by J. R. Ripley
Ben Harper made the introductions. “Derek is joining me in my practice.”
His son’s name was Derek. I rose and he shook my hand. “I’m Amy Simms,” I practically stammered. “Ruby Lake’s most wanted.”
Derek Harper chuckled and I immediately liked him for it. What woman doesn’t like a man who will forgive her being on her town’s most-wanted list? “A pleasure.”
His warm fingers sent a tingle up my arm. Strains of “At Long Last Love,” a Cole Porter tune from the musical You Never Know, ran through my head. This hunk of handsome even had a young Robert Redford beat.
“My granddaughter get off to school okay?” Ben Harper asked.
His son nodded. “Her mom’s picking her up afterward.”
So, Derek Harper was married. My dreams of a Jamaica beach wedding, my bare toes luxuriating in the warm Caribbean sand as I walked to the shoreline in my billowy single-shoulder gown with ruching and floral beaded appliqués, with family and friends in attendance, were shattered. The saccharine strains of “I’m All Alone” from Monty Python’s Spamalot crashed over me like a rogue wave.
“What’s the situation here?” Derek Harper asked, suddenly becoming all professional. I discreetly noticed the simple gold band on his ring finger.
Ben Harper turned to Jerry. “Anything further here, Chief?”
Chief Kennedy blew out a breath. “All of you get out of my office. But don’t go anywhere, Amy. I’m going to want to talk to you again.”
“Not without me present, you’re not,” Ben Harper shot back.
“I’m going to be needing a ride back to Birds and Bees,” I said, reaching for my coat.
Derek Harper helped me into it. I could have gotten used to that. “I can give you a ride.”
I looked up at him. At five-eight, I estimated Ben Harper’s son at six-one. Perfect. Except that he was married. Derek told his dad he’d catch up with him later and we parted ways on the sidewalk.
“Was it rough in there?” Derek Harper asked, once we were in the car and moving. We were heading away from the station.
“I guess it could have been worse.” I paused and considered the many worse options. “I could be locked up right now, for instance.”
He laughed. “It’s nice that you can keep your spirits up like that.”
My brow rose. “Really? Because if you could see my insides, Mr. Harper, well, they’re a mess.”
His hands pressed the button on the Civic’s heater. “Warm enough?”
I gulped. I was getting there.
“How about we stop for coffee and go over the case?”
“Case?” Was that what I was now, a case? That was a scary thought. The stuff of TV and newspapers. Not something I ever thought would be used in context with myself.
“Huh?”
“Sorry, I guess I hadn’t realized until just now that that’s just what I am.” He blinked. “A case,” I said.
“Sorry, Ms. Simms,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to imply or insinuate any guilt on your part.”
“Please, call me Amy.”
He smiled. “Only if you’ll call me Derek.”
I agreed and suggested we try the Coffee and Tea House on the square. It’s run by a friend of mine, Susan Terwilliger. Though I’m convinced she and her husband, Tom, could afford to live on his income alone—he’s a dentist—Susan hangs out at the shop on a regular basis. I think it’s her escape from what she lovingly calls “the brood.” Her four children—three boys, one girl, and as she liked to say with a smile, albeit a slightly weary one, all trouble.
Better still, the Coffee and Tea House is an intimate establishment. No point in nosy locals seeing me conferencing with a lawyer. I’d be getting enough unwanted scrutiny as news of Matt Kowalski’s demise in my home-slash-store spread around town. Mom, Kim, and I had had our personal run-ins with Matt. Not enough to kill him over, but no doubt enough to make some folks think that we might have.
“You know, I really can’t afford an attorney.” I blew across the top of my mug and watched the tiny rings pulse outward.
“Not to scare you,” Derek said with a small smile, “but I don’t think you can afford not to have counsel in your current situation.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Those aren’t exactly words of comfort.”
“Sorry, again.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I seem to be apologizing a lot. Oops. Sorry.”
Derek stopped and reached for his coffee, apparently before he could embarrass himself further. But I didn’t find him embarrassing at all; I found him alarmingly charming. And I didn’t need that right now. I needed a lawyer. Besides, the guy was married.
“Look, Dad said your mom paid him a small retainer and I’m sure we won’t be charging you anything more until we see how this whole thing plays out.” He laid his palms open. “Okay?”
I nodded.
“So,” Derek Harper said, “how well did you know the deceased, this Matthew . . .” It was like being interrogated by the police all over again.
“Matthew Kowalski,” I finished. “And I didn’t know him well at all. Besides, he looked so different. I don’t think I would have recognized him even if I had seen him walking around town.”
“Different how?”
I explained how the Matt Kowalski I’d known had been thinner. And blonder. “And younger,” I quipped.
“The police told me he’d even been wearing tinted contacts.”
I still couldn’t get over it. Wonders never ceased. Why was Matt in disguise? “That’s what I heard too. I don’t think I’d even seen Matt since high school.” And that had been more than enough. “And I didn’t want to. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d been avoiding him or anything—like crossing to the other side of the street if I saw him coming.” I paused. “But still . . . a little Matt Kowalski goes—I should say, went—a long way.”
Derek Harper nodded his understanding. “I guess I know what you mean. We all have people like that in our life.”
“Oh?” My brow raised in question.
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Any idea how Matt Kowalski ended up dead in your upstairs storage room?”
I frowned. “None. None at all.” I leaned back as Susan refilled our coffees for free. I wasn’t surprised to see her in so early. She was usually in the shop until noon, then resumed her child-raising duties as the kids got out of their respective day cares and schools. Susan gave me a good-natured wink and departed. “This may sound callous, but I wish he’d found someplace else to die.”
We chatted some more about the murder. I glanced at my watch and gasped. “I’d better be getting back to Birds and Bees.”
Derek Harper slid a ten-dollar bill under the check and stood. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the police will find out what really happened to Matthew Kowalski.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Just moved up from Charlotte.” He held the door open as we prepared to leave. A lawyer and a gentleman.
“That explains it. You don’t know Chief Kennedy like I do.”
* * *
Derek Harper laughed deeply and deposited me at the curb out front of Birds & Bees. As my hand reached for the door handle, he turned my way, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the side of the passenger seat. “In the meantime”—he spoke hesitantly—“how about dinner tonight?”
I flinched. “Tonight?” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Sorry.” I shook my head. “I can’t. I have tons to do. We’re planning on opening tomorrow. Grand opening. A pre–grand opening, actually.” Geesh, what a complete and total jerk. If I wasn’t in potentially dire need of legal help I’d have told this guy where to get off—like the Gates of Adultery Hell.
“Oh. Sure.” His hands fell to his lap. “How about Saturday?”
I gulped. My throat felt suddenly parched despite the two large coffees I’d just consumed. I shook my head more firmly. “Look, Derek, Mr. Harper,” I stammered. What was with this jerk? “That’s ver
y kind of you, but I’m afraid I’m seeing someone.” If that didn’t send the message maybe I’d have to deliver it to his wife.
He tilted his head back. A small smile appeared on his face. “Is it serious?”
“I’m afraid so.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, yes. Very.” I had to nip this in the bud. “Goodbye, Mr. Harper.” I made my exit as gracefully and quickly as I could—before the lecherous lawyer could say or do anything else.
Okay, I may have slammed the car door. Hard.
What a creep.
I couldn’t believe I’d earlier spent an entire fake wedding on the beach with him in Montego Bay, Jamaica. What a waste of a perfectly good daydream. The man was a sleaze.
I might have been lonely, but I could do way better than that guy.
8
“Remind me.” I sighed, gazing out the window at the dark gray sky above. Sheets of driving rain obscured the street, giving it the look of an Impressionist painting. “Whose idea was it to have our grand opening today?” So far, the Birds & Bees grand opening was anything but grand.
“Don’t worry,” cooed Kim, who’d come in early to help with the anticipated first-day crowd. “I’m sure things will pick up. Especially once this weather clears.” Dainty gold hoops dangled from her earlobes and she’d pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail that spilled over the collar of a buttery-yellow silk blouse.
“If it clears,” I replied. I’d settled for a practical pair of jeans and my cornflower-blue cardigan.
“Weather Channel promises it will.” Kim could be annoyingly optimistic—anticipating sunshine even in the irrefutable onslaught of showers.
I turned and busied myself rearranging stock on the shelves. I had plenty to sell. Now all I needed were some customers to buy.
The lovebirds started singing. I turned with a smile. “Good morning,” I said, waving. “Welcome to Birds and Bees!”
“See?” Kim mouthed.
I waved for her to keep quiet. “How can I help you today?” I approached and caught a whiff of spicy cologne. He was a slightly overweight middle-aged gentleman with a receding hairline and a nose that bent to the left. He wore a lumpy black parka over a pair of beige corduroys and cowboy boots with mud stained heels.
“Just looking,” he replied. A trace of a smile appeared on his face and his eyes darted around the store.
“Sure.” I gestured him to come in. “Please, take your time, and if there’s anything I can help you with—”
He cut me off with a shake of his head. “That’s okay.” He headed for a display of birdhouses, running his fingers idly over their sides.
Kim and I shrugged at one another. Fortunately, the lovebirds started cooing once again and a young couple pushing a stroller entered. The young man pulled his black umbrella shut. I noticed him looking around for someplace to put it and made a note to myself to add an umbrella stand. He settled for tucking the damp umbrella awkwardly under one arm.
The couple also had a child of maybe four with them, wrapped in bright pink leggings and a waterproof pink jacket. A white scarf was wrapped around her face, covering her mouth and nose.
The young girl started jumping up and down on the doormat and I was beginning to see what Kim had meant about coming to rue having singing lovebirds start up every time somebody came in our door. I might have to rethink the idea. Maybe I’d remove it to the back room and buy a simple coir mat for up front.
Then again, if I’d had the doormat down the previous night, maybe those chirping lovebirds would have scared off Matt Kowalski and he wouldn’t have ended up dead in my house.
As if on cue, Kim mouthed, “Told you so.” Kim’s also big on use of the “told you so”—and mouthing like a campy twenties movie siren.
“Good morning!” the young mother called out to us before I could even open my lips. “Nice place you’ve got here.” She angled the stroller to one side and I found myself facing a cherubic smiling boy swathed in light blue from head to toe.
“Thank you.”
Her husband nodded agreement and gently pulled his daughter away from the doormat. I liked him already. It didn’t hurt that he was wearing a beanie from my alma mater, UNC-Chapel Hill.
Kim headed for the coffeepot warming in the corner. Probably to escape the noise. I’d laid out fresh coffee, tea, and cookies for our customers as part of our grand opening welcome. Between us, so far, Kim and I had managed to eat half a tray of butter cookies. I vowed to power walk around the lake tomorrow. Twice. Maybe.
“Welcome to Birds and Bees.” I wiggled my fingers at the toddler.
The young woman quickly unbuttoned her knee-length gray coat. Raindrops spilled to the ground. I gritted my teeth but reminded myself that now that Birds & Bees was open, I couldn’t expect the place to remain pristine.
“We just moved into a house with a big yard over on Sycamore and I thought it would be nice to add a birdfeeder or two.”
I grinned. “Then you’ve come to the right place.” I motioned for her to follow me over to the side of the shop where I’d placed a variety of feeders. “We carry a full selection,” I explained to the young woman, as her husband and older daughter wandered off. “What types of birds were you hoping to attract?”
The young woman laughed nervously and glanced over her shoulder at her husband. “To tell you the truth,” she admitted, “I don’t know.” She shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t even know it made a difference.”
I smiled. “No problem.” I pulled a tube feeder from a hanging display. “Do you have squirrels?”
“Sure, why?” Her son leaned forward and pulled a red-breasted grosbeak plush toy from the low shelf. His mother gently took it from his hand and pulled a small stuffed bear from a zippered pouch on the stroller.
“Then you may want to consider a squirrel-proof feeder.” I pulled down on the feeder. “It has a spring mechanism that prevents any animal heavier than a bird from accessing the seed.” She nodded. I grabbed a tray feeder from the shelf. “Of course, you could go with a platform or hopper feeder. You can mount these on a pole. And if you add a baffle”—I pointed to a stacked selection of black and white baffles at the end of the aisle—“it will prevent squirrels, raccoons, and other furry critters from stealing all the bird food. You’ll also attract larger birds.” I winked at the blue-eyed toddler in the stroller. “Like that grosbeak your boy was playing with.”
The young woman nodded. “I never realized there was so much to this.” She glanced over her shoulder for her husband again, but there was no sign of him. “I guess I always thought a bird was a bird and a feeder was a feeder.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied. “Birding can be as simple or as complicated as you want it to be.” I beckoned her to follow me. Birds & Bees is laid out with the front counter and register to the left of the entrance and, while the area in front of the counter and register is fairly open, perpendicular rows of shelving plus wall shelves, racks, and carousels filled the space to the right and going back. A TV monitor playing birding videos was mounted on a supporting column in the center of the store. Two rows of bins flowed along the outer wall. Customers could buy their seed by the pound if they didn’t want to buy the prepackaged stuff. I’d even made up some Birds & Bees custom blends.
Another section of the store held more items of a gifting nature, like towels, mugs, gardening tools, and other odds and ends for nature lovers. These largely featured bird and butterfly themes. Once the weather was better, I’d move some merchandise out onto the porch during the day and, of course, offer plant varieties popular for attracting wild birds, butterflies, and bees in the front garden.
“As you can see”—I swept my hand along a shoulder-high book-rack—“we have a collection of books and DVDs on birding, from beginner guides to detailed references. Of course, Ruby Lake Town Library also has a fair collection of titles. And though they tend to be older publication dates, most information about birds doesn’t go out of date too fast.”
She gi
ggled. “No, I don’t suppose it’s like computers or something.”
I agreed. I was still holding on to a laptop running Windows 2007. It ran like a dinosaur in a bog, but it ran.
The woman peppered me with questions, then settled on one of the squirrel-proof tube feeders I’d first shown her. She fished out a fat blue wallet from her purse. “You take Visa?” I nodded. She slipped out a card and looked at it. “Oops.” She smiled and slid it back in its slot. “Library card.” She thumbed through her cards some more. “Got it.” She handed over the plastic.
I rang up the woman’s purchase as several more customers spilled through the door. Once the weather warmed and the spring tourist season kicked in, I was hoping things would really pick up. “What happened to that guy who came in earlier?” I wondered aloud. The rain had eased up though the sky was still dirty gray. Sometimes it stayed that way for days.
Kim shrugged, coffee mug at her lips. “Beats me. One minute he was here, the next he was gone.”
“Weird.”
“By the way, you ought to keep the door to the back room closed during the day.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, that guy with the little girl wandered back there by mistake. In fact, I had to stop his daughter from climbing the stairs. You might want to put some sort of rope or chain across the newels during store hours.”
I agreed. We didn’t need customers wandering around in our supply room or upstairs in the apartments. More and more I could see that running a business was all about the details. I just hoped I could keep up with them all.
“Excuse me,” interrupted an elderly woman in a red felt pillbox hat. “Where do you keep the bags for these bins?” She pointed a bent finger toward the Buy-The-Pound sign hanging over the rows of seed bins. I’d made the sign myself with an inexpensive wood-burning tool I’d picked up at Olde Towne Hardware and a piece of scrap oak I’d found lying around downstairs. The previous occupants had left plenty of junk when they’d moved out, and while I’d tried to reuse as much as I could in an effort to keep my start-up expenses down, I’d had to pay to have a good portion of it hauled to the dump. It would have been nice if Gertie Hammer had cleaned the place up before selling it, but then Gertie Hammer wasn’t nice. Still, the long piece of inch-thick white oak had been perfect for my first woodworking project and I was proud of the result.