“Maybe on an ordinary day, I would believe that nothing’s wrong. But this is not an ordinary day!” I retorted.
“She’s right, Phil. Stop being so bullheaded. I’m calling the police.” Aunt Bernice was impossible to persuade once she had her mind made up. Branding her husband “bullheaded” was certainly calling the kettle black. We had endured more than a few squabbles at the shop because of her stubborn nature, but this was one instance when I was actually in agreement with my aunt.
Aunt Bernice began dialing as the lights flickered several times and the wind screamed. Within seconds, we were standing in pitch blackness as my teeth chattered from primal fear.
Chapter 3
“Oh no! A power failure! What else can go wrong?” Aunt Bernice used my cell phone screen like a flashlight. “Let me go get some candles!”
“There’s no sense calling the police now. They’ll have their hands full with this power failure!” Uncle Phil groped in the dark for the door handle. Swinging the door wide, he welcomed in a cascade of natural light from the full moon.
“Close the door!” Aunt Bernice shouted. “I’m getting some candles!”
“We don’t need to start a fire! Let’s just leave the door open a crack!” He yelled back.
“That’s not a crack! It’s practically off the hinges! Enough for the wind to blow this whole house down into Wyoming!” Aunt Bernice tangled with my uncle as I shivered more violently from the bitter stormy air.
Unearthing a handful of mini candles and a pack of matches, Aunt Bernice effectively lit up the entire cabin before stomping over to the door and slamming it shut. “Have you tried calling Ron?” She asked gently, handing me my phone.
“No,” I said, suddenly feeling foolish. “I’m such a wreck right now that I didn’t even think of calling him!”
“You witnessed someone’s death today, dear! Of course you’re not going to be feeling like yourself,” Aunt Bernice soothed. “But try giving your husband a call.”
With newfound hope, I dialed Ron’s cell phone and held my breath as it rang. My hopes sank into the mud as his voicemail came on and I left a breathy message. “Ron, where are you? It’s me. I’m so worried. Call me as soon as you get this.” As soon as I hung up the phone, I sent an urgent text message to reinforce my voicemail.
“He didn’t pick up,” Aunt Bernice surmised. “Let’s call the police.”
“Or better yet, let’s go to the police! I can’t stand still right now. And there’s no reason for us to be standing here in the dark. Maybe the blackout isn’t all over town.” I tossed the blanket on the couch and headed out the door with my aunt following close behind.
“Aren’t you coming, Phil?” She snapped.
“No. I’m going to bed.”
Aunt Bernice rolled her eyes disgustedly and shook her head. “Come on, dear. Never mind the old fool.”
“I didn’t know you and Uncle Phil fought so much,” I said as we hopped into my car.
“That wasn’t fighting. That’s how we always talk to each other,” Aunt Bernice said casually.
“I hope Ron and I get to that point. You know what I mean. Not bickering all the time, but just married for as long as you two have been,” I said sadly, unable to believe that I might never see my groom again.
“I know what you mean, Patsy.”
We drove on to the small center of town where the main street occupied just three short blocks with a steak restaurant, two bars, a bank, and the post office. To my dismay, all the buildings looked dark, which meant that the power failure was probably town-wide, possibly even extending to neighboring hamlets. One block further and we arrived at the municipal building where the police station was sandwiched between the courthouse and the public library.
“It’s dark all over Cobalt Horse! Like a ghost town!” Aunt Bernice despaired.
“I know,” I said glumly as we got out of the car and jumped over puddles to reach the police station. “And this is a ghost town even when the sun is shining. It’s too creepy right now.”
The rain had subsided to a soft drizzle, but the damage from the electrical storm was already done. Cobalt Horse was known to stay in the dark for days after thunderstorms and blizzards. Claustrophobically, I felt trapped in a tiny world of grimness and gloom. The day had started so innocently with a good morning kiss from Ron and a shared breakfast of cinnamon French toast sticks with fresh fruit. Everything at Chocolate Mousse Mansion had been uneventful too, with a splash of orders keeping me happily busy…until the moment I found Mayor Glisson dead in the parlor. How could all of this be happening?
Chapter 4
In slow motion like an old movie reel, I plodded over the muddy earth with Aunt Bernice squealing at my side. Our feet squished into the rainy mess, our white socks turning brown as we walked into the police station. One lone police officer manned the dispatch desk with a white candle casting eerie shadows on his face. I squinted in the semi-dark and then recognized the man as Officer Crawford.
“Is that you, Mrs. Steed?” He asked as I took a few steps closer.
“Yes, Officer Crawford.”
“Autopsy results won’t be in for a few days, ma’am.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said, wishing that I lived in a big city like Seattle where I wouldn’t encounter the same surly police officer twice.
“Then why are you here?” He drawled.
“Because my husband is missing. His Jeep is parked in our driveway, but he’s not there. And he’s not answering his messages either.” Raw panic sliced through my voice as unshed tears made me sound like a croaking frog.
“That doesn’t mean he’s missing,” Officer Crawford said infuriatingly.
“Oh you’re just like my husband!” Aunt Bernice said with exasperation. “Ronald Steed is missing and you need to look into it!”
“Are you Aunt Bernice? The one who made the chocolate mousse today?” Officer Crawford guessed.
“Yes, I made the batter, why?”
I cut in, “Because they’re trying to rule out an allergic reaction in Mayor Glisson’s death. You didn’t put any peanuts or anything in the mousse batter, did you?”
“Absolutely not! I followed your recipe to the letter,” Aunt Bernice said with a strong undertone of defensiveness.
“Okay good,” I mumbled, turning to face Officer Crawford again. “Won’t you even file a report for my husband?”
Ignoring my question, the cop scratched his woolly beard thoughtfully. “I need you to think, Mrs. Steed. Was there any place that your husband needed to be this evening? Maybe one of his buddies picked him up? After what you’ve been through today, it would be completely understandable that you could be forgetful.”
“I’m not forgetful,” I said stiffly.
“Didn’t you say Ron had a business trip coming up?” Aunt Bernice said with blind optimism.
“He’s flying to San Francisco for an engineering conference tomorrow,” I corrected. “Or at least he was supposed to…”
“This just isn’t your day, is it?” Crawford mused with a chuckle.
I glared fiercely at the inconsiderate man, but he didn’t seem to notice in the blurry candlelight. “Is Chief Harrison here tonight?” Born and bred in Cobalt Horse, Chief Harrison was known throughout the community as a dedicated law enforcement officer and compassionate father of four.
“Nope. He’s off tonight.” Officer Crawford nonchalantly turned away as the phone on his desk rang.
I gently tugged on Aunt Bernice’s sleeve and pulled her away from the desk. “This is no use. He’s not going to help us.”
“Why don’t we drive to Chief Harrison’s house? He just lives down the block!”
“No! We can’t barge in on him like that. I don’t know what to do, though.” I compulsively checked my phone again and grimaced as the screen showed up blank.
“Let’s drive to your house and see if Ron is there. If he’s not, then you can come spend the night with Uncle Phil and me in
the cabin.”
“No, I want to be home in case Ron comes back. Let me just drop you off at the cabin now…”
“I’ll stay with you tonight. Uncle Phil can manage on his own. Let him open a can of baked beans tomorrow and call it breakfast!” She snickered as we walked into the drenched night.
We didn’t speak during the short ride back to my house. As I turned onto my street, I said a silent prayer that Ron would somehow---miraculously---be in the house. Shuffling out of the car, we stopped short at the front door. “It’s open! Did I leave it open?”
The door swung back and forth in the howling wind. “Oh dear, you must have! You were in a panic when you left.”
I raced back to the car as Aunt Bernice stared after me. “Where are you going?”
“I have some flashlights in the glove compartment,” I explained as I grabbed the tools and joined her at the front door.
Shining a beam of light on the dark foyer, I peered inside, afraid of what I might see. “Ron?” My voice sounded thin like tissue paper.
“Are you in here?” Aunt Bernice’s voice echoed in the empty room as the door slammed shut behind us.
Chapter 5
In unison, we screamed and tugged at the doorknob, looking outside to see if someone was there. “It must have been the wind,” I reasoned.
“Of course,” Aunt Bernice said as her hands trembled mildly, exposing the fact that she was downright spooked.
“I can’t believe I’m afraid to go in my own house.” Ruefully, I remembered the day we moved in when Ron wrapped me up in his tiger embrace and carried me over the threshold. With his cowboy moustache and close cropped hair, he was an old fashioned kind of guy who thrived on sappy traditions like belting out karaoke love songs and presenting a bouquet of roses on Valentine’s Day.
“Don’t be afraid, Patsy. I’m here with you.” Aunt Bernice reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“I wish the electricity would come back on! I didn’t even see any utility trucks out there, did you?”
“No, sweetie I didn’t. But this isn’t New York City.” She sighed as we proceeded up the stairs to the bedrooms.
“Are you sure you don’t mind staying here tonight? You don’t even have a toothbrush with you.” I paused at the entrance to the guest room.
“I live in a log cabin, dear. I can rough it!” Aunt Bernice offered a quavering smile as I pecked her on the cheek and retreated to the master bedroom.
The bed loomed like a desolate shipwreck. I sat on the edge and hung my head in my hands, willing myself not to cry. Tears wouldn’t help me. Figuring out this whole crazy mess would help me! Clearing my head, I reflected on the day’s disturbing chain of events and what could have caused them. Was it all just coincidental bad luck? Or was there something else in play? Did Mayor Glisson really have a heart attack…or could he have been murdered?
I gave myself a headache wondering if someone could have slipped into my shop while I was chatting with Aunt Bernice and swiftly killed the man. Was the window of opportunity wide enough? Or was that just a ludicrous idea? I had spoken to Aunt Bernice for a maximum of three minutes before returning to the parlor with a glass of milk for the mayor. How could someone have snuck in and murdered him in such a rapid span of time? And without even making a peep? No, I definitely could rule out that theory.
A more likely scenario swam around sickeningly in my mind. Was Mayor Glisson poisoned? Aunt Bernice had stirred up the batter and she said that she didn’t put anything “extra” in the recipe. But what if she had accidentally swapped sugar for powdered dish soap? No, the woman wasn’t senile. That idea didn’t fit the puzzle either.
And what about my husband? Why had he gone missing just hours after Mayor Glisson turned up dead? In my head, I replayed our last conversation at breakfast:
“I’m not looking forward to that conference tomorrow, babe.” Ron cocked his head sideways and gave me his best puppy dog eyes.
“I wish you didn’t have to go to San Francisco,” I sighed.
“But I’ll be back in a few days. And we still have tonight to make up for lost time. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home from work…”
Reaffirming my sanity, I thought smugly how I was not forgetful no matter what Officer Crawford wanted to believe. Ron was supposed to leave for his trip tomorrow. Period. There was no point in making my brain explode with unanswerable questions anyway. While I doubted I would feel up to opening my shop tomorrow, I at least had to try to get some rest. Insomnia would only add to my anxiety and render me incapable of coping.
Flipping my pillow over, I pulled out a pair of purple silk pajamas and started to undress. As I yanked off my soaking wet socks, I thought again of Officer Crawford and how careless his behavior had been since the moment he arrived at Chocolate Mousse Mansion. Was he just so hardened from his law enforcement career that he had no sympathy for people’s losses? Or could the cop somehow be involved in Mayor Glisson’s death?
“Ugh! Stop!” I scolded myself. “No more questions. Go to bed.”
As I lifted my tee-shirt off, a sharp knocking at the door made me pounce into high alert. For a ridiculously optimistic moment, I hoped that it was Ron knocking at the door. But no, my husband would never knock on our bedroom door. He would just waltz right in whistling a happy tune. It had to be Aunt Bernice, of course.
Pulling my tee-shirt back on, I flung the door open and tried to mask my impatience. “Everything okay, Aunt Bernice?”
She stood in the hallway with a disturbing gleam in her eyes. “I can’t sleep,” she mused.
“Join the club. Come on in.”
“You know dear, I was just thinking…oh, but I don’t want to put any bad thoughts in your head.”
“There are already bad thoughts in my head. What were you thinking?” I stared at her intently as her expression shifted from apprehensive to painful.
“I hate to say this, but maybe Ron left you!”
Chapter 6
“Left me? That’s crazy!” My denial was immediate and certain. “You saw his Jeep in the driveway! He didn’t leave by choice,” I forced myself to accept that basic, horrifying truth for the first time all evening. He didn’t leave by choice. Ron was either kidnapped…or worse. The limitless possibilities made me shudder with nausea.
“Just hear me out. I was watching this show once on that crime station, what’s it called?”
“ID, Investigation Discovery?” I provided grimly.
“Yes, that’s it! Anyway, there was a story about a husband who had a lot of debt that his wife didn’t know about. One day, he just upped and left without any warning. She thought he had died! But he had really just assumed a new identity to escape his debts.”
“And you’re suggesting that my husband did the same thing?” I couldn’t believe the audacity of my aunt. Maybe she was senile after all!
“No, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying that you should consider the possibility…”
“No, I won’t. Because it’s not a possibility. You shouldn’t believe everything you see on TV,” I said coldly.
Bright moonlight filtered in through the curtains as Aunt Bernice glanced at the nightstand near Ron’s side of the bed. “What’s that, dear?”
“Huh?” I followed her eyes as the moon cast a glow on a small object that looked like a cell phone. “It’s Ron’s phone!” I ran over and picked it up, searching through his call history and finding nothing out of the ordinary.
Small Town Scary (Cozy Mystery Collection) Page 2