.”
“Me, too,” she said emphatically. “That’s why I called the sheriff.”
“Why are you worried?”
“Jane’s not here. Wasn’t here all last night.”
I looked at the car parked in front of mine—a four-door Buick. “Is this her car?”
The woman lifted her chin. “No, that’s mine. I can still drive, you know.”
“That’s good,” I said. “About Jane, do you think she might have spent the night with a friend?”
Her frown deepened. “Jane is new in town, and she never mentioned any friends or family to me, and she talks quite a lot, you know. Always has advice to give—doesn’t matter the topic. She’s very knowledgeable.”
“Yes, she is,” I said. “When did you last see her?”
The woman pursed her lips and thought for a few seconds. “Yesterday at one in the afternoon. My television show was just starting.”
“And everything seemed perfectly normal at that point?”
“Yes, it did.”
“But then Jane didn’t come home last night, and that’s why you called the sheriff?”
“Heavens, no.” Mrs. Honeycutt gave me a look that said my suggestion was the craziest one she’d ever heard. “I called to report the stranger breaking into Jane’s place during the wee hours this morning.”
I gasped. “A man broke in?”
“A woman,” Mrs. Honeycutt said. “Sneaked up those steps and looked around like a cat burglar in a movie. She was bigger than Jane and bustier. When she came out with two stuffed pillowcases slung over her shoulder, I figured she grabbed everything inside worth grabbing.”
Chapter 5
Mrs. Honeycutt’s eyewitness account struck me as odd. Burglars usually went for electronics. What would fit in a pillowcase, anyway? I turned to inspect the outdoor steps leading to a small landing and the entrance to Jane Alcott’s garage apartment. The windowpanes on the door appeared intact, so how did someone get in without a key? I tried to picture what Mrs. Honeycutt might have seen during the wee hours of the morning. In the dark. How accurate was her account of what she saw or thought she saw?