by R A Muth
"We'd love to," I answered for both of us before Hazel could respond. Between the two of us, I was the more budget-conscious and less likely to refuse free samples where I could get them.
"Thanks for coming out on such short notice. I thought you said you were busy cleaning out the Livingston mansion." Even after we stepped onto the porch, the brewery owner towered over us. "Don't tell me you hit the pause button on that big job to come and take care of my little sheds."
"We did hit the pause button, but it was for a different reason," Hazel explained.
"Oh? You've piqued my curiosity." Asher folded his arms over his chest.
"You mean you haven't heard? Everyone at Mocha Joe's is talking about it by now." Hazel punctuated her sentence with a saucy wink.
Asher laughed. "Now you're just being cunning. Save me the walk to the coffee shop and tell me what happened."
"Tori and I started the job this morning but found a body in the attic," Hazel explained.
Unable to hide a scowl of displeasure, I added, "It was more of a skeleton. Now the whole place is a crime scene, and we can't go back."
"Are you telling me Christine is dead?" Asher's eyes sparkled. "What happened?"
"Good Lord, Asher, you don't have to look so happy about it, and besides, nobody will have the finer details until the medical examiner does some research." Hazel rolled her eyes.
Asher pumped his fist in the air. "This is great!"
"What?" I blurted, unable to imagine ever being glad about the loss of human life.
Chapter 13
Much to my relief, he explained, "Sorry. It's not great that Christine is gone--not at all. I mean, the woman created one problem after another when we were opening the brewery. It didn't matter that the orchard has been here since before her grandparents' time. She insisted the town council agree to get soil samples, air samples, and who knows how many other tests. Nothing we did could compromise her precious beach plums, and I'm not sure why. It's not like she planned to share them with anyone else."
Thom appeared behind Asher and greeted us with a smile. "Old Mrs. Livingston's beach plum plants? Ugh. That's a nightmare I'd rather not revisit. I can only imagine how she'll react when she learns about our plan to turn the sheds into rentals."
"Don't worry. Christine won't complain. Hazel and Tori found her corpse this morning." Asher's voice held a barely concealed hint of glee.
I wondered... if Asher was so happy about it, could he have--wait, no. Asher Sparrows and I went to school together. He was the kid who caught bugs in the classroom and returned them to the wild. Despite Mrs. Livingston's death being a boon to his business, I couldn't see him orchestrating her demise, much less carrying it out. Thom's words pulled me to the present.
"If she's gone, I'll need to talk to her heirs about her beach plums." Asher's grin widened as his Thom continued, "This is great! Mrs. Livingston never would permit Mother to access the bushes. She wouldn't even give us a piece of the fruit for fear that Mother would use the seeds to cultivate new plants. Now, maybe I can talk the heirs into giving us one of the bushes for the brewery's orchard before the application on our grant money runs out."
Hazel and I nodded in unison. While I couldn't predict what my best friend might think of all this, I was a bit lost.
"But we can talk about all of this later," Asher glanced from Thom to us. "I promised these ladies a tour and tasting."
Thom's head bobbed as he agreed, "Of course! You have to try Liz's all-natural stone fruit cookie bars with ginseng and echinacea. You'd never guess about all their health benefits. Come on. We have a table all ready for you."
Hazel and I followed Asher and Thom into the barn. The decor looked like something out of a steampunk novel with pipes and gears running against the ceiling to connect the vats along the side walls. A chain-link fence with a gate at either end kept the public from the containers while allowing employee access. Farm-style tables scattered through the middle front of the barn while the back held a bar and a kitchen.
Although I zoned out on the small details about the brewing process, I was aware enough to not be totally off guard when Asher asked, "What do you think, Hazel?"
I was glad he'd picked my friend and not me and listened as she replied, "I like the idea of turning those sheds into rentals."
"Mother hated the idea at first, but Thom won her over with the idea of giving our guests an all-inclusive experience."
Thom smiled softly at Asher before explaining, "Liz isn't that hard to win over once you learn which buttons to push. When we agreed to let her have the small barn for her horticulture projects, she was totally in."
"Mother also loved our idea, which was to incorporate other businesses in town. Success doesn't have to be limited to the brewery. It's our goal to make a plan that's a win for the whole town."
"That's awesome! Isn't it, Tori?" Hazel asked.
While Hazel didn't bother trying to hide her enthusiasm, I struggled to muster any joy about having strangers take over our tiny town. It was terrible enough scrubbing toilets for the locals. What if Asher and Thom asked us to clean the units they rented to people from away, too? Because I needed a steady income, however, I plastered on a smile and agreed, "It's something else."
Asher and Thom led us to a table near the kitchen, away from the smattering of paying guests, which included Mrs. Benefield and Puff Daddy. The older lady thrust her hand into the air and waved while her little dog wrestled with a soup bone under the table.
"You allow dogs in here?" Hazel asked.
"Well, under normal circumstances, we wouldn't," Thom started but paused to glance at his partner.
Finishing Thom’s sentence, Asher added, "But we make an exception for Puff Daddy, as Mrs. Benefield serves on the board at the animal shelter and helps Mother arrange to have her cats spayed and neutered at discounted prices."
Asher's words reminded me of my joke about having Rune neutered, and I coughed to cover a giggle.
I assumed Thom and Asher sat us away from the other brewery patrons so they could pump Hazel and me for information about Christine Livingston, or what remained of her. Much to my surprise, they didn't broach the topic again. The men instead treated us to a farm-to-table lunch that rivaled any of the gourmet restaurants in Boston or New York City, starting with an appetizer-sized lobster quesadilla.
I suppressed a moan as I swallowed the final bite. "This is amazing. What's in it?"
"You'd have to ask Mother," Asher replied. "And she'd say that a good chef never reveals her secrets."
Thom arrived with a pair of ramekins, steam wafting savory flavors into the air. "Wait until you try these. They're something new that isn't on the menu yet, and we'd love to have your input."
Hazel and I toasted with the tines of our forks before using them to crack the flaky, golden crusts. Bits of potato, peas, carrots, and crab meat swam in a creamy sauce within the dish.
"It's like a pot pie?" I asked after swallowing the second bite.
Thom grinned. "Liz calls it Sailor's Pie. It's her coastal twist on Shepherd's Pie."
"That's clever," Hazel said before using her fork to shovel another generous helping into her mouth.
"You have a winner." I fished the last couple of bites in my dish before pushing it away with a happy sigh, washing it down with a gulp of the blueberry lemonade that accompanied my meal.
The two men fist-bumped before Thom asked, "Would you ladies like dessert now?"
"No, thank you," I answered for both of us as Hazel shook her head.
Asher waved his hand, dismissing my comment. "I'll have the chef pack a couple of to-go dessert boxes with blueberry cobbler."
"That sounds amazing." Hazel emptied her pilsner glass of its non-alcoholic, blueberry-flavored beer.
"Mother wanted to make beach plum cobbler but, with supplies dwindling." He half-shrugged, and a grin replaced his scowl at once. "Well, maybe now she can sooner than later. Are you ready to see the sheds?"
Wh
en we agreed we were, Asher asked Thom to lead the tour. We were out of our chairs and on our feet before Thom had time to beckon to us.
Once we were outside, Hazel and I followed the business owner for the short distance between the rear of the barn and a line of sheds. The door on the building nearest to us sat slightly ajar, but padlocks secured the others.
He explained, "When the property was a working farm, the owners used these buildings for storage. After we turned the barn into a brewery, we stashed anything we didn't need inside them. Now we'd like to turn the sheds into tiny houses that we can rent to newlyweds, writers, artists, or whoever."
"Oh my gosh," Hazel squealed. "That idea is so cute! Sven and I would love to rent one when they're ready."
I agreed, "It's a great idea and sure to be popular with the people from away."
"Exactly. The locals bring in a lot of business, but we need something to help draw in people from outside of Blueberry Bay; well, outside of the state of Maine. And, here we are." Asher stopped in front of the first shed and threw open the door.
Unlike the organized clutter in Mrs. Livingston's attic, the contents of the shed lay in heaps of chaos. A window frame sat angled against one wall, dust obscuring the view through the panes of glass. The tip of an orange traffic cone peeked out from beneath a black garbage bag, its opened top revealing pink insulation. A pile of white plastic jugs lay in disarray beneath an open step ladder in the back corner.
Questions swirled through my mind. Did any of these sheds contain hazardous materials? Would Hazel and I need special equipment beyond our rubber work gloves and aprons? And the biggest worry of all, were there any creatures living within the mess?
Chapter 14
"Tori? Earth to Tori," Hazel prodded, tugging my sleeve with her fingers. "Opinions, please?"
"It's a big job," I admitted, sweeping my gaze over the mess again. "We can do it, though."
Asher beamed a smile. "Awesome! Can you start tomorrow?"
"I don't see why not as our schedule is now wide open," Hazel said.
I nodded, peering at the gallon plastic jugs, this time taking note of the hazard labels. Something nagged at the back of my mind, but before I could read the details of the toxic warnings, the containers disappeared from view as Asher closed the door. I debated asking him about them, but a fuzzy black cat scampered between us to make a beeline for the barn.
"Hey Tori, that's not your cat, is it?" Hazel asked me.
Are you kidding? That fleabag is nothing like my Rune! I thought, but out loud, I steeled my voice and said, "No. Mine has short hair."
"Oh, that's good news!" she swept the back of her hand across her forehead with dramatic flair. Turning to Asher, Hazel offered a brief explanation of how I came to rescue Rune.
"You got a cat?" Asher beamed at me. "That's wonderful! If you run into any trouble, you should call Mother. She's a real expert on all things feline, having so many of them herself."
I promised I would, and, to my relief, the conversation returned to the task of scheduling the work, with Hazel and Asher settling on a time for us to return the next day. The day's events suddenly caught up to me. I wished I was home, curled under a blanket on my couch, and binge-watching reality television.
"Thanks for the opportunity," Hazel said. She gave Asher a little wave and turned to walk toward the car. Unable to force that much friendliness after the day we'd had, I nodded politely and followed my best friend back to the van.
The moment we were back in the vehicle, Hazel's phone rang. She used the Bluetooth feature in her minivan to take the call.
"Hi, it's me, Marci. Can you meet me at Mocha Joe's?"
Hazel replied, "Sure, when would you like to meet?"
"As soon as possible."
At the shrill tone in the woman's voice, I blurted, "Marci, it's Tori. I'm with Hazel. Is everything okay?"
"Yes. I want to get this done as soon as possible. If that's not an option, I'm sure I can find someone else to help me."
"No, no. It's okay. We can meet you there in a few minutes, actually," Hazel offered.
"Very well. I'm here now and will reserve seats for you both."
A click signaled the end of the call before either of us could say another word.
"Are you dreading this meeting as much as I am?" I asked once I was sure Marci couldn't hear my question.
Without looking away from the road, Hazel nodded. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. It's weird."
"She'll probably ask us to tell her what we found."
"Exactly. What if Marci asks us to rehash every little detail?" I shuddered while trying--and failing--to dismiss a memory of the skeleton, the pink bucket-style hat a little askew on its skull. The effect would have been comical if it wasn't an actual human skeleton. "I'd rather go home."
"Can't say that I blame you. After all, you've got a handsome fella waiting for you there." At my blank expression, she said, "What'd you call him? Rune?"
It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the cat. "Yes, indeed! My new roomie."
"Having the cat as a roommate beats taking out an ad on the Cove Classifieds website, or Mandy Leigh's gossip blog. Remember that woman who advertised for a roommate a couple of years ago, and the guy who answered was a serial sex offender?"
"Of course, I remember." A chill ran along my spine. A strange man was in my home. What if he had robbed me blind or invited a bunch of his random friends over to trash my humble abode? Or what if he was waiting to hurt me, or worse? The idea of the man posing a risk led to another thought. What if Rune was responsible for killing Christine Livingston, or whoever that skeleton was?
Breaking the silence, Hazel asked, "Tori? Are you okay? You’ve gone wicked pale.”
"I'm okay." Although I wasn’t in the habit of fibbing, Hazel had no clue my new cat was a hunky Irishman in disguise. She'd never believe Rune's story about being cursed to live part of his life as a feline. I still doubted it myself. To help alleviate her worries, I added, "It's been a long day, and it's not quite mid-afternoon. We still have to meet with Marci and her weird cousins, and who knows what else before we can call it a day."
"What makes them weird? They looked normal enough to me."
"Norman Bates looked normal before he stabbed the poor blonde in the shower."
"That was a movie called Psycho."
"Yeah? Well, Ted Bundy has a huge fanbase, and he was real."
"You're terrible, Tori." Hazel snickered.
"Maybe so, but someone is responsible for the squeaky-clean skeleton, which may or may not be Christine Livingston. The way the one cousin talked about his hatred of cats, well, you can never tell."
It was a stroke of good luck that Hazel found an empty parking space on the street in front of Mocha Joe's. As she parallel-parked the minivan into the wicked narrow spot, I tried not to envy her superpower. I mean, I had trouble parallel parking my Beetle in extra-long spaces. Eager to change the subject, I mused, "How many details should we share with the weird cousins?"
"There's not much to share, really.”
“Could you imagine if Gavin knew we were talking to them?" I tried and failed to hold back a laugh.
"Right? Since I've never let my brother boss me around before, you can bet I won’t be starting today!”
We were still in high spirits when we entered the coffee shop and spotted Marci sitting in one of the broader booths in the back corner. She waved us over. No sooner had we slid into the opposite side of the booth when Ivy appeared.
"Hello, girls. I suspect you'll want your usual." Turning to Marci, she asked, "And are you ready to order now that the girls are here?”
"Coffee, black, no sugar," Marci requested, her words clipped. Despite the confident tone in her voice, she chewed her bottom lip until Ivy departed. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me. Walking me through your morning probably wasn't how you planned to spend your afternoon."
"It's okay. Losing a relative is hard. We're happy
to help with anything you need," I offered. Hazel kicked the side of my foot under the table, but, at that moment, I had a lot of sympathy toward Marci. She'd had a tough day, and it wasn't that long ago that I buried my husband. In our own ways, we were both experiencing some form of grief. I didn't envy what she would have to go through in the days and months to come.
Even before Duffy passed away, he put the final nail in the coffin of our marriage by serving me with divorce papers on the morning of his murder. I may not be the stereotypical grieving widow, but I did mourn the years we could have shared if he hadn't planned to leave me for another woman.
"Did you find a home for the cat?" Marci asked.
Hazel nodded. "Tori adopted him. He's settled in well, hasn't he?"
"Yep. The cat is my new roommate." What else could I say? It wasn't like I could repeat the Irishman’s story. Or that he relayed it to me in a drool-worthy accent that threatened to turn my knees to beach plum jam.
Hazel explained, "The cat makes a much better housemate than her late husband," Hazel explained.
"I'm sorry. I guess we're both mourning." Marci shot me a look of sympathy.
Chapter 15
Before I could reply, Ivy reappeared with our drinks and a plate of donuts. "Here you go, girls. I'd love to hear the details about your morning, but I am right out straight. Wave if you need anything else."
Hearing the phrase right out straight brought a small smile to my lips. It was something my grandparents used to say when they were wicked busy, and the older I got, the less I heard people use it.
"We didn't order donuts." Marci's glare held the chill of a nor’easter.
"Thanks, Ivy! These look scrumptious." I put on my brightest smile for the cafe owner and grabbed one of the deep-fried, sugar-dusted confections. As Ivy departed, I looked back to Marci and explained, "It's part of our standing order. Have you had them?"