As I predicted, the long staircase leading up to the second story landing looked unstable and treacherous. A few of the steps were collapsed into splintered heaps, leading me to deduce that previous trespassers had not been as cautious. With the dust on the windows and the fog outside, the entryway was as dark as a windowless closet. I truly hated the dark. It wasn’t a fear so much as a phobia.
I hurried through the lightless entryway and caught only a glimpse of a grime covered chandelier hanging down from the vaulted ceiling above. At one point in time, it must have lit up the entryway, the stairway and the entire second story landing. Now it was just a crystal draped dust collector.
I crept into a short hallway that opened into a cavernous room where most of the ceiling tiles had littered the splintered wood floor. Even though the entry and exterior had lost every shred of paint, the room off the entry still had green paneling between the ornate ceiling molding and base boards. Most of it was peeling off in strips that reminded me of the peel of a cucumber. A broken down piano that was void of most of its keys sat in the darkest corner of the room. I wondered briefly if I was standing in the room where the children were playing cards and reading when their father shot them.
I ventured a few steps farther into the room, and a bone deep shiver went through me. I blamed it on the cold air seeping in through the windows and holey roof. I walked toward the piano, but a creaking sound behind one of the wall panels sent me quickly from the room. There was no telling how many wild animals had decided to make their homes in the nooks and corners of the old house.
The coastal breeze that would eventually carry off the fog had begun to blow outside. Even though it was a fairly light gust of air, it managed to shake the windows and eroded, frail walls of the home. A sharp howl of wind circled the house once, and the door to the piano parlor snapped shut behind me. I gasped, not just from the sudden sound, but because with the door shut, the window light was gone. I was standing in the center of the pitch dark entry, with only the occasional tinkling sound of the overhead chandelier to drown out my short panicked breaths. My heart pounded. I quickly had to stop my active imagination from dreaming up all manner of creatures that might be lurking in the dark behind me. I felt my way to the massive front doors and was relieved when my hand brushed against the brass door knob. I turned it quickly and pulled. Briefly, it felt as if I’d pulled the door open. But there was no light or fresh air. I was holding the antique door knob in my hand. I reached for the second knob, but it was frozen in place.
“Oh darn, darn darn.” The blackness began to close in on me. I sucked in a long, steadying breath and promptly dissolved into full panic. I grabbed the frozen door knob and shook it wildly. “Hello, is anyone out there? Help! Anyone. I’m stuck inside!”
The racing heart that had plagued me seconds before moved steadily to my ears so I could hear my own pulse. It pounded in my head like loud footsteps.
I made a fist and hit the door several times. “Please!” A noise in the darkness startled me. I spun around wildly as if I would be able to see something, anything in the blasted entryway. All I could see was darkness and shadows that were even darker than the dark.
I turned back around and pounded the door again. “Help!”
Suddenly, the door without the knob pushed open. I stumbled back and fell hard on my bottom. After standing in the dark, it took me a second to be able to see the tall figure standing in the open doorway. Especially with the light of day shining behind him.
“Well, if it isn’t my spunky, tenacious neighbor.” Dash stepped inside and lowered his hand for me to take. “Sorry, I guess I should have planned that better. I knew the door opened inwardly but didn’t take into account the thoroughly terrified woman standing behind it.”
He pulled me to my feet.
“Not thoroughly terrified. Just mildly panicked.” I brushed the back of my jeans off, sending a respectable cloud of dust into the air. We both waved our hands in front of our faces to clear it away.
“How did you know I was here? And thank you, by the way. I’m pretty sure there’s a pack of rabid animals living in these walls, and they were already breaking out the recipe book to see how best to cook me.” I motioned toward the door. “Let’s go before they pull out a second pot for you.”
We walked outside. I was relieved to see that glorious sunlight had begun to paint the sky blue. “So how did you know I was here?”
“I was putting stuff in my truck. I saw you heading up to Maple Hill, and I thought, I’ll just bet Lacey is going up to Hawksworth Manor. And then I thought, she’s just the type of person to ignore the warning signs and climb right over that fence.”
“I see. I guess I did exactly that. You seem to be a good judge of character.”
“It depends on the character. C’mon adventure woman, I’ll give you a ride down in the truck.”
Chapter 17
There was a cluster of people in front of Elsie’s bakery as I rounded the corner of Harbor Lane. I didn’t need that super power hearing to know what they were talking about. The drawn faces and stunned expressions confirmed my guess. News of Beverly’s death had obviously reached town.
Elsie came out of the shop the second I parked my bicycle. “Oh, Pink, is it true? You discovered poor Beverly dead in her pumpkin patch?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer before she hugged me, filling my nose with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. “How horrifying that must have been for you.”
“In truth, it was Maggie who came upon her first. She was quite shaken by it all.”
Lester came around the corner with a cup of tea for his sister. “Here, Elsie, drink this. It’ll help calm your nerves.”
Elsie took the tea and breathed in the scented steam. Lemon, honey and black tea I surmised from the fragrance floating off the cup. She sipped the hot beverage and then sighed as if it had provided instant relief. “Thank you, Les. You’re a dear.” Elsie turned to me. “Is it true she fell head first into her prize pumpkin? What a terrible way to die.”
“Well, I think we’ll know more after the autopsy.”
“An autopsy?” Lester asked. “I suppose that makes sense when the cause of death isn’t clear.”
Elsie sputtered her tea back into the cup. “Come now. Not clear? What else could it have been? She was taking pills for her heart. She should have exercised more.” Elsie shook her head. “She and Virginia always took the pumpkin contest far too seriously. Why, Beverly would be talking about it as early as March. Virginia too. And they’d both hardly be talking to each other by the day of the contest. It was ridiculous, and I’ve told them both as much. And now look what happened. Bev stressed herself right into a heart attack.” Her phone alarm went off in her apron pocket. “Oh, my cupcakes are done.”
Lester watched his sister hurry away with the cup of tea. “I suppose I’ll tell James Briggs to just turn in his badge. He doesn’t need to do any investigation at all. Elsie, the baker, has already summed up exactly what happened. Even added in some of her usual unwanted advice.” When Lester smiled it forced his cheeks up into two round balls.
His mention of Detective Briggs piqued my attention. “Do you know Detective Briggs well?”
“Little Jimmy Briggs?” He touched my arm and lowered his head. “Don’t tell him I called him that. I used to work in the Chesterton fire house with his dad. Jim’s a smart guy and a good detective.”
“Yes, he is. And very serious,” I added for no real reason.
“How are you doing then, Lacey? It must have been a shock to find a dead body.”
“I suppose it should have been, but don’t forget, I attended medical school. It’s a terrible tragedy though. Poor woman.”
Lester nodded. Being a retired fireman, he knew how easily death could take someone.
A white box truck circled the corner of Harbor Lane. “I think this might be my marigolds. I better open the shop.”
“Right. Where’s Kingston? I haven’t seen him staring down from the
plum trees this morning.”
“I went on a walk this morning, (I had no intention of bringing up my adventure in the mansion) and he was so mad that I left him behind, he refused to come along with me to work. It’s just as well. I have a lot to do.”
The white box truck pulled up in front of my store. A young man with a thick cap of black hair climbed out carrying a clipboard. “Lacey Pinkerton?” he asked.
“That’s me.”
“I’ve brought you some marigolds.”
“Perfect.” I walked to the door and unlocked it. “I’ll see you later, Les.” I waved as he headed back to the Coffee Hutch.
The man carried in my six flats of marigolds. A few were already wilting, but I couldn’t complain. It was late in the season, and I’d gotten them for a great price.
The young man, whose nametag said Kyle, filled something out on the clipboard and handed it to me for a signature. Featherton’s Nursery was printed in bold green type across the top.
“Do you work for Featherton’s Nursery?” I asked as I signed the paper.
“I’m an independent trucker,” he said proudly. “I make deliveries for businesses all along the coast. Daryl Featherton is one of my regular clients.”
I handed him back the clipboard. “I’m new in town, so I haven’t met Mr. Featherton yet. But since I’m running a flower shop, I’m sure I’ll get to know him well.” I doubted a young, freelance delivery man would know much about the businesses he worked for, but I decided it wouldn’t hurt to do a little digging. “I’ve heard Mr. Featherton grows and nurtures hybrid seeds.” Of course, all my information was based solely on the ripped open packet in Virginia’s wire basket.
Kyle looked around at the shop. “Looks nice in here.”
“Thank you.”
“Uh, yeah. He has some botany degree or something, and he likes to experiment with different seeds. He grew a fruit that was half fig and half apple once, but it was pretty disgusting. I think he landed some contract with a big seed company though. But that’s only from pieces of information I hear when I’m at the nursery.” He ripped off my copy of the receipt and handed it to me with a gracious smile. “Have a good day.”
“Yes, you too.”
Chapter 18
After a busy morning organizing things for the store opening, my back was tired and my stomach was empty. My unsettling start to the day, getting trapped in a dark house, had left me too frazzled to make a lunch. I was regretting that now. I was also feeling a little lonely without Kingston gurgling and chirruping from his perch. I decided to walk across the street and see what Lola had planned for lunch.
I locked up. The sidewalks had quieted down after the morning rush of neighbors and shop owners lamenting the sad news about Beverly. I hadn’t seen Lola for a day. I knew her parents had shipped a large crate from Italy, and she had been busy cataloguing and pricing the newly arrived antiques. I’d asked Lola once why she didn’t sometimes travel with her parents. It sure sounded exciting to me to traipse around the world looking for long lost treasures of history. Lola had responded with a short, terse laugh and muttered something about how exciting and her parents didn’t go well together. I’d left it at that. It wasn’t as if I spent much time with my own parents anymore. (Mental note—call Mom.)
Lola had decided to change out the string of jingle bells on the door for one of the goat bells. She said she liked how confident the bell sounded when the door opened.
“Hello,” I called out and was answered back with a cuss word.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch.” Lola popped up from behind a tall crate wearing an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt and sucking her fingertip.
“Uh oh, did I cause that?” I walked to her counter and pulled a tissue from the box.
She wrapped the tissue around her finger. “No, it was the darn staple on the crate.” She gave the wooden crate a light kick. She waved her hand at the piles of sawdust on the floor. “Apparently my parents found the most remote section of Italy where they have not heard of bubble wrap and cardboard.”
I walked over to the items she had pulled from the crate. An old iron with a grate for hot coals was sitting next to a sizeable lighter that was shaped like a suit of armor. The fuse was on the top of the helmet. Sitting beside the prettiest pair of green enamel candlesticks was an oil lamp with a handle and a long spout. It was heavily engraved with a pattern. I picked the lamp up and gave it a rub. “Do you think there’s a genie inside?”
“Already tried. It’s just a lamp. But now I’m going to have to write a sign for it that says ‘please don’t rub the lamp’.”
I rested my hand on the top of a butter churn. The handle of the churn had been worn smooth from time and use. “I’ll bet a lot of butter has been made in this thing.”
“Speaking of butter—are you hungry?”
I smiled. “That was my main purpose for walking over here.” I pointed at her tissue covered finger. “That, and of course, coming to see if you needed any first aid.”
“Let me just wash up. I think Tom and Gigi have some fresh sandwiches made up at the market. How does that sound?” Lola asked as she walked to the restroom.
“That sounds great.”
She turned on the sink but kept up the conversation. Her voice echoed off the bathroom wall as she spoke. “I heard you were the one to find Beverly head first in her pumpkin.”
“Not entirely true.” I sat on the stool behind the counter. “Maggie saw her first.”
Lola came around the corner still drying her hands. The bleeding had stopped. “What were you doing on Dawson Grove?”
“I rode home that way to buy eggs for a frittata, which I never got to make. I ended up eating two pieces of cinnamon toast for dinner. Not exactly a buttery, cheesy frittata. Wow, now I’m really hungry.”
Lola grabbed her closed sign and her sweater. “I’m ready.”
“Something just occurred to me,” I said as we stepped outside. “I saw Beverly earlier in the day, before I went back to get the eggs. I should have mentioned it to Detective Briggs. I guess I was so caught up in the shock of it all, I forgot to tell him.”
Lola’s face had snapped my direction with the mention of Detective Briggs. “You spent the shocking afternoon helping Detective Briggs? Lucky you. Well, I don’t mean the part about the dead body. But you know. Why do you think it would have been important to mention to him?”
“It’s probably not. I mean it was just a brief exchange. Not really an exchange at all. I had noticed she was stomping around her patch looking a little put off by something, so I decided a cheery greeting was just what she needed. She muttered something angrily back at me. Apparently, she wasn’t as sweet and friendly as she looked. William chose the right woman. Theresa is much more charming.”
“Beverly Kent?” Lola said with round eyes. “She’s the sweetest woman ever. At Christmas she makes a massive batch of rocky road fudge and delivers it to all the shop owners.” Lola’s face dropped. “Or at least she used to. You must have caught her at a bad time.”
“I must have.” I didn’t say any more about it but decided I would let Detective Briggs know just in case.
Chapter 19
The Corner Market was situated on the corner of Harbor Lane and Pickford Way, the last shop before the harbor and the beach. White lacquer paint was made to look even whiter by the four periwinkle blue awnings covering the four front windows. Someone had taken the time to hand paint navy blue and silver stars below the front window. A pretty, whimsical touch that made it look more like a magic shop than a corner market. A group of high school kids were standing inside and around the front of the shop snacking on potato chips, snack cakes and all the other goodies you learn not to eat in health class.
Lola’s steps grew heavy. “Ugh, looks like bad timing. The high school kids must have had a short day today. Hopefully there are still some good sandwiches.”
“If you look at the food in their hands, it seems they breezed past the sandwich shelf and went st
raight to the junk food. Which is exactly what I would have done at that age. I guess mother nature gives you more common sense about nutrition once you pass twenty. Otherwise, we humans probably wouldn’t have survived the invention of processed food.”
Lola sighed loudly and said ‘excuse me’ with equal vigor as she waited for two girls who were too busy gazing at something on their phones to clear the doorway. They laughed at something on the screen and then scooted out of the way.
As Lola opened the door, one of Franki’s twin boys walked out with a smiling girl holding his hand. Franki’s kids were all tall and attractive. Her boys always had that just stepped out of the surf look with their perpetual tans and sun-bleached hair. Seeing him reminded me of Virginia and the pig pen. I had to quickly trace back to the conversation to remember if it was Taylor or Tyler. Taylor, I thought. I decided it would be my only chance to ask a few questions.
Lola looked back to see if I was following. “I’ll be right there, Lola.” I followed the two teens. “Excuse me, Taylor.”
He turned around. “I’m Tyler.” I wondered just how many millions of times in his short life he’d had to utter those same two words.
“Oh, right, sorry. I should have known by the—” I swept my hand around my own face and my hair trying to find something that was unique to Tyler, but there wasn’t anything. They were as identical as two people could get.
He was already bored with me. “Taylor is over there.” He pointed down the sidewalk.
“Great, then I’ll just catch up to him. And sorry again about the mix up.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m used to it.”
I picked up my pace to catch up to Taylor, who was walking with several friends. “Excuse me, Taylor.” I reached him.
Marigolds and Murder (Port Danby Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 8