Timothy looked up to see that Willow followed along with what he was saying. She had no idea how that made the antique special but nodded in encouragement for him to continue.
“Usually, in those limited models, the curl of hair is broken off. It’s too delicate for normal handling, that’s why they changed the design in the first place. To find one in good condition is a miracle.” Timothy rubbed a finger up behind his ear and look shamefaced. “It was also clear that Matthew had no idea of the value of the find.”
“So, you invited him to town for the swap meet because you thought you could get a bargain?”
Timothy nodded. “With the prices he was talking about, I’d have been able to turn around and flip it for another forty grand on top of the asking price.”
Willow gasped at the amount, much higher than she thought they’d been talking about. Timothy gave a chuckle at her astonishment.
“I also thought I could hang onto it. As long as I was careful, the figurine would be worth double or triple that in ten years’ time.”
“So what went wrong?”
Timothy sighed and paced over to the window, wincing against the bright sunlight and turning his back on the view. “I got greedy, is what. When he turned up, I haggled him down to an even lower price than I thought I’d be able to get him to. I was so blinded by how much money I’d make, I didn’t check out the actual figurine to the extent I normally would. We’d shaken on the exchange and I’d paid the money before I examined the statue in detail.” He sighed again, even longer this time.
Willow guessed what was coming. “It was a fake?”
“Yeah. He’d make it up to look like the original casting, but it was just some plaster of Paris with a rushed paint job. He must’ve seen a sucker like me coming.”
The observation sounded true, so Willow didn’t say anything. To dissuade Timothy of culpability in his own downfall would be an insult to them both. Instead, she asked, “Did you see him again before the swap meet packed up and left town?”
Timothy’s hands curled into fists and he stared straight into Willow’s eyes, his lip twisted into a sneer. “Shooting was too good for him. If I’d been alone with that man for a second, I’d have killed him with my bare hands.”
Chapter Nine
Willow turned over in bed and stared out the window at the bright moon. After being overcast all day long, the sky had finally cleared of clouds just in time for night to fall—a great way to ensure the temperatures would dip lower. If the pattern continued for long, she’d be waking to frosts for a few more weeks to come.
With an annoyed groan, she pushed back the duvet and sat up. She’d fought a valiant battle to get to sleep tonight, but it hadn’t done any good. No matter how much Willow closed her eyes and willed herself into unconsciousness, she became more tightly wound.
A nice cup of something soothing might tip her over the edge. Even if it didn’t bring the longed-for respite, it would at least give her something to do.
Willow’s thoughts had been racing over the details of the case she’d learned during the day. Her mind replayed Timothy’s hands curling into fists, the sneer on his lip—as much for his own foolishness as it was for Matthew Albert’s sneaky subterfuge.
She imagined Sara Glassman striding boldly into the bar and demanding the patrons listen to her story of a guest skipping out on his bill. Although the woman usually presented a placid demeanor to the world, Willow could see how—when the time came—Sara’s eyes would shoot sparks of fire and her voice would ring out with confidence.
The noise of the kettle roared in the stillness of the night. It had been a while since she descaled it—she must remember to add that to the list of tasks for tomorrow. The last time she’d done it, Willow forgot halfway through and topped off her cooling tea with a glug of citric acid spiked boiling water. Ugh.
A swishing sound came from beneath her window and Willow’s overtaxed nerves were suddenly on full alert. No animal would make a sound that loud. Even the most rambunctious dog had sense enough of its own body to avoid crashing through the dried grass near the window.
As the kettle finished its boil with a shriek and turned off, Willow tilted her head to one side, eyes closed as she concentrated on the sounds of the night. From a far-off field, she caught the soft hoot of an owl chatting to its nearest neighbor. A rustle in the undergrowth tracked the path of its likely prey.
There it was again. A swish.
This time it came from near the front of the house. Willow’s imagination tossed up the image of a burglar or a murderer lurking at the corner. She could see the way their body pressed against the wooden slats to make the noise as they craned their heads to peer around the edge.
Should she turn on the light to scare the life out of them? Or simply phone through to the sheriff’s office and risk them fleeing the scene?
Sheriff Wender had as good as ordered her to call his office when she heard strange noises outside her house. The last time, she’d scared a couple of lads out on a vandalism lark, but the consequences could have been dire if they hadn’t run away.
What to do? What to do?
Sleep had never been further from Willow’s mind as she stared out into the darkness of her window and considered the options, neither one of them ideal.
Another shift of movement decided her, and she strode up to the front entrance. If her opening the door and shouting didn’t scare the intruders off, then she’d quickly slam it shut and phone through to the sheriff.
With her hand on the doorknob, Willow counted off the seconds in her head, tensing her muscles ready for the big surprise.
Then a light knock came, and she jumped back in fright. A small yelp issued from her lips as Willow curled her hands up to her chest, protecting her heart.
“Are you awake? I saw the light on.”
Reg’s voice caught Willow in a state between profound relief and seething anger. What on earth did her friend think he was doing, creeping around outside her house at night? She pulled the door wide open, ready to launch into a speech about respect and common decency, but all the words caught on her tongue instead.
“I didn’t bother you, did I? Only, I couldn’t sleep and when I was strolling down your street, I saw your kitchen light come on and thought you mustn’t be sleeping either.”
The concern on Reg’s face eased away all Willow’s anger, and she swept her arm aside in a gesture of welcome. “No, I wasn’t sleeping. I was scared witless by the sound of someone sneaking around outside my house in the middle of the night.”
At least Reg had the courtesy to blush. “Sorry about that. I was trying to make sure it was you before I knocked, but when I got close enough to see, you must have gone into another room.”
“Who did you think it would be?”
As Willow stared at her friend in consternation, she put the facts together. “Charley isn’t in the habit of staying over at night if that’s your worry. I like my own space.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
Willow held up a hand to cut him off. “Did you want a hot drink? I was just about to make myself one.”
“Nah. I’m going to wander over to the Prebbleton’s and see if I can find some traces left over from the other night. If I have a drink now, it’ll just mean interrupting my operation in a few hours to find a bathroom.”
Willow smiled. “I thought one of the advantages of being a man was that any field could be your bathroom.”
Reg’s blush turned an even deeper shade, and he seemed to lose his words, settling for shaking his head.
“Do you think you should be going out there in the middle of the night? The sheriff’s office won’t be pleased if you muck up their crime scene.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Reg puffed his chest out. “If the police tape is still up around the area they found the body, I won’t be the one to cross it.”
Willow nodded and then paused on her way to the kitchen. “I don’t suppose you’d like some
company, would you? Only sleep seems to be a very far away thing tonight.”
The expression of delight on Reg’s face decided Willow before he had a chance to answer. “Why don’t you sit down there, and I’ll go change. What do you think I should wear on a stakeout?”
“Wear some thermals if you have them, and sweats over top. It’s already cold out tonight, and the temperature’s only going to go one way from here.”
Upstairs, Willow quickly changed and patted Mavis when the kitten wandered over to see what she was up to. “You’re welcome to come,” Willow told her in her best cooing voice. “But I don’t know if you’ll enjoy it. I imagine there’s a lot of sitting about or walking through fields and very little actual spotting of alien craft.”
She needn’t have spelled out the detractions as Mavis had already turned her nose up at the offer, deciding instead that Willow’s coming absence meant she had her bed to herself. After padding the covers for a few minutes, the cat found the perfect spot and settled down, purring.
“I’ll let you away with it, this time,” Willow told her. “But you remember in the future, you’re not allowed in my bedroom at night.”
Mavis didn’t even bother to crack an eye.
With two layers of clothing on, Willow still opted to take her heavy coat. The thermals might keep some cold out, but they couldn’t do the job alone.
“Are you sure you have enough clothing on?” she asked while following Reg as he cut through a neighbor’s backyard to end up on the next street over.
“Men are naturally hotter.”
Willow snorted at the connotations in his statement and Reg joined in a minute later.
“I meant, our internal body temperature is always set a degree or two higher. It’s why workers in offices are always at each other’s throats.”
“Since when have you worked in an office?” So far as Willow knew, Reg had only ever worked at the school as a groundskeeper or running his tours outside.
“I don’t need to have been there to know what happens in them. I might not be at Harmony’s level, but I do read, you know.”
The snap in Reg’s voice was off-putting enough for Willow to leave aside the teasing. After a few minutes more of walking, it wouldn’t have been possible, anyway. All her energy, including the breath necessary for her voice, went into striding through the cold night, and scrambling over the rough pasture.
She hurried at a quicker pace than normal, in case Reg left her behind. Even though it was her neighborhood, Willow wasn’t used to the landscape of the tracks her friend led her down. If she lost sight of him, it might take her a while to work out exactly where she was.
“Look.” Reg shoved his way through some dead stalks that might once have been corn and pointed across the road in front of them.
Willow was so pleased to see the two-lane blacktop that it took her a moment to focus on what her friend pointed to. Then she recognized the black car sitting on the side of the street and realized they were already at the Prebbleton’s farm.
“Come on, I want to show you how the aliens moved the rusted vehicle farther along the street.”
Reg pulled at Willow’s arm, but she shook him loose, crossing the road after checking there was no traffic, even though the sound should have been a warning from miles away.
“I need a chance to catch my breath,” she said as she circled the vehicle. “Whoever left this out here, is going to have a heftier repair bill than they would a few days ago.”
When they’d driven past it on the day that Matthew’s body had been discovered, the car had been intact, though pulled far enough over on the road to indicate it had broken down in some way.
Now, the two rear tires were missing, and the vehicle was perched on a jack. Willow presumed that if the person or persons responsible had done that handiwork earlier today, they could be headed back to finish off the job right now.
Or, they’d done it a few days ago and were long gone.
“What state is this license plate from?” Willow asked as she peered at the front of the vehicle. The moonlight might be bright for what it was, but it didn’t hold a candle to daylight. With the silver tint from the moon, she couldn’t even be sure of the color.
“Come on.” Reg shifted his weight from foot to foot. “If we stand here for too long, we’ll start to cool down.”
“It hasn’t even been five minutes,” Willow protested. Nevertheless, she could already feel the cold biting deeper and walked over to join him. With the few parts of her body exposed to the outside now freezing, her internals cooled down quickly, even though they’d been overheated a few moments before. “Fine. Lead the way.”
Although they both sounded irritated with each other, when Willow took Reg’s arm, he laid a hand on top of it. When they got to the rust heap of the second car, a strange light was shining from some of the surfaces.
“What’s that?” Willow said, leaning in further to investigate. Even when her shadow fell over the glowing spot, it continued to shine. “Have you seen this stuff out here before?”
Reg’s voice was tight with excitement. “This is the same appearance as the alien. I knew it! The creature must be nearby.”
Willow walked farther around the car and saw an enormous splash of the glowing substance near the rear door. In the moonlight, she could just make out the outline of a paint can close by the front axle and guessed what had happened. Somebody had painted the substance over themselves.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she thought of Harmony’s concerns a few days before. If somebody in town was painting themselves up to pose as an alien, she’d be more than happy to tear strips off them with her tongue.
Before Reg could see the obvious source for his ‘alien’ creature, Willow steered him away. “Why don’t you show me this shed you said was changed as well?”
They pushed through the fields, some of them plowed ready for the spring planting that was still a month or two away, some still sporting the remnants of the crop they’d grown the season before. The uneven ground soon stole Willow’s breath again, and they forged ahead in companionable silence.
“Hold up.”
Willow looked up at the command to see Reg holding his hand in the air, pointing to the yellow tape pulled around the area. She peered with more interest at the field, wondering exactly where Matthew’s body had been found.
There were more splashes and splotches of the luminous paint, but since some of it was on the police tape itself, Willow didn’t think it connected to the crime at all.
“How do we get to the shed if we’re not allowed through here?” Willow turned to Reg whose attention was caught by a flash of movement farther along in the field. She took a step toward him, peering into the darkness, then heard the sound of running footsteps and the cracking as dried plant stems were crushed underfoot.
A figure burst into full view, its body glowing as though born under the stars of a distant planet. The face was lit in strange patches, the eyes deep-set and black.
Before her logic centers could intervene and reassure her, Willow’s mind decided it was an alien, and she opened her mouth and screamed.
Chapter Ten
The alien screamed back.
Reg stepped forward and from the vantage point behind his shoulder, Willow worked out what was happening. Not only was the extraterrestrial a man, she even knew which man it was.
Turning her fright into anger, she pointed an accusing finger at the glowing figure. “Wilber Mount! What on earth are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
Wilber took a step back and peered behind him. Willow could hear some voices, farther away, calling out to each other. All the facts clicked into place.
“Are you the one who’s been poaching the Prebbleton’s cattle? Shame on you, Wilber Mount. I knew your mother well, and she’d be disappointed if she knew the man you turned out to be.”
The words struck home and Wilber hung his head. “I didn’t expect to see you out here
at this time of night, Reg. Thought you had work in the morning.”
“I only take tours during the weekdays,” Reg replied, chatting in his usual friendly manner as though they were seated next to each other in The Old Chestnut, sharing a beer. “Unless the tea shop is open, we don’t have anywhere to end up in. The only time I tried that, I ended up escorting them on wild goose chases for an extra hour with no extra pay.”
Willow hadn’t known that Reg had tried the tours during the weekend. She filed the information away for later, thinking it was another opportunity she’d missed because she wasn’t staying on top of everything.
If only murders would stop happening in Aniseed Valley, Willow would have a lot more time to herself!
“Call your friends over here. I think we need to have a chat with the sheriff’s office about what you’re doing out here tonight.” Willow popped her hands on her hips, trying for the right tone of authority. She was glad that Reg was with her—a lone woman against a team of poachers would be another story. His presence gave her the courage to deal with things, right there and then.
But she’d misjudged Wilber’s sense. The wily man yelled out to his friends, “Get out of here. The cops are on their way,” and the sound of running feet that greeted his announcement told her they’d lost their only chance to get them all.
With renewed indignation, Willow grabbed hold of Wilber’s upper arm and began to lead him toward the Prebbleton’s house.
“Careful,” he yelped. “You don’t need to hold on so tight. It’s not as though I’m going to run away now. Both you and Reg know my name and the sheriff knows full well where I live. I’m coming along with you.”
Although Wilber didn’t talk anymore during their short walk up to the front door, it was easy enough for Willow to surmise what was going on. Obviously, the man had painted himself in luminescence to be seen by his friends during their expedition in thievery.
A simple way to avoid using flashlights, which would have drawn a lot more attention from anyone awake inside the farmhouse. The glow of the luminous paint would likely be dismissed as a trick of the moonlight—unless the man coated in it was standing a foot away, screaming in your face!
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 47