by J. R. Ripley
A drop of rain hit the windshield as I twisted the key in the ignition. Looking up, I noticed a flash of movement from the small attic window centered under the peak of the roof. The curtain was pulled back to one side. A woman’s face peered down at me.
A moment later, a man appeared. A moment after that and their silhouettes melted together.
13
“Have a good time last night?”
“Yes,” I answered. “How did things go here? Smoothly?”
“Of course,” replied Esther, waving her feather duster around like she was d’Artagnan fighting off Cardinal Richelieu’s troops. I’d asked her a hundred times not to use a duster made out of feathers in a store catering to bird lovers, but she didn’t seem to grasp the concept.
“That’s good.” I flipped through yesterday’s receipts, smothering a yawn. I’d slept poorly and this time I couldn’t blame it on a woodpecker. Too many thoughts were pecking away at my brain. I’d tossed and turned like a dinghy in the ocean during a Cat 5 hurricane.
“Your boyfriend came by.” Esther kicked up some more dust as she ran the feather duster along a row of shallow butterfly-feeder dishes. I ordered mine from an artist based in Asheville, North Carolina. Overripe fruit, or a sponge soaked in sugar solution, both worked great to attract butterflies.
“Derek?” My hand went automatically to my hair. I’d skipped breakfast and raced through my usual morning routine. I had the feeling my canary-yellow Birds & Bees blouse matched my sallow complexion.
“That’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”
“What did he want?”
Esther stared at me like I was a birdbrain. “He wanted you.”
A feeling of dread started to creep up my toes. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were having dinner with Gus McKutcheon at his house.”
I shot up from my stool, and receipts went flying and fluttering to the floor. “What did you tell him that for?” I chased after the paper slips as they skittered across the hardwood.
“Because that’s what you were doing.” Esther pulled a face, shook her head, and strutted off. “If you need me, I’ll be taking my break.”
I stared after her, a wad of receipts clutched in my hand. “Great, just great,” I mumbled. What would Derek be thinking?
I tossed the receipts into the bowels of a damaged wooden birdhouse I kept under the counter for the purpose. The birdhouse had dropped from the sales shelf, splitting the roof. I couldn’t sell it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t find a good use for it—and I had. I’d finish sorting through the receipts later.
I grabbed my purse and headed for the back door and my van. “Kim’s due in any minute, Esther. Please don’t take off before she gets here!”
“Where are you going?” Esther sounded petulant.
“I’ve got an errand to run!” I slammed the door behind me before Esther could catch me.
I parked in the public lot off the town square. The offices of Harlan and Harlan were on Main Street near the Chinese restaurant. If Derek hadn’t moved to Ruby Lake to practice law with his father and be closer to his daughter, we’d have never met. Whether that was fate or mere chance didn’t matter. I was happy.
Two floor-to-ceiling windows ran the length of the office front. The entrance was on the right with a small seating area and a desk for their part-time receptionist-slash-secretary. Ben Harlan’s office was on the left with his desk facing the street. Derek’s office was in the rear with a small window that looked out on the alleyway. Derek was living in the apartment above the offices.
Peeking in the front window, I saw Ben Harlan bent over his desk, quietly poring over some papers. I rapped a knuckle on the glass. Ben smiled and waved me in.
The secretary was nowhere in sight. Ben came out to greet me and he invited me to sit in his office.
“Actually, I was hoping I might have a quick word with Derek.” I looked down the quiet hall. “Is he in?” Derek had said he was going to have a couple of client meetings today. “I only need a minute.” To explain myself and set things right. Thank you very much, Esther Pester.
“Sorry, Amy. Derek’s not here at the moment. He and Amy had a thing.”
My jaw twitched. Amy the Ex? I wanted to ask what sort of thing Derek might be having in the middle of the workday with Amy the Ex but was too polite and much too uncomfortable to ask. “Oh, I see . . .”
Ben’s brow went up as he laid a hand on my upper arm. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No.” I struggled to keep my disappointment from showing. I smiled. “I guess I’ll catch him another time.”
“Are you sure you won’t join me for a cup of coffee?” Ben hefted the glass carafe at the coffee bar between a pair of comfy guest chairs.
“Thanks, but I’d better get back to the store. Besides, I don’t want to keep you from your work.” I pushed open the front door. A cool breeze wafted over me. The temp was only supposed to reach into the low seventies today, according to the weather folk.
He splashed some coffee into a mug and replaced the carafe. “Please say hello to Barbara for me. Tell her not to be such a stranger.” Ben fiddled with his navy-blue tie. “I kind of look forward to our time together, I don’t mind telling you.”
I cocked my head. “Didn’t you and Mom go out last night?”
“No.” Ben shook a sugar packet back and forth. “I haven’t seen her for a few days now.”
“That’s funny, I thought—” I stopped myself. Hadn’t Mom said she was going out with Ben last night?
“Yes?”
“Nothing,” I said, recovering from my near-fatal faux pas. I didn’t want to get Mom in trouble with Ben. “I’ll be sure to say hi for you. Do the same for me with that son of yours?”
Ben promised he would.
Out on the street, I decided a strong cup of coffee was actually just what I needed. And not the stuff I made at Birds & Bees. Though I had a decent coffeepot and bought only grown-in-the-shade, bird-friendly-certified beans, it tasted more like the coffee you get out of a vending machine in a hospital waiting room, and I wasn’t sure why.
What I needed was something better, more full-bodied, that went down like hot liquid gold and filled the recesses of the soul. Only one place I knew fit the bill.
I headed across the town square to the Coffee and Tea House. The owner, Susan Terwilliger, stood at the counter. “Hi, Amy. What can I get you?” Fluffy brown hair hung in loose waves along her cheekbones and matched the color of her eyes.
“Coffee,” I replied. “The biggest size you’ve got.”
Susan swung into action. “Coming right up.” Besides running her own business, Susan’s got four school-aged children, three boys and a girl, plus a husband who’s a dentist. Somehow, she still managed to have more pep than me at my best.
“Something to go with that? I’ve got a couple of new items I’m trying, fresh walnut bars and mini breakfast tarts.”
I looked in the glass case, drooling over the choices. “What’s in the tart?”
“Pancetta and onions. They’re made in-house.”
“Too savory.” I needed caffeine and sweets. “I’ll take a walnut bar.” What was Derek doing with his ex-wife, and why had he told me had meetings with clients all day?
Now I would have to wait until tonight, at the inaugural Birds and Brews event, to get the scoop. And to explain my dinner with Gus McKutcheon. Not that Derek was necessarily going to ask for an explanation or that I even owed him one. But I wanted everything to be on the up-and-up between us.
I’d been in a long-term relationship with one lying louse already. I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself.
I started for an empty table and noticed the skipper of the boat Sunset Sally seated alone in the corner. “Good morning, Captain Harrow,” I said, balancing my cup and plate. “Mind if I join you?”
He nodded to the vacant chair beside him, moving his big-brimmed camo hat to the other end of the tab
le. The fisherman was drinking black coffee and had devoured three of the mini tarts as evidenced by the three empty tins.
I sat and adjusted my mug and plate in front of me. “We missed you last night at dinner. How did the cruise go?”
Ethan Harrow laid his mug on the table, cradling it in his tanned, rough hands. “Cruise?”
“Uh-huh.” I broke off a corner of walnut bar and nibbled. “I was afraid it might rain, but then we had nothing but a sprinkle.” The boat captain seemed out of sorts this morning. Dark circles rimmed his watery, red eyes and he’d only managed to utter a single word so far.
He wiped his nose with the back of his arm. “Got cancelled.”
I ignored the fishy odor emanating from my tablemate. “Too bad.” I doused my coffee with cream and sugar. “Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll take one of your cruises myself.”
Ethan Harrow cleared his throat. “You might want to stick to dry land.” He clamped his fingers over his hat and stuck it on his head.
“Excuse me?”
Harrow rose slowly, his hands braced on the table. His belly bumped the table and coffee leapt over the side of my cup and spread in a shallow puddle across the tabletop. “Not everybody is meant to be on the water.” He tossed some money on the table. “Or in it.”
I sat there, mouth agape, as the surly captain plodded out the door.
“Chasing away my customers?” Susan smiled and tossed a clean rag over my spilt coffee.
“Sorry about that.” I lifted my mug and plate so she could wipe away my mess.
“No problem. What did you say him?”
“I have no idea.” And I didn’t.
* * *
I spent the afternoon working in the store alongside Kim. Mom came in around six and Esther agreed to work the evening shift with her so that I could participate in the Birds and Brews event coming up at Brewer’s Biergarten next door.
“Birds and brews,” snorted Kim, arms folded behind her back as she stared out the front window. “What a kooky idea.”
“Kooky or not, it could be a boon to business.” There had been a dismal lull in traffic that afternoon, which always depressed me. “We did give out several flyers for it.”
“True,” said Kim, “but maybe the people who accepted them were looking for something to line their birdcages with—or needed paper-airplane building material.”
“Very funny.” I removed my apron and hung it on the hook behind the counter. “I’m going to freshen up, then head next door.” I paused at the stairs. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“To Birds and Brews?” Kim looked amused. “Not a chance. You’re the bird lady, not me. Besides, I’ve got a date with Randy.” She slid up in front of me and dropped an arm over my shoulders. “And speaking of dates, is Derek going to be there?”
“I hope so,” I said. “He did tell Paul he’d come. But now . . .” I’d explained to Kim how Esther had spilled the beans about my dinner at the McKutcheon house.
“Just tell him the truth. Derek’s a big boy. He’ll understand.” Kim gave me a friendly shove up the steps. “It’s not like you actually had a date with the sleaze; you were merely a guest at a dinner held in his house, one of many guests.”
“True,” I said from the second floor, looking down. “I still don’t get why Ethan Harrow didn’t show. Or why he acted so brusque with me earlier today.”
“You think too much, Amy Simms,” Kim replied. “Maybe the guy had a headache or got out of the wrong side of bed this morning. Or maybe he got a letter in the mail that he was being audited and his boat was being repossessed!”
I couldn’t help smiling as I returned to my third-floor apartment and got ready. Kim was right. I was overthinking things. I took a quick shower and put on a clean pair of slacks and a green Birds & Bees polo shirt. I wanted to look good but be sure to advertise my store, too. This wasn’t a social event, I reminded myself, this was business.
If Derek showed up, maybe there would be a little pleasure, too.
14
Thirty minutes later I was at the biergarten with several bird reference books in hand. Mom and I had barely had a chance to talk, but she promised she’d still be awake when I returned.
“Where’s Derek?” Paul asked. He was standing beside the hostess station a couple of steps inside the main door of Brewer’s Biergarten, in jeans and a black T-shirt.
A long-haired young blond woman with way too many curves gave me a smile. Bambi rocked a hip-hugging black skirt that really should have been several inches longer, and a white blouse that pulled taut across her chest. No doubt Paul Anderson personally did the hiring for the business.
“Isn’t Derek here?” I asked, a little disappointed. I looked at my watch. We weren’t due to start for twenty minutes yet. There was plenty of time for Derek to arrive.
“I haven’t seen him.” Paul jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a bunch of bird lovers in the banquet room though. I stuck everybody there for now, but we can move outside, if you prefer?”
“Outside might be better.” The weather was crisp and cool. I always preferred fresh air to indoor air. It was so much more invigorating. “Maybe we’ll even spot a bird or two.” The fresh air might also help to keep everyone awake during my lecture.
“Okay.” Paul made a notation on a ledger atop the podium and rubbed his hands together vigorously. “I’ve got to check on the beers. Candy here will get you set up.”
Okay, so her name was Candy, not Bambi. I’d been close.
“Follow me?” Candy said. Without waiting for a reply, she turned with a sashay of the hips that drew Paul’s eyes. I tailed her to the banquet room.
“Hello, everybody!” I called cheerfully. “We’re going to meet outside, if that’s okay with you all?” I saw that Floyd Withers, Karl Vogel, Ed and Abby Quince, and the others from our bird walk had come—all but John Moytoy and Lana Potter. I wasn’t surprised not to see Ms. Potter put in an appearance. She didn’t strike me as the bird-watching type, so I’d been surprised she’d joined our nature walk in the first place. If anything, I pegged her for the man-eating type.
I was especially heartened to see several new faces as well, and said so.
Murmurs of approval followed my suggestion that we move the party to the courtyard, and Candy led our small group outdoors, where a couple of servers had already pushed several tables together for us. I took a seat at one end of the long table and invited everyone to find seats.
Our first order of business was introductions. I started with myself and we worked around the table.
Paul, Candy, and a second server showed up with several trays. One held three tall pitchers of light-colored beer. The others held various snacks, mostly typical bar fare like pretzels and peanuts, but there were also some tiny sirloin sliders that looked and smelled delicious—and a glass bowl filled with peeled hard-boiled eggs that made me question Paul Anderson’s palate.
Candy went around filling beer steins while Paul explained what we’d be drinking.
“I chose an American-style pilsner for our first meeting. Something light and refreshing. Best served chilled.” He lifted his mug and sipped. “Umm. The pilsner has its origins in the city of Pilsen, located in Bohemia, now part of the Czech Republic,” the bar owner explained. Anderson outlined the story of the beer’s origins. He was more knowledgeable than I’d expected. “But we brew this lager right here at Brewer’s Biergarten once a week. I hope you like it. I call it Happy Pil.” He smiled. “Get it?”
“To Birds and Brews!” Floyd said, raising his glass.
We all joined in.
“Maybe you should knock down this brick wall and combine your two businesses,” Karl suggested.
Paul beamed. “That’s not a bad idea.”
I made a face. “It’s not a good one either,” I quipped, which provoked loud laughter.
Paul clinked his glass against mine. “Hey,” I said, taking a tentative sip. “This is good.”
&
nbsp; “Love it,” said Karl. “What do you think, Floyd?” The ex-chief-of-police helped himself to two of the sirloin sliders.
“Very good, Mr. Anderson,” agreed Floyd, pulling his mug from his face. Karl and Floyd sat nearest me on my left.
Karl snorted. “You got foam on your mustache!”
Floyd reddened and dabbed at his face with a napkin.
“Thank you for hosting us,” Walter Kimmel said softly.
“Yes,” added Clara Kimmel. “You have a lovely establishment.” Her eyes rose to the strands of white lights strung from tree to tree across the courtyard. It really was quite pretty.
“What birds are we going to talk about?” inquired Otelia Newsome, who was seated between Walter Kimmel and Ed Quince.
“I’m glad you asked, Otelia.” I pushed back my chair and stood. I had decided on a discussion of the northern cardinal. What better bird to begin our new social group on than North Carolina’s state bird? I had prepared a short lecture on the widely recognized red bird. Afterward, I hoped the others would contribute with their own thoughts and stories.
I anticipated Paul would have more to say on the beer, too. But I’d wasted my time. Our maiden Birds and Brews event quickly turned into a somber wake for Bessie Hammond.
“I don’t get it,” moaned Ed, before I’d even said the first word of my prepared talk. He held his head in his hands. “Who’d want to kill poor Bessie?” The guy was really shaken. Why? Of course, the two had worked together at Lakeside Market. Bessie and Ed had been more than bird-watching buddies. They had been ex-colleagues and maybe friends.
I sat back down. “I don’t know,” I answered softly. “But I’m sure the police will find out soon enough.”
“Her husband!” Floyd said rather loudly.
“Floyd!” I was shocked. Floyd Withers was normally so quiet, so polite.
Floyd gave me a sad puppy-dog look. “Sorry, Amy.” He turned on his seatmate. “Karl said it first. I was only repeating.”
The ex-cop merely shrugged. “Bessie was a pain in the patooty. We all know that. At least, those of us who knew her know that.”