Small Town Scary (Cozy Mystery Collection)

by Anisa Claire West

  “If he’s starting a new life, he’ll be needing a new cell phone!” Aunt Bernice declared as I scowled viciously at her.

  “He’s not starting a new life! If he’s even alive at all!” I sank down onto the mattress and let loose a flood of tears. “Ron would never leave without his phone! He really was taken from here against his will!” Sobs wracked my frame as I pushed away moist wisps of raven hair from my forehead.

  “Oh I shouldn’t have said anything!”

  “No, you shouldn’t have! If there’s anyone shady in this family, it’s your husband!” I lashed out.

  “My husband?”

  “Yeah, he’s the one who’s always scrounging around for cash and taking every dime that you earn from the shop. And how do I know that? Because you told me!”

  “Dear, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but you are hitting below the belt right now!” Aunt Bernice’s eyes flashed like cut gems in the moonlight.

  “I’m not going to sit here and fight with you all night,” I sniffled, snatching a Kleenex from the nightstand and blowing my nose. “I have enough to deal with. You know what? I can’t stay here. I need to get out of here or I’m going to lose my mind.”

  “Come back to the cabin! I told you that’s where we should have gone!”

  “No, I’m going back to the shop. Maybe there’s some clue there that will help me understand what’s going on and what the connection is between Mayor Glisson keeling over and my husband being gone!”

  “Well, I’m going with you…”

  “No you’re not!”

  “I’m not staying here by myself and I can’t get home on my own. You drove us here, remember?” Aunt Bernice’s lower lip trembled as she spoke.

  “Can’t you ask Uncle Phil to come pick you up?”

  “He doesn’t drive at night anymore, Patsy. You know that.”

  I heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll drop you off at the cabin. Did you even tell Uncle Phil that you were spending the night here?”

  “Oh dear, with all the commotion, I forgot to call him!”

  “Then it’s just as well that I drop you off. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Sullenly, I grabbed my car keys, dropping Ron’s phone into my purse and charging down the stairs. In all my life, I had never acted so disrespectfully towards my aunt, or any of my elders for that matter, but I didn’t have time to feel guilty. I had a double mystery to solve. At least, I could only hope it was a double mystery and not a double homicide.

  ***

  With Aunt Bernice safely deposited in her cabin, I was able to freely explore my shop, albeit with the feeble assistance of a flashlight. I cringed to think how long the power outage would last. Usually, the inconvenience didn’t faze me and I used the opportunity to read a novel by candlelight or catch some extra zzz’s. But my current predicament made the power failure seem sinister, as though everything was working against me.

  Tip-toeing like a cat burglar, I slinked over the table where Mayor Glisson had expired. Skulking around his chair, I knelt on the floor to see if there were any clues. But all I found were massive dust bunnies. “I need to vacuum,” I mumbled. Gliding into the kitchen with the flashlight leading my way, I prodded around, opening cabinets arbitrarily and combing through ingredients looking for something. Anything.

  Shining the flashlight on the sink, I frowned to find the space cluttered with dirty dishes. One other daily chore that had escaped me in the all the chaos! My eyes narrowed as I spied a Tupperware container with streaks of chocolate mousse batter like an abstract painting. “That’s odd.”

  Next to the container was the metal bowl where I had whisked the liquid into a mousse. If my memory served correctly, Aunt Bernice had handed me the metal bowl with the batter already in it. I hadn’t noticed the Tupperware container. “She must have made the batter at home! But why?” My heart thudded anxiously as this crucial detail crystallized before my eyes. If she had prepared the mousse batter from home, then there would have been much more opportunity for something to go wrong. The kitchen in her log cabin wasn’t the tidiest place. The barely 50 square foot space was like a cubby hole, jam packed with jars of pickled vegetables and rusty stainless steel cookware from decades ago. I had to call Aunt Bernice and ask her why she made the mousse at home…

  As I was about to dial her on my cell phone, a pair of red and blue lights glared through the rear window of the shop. A police car! Swallowing a mass of nerves, I shrank back against the counter as a booming voice yelled over a megaphone: “Come out with your hands up!”

  Chapter 7

  Shaking from head to toe, I opened the back door and immediately shot my hands up in surrender. “It’s me! Patricia Steed! The owner of this place!” I managed to spew as Officer Crawford’s scrunched pug-like features became outlined.

  “Mrs. Steed! What are you doing back here at this hour?” He asked suspiciously.

  “Can I put my hands down now?” I evaded his question.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What are you doing here?” He repeated edgily.

  “Isn’t that my business? I own this property,” I clucked.

  “Something fishy is going on here and I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either!” I countered. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep in my own house without my husband there. He’s still missing, you know!”

  “Come back down to the station when he’s been gone 24 hours. Then we’ll actually be able to help you,” Officer Crawford suggested.

  “Thanks,” I muttered as the police officer turned and walked towards his vehicle. “I thought you were working the dispatch desk,” I called after him.

  “On my way home to the wife,” he tipped his hat in my direction as I resisted the urge to make a sour lemon face.

  Back inside Chocolate Mousse Mansion, I began to dial Aunt Bernice’s phone number then abruptly stopped. “You know what? I’m going to talk to her in person. Who cares if I wake up Uncle Phil! I need to see what’s in her kitchen…”

  Hopping into my car, I ran on pure adrenaline to the other side of town where the log cabin was located. Parking quickly, I leapt out of the car and knocked insistently on the front door. A groggy Uncle Phil opened the door and immediately frowned.

  “What now, Patsy?”

  “I need to speak with Aunt Bernice.”

  “She’s gone to bed. Can’t it wait til morning?” He groused.

  “No, I need to talk to her!” I raised my voice, apparently awakening my light sleeper aunt in the process.

  Padding to the door, she asked, “Oh dear, is everything okay? Any news about Ron?”

  “No. I need to know why you made that chocolate mousse batter at home today.”

  “What kind of question is that?” Uncle Phil cut in.

  “An important one,” I replied.

  “But they don’t even know what killed the guy yet! Why do you think his death had something to do with your aunt’s baking?” He persisted.

  “I didn’t say that. I just need to see if Aunt Bernice could have accidentally put something into the batter that might have caused an allergic reaction.”

  “Dear, I told you that I followed your recipe to the letter. And I’m very careful when I’m baking.”

  “But why did you prepare the batter at home?”

  “To save time of course! We’ve been so busy at the shop lately that Uncle Phil suggested I have some of our top selling products ready to go. I also made some raspberry mousse at home,” she explained. “I think you’re getting a little paranoid, although I do understand.” Her eyes were soft and warm as she gazed at me.

  “You’re right. I must be going crazy from lack of sleep,” I mumbled.

  “Won’t you stay here for the night?” Aunt Bernice looked at me pleadingly. “I’m going to have to call your mother in Billings if you say no!”

  “Don’t upset my mother. Please. I can manage on my own. Sorry to both
er you guys.” My posture slouched, I turned and walked towards my car as Uncle Phil promptly shut the door. Bickering voices could be heard even over the roar of my engine as I careened back onto the road.

  I debated with myself whether to go back home or to the shop or even to check into a hotel for the night. But the closest hotel was a twenty minute drive from Cobalt Horse and I was feeling too sleepy to drive even another mile. My best option was just to go back home and wait for the sun to rise.

  As I pulled into the driveway, my cell phone buzzed with a new message. Frantically, I threw the gear into park and checked my message, hoping that somehow it could be from Ron even though that seemed a longshot since his abandoned phone was tucked inside my purse. Frowning, I noticed a missed call from an out-of-state area code. Curiously, the strange caller had left a voicemail. With trembling fingers, I punched in my four digit voicemail code and held my breath as the message played.

  Chapter 8

  “Babe, it’s me. I just got to the hotel. What a nightmare the flight was! Crazy delays because of all the rain. But anyway, I’m here now and I’m safe. I love you. Call me in the morning.”

  Shock waves pulsed through me at the velvety sound of my husband’s voice. He’s alive! But that was the only fact I understood for certain. Everything else perplexed me. Desperate for answers, I called him back immediately. Please pick up.

  “Marriott Grand Marquis, may I help you?”

  Befuddled, I quickly realized that Ron had called me from the hotel. Of course he had. He didn’t have his cell phone with him! Panting for air I was so overwhelmed with relief, I whispered, “Ronald Steed’s room, please.”

  “One moment.”

  Two pounding heartbeats and an unbearable wait.

  “Hello,” his voice was like silk over sandpaper.

  “Ron! What’s going on? Are you in San Francisco?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah babe, didn’t you listen to my voicemail?” A giant yawn transmitted across the line.

  “Yes! But your business trip was supposed to be tomorrow! Why did you go a day early? I’ve been worried sick about you!” My relief quickly morphed into anger at how he had kept me in awful suspense, fearing the worst had happened.

  “Didn’t you see my note on the kitchen table?”

  “What note?!”

  “Oh babe, I got the days mixed up. The company car just showed up this afternoon while I was working on some spreadsheets from home. I was totally blindsided. All I had time to do was throw some clothes into a bag, scribble a note for you and run out the door. I think I even forgot my cell phone. Have you seen it?”

  “Yeah, you left it on your nightstand.” My breathing slowly regulated, but my temper still flared. “Are you sure you left a note for me? I didn’t see anything.”

  “I’m pretty sure I left it on the kitchen table.”

  “Well I didn’t see it,” I said tersely. Suddenly, I remembered how the window had been wide open. Maybe the stormy wind had blown the note out the window into the backyard? It seemed like the only plausible explanation.

  “I’m sorry you were so worried, babe. I should have called you from the airport. But I really thought you would have seen the note. I can just imagine what you were thinking with my Jeep parked in the driveway!”

  “I was frantic,” I admitted. “But I’m so glad this is just a misunderstanding. Now I can get some sleep.” Tears of sheer relief and joy pooled in my eyes.

  “I’m so sorry. Is everything else okay?”

  “Not really…” I faltered, urgently wanting to tell my husband everything that had transpired but feeling that it wasn’t exactly a conversation to have at 2 am or whatever witching hour it was.

  “What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ I know you, Patricia.” His tone took on a stern, paternal quality.

  “Mayor Glisson died in my shop this afternoon,” I blurted out.

  “What?! Are you kidding me? What happened?”

  “I don’t know. They’re assuming a heart attack, but there’s going to be an autopsy. That’s why I was even more upset that you were missing. I thought that somehow the mayor’s death was intertwined with you being gone.”

  “Oh, if I had known, I never would have gotten on that plane! I’m so sorry to put you through all this.” He sounded deeply remorseful.

  “It’s not your fault. It’s just a misunderstanding. Let’s hang up now. I’m exhausted and I’m sure you are too. Let’s talk in the morning, okay?” My head throbbed with culminating stress and exhaustion.

  “I’ll give you a call as soon as I wake up,” he promised. “Or just call me. Do you want me to come home?”

  “No! I’ll be fine. I can manage on my own. As long as I know you’re okay.”

  “Alright babe, get some rest. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Wearily, I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel as the adrenaline flooded out of my system, leaving me utterly depleted. It took all my energy to lug myself out of the car and trudge up the stairs to the empty bedroom. In the morning, I would look for Ron’s note in the backyard. But for now, all I could think about was tumbling into a profoundly sweet slumber.

  Chapter 9

  The next few days passed uneventfully as the power came back on and I returned to work at Chocolate Mousse Mansion to face every morbidly curious customer who had a question about Mayor Glisson’s bizarre demise. “Did you really find him face down in the chocolate mousse?” “How much do you think he weighed?” “Do you feel guilty that he died in your shop?”

  The questions were incessant, but I remained steadfast and focused on running my business. Knowing that Ron would be home from his business trip in less than 24 hours blanketed me with comfort. Just as I had expected, his note had surfaced in the backyard, carried on the breeze and fallen into a patch of daylilies. Aunt Bernice was performing her daily tasks dutifully, although I hadn’t let her make any mousse since the unfortunate incident. Instead, she had returned to stirring up her ultra rich fondues and baking her wholesome bread.

  On the afternoon of Ron’s pending return to Cobalt Horse, I hustled to accomplish all the pesky administrative tasks that needed tending. Daydreaming about a romantic reunion, I logged inventory, tallied the month’s sales, and devised a few new fruity recipes for the summer season.

  “How does a cool lime chiffon cake sound?” I asked Aunt Bernice as she plopped a maraschino cherry onto a cheesecake.

  “Refreshing! Mmm, I could go for some right now!” She clapped her hands enthusiastically as I smiled. All the tension had melted between us since I had finally spoken to Ron. Yes, things were thankfully back to normal.

  “Ding dong. Anyone here?” A male voice inquired from the front of the store.

  “Ugh, that sounds like Officer Crawford,” I hissed, setting down my pencil and paper.

  “Oh dear. I wonder what he wants.”

  “Hopefully something to go!” I retorted before scurrying to the front of the store.

  Officer Crawford peacock strutted towards me while his partner, Richmond, bowed his head solemnly. Their facial expressions were unreadable, but in my gut I sensed that they had some very bad news.