Cherry Blossom Capers

by Gina Conroy

  Susan took a deep breath then gasped at the pain. “Officer Stanton, I know what I felt. Something pressed against my back before I fell.” And her hair was not red. It was brown with red hightlights. Or else she was changing hair stylists.

  A young policeman came down the stairs and stood respectfully by Officer Stanton.

  “Yes, Stewart? Find anything?” The older man asked.

  “Yes, sir. The second-floor carpet by the stairway has a rip. A good-sized piece of the carpet is sticking up.”

  With a satisfied look, Officer Stanton faced Susan. “There’s your explanation. You most likely tripped over the torn rug, Miss Holland.” He looked pointedly at her three-inch heels.

  Susan frowned. “The only tear I saw on the second-floor carpet was in the bedroom at the end of the west hall.”

  Impatience crossed his face. “Miss Holland, Stewart didn’t imagine the rip by the stairs.” He gave her what was clearly a forced smile. “But if you’d like, I’ll go take a look.”

  She’d like to slap that condescending expression from his face. “But of course you believe I imagined that someone pushed me.”

  “I suspect you dreamed it when you were unconscious. Now why don’t you go to the hospital and get that bump on your head checked out?”

  Fine. She wouldn’t argue with the man and make herself look crazy. But she knew what she’d felt. And she hadn’t dreamed it. “I’m fine, thanks. I have to get back to my shop in Shirlington.” She knew Tonya would be worried. She’d call her before she headed back.

  “All right, then. I have your statement and will file a report. You take care of that bump, though.”

  Officer Stanton left, accompanied by the young police officer.

  Mary clucked her tongue. “Honestly, I wish you’d at least let someone take a look at that knot on your head.”

  “I’m all right, Mary.” She stood and limped slowly to the door. Pain stabbed her hip and rib area. But at least the dizziness was letting up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She slid into her red SUV and grabbed her cell phone, punching in the number of the shop.

  “Coffee, Tea, and Sweets.” Her employee’s voice held a tinge of concern.

  “Tonya, I’m sorry to be so late. I’m on my way. Be there shortly.”

  Before the girl could begin asking questions, Susan said a quick good-bye. She started the car, drove to Highway 50, and headed east, eager to leave Falls Church. Confusion battled in her mind. Was it possible she had imagined the hand on her back? But she remembered it so plainly. No, it happened. She was sure of it. She reached 7 Corners and turned onto King Street. Converging with late afternoon traffic, she drove toward Shirlington.

  She slid into her parking space in front of Coffee, Tea, and Sweets and sighed with relief. As she entered her shop, the friendly jingle of the bell above the door greeted her. She kicked off the heels and found her hip didn’t hurt quite so much without the worry of trying to maintain balance. Blended aromas of exotic coffees and cinnamon rolls tantalized her nostrils as well as her taste buds. She’d forgotten to eat lunch.

  Tonya swept her purple bangs back with one hand and hopped up from the corner table. “Oh, Susan, thank goodness you’re here. Until you called, I was afraid you’d been in a wreck or something.”

  “Sorry. I got tied up Why didn’t you just lock up and go home?”

  “And leave the register full of cash? Uh-uh, I don’t think so. That’s an open invitation to a burglar.” She shook her head; then her eyes widened. “How’d you get that bump on your head?”

  “I took a tumble down a flight of stairs, but I’m okay.” She tossed her handbag onto the countertop.

  “Are you sure? Did you see a doctor?” Tonya’s voice rose several decibels.

  Susan sighed. “No, but I’m fine. You run along home now. You’ve worked long hours today.”

  “All right. If you’re sure.” Tonya grabbed her purse from under the counter. “I’m beat. Conrad and I were swamped this afternoon. Standing room only—people were leaving because the place was packed out. You ought to think about a bigger building.”

  “I know, I know.” Susan waved and went to lock the door behind Tonya, then stepped behind the counter. She opened the register and began counting bills and credit card receipts. Tonya hadn’t exaggerated when she said she and the bus boy had been busy. Maybe it was time to think about a larger building.

  She hurried through closing, wishing she had a bottle of aspirin in the shop. She’d been looking forward to Friday movie night with some of her friends at Cherry Blossom Estates, the town house complex where she lived. If she didn’t feel so rotten, she’d like to run the incident at the mansion by them, but all she wanted to do now was to soak in a hot bath and go to bed with an ice pack on her head. Chances were, they wouldn’t have all been there anyway. Now that they all had men in their lives, it was getting more difficult to find time together. All except her, that is. She sighed. At forty, she’d begun to wonder if she’d ever meet the right guy.

  The ruggedly handsome face of Vince Martinelli filled her mind, but she quickly shoved it away. He’d made it clear when they’d met that day in her neighbor Samantha Steele’s hospital room that he had no intention of getting serious about anyone. Still, he’d come into the shop for coffee several times since then. Just this morning, in fact. He’d told some humorous story then winked at her. Butterflies darted around in her stomach at the memory just as they had then. She quickly got them under control. She wasn’t about to get foolish ideas. He dropped by because she served the best coffee in town. That was all. And, besides, she was doing just fine on her own.

  Chapter 2

  Vince Martinelli signed off on the supply list and handed it back to his foreman. “There you go, Carl. I think I’ll head on home. Tell the crew to be here on time Monday morning. We’ve got a busy week ahead of us.”

  He slid into his truck and sank with relief onto the leather seat. Who’d have thought a truck could be this comfortable? An image of his dad’s old International pickup crossed his mind and he grinned. That old clunker was top of the line when Gramps had bought it, but by the time Vince came along and his dad owned it, it looked and drove like a discarded tank. Today it sat on blocks in his brother Frankie’s garage.

  He glanced in the window of Coffee, Tea, and Sweets as he drove by. Except for the security lights, the place was dark. Of course, idiot. He laughed and shook his head. She wouldn’t be there four hours past closing. Hunger pangs shot through his stomach and he realized he hadn’t eaten since the roll he’d had at the coffee shop midmorning. He grinned at the memory of Susan’s cute little laugh when he’d told some stupid story. And those gorgeous brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when she laughed.

  He shook his head as he pulled up to the drive-through menu board and looked it over, shoving aside the memory of Samantha’s very attractive friend. Just because his nephew Nick Porter had the good sense to propose to Samantha didn’t mean Vince was interested in a relationship. He placed an order for two burgers and a large order of fries, and when the girl at the next window handed him his food, he cast a guilty glance at the warm bag. His cholesterol had been a little high when he’d had his last checkup. Doc told him to go easy on fast food. But the delicious aroma seeping through the bag sent his stomach growling like a junkyard dog. Well, he’d start tomorrow.

  He headed home. Home. Yeah. The town house was nice enough. It was the third place he’d lived since he’d sold the house ten years ago. He thought he’d leave the memories and pain of Elena’s death behind with the house. He hadn’t known pain traveled with you.

  After he moved here six years ago, he finally realized only time could erase the hurt of losing his wife. So he’d stopped running and little by little the grief had receded. That’s when he discovered he could keep the memories without the pain.

  He pulled into his garage and went inside. The first thing his eyes rested on was Elena’s photograph on the table in the
corner. He ran his finger across the glass and sighed. He’d never marry again. What if history repeated itself? He couldn’t go through that pain again. Susan Holland’s smile flashed into his mind. He sighed. Maybe he should go back to Joe’s Diner for his morning coffee.

  Ignoring her aching body, Susan placed three cans of tomato sauce in the cupboard, then opened the refrigerator and plopped a plastic bag with bell peppers into the crisper drawer. She pulled out a chair from the table and sat. It felt good to be off her feet. She probably should eat something, but wasn’t in the mood to dine alone. As she’d expected, all three of her friends had begged off for tonight, so she’d laughed off the knot on her head and they assumed it had happened at the shop.

  The more she thought about her accident at the mansion, the more certain she was. It was no accident. And she was certain the carpet by the stairs hadn’t been torn at all when she fell. But why would anyone want to hurt her? It wasn’t like she’d disturbed a burglar. She’d been leaving when it happened.

  Susan drummed her fingers on the table. The shrill ringing of the phone startled her. She reached for the cordless on the table, answering on the second ring.

  “Hello? This is Susan.”

  “Susan Holland?” The man’s voice was strong and cordial.

  “Yes. How can I help you?” Probably a salesman. She really must remember to get on the no-call list.

  “My name is Victor Gordon. And I might be able to help you.”

  At the jovial turn of his voice, Susan sighed. “Mr. Gordon, I’m not interested in whatever you are selling. Perhaps you should try someone else.”

  He laughed. “I’m not a salesman. To the contrary, I’m a potential buyer.”

  “Buyer? The only thing I sell is coffee. You’ve got me confused with someone else.” Susan made no attempt to hide the impatience that tinged her words.

  “Forgive me. I should have immediately come to the point. I understand you’ve inherited a three-story house that belonged to the late Judge Albert Holland.”

  Susan perked up. “You want to buy the mansion?”

  He hesitated. “Actually, I have been authorized by a third party to acquire it.”

  Now, this was getting interesting. “And who might that third party be?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say at the moment, but I assure you, I’m authorized to offer a substantial sum for the property even though it is in a state of disrepair.” He named a sum that would have sounded like a fortune the day before. Of course, she hadn’t any idea what the going rate for old mansions might be.

  The doorbell chimed.

  “I haven’t decided what I want to do with Uncle Albert’s old home. So I’m afraid I can’t help you at this point.” The bell chimed again. “I need to go. Good-bye.”

  “I’ll call back at a more convenient time.” His voice sounded tense. “In the meantime, please consider my client’s offer. After all, he might decide to lower it.”

  “Good-bye.” Susan slammed down the receiver and hurried to the door. She wasn’t about to sell Jo’s home to someone who wouldn’t reveal his identity.

  She opened the door to see a smiling Tara Whitley standing with a pizza box in one hand and three DVD cases in the other.

  The tall brunette laughed and came inside. “Don’t look so surprised.”

  “What happened to the dinner date with that handsome FBI agent of yours?”

  “Jack got called away and I was left all alone and hungry. I figured you were, too, so I picked us up some dinner.” She held out the DVDs to Susan. “Here, I’ll even let you choose the movie.”

  Susan took the DVDs and grinned. “I have movies.”

  Tara laughed. “Yes, I know. But I’m not in the mood for Casablanca for the millionth time.”

  “I don’t know why you’d think I’d choose Casablanca.” Susan got a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge, trying not to grimace as pain shot through her elbow. Tara took plates and glasses from the cupboard.

  When everything was spread out on the coffee table, Susan glanced through the movies, hardly seeing them.

  “Hey,” Tara said. “I was kidding about the movies. We can watch anything you want since you’re the invalid tonight.”

  Susan bit her lip. “Would you mind if we skip the movie and just talk instead? I could use a little input about something.”

  “Sure. I never turn down a chance to give advice.” Tara reached for a slice of pizza. “What’s going on? Does this have something to do with your uncle’s will? That was today, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Uncle Albert left me everything he owned, including the family mansion that hasn’t been lived in for years.” She stared as Tara popped a slice of pepperoni into her mouth. “I can’t believe a White House chef can sit here and eat pizza as if it’s some delicacy.”

  “Assistant chef,” she reminded. “And who says chefs can’t like pizza? Did you say mansion?”

  “Well, it used to be. I thought it had been sold years ago. The place has been neglected and it shows.”

  “So are you going to restore it or get rid of it?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I haven’t had time to think about it. I did get a call from someone a few minutes ago, wanting to buy it.”

  “Really? That was fast. You only inherited it today.” She frowned. “Doesn’t that seem a little strange?”

  Come to think of it, it was fairly odd. “Yes, and it’s not the only strange thing that happened today.”

  As Susan related her fall down the steps, Tara’s face registered horror. Leaning over, she took Susan’s hand. “You should have said something. You let Ciara, Samantha, and me all think that knot was from a little bump on the forehead at the coffee shop.” Although Ciara Turner, the fourth in their group of friends and neighbors, hadn’t looked too convinced. “Are you all right? Did you get checked out?” Tara asked.

  Susan wished people would stop asking her that. “Yes, I’m fine. No, I didn’t go to the emergency room. I had to get back to the shop and close. I was nearly two hours late when all was said and done, and Tonya was a little worried and straining at the leash to get out of the place.” She laughed then grabbed her ribs.

  “Susan, you aren’t all right. Let me take you to the ER.”

  “I promise I’m okay. Just a little sore in spots.” To prove her point, she got up and touched her toes a couple of times, ignoring the catch in her side. “See? Fit as a fiddle.”

  “All right.” Tara didn’t seem too convinced. “But if the pain doesn’t ease up in a day or two, please get checked.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “So the police didn’t believe you about being pushed?”

  Susan took a deep breath and shook her head. “The officer seemed convinced the blow to my head had confused me. For a while he almost had me convinced, but the more I think about it the more convinced I am that I was pushed. And I’m absolutely certain that section of carpet wasn’t torn at all when I was upstairs. I would’ve noticed.”

  “What are you going to do?” Tara gave her a worried look.

  “For one thing, I’m going back tomorrow to take a look at the carpet and then go through the third-floor rooms.” She gave a short nod. “And while I’m there I’ll keep my eyes open for anything out of the ordinary.”

  “You’re not going through the house alone again, are you?” Consternation crossed her face. “I’d go with you, but Jack and I have appointments all day.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Mary to go upstairs with me. She offered today, but I wanted to be alone.”

  “But how do you know she wasn’t the one who pushed you?”

  “Mary? No, of course it wasn’t her.” Susan paused and bit her lip. “Although she did get there right after I fell, so I guess it is a possibility.” And that look on her face. Susan had forgotten about that. Was it fear? Susan had thought the woman had been afraid that Susan’s injuries might be fatal. But what if that wasn’t it at all? What if she was afraid s
he’d be found out?

  “Maybe she thought if you were out of the way, she wouldn’t lose her home.”

  Susan laughed. “She wouldn’t try to kill me so she wouldn’t have to move. She’d have to be insane.” She shook her head. “Of course, I don’t know her, but she seems nice.”

  “Psychos often seem quite nice. Didn’t you ever hear of the Boston strangler?” Tara pursed her lips and frowned as though in deep thought. “And then there was…”

  “All right, all right. I get your point.” Who else could she take with her? Ciara had said something about an appointment. And Nick was taking Samantha and her children to the zoo.

  Tara put the slice of pizza on a napkin. “Susan, promise me you won’t go there alone.”

  Susan sighed. “You’re right. Maybe I’ll spend the day searching for a new location for Coffee, Tea, and Sweets.”

  Tara grinned. “Maybe you should keep the old mansion and turn it into a B and B. You could have your coffee and tea shop there.”

  “And advertise a resident ghost, I suppose.” Susan laughed and went to get more iced tea.

  Chapter 3

  Susan’s gaze roamed over the three-story redbrick building. Was it as warm and welcoming as it appeared? Or had her memories of family togetherness tinged her judgment? Someone must have agreed with her. This morning she’d received her third offer for the property. And it wasn’t even on the market yet.

  Her heels clicked on the brick walkway, scattering a few newly fallen leaves, as she made her way to the door, a bag filled with pastries and flavored coffee packets in her left arm and her hand fumbling in her pocket for the house key. She stepped onto the white-columned porch.

  “Good morning, Miss Holland.” A slim man with buzzed hair and light blue eyes stood on the sidewalk that wound around the house.

  Susan’s heart pounded and her hand reached for the pepper spray she’d forgotten to stick in her pocket. Who was he and how did he know her name?