Mooved to Murder

by CeeCee James

  “Deliveries that small are usually handled by personal trucks. They loaded it in, and he was supposed to be at your place around six am.”

  A suspicion grew inside. “And you can’t reach him?” Was their delivery guy Clint?

  “No ma’am. I just found out that Micky’s been trying to reach Sam on the radio all morning.”

  “Who’s Sam? Is that the delivery guy’s name? Could he have gotten lost?” The dog’s sad eyes found mine and latched on to the toaster. I realized he needed breakfast as well. I picked the toast out and broke him off a piece. He snapped it out of the thin air. Poor boy. I headed into the mud room to fill his dish with kibble. He gobbled it down like it was prime rib.

  The woman answered, “There’s no way he could have gotten lost. Sam’s been out to your place many times. Talks about Jasper all the time.”

  So it wasn’t Clint.

  “I’m still not sure what happened, but we can drop off an emergency load of feed today.” Her words were reassuring but her voice was full of concern.

  “Thank you. That’d be a great help. I hope you find Sam soon.” I ended the call and took a bite out of yet another piece of cold toast. Should I call Officer Kennedy and let her know that our scheduled delivery never showed up? And what about the hook that Emma found. Was it related?

  Sighing, I left the message for Officer Kennedy. I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just a coincidence and I was leading her down a rabbit trail. But then again, I wasn’t sure how my hands were still blue. I just had to do the best I could.

  I glanced at the clock as I shoved the last corner of the toast in. Good grief, where had the time gone? I had a job interview in less than an hour. I led Jasper outside and attached him to the lead for a potty break. He’d be alone in the house until I could return at lunch time. I hoped he wouldn’t destroy anything.

  I hopped in the shower where I tried to scrub my hands again. It wasn’t helping a bit. I resigned myself to keeping them stuffed in my pockets during the interview.

  And, just like that, it was time to go. The house was a disaster. Scattered breakfast dishes, toaster surrounded by crumbs, dog hair floating in the air. The walls were closing in on me. I needed to get out of here. I brought Jasper back in where he promptly jumped on the couch to watch me leave from the window.

  I waved and blew him a kiss, and then left for my next adventure.

  After all of that, I ended up having about twenty minutes to kill before the interview. The toast hadn’t been near enough, so I stopped at Sweet Buns Bakery. I grinned a little wryly at the name. Pastries sure didn’t help my buns, but it would be nice if they did.

  The place was charming with a striped awning rippling in the breeze over two small table and chairs. The bakery’s display window held what appeared to be a scarecrow, complete with straw poking from his shirt sleeves. I paused outside the window and was surprised to see it was a cake. Everything was covered in frosting or fondant, included the leaf-shaped cookies at the scarecrow’s feet.

  Clever. I gave my reflection a once over and noticed a good-looking man behind the counter watching me.

  With a smile, I opened the door. “Hello, there!”

  “Morning!” he answered and leaned on the counter, his sleeves rolled to expose muscular forearms. “What can I get you?”

  I stared at the menu board on the wall behind him, a little overwhelmed.

  “Uh… ” I hummed, probably sounding like a doofus. Why was it so hard to decide? Coffee? Gee, never had coffee before. “A medium Americano, please,” I finally ordered.

  “Sure thing. You want a snickerdoodle to go with it? I just pulled them out of the oven a few minutes ago.”

  A man who makes coffee and bakes too. I had to introduce Tilly, she’d love him. My attention dropped to the glass counter case where sugar-encrusted golden piles of goodness called my name. My mind argued with my heart for a nanosecond, but the heart wants what it wants.

  “Those are gorgeous. I have to try one.”

  “Sure thing. You’re not going to regret it.” He plucked at his collar like it itched.

  “You made these?” I asked.

  “Yeah. This is my place. By the way, I’m Tom. Here or to go?”

  “Here,” I said. He nodded and snagged a mug from a stand and held it under the coffee machine to fill. “So who made those,” I pointed to a tray of glistening baklava.

  “That would also be me.” He grinned, eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, seriously!” I said. Tilly was going to be over the moon.

  “Don’t sound so surprised. That’s actually my grandmother’s recipe, passed down to her from her mother. You’ve got to try it.”

  He was maybe a little younger than me, somewhere in his mid-twenties, and I was surprised to hear he baked. That’s a horrible thing to say. But I was.

  Tom placed the cup on the counter and then grabbed the cookie with a wax napkin and set it on a plate. I fished out my debit card and cringed slightly as I passed it over with my blue paw.

  He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his lip tugged up more. He rang the purchase while I strived to explain. “I’m babysitting, and the kid decided to dye her hair. I was trying to get the color out.”

  “Hey, no need to explain. I used to get into all sorts of scrapes when I was a kid,” he said, passing me the receipt.

  “Yeah? Like dying your hair blue?”

  “Green.” He chuckled and pulled at his collar. “Back then I idolized Oscar the Grouch and, hey it was picture day. What better way to start the school year, right? I even wore a matching t-shirt. And my lucky socks.”

  Okay, that made me laugh. “Did the socks work? What did your parents do?”

  “I think my mom’s hands looked like yours for a few days, but it didn’t work. I have the picture on the wall to prove it. Never doubt the power of lucky socks.”

  I took a bite of the cookie and immediately made a noise of appreciation.

  “You like it?” The corner of his lip went up again.

  “You are a great baker,” I said.

  I swear pink crept up into his cheeks. “Aw, thanks. So, you new in town?” His voice had a melodious charm to it. His back was to me as he pulled out a tray of sugar cookies and set them on the counter. A moment later, he piped icing on them.

  I nodded. “Yeah, sure am. And I’m about to go to my first job interview. Holy mother crackers, I’m nervous.”

  His eyebrow quirked as he glanced at me. “That’s a funny saying. I used to know someone who said that. Years ago.” He stretched his neck and adjusted his collar.

  “Really? I learned it from my mom.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Charlotte. You been there?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s only a little over an hour away. It must be a more common saying than I realized. Now where is this job interview at?”

  I pointed in a general direction behind me. “Over at the second-hand store. Do you know the place?”

  “Oh, the Sullivan sisters. Well, you’re in for an adventure.”

  I stopped chewing. “What do you mean?”

  He looked up and laughed. “Stop looking so worried. It will work out. They’re nice, I promise. The kind who give out full-sized candy bars during trick-or-treating.”

  I took a sip and swallowed. “Sounds like you’ve been here a while. Do you know everyone?”

  “Yeah, I grew up around here. My pop used to string electrical wires around this town before he retired. Probably worked on everyone of these poles.”

  “Wow.” I nodded, my mind spinning on wondering how well he knew the town’s people. Did he know Sam from the Farm and Feed? Maybe he’d have a clue where the guy was.

  “Do you know a guy named Sam? He works at the—”

  “Farm and Feed. Sure. Great guy. My dad’s friends with him. You know him?”

  “He was supposed to drop off some hay yesterday at my place but he never showed up.”

  “That’s weird.
He’s super dependable. Rock solid even.”

  “That’s what they were saying at the feed store.”

  “Yeah, He’s had kind of a sad life. Lost his girlfriend after high school. Murdered. Never got over it. Where did you say your farm was at?”

  “I’m here with my friend Tilly Miller. She has a little place out on Burn road.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I hear she’s renting the old Douglas Glass place.” He turned his back to me and rummaged in a drawer. I saw his finger dig into his collar again. Was I imagining it or was his tone decidedly cooler?

  “I’m not sure about that, but she is renting it. We have a big barn and a cow.”

  “And a lot of excitement yesterday.” He faced me again, and I was surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed together. “Listen, I’m not one to butt in, but you be careful. That was the mayor’s cousin they found out there.”

  Geez. That was the second time I was being warned. Why did I need to be so careful? His words made my stomach squeeze like it did when there was a hurricane warning. Only this time I wasn’t sure how to run from this storm.

  Chapter 9

  Tom glanced at the front door and then leaned closer. His voice lowered like he was about to spill some governmental secrets. “Clint McDaniel was known to dabble in stuff, you know what I’m saying? Had an addiction problem. He left town for years, decades even, and just recently moved back. Supposedly he was trying to get back on his feet after a bunch of bad luck. Well, you’re new here too. And suddenly he’s using again? It don’t look good for you.”

  “Are you saying you think he got drugs from me?”

  “I’m saying what it looks like to the mayor. Listen, I got to be careful talking about this. The mayor owns my place, along with half the town.” He leaned back and began furiously polishing the glass counter with a cloth. “Now drink your coffee and go break a leg. I’ve got to go check on something in the oven.”

  He disappeared into the back room. I took another sip and then set the cup in a plastic tub by the coffee station before hollering goodbye. Tom shouted goodbye from the back, but there was no denying he’d cooled considerably.

  I headed out to the car with an uneasy feeling. Tom was an odd read, wasn’t he? I thought about his strange mannerisms, like the dismissive way he talked about baking like it was no big deal. And the way he tugged at his collar again and again. He’d done it right after Clint had been brought up, hadn’t he?

  Back in my car, I glanced at my phone for the time. Just a few minutes left before the interview. I needed to regroup and get on my “professional” face.

  I pulled down the visor, making my nice blue hands came into view. I decided to shrug it off. Blue hands or not, I’d win those sisters over with personality and skills. I practiced my eager, interested smile. Think good thoughts, make them love ya.

  I backed the car out of the stall and headed for the In For A Penny thrift store. Traffic was kind of crazy. Finally, I found a spot across from the business and parked. After locking the car, I ran down to the corner where I had to wait at the crosswalk. I probably looked like I was playing whack-a-mole with the way I was pushing the pedestrian button.

  The crosswalk flashed green, and I started across. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a man staring at me through his windshield. I lifted my chin and ignored him, my normal reaction at unwanted ogling.

  As I crossed in front of his car, he unrolled the passenger window. “Denise?” he called. His voice squeezed out, sounding panicked. “Denise Smith?”

  I glanced at him, surprised. Was he talking to me?

  Behind him a horn honked, making me jump. The light had turned green. The man started to speak again when the blasting horn cut him off for a second time. I ran to the other side. When I looked back he had hit the gas and was tearing through the intersection.

  I watched him leave awash in confusion. What was that all about? What a weird day.

  Slightly frazzled, I continued down the street and then up the stairs of the thrift store. An alarm announced my entrance with bird tweets. I grinned. It was cute.

  A woman looked up from the counter. She had short gray hair puffed in a bouffant-type style and wore cat-eye glasses. Spread out over the counter’s glass surface were many pieces of what appeared to be a complex puzzle.

  “Hi, there,” she said. “Welcome to In For A Penny. Can I help you find something?”

  “Hi.” I smiled, remembering just in the nick of time to stuff my hands into my jacket pockets. “I’m here for an interview? This place is amazing!”

  “Ohh! Pammy! Come here and see the new girl!” Her thin eyebrows lifted above her eyeglass frame as she studied me. I was impressed with the amount of mascara her eyelashes carried as they swept against the lens. “And what’s your name?”

  “Chelsea Lawson,” I said, striding over. I held out my hand.

  She stared at my blue fingers like I was offering her a pile of worms. Immediately, my hand squeezed into a fist to hide itself. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Hair dye accident with a six-year-old. She did it, I was trying to clean it out.”

  “Oh, honey. Never you mind about that,” she said with a playful wave of her hand. Her fingers were covered in rings encrusted with enough jewels they could have doubled as a disco ball. “I have a few grandchildren myself. What won’t they come up with to get into trouble? Pammy!”

  This time, Pammy appeared from the back room. She was lithe and tall like the other woman and wore cat-eye eyeglasses as well. The main difference between the two women was the hair color. Both coiffures were in the same bouffant style, but Pammy’s was a rich brunette.

  “Oh! You must be Chelsea!” she said, walking over quickly, her legs sheathed in skinny jeans. “I’m Pam. I see you’ve met my sister, Polly. How do you do?” She grasped my hand and shook it enthusiastically with nary a glance at my Smurf-colored fingers.

  “I’m good. Excited to be here!” I answered, feeling slightly breathless.

  “Let me just show you around. You know, we were so impressed with your resume. You used to work with accounting?”

  “Yes, for several years.” I noticed she seemed wrapped in an odd scent, almost chemical of nature. I secretly sniffed, trying to place it.

  “And why did you leave?” she asked.

  “A friend needed me out here.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. And do you like it in our little town of Cedar Falls? Isn’t it amazing!”

  I nodded again, trying not to think too deeply about the dead guy, the cow that liked to tap-dance on my shin, and the blue-haired child.

  “I called your employer and they were most pleased with you and seemed dreadfully upset that you weren’t returning.” Pam smiled again. Her lipstick was the exact color I used to wear in high school. The name was candy-apple red. “Well over here is our consignment corner.” She gestured to several bookshelves set up as space dividers. In each space was a decorated nook and filled with what appeared to be different antiques. Each nook had its own theme.

  “We have clothing this way.” She walked with quick steps, making me feel like I was scampering to keep up. “And down here is our housewares department.”

  Shelf after shelf was lined with plates, cups, pans, and tea kettles.

  “Down here are our linens.” A wooden dowel rack held a creamy avalanche of lace tablecloths. More shelves were filled with flannel sheet sets. Still another had towels.

  “We have two industrial washing machines in the back. Everything goes in there first. If it can’t be cleaned, it doesn’t come in. No exceptions,” Pam said. “I’m not risking even one critter coming in here, let alone go home with any of my dear customers. I have a reputation to uphold!” She reached for a towel to refold it.

  “Got it.” This was the most unusual job interview I’d ever had.

  It was about to get stranger. “So, tell me. What’s something you’re afraid of?”

  Her question shot a spike of adrenaline through me. I swallowed as my nightmare ca
me to mind. Green grass. Strawberries. Red splotches.

  Clearing my throat, I came up with a random fear. “Heights. I hate them.”

  “Ahh.” She nodded sagely. “Well, in my long years I’ve learned that fear is just an emotion. You’ve got to squash that sucker every time it comes along and move on.” She shook out another towel. “So, your application said you’re free most days?”

  “Yeah, I am. Except for this week. The little girl’s mother is out of town so I need to be home when she gets out of school.”

  “Oh, of course. Well, very rarely will it be just you. Polly and I practically live here. Polly’s always working on her puzzles, you see. And I have to tend the refurbs.” She leaned in close. “I stain and repurpose them.”

  Ah! That explained the chemical smell. “Sounds great.”

  By now we’d made it around the interior and were back at the front desk. Pam grabbed my hand then and leaned back to study me. I had to resist an automatic reaction to pull away. Her head tipped, and she stared into my eyes. Finally, she nodded and released me. “I have a good feeling about you, Miss Chelsea. Can you start tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely, after I get Emma off to school, I’ll be here. Thank you.”

  “Wonderful. And just in time too. Tomorrow is doughnut day. Now I need to get back to my project!” With a small wave, she strode off to finally disappear into the back room.

  Polly waved a puzzle piece at me. “See you tomorrow! Be here early or all the jelly-filled will be gone. Pammy’s known for laying claim to them.”

  I thanked her and headed back outside amidst the bird chirps of the door alarm. I was happy, after all this seemed like a great job with good people. But niggling in the back of my mind was voice of the man who called me Denise earlier. The more time I spent here, the more of the town’s strange quirks popped up. And my inside voice was warning me that things might not be exactly as they appeared.

  Chapter 10

  I was on a natural high from landing my job interview. Unfortunately, as Mark Twain once said so well, "To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with." I glanced at the phone and tried to calculate the time difference before tossing math out the window. I called Mom with my fingers crossed that the signal was good, and she’d be able to pick up. After putting it on speaker, I drove out onto the road.