Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  Lindsey’s face paled, and her eyes widened. “You’re getting married? That’s gross.”

  “Why, because of my age?” Mom stopped dancing.

  “Well, yeah.”

  Mom planted a kiss on Lindsey’s head. “You are the best. But don’t worry about me. You’re never too old for love and there’s no age limit on marriage. You’ll see when you get older.” She straightened and speared me with a glance. “So, why are we really throwing a party?”

  “To see if anyone shows up in a Clinton mask.” Lindsey unwrapped her granola bar. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re moving into the guest house. You’ll want your privacy. Doing … you know … gross things.”

  Mom laughed. “You’re a hoot. I’m looking forward to those gross things, you’re talking about. But, I don’t think anyone is going to show up looking like the ex-president. Especially, if they’re guilty of our recent crime spree. Thank the Lord we don’t have a murderer running loose. The party ought to be fun. I’ll get started on a menu right away. I wish there was time to have it catered. I’ll be cooking all day Saturday.”

  “Go to the warehouse store. Cold cuts will do fine.” I gulped the last of my coffee. “I’m going to work. Lindsey?”

  “I’m going to help Grandma. I might as well spend time with her before Leroy steals her away.”

  My daughter the drama queen. Of course my heart drooped a bit, too. It’d been the three Calloway women for the last five years. Although I didn’t begrudge my mother her second chance at love and happiness, I would miss not having to share her. Widowed for ten years, I’d gotten use to not having my own man around. After all, my father had been alive for ten of those years. Anything I needed, he took care of. Now, seeing my mother’s happiness, I wanted some for myself.

  Duane’s face loomed in my mind. Could he be my second chance?

  I grabbed my purse and headed outside to my car. Bruce’s squad car streaked by, sirens wailing. That didn’t happen often in River Valley. I tossed my purse through my open window, yanked the door open, then slid inside as fast as possible. This might be something I didn’t want to miss. When the ambulance roared by, I was certain.

  Within seconds, I sped down the road after the whirling red lights. Tires squealed as we careened around corners, and I gripped the steering wheel tight enough to whiten my knuckles. My cell phone rang. Who’d be calling me at a time like this? I frowned and ignored it.

  Our little convoy whipped through town and toward the outskirts. Fortunately, there was very little traffic at 7:30 in the morning so less chance of me crashing into something. A NASCAR driver I wasn’t. By the time we pulled up in front of Kyle Anderson’s house, sweat poured down my face, and my hands were frozen in position around the steering wheel.

  I groaned and peeled my fingers free, then shut off the ignition. Bruce and another policeman, hands on the butt of their weapons, approached the house at a snail’s pace. The medics waited outside their vehicle.

  Within seconds of entering Kyle’s house, Bruce led a handcuffed woman outside and escorted her to his squad car. I chewed the inside of my cheek. How could I find out what was going on here? I slid from my car and approached one of the medics.

  “Who is that?”

  The man shrugged without looking at me. “Karen Anderson. Kyle’s sister.”

  I glanced toward the dark-haired woman. So, she wasn’t dead. Even through the tinted glass of Bruce’s car I could tell her shoulders shook with sobs. “Why did they handcuff her?”

  “We got a call fifteen minutes ago that said Kyle Anderson was dead. I’m assuming Bruce thinks she’s the murderer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kyle’s sister was back in town? How could I find out where she’d been? Her tear-streaked face beckoned me from the backseat of the squad car. She might be the first viable clue in this whole case. “Was she the one who called the police?”

  The medic shrugged and moved toward the house. “Maybe you should speak with Bruce. I’ve already said more than I should have.”

  Bruce marched to another officer, leaving Karen Anderson alone. The door to the squad car remained open as a special invitation. Before I had time to think of the ramifications if I were caught, I headed her way.

  “No comment.” She lifted her head long enough to glare at me. Dark circles ringed eyes the color of dark mud. A pasty complexion, covered with an oily sheen, gave me the impression the woman indulged in activities not recommended by health officials. I felt greasy just standing next to her.

  “I’m not with the press.” I squatted and hoped it would make me harder to see. The last thing I wanted was for Bruce to haul me away before I had the opportunity to ask questions.

  “My name is Marsha Steele. I’m co-owner of Gifts from Country Heaven.” If the uncomprehending look on Karen’s face was any indication, I was going about this wrong. I took a deep breath and decided to dive in with both feet. “A lot of things have been happening in this town. Things missing. Accidents. My daughter has been blamed for a couple of them. Kyle told anyone who’d listen. . .” I peeked over the door frame. Bruce glanced my way. Better hurry. “That he was missing a chunk of money, and you took it.”

  “I did take it. But only to help get me back on my feet.” Karen sagged against the back of the seat. “I didn’t kill my brother. Believe it or not, I came back to repay some of what I’d taken. He’s lying in his kitchen with a hammer in the back of his head. Next to him is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Who would do something like that?”

  Who indeed? “I’m going to try and find something out. Do you mind if I visit you in jail?”

  Karen shrugged. “Sure. No one else will.”

  I dashed back to my car before Bruce started yelling. He might be on the scrawny side, but there wasn’t anything wrong with his volume, and I didn’t need the whole town knowing I was digging into the mystery. Behind the steering wheel, I watched as they wheeled Kyle’s body out of the house. What was happening in this town? Lord, I’m a little frightened, I’ve got to be honest. Sharon’s death appeared to be an accident, but what if it wasn’t? What if the thief had progressed to out-and-out murder? I shivered and turned the key in the ignition.

  Maybe a gun, a Tazer, and a big dog wouldn’t be enough protection. This “criminal” seemed to float in and out of homes and businesses leaving no trace.

  My mind flitted toward thoughts of God, then skittered away. I knew I needed to be more regular in attending church and stop letting myself get roped into any job that kept me out of the sanctuary, but sometimes the sermons made me uncomfortable. And I was totally into comfort. Could I ask for His protection even if I didn’t step foot into His house regularly?

  My cell phone rang. I jumped and reached for it.

  “Marsha.” Duane said my name with his husky drawl, and I almost forgot what I’d been thinking about. “Where are you?”

  “Actually, I’m sitting outside Kyle Anderson’s house watching the paramedics wheel his dead body away.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Kyle is dead. I was wondering whether the weapons I bought are going to be enough against the murderer. Maybe I should’ve bought a bigger gun.”

  “How do you know Kyle was murdered?”

  “Because his sister, she found the body and Bruce arrested her, said Kyle had a hammer sticking out of his head. Clearly someone hit him with it, Duane. It’s not an accident that frequently happens to people: hitting themselves in the back of the head with a tool.”

  “And you just happened to be at Kyle’s house as all of this went down?” I could almost hear him shaking his head. “Meet me at the gift shop in ten minutes.” Click.

  I backed the car out of Kyle’s yard and headed to work. Duane waited outside the door, arms crossed, and a scowl on his handsome face. With his jeans, cowboy boots, and tee shirt, he ought to grace the cover of Manly Magazine. Providing he wore a smile of course. What did I do now?

  Shutting off the engine, I smiled at
Duane through the window using all the feminine wiles I wished I had better control over, but didn’t. A certain pout on my lips that Marilyn had. Or a sexy swing to my hips. Instead, I possessed a crooked smile and all the grace of a drunken elephant. Duane crooked an eyebrow and motioned his head toward the door. Fine, be all serious.

  I grabbed my purse and slid from the Prius. “What’s up?”

  “Wait until we get inside, please. No need to alert the town to what Marsha Calloway Steele is up to now.” Duane pushed the door open after I unlocked it and let me enter first. “I don’t want you getting involved, Marsha.”

  “I’m already involved, remember?” I stashed my purse behind the counter and chose not to act like I didn’t know what he talked about. Pretending would only prolong the inevitable. “When they accused Lindsey of stealing, they practically shouted for me to get involved.”

  “We’re talking about something a lot more serious now.” Duane’s brow furrowed. “I doubt they will accuse Lindsey of murdering Kyle. Hopefully, his death will clear her of the theft charges. I want you to butt out. This is too big for you.”

  “But I’m not doing anything.”

  “Following a police car to a crime scene is doing something.”

  Good grief. How did he find out about me doing that? I plopped in a chair. Bruce must have called Duane. Big tattle-tale. “I’m trying to clear Lindsey’s name. I agree today probably took care of that. But what if the events aren’t related? My gut tells me they are, though.” I smiled up at him. “Are we having a fight? Because, this would be our second since we got back together.”

  “Not yet. But if you continue, we might.”

  “Are you coming over tonight?”

  “Changing the subject?” The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Is it working?” I hoped his smile warmed my inside for the rest of my life.

  He nodded. “We’ll talk later. I’ll bring pizza for dinner and an action flick this time. You owe me after that sappy chick flick the other night.” Duane leaned and kissed my forehead then patted my curls. “I like your head and don’t want to see any foreign objects hanging from your skull.”

  Him and me both. “I’ll see you later.”

  Once the door closed behind him, I rummaged in my purse for the list of suspects. I now had a name for Kyle’s sister, but seriously doubted she was behind the crimes. Sharon Weiss fell and hit her head while clearly waiting for someone. My cheeks warmed as I remembered the lingerie she’d been wearing. Kyle Anderson. . .well, I needed to get inside his house. Sure, he most likely didn’t hit himself in the head, but maybe I’d notice a clue the police missed. How much trouble could I get in if I went back after dark? A lot. I sighed. This was impossible. Duane would never agree to my crazy scheme.

  I shoved the notebook back in my purse then situated myself behind the sewing machine and angled to get a clear view out the store window. In a true snooping fashion, I planned on making notes of everyone I saw today and the times they appeared. Just in case something happened. With Kyle’s murder, there was sure to be an uproar of excitement in town, guaranteeing a flurry of activity on our one major street. If I got really lucky, people would waltz in to chat.

  Within the hour, Lynn sauntered into the store with a plate of cookies. She wasn’t someone I expected to see in the middle of the day. When school wasn’t in session, she stayed busy tutoring students in preparation for the new academic year.

  “Gifts from a friend.” She set them on the counter.

  I eyed them suspiciously. “Seems like every time I eat a cookie, I fall asleep with my eye open.” What was with the people of this town always bringing food when they visited? No wonder I needed to lose weight.

  “Maybe you have a sugar problem.” Lynn bit into one then brushed crumbs from her lap. “A little birdie told me you’re trying to solve the case of River Valley’s missing items.”

  “Duane’s a stool pigeon.”

  Lynn laughed. “He wants me to talk some sense into you. I told him it was a wasted effort. Any sense you might have had at one time has been all used up.”

  “Ha ha.” I tied off the thread on the doll pattern I finished. “I’m missing something, Lynn. Something obvious. Something right in front of my face. Have you noticed how off the wall some of these robberies have been? Like the Chihuahuas, for example. Or Harvey’s wallet. Not a lot of money at a time. What does that tell you?”

  “That someone wants money, and they don’t care about the amount. It all adds up in the end.” She helped herself to another of the cookies she’d brought.

  I tossed the empty doll body on to the counter and reached for the last one. Marilyn, boyfriend stealer slash dog walker pranced by the window. A bag hung low over her shoulder. Sticking out of it was the miniscule head of a Chihuahua puppy. I jumped out of my chair fast enough to send it careening into the wall behind me. Lynn stared open mouthed as I dashed out the door.

  “Marilyn!”

  “Hi, Marsha.” Red lips parted over startling white teeth.

  “New puppy?”

  “It’s not mine. I’m taking it for a walk, but the poor thing’s barely old enough to walk more than a few feet without getting tired. So, I guess that makes me more of a puppy sitter.” She swung the bag around and opened it wider. “Want to see him? He’s adorable.”

  “Who does he belong to?” I peeked at the tiny rat of a dog.

  “He’s Melvin’s. The silly man said he wanted a dog that could ride on his lawnmower. It’ll be a pity when he runs over the tiny thing.”

  That didn’t make a pretty picture. I chewed my inner cheek. “Are there any more in the litter?”

  Marilyn shook her head. “Melvin said he got the last one. At a discount too. There were four in the litter to start with.”

  Not an uncommon litter amount for a small breed. “Oh, well. I doubt Cleo would take to another dog anyway. Thanks.”

  She pushed the puppy back into place and sashayed on her way. What were the odds the tiny mutt once belonged to Gloria? The woman couldn’t be the only breeder in the near vicinity, could she? I made a mental note to check with Melvin on where he’d gotten his dog. Maybe I could hire him to mow the yard. That’d make him happy enough to talk.

  I went back inside. Lynn rocked back and forth in one of the rockers. I’d actually expected her to be sleeping with her eyes open. Everyone else seemed to after eating cookies. “Hope you’re free Saturday night. Lindsey and I are throwing Mom and her fiancé a masquerade engagement party.”

  “That’s great! I hoped your mom would find someone else to love.”

  “Leroy’s a great guy.”

  “That’s unusual, though.” She stopped rocking.

  “What? The engagement or the party?”

  “The theme of the party. Usually engagement parties are more upscale than a masquerade, but then we are talking about you, aren’t we?” Lynn rose. “I’ll be there. Enjoy the cookies. I made them myself. They’re your favorite. Cherry chocolate chunk.” She grinned and stepped into the summer sunshine.

  My friend was evil personified. I reached for the plate.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Saturday morning dawned bright and muggy. The ceiling fan in my new cottage bedroom barely stirred the breeze, and I lay in a sodden tangle of blankets. I tossed the sheet off my body and made a mental note to have the air conditioner serviced.

  A hot drink did not sound appealing on this sweltering day. Instead of my usual coffee, I reached for a diet cola from the refrigerator and toasted a couple slices of bread into the toaster. The clock on the wall read six a.m. Why did yard sales start at such an ungodly hour?

  Mom honked outside. I grabbed my purse, meager breakfast, and sprinted to her boat of a car.

  “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss all the good stuff.” She glared. Apparently the engagement bloom didn’t apply to mornings, or maybe just not me.

  “What could you possibly need?” I clicked the seatbelt across my lap. “W
hy buy someone else’s junk? I got rid of boxes of stuff you never used anymore. You’d better not buy back our own discards.”

  “It’s for a good cause.” She stepped on the gas. The car roared from the driveway and growled down Mountain View Street, daring any other vehicle to get in its way. If the army drove tanks designed like my mom’s Cadillac, they wouldn’t have to be afraid of land mines or air missiles. Traveling dignitaries could barrel their way through enemy lines.

  I laid my head against the seat and wished for my pillow top mattress. Exhaustion hovered, and I yawned wide enough to pop my jaw.

  Yesterday had been spent finishing up orders at work, sending Lindsey to post fliers advertising the party, and getting nowhere on solving the crimes. Not a single person, other than Lynn, had strolled through the store’s doors. Obviously they were saving their cash for the yard sale.

  While a pleasant diversion from my mundane life, I wasn’t cut out to be a detective. Procrastination became my greatest enemy. I still hadn’t visited the jail or hired Melvin to cut the grass. Plus, I had a strong suspicion Lindsey snuck out again last night. If I could get out of bed and follow her, I might gather a clue. At least to what she was up to.

  Mom perked up at the sight of our destination. Stephanie’s yard swarmed with eager bargain seekers. She stood behind a folding table with a metal cash box in front of her and dollar signs in her eyes. I sighed and followed Mom from the car. Mom scurried forward and joined a group of women surrounding a table full of cookbooks and knick knacks. I rolled my eyes. Mom already had more dust catchers than ten people needed.

  It looked like the entire town came out to support Stephanie in her quest to adopt a child from south of the border. Melvin searched greasy engine parts, Marilyn browsed a rack of evening gowns, Billy dug through a box of odds and ends, Mom moved on to dishes, and I stood staring at the minimum of twenty others caught up in the thrill of discovering a “Good Deal”. With such excitement in the air, I should at least make a pretense of looking interested. Maybe by keeping my ears peeled, I’d learn something, or find a deal I couldn’t live without.