by Неизвестный
We reached my vehicle, where I handed Logan the cat so I could punch in the keyless entry code for the door. When I turned back, Jeffrey had his paws around Logan’s neck and was rubbing his whiskered cheek against the man’s beard, as though it was a kitty grooming brush.
“Somebody likes me,” Logan said. “Go easy on the beard, Mr. Kitty.”
“His full name is Mr. Jeffrey Blue.”
“Good to know.” With a formal flair, he added, “I shall henceforth address my landlord by his full title.”
I pried Jeffrey away from his new friend and loaded him into the car. He snaked under the passenger seat. The crime scene investigators had put a makeshift plastic covering over my shot-out rear passenger window. I climbed into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and lowered my window.
“Logan, thanks for everything. Let me know if I can ever repay you.”
“I promise I will.” He patted the roof of my car. “Get out of here now. I’ve got a new spot I like to drive to for the view, so I’m going to head there for a bit. It should give you thirty minutes, more than enough time to get settled before I show up.”
“I understand,” I said. “That’s always so awkward, when you say goodbye to someone and then you see them again right away.”
“Yeah, awkward.” He gave me a flirtatious, sidelong look. “After a night like this, you don’t need to be contending with the likes of me one more time.”
“That would be horrible,” I said.
He patted the roof again, turned and left.
I leaned over to peer under the seat at Jeffrey, who was all eyes in the darkness.
“We’re going home,” I told him. “By the way, I’m adopting you. Any objections?”
He had none. I sat up, clicked my seatbelt on, and started driving us home.
I clicked on the radio. The local station was playing the usual morning routine. I smiled as the joke-cracking host told his tall tales.
“Morning commuters, you’ll want to steer clear of the rush hour traffic in the downtown core. We’ve had some reports of a staggering three-car lineup at the red light by Ruby’s Treasure Trove. Ladies, if you need to check your hair and makeup while you’re driving, that’s what the rear-view mirror is for! You’re listening to the Misty Mountain Man’s Morning Mugga. It’s none of my business what’s in your morning mugga, but you should know mine’s full of herbal tea, brewed with the sparkling clear water of our own Misty Falls, plus a handful of the Mountain Man’s personal stash of special mushrooms. Coming up on the hour, we’ll have news and weather and a report on those late-night fireworks some of you heard last night. Spoiler alert: those weren’t fireworks. Stay tuned through this next song, and don’t you dare change the station!”
When we got home, Jeffrey prowled around his new home with his tail held high. He seemed to understand immediately that everything mine was now his. He trotted from room to room, rubbing his cheeks on anything with a corner.
We didn’t have any cat food yet, but I set out some canned tuna, and he seemed impressed. I already had kitty litter, left behind by the previous homeowners with a note that it was good for absorbing oil spills on the driveway. I used a plastic storage bin to set up facilities for Jeffrey, and then I brushed my teeth.
The cool-white sun of a winter morning was now streaming in the windows. I considered brewing a pot of coffee and staying up, but I couldn’t stop yawning.
I heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. I checked the time. I’d been home for exactly thirty minutes.
I walked down the hall toward my bedroom. The bed was crisply made with fresh sheets, and the room itself was welcoming. After being away for a few days, I appreciated all my things even more. I hadn’t taken much time to decorate, or even paint the walls anything other than eggshell cream, but the duplex had a vintage style I found comfortable.
I slipped off the bathrobe, tossed it in the hamper, and changed into a favorite pair of soft pajamas.
“Time for bed,” I called to Jeffrey.
He came running and jumped up on the bed, as though he’d understood every word.
“You can stay up if you want,” I said. “I was just letting you know that I’m going to bed.”
He gave me two slow blinks as he softened up my pillow with his front paws.
“That’s my side,” I said.
He stretched and settled down in the center of my pillow.
“Fine,” I sighed. “I guess I can make some allowances for the new man in my life.”
I walked around to the other side of the bed, pulled back the duvet, and climbed in. I set the alarm clock on my bedside table for five hours because I didn’t want to miss the entire day. I lay my head down, facing my newly adopted Russian Blue cat.
“Jeffrey, I have to ask you a question. Are you afraid of big spiders?”
In response, he yawned. His yawn crossed the species barrier and made me yawn, too.
I wondered, was Logan also drifting off to sleep in his bed on the other side of the wall? How would Jessica react when I told her everything? And what would Ruby and the other Secret Tea Room Ladies say?
Jeffrey reached out and gently bopped me on the nose.
“Sleepy time,” I said.
He let out an adorable cat-sigh and curled up fetchingly on the pillow. I curled my arm around him.
Sleepiness rolled up like a comfortable blanket of fog. My limbs grew heavy and warm. The tension I’d been holding for days in my neck and shoulders melted away.
I closed my eyes and started to drift.
Chapter 46
ONE WEEK LATER
Our Christmas-themed centerpieces were disappearing from the gift shop faster than we could unbox more.
“You’re a magnificent salesperson,” I told my employee during a quiet break, when it was only the two of us in the store.
“This is all you, Boss,” Brianna said. “Everyone’s coming in to see the person who single-handedly solved the town’s most notorious murder.”
“But once they get in the door, you’re the one who directs their energies toward purchasing home decor items and gifts.”
Brianna smiled. “That’s my job.” She tidied up the display of napkins and napkin rings. “How are things going with your tenant these days?”
“Logan paid his December rent on time,” I said.
“And?”
“And give it some time, girl! We thirty-somethings are not like you twenty-somethings. Some of us have a few city miles on our hearts, plus the baggage to go with it.”
Brianna gave me one of her sassy looks. “Well, when he does get around to doing something cute, you’ll have to let me know. I always need material for my webcomic.”
I shook my finger at her. “You leave me out of your webcomic.”
She gave me half a shrug as she continued tidying up the displays.
A minute later, Brianna asked, “Remind me again, who was the guy you saw taking photos next door to your father’s?”
“That was my real estate agent’s husband, Michael Sweet. He must have run off because he was embarrassed about moving in like a vulture, planning to pick the house up cheap at auction and flip it.”
“You should buy the house,” Brianna said.
“And live next door to my father?”
“Or flip it,” she said.
“I’ll suggest it to my father as a project for him. At the very least, we can put in a bid and make sure Michael Sweet pays market value.” I rubbed my chin and considered the idea for a minute. The property value was depressed due to the hoarded contents, not to mention being the site of a homicide. Then again, scooping up an investment the Sweets had an eye on would put the three of us on adversarial ground, and I liked working with his wife.
I found it funny that investments in Misty Falls were no less complicated than the deals I’d overseen at Fairchild Capital.
Brianna interrupted my thoughts. “I saw Chip yesterday,” she said.
“Who?”
> “The mail carrier who works in your father’s neighborhood. The big guy who wears shorts all winter.” She held up a sunset-hued napkin. “He wasn’t quite this shade of orange, but his skin is showing signs of excess beta-carotene consumption. Since he’s my second-cousin, I figured I was within my rights to talk to him about it. He says he’s lost twenty pounds on his mostly-carrot diet, but he’s going to switch things up before he gets as orange as those things in the movie. Oompa Loompas.”
“He’d make a great Oompa Loompa,” I said. “You could put him in your webcomic.”
She quirked one eyebrow. “What makes you think I haven’t already?”
The door chimed, and Jessica came in. She pointed to my elbow, which was resting on a display rack. “Stormy, if you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to get a coffee. Come on, it’s my treat.”
I turned to Brianna, who said, “Go! Get out now while it’s quiet. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“I’ll bring you back a mocha,” I promised.
“You’re spoiling me, Boss.” She held open the door and waved us out.
On the sidewalk, Jessica gave me a hug. Her bright red hair smelled of fresh cinnamon buns.
“Do you think you can handle House of Bean today?” she asked. “Chad’s working today.”
“Perfect,” I said. “There’s something I need to do.”
Jessica sighed, probably imagining the worst.
We walked into House of Bean. Chad took one look at me, and rather than puffing up like a pufferfish, he deflated. Waving one limp arm, he muttered, “Good morning,” with none of his usual enthusiasm.
“Hi Chad,” I said. “May we please have two of your fine Teeny Weenie Beanie Steamers? Mountain size. And a Choco Loco Hobo Mocha in a takeout cup.”
Chad’s eyes flitted between my face and Jessica’s. “Are you sure?” He pointed to a can of sign-painter’s paint on a counter by the wall behind him. “I’ve been thinking that our coffee names are too creative, and I was just about to change them.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said. “People can get a vanilla latte at any chain coffee shop, anywhere in the country, and it’s exactly the same. What makes Misty Falls special isn’t just the mountains and the beautiful four seasons, it’s the people and all the details. Please don’t change anything. I’m the one who needs to change, and that’s why I moved here. It would defeat the purpose if the things I did changed the town to be any different from how it is now, which is perfect.”
Chad blinked. “Perfect?”
“Don’t change a thing,” I said.
He eyed me with suspicion as he prepared our beverages.
Jessica paid, and we took our seats at a corner table, where Jessica asked, “What you said to Chad, did you mean it?”
“Absolutely.” I took a sip of my Teenie Weenie Beanie Steamer and smiled. “I’m embracing small-town life, as of right now. This whole adventure I’ve had has given me a lot of perspective. People get so worked up about what others are going to think or say about them. Pam didn’t want people to know about the breakup. Creepy Jeepers wouldn’t tell the truth about his wedding band because he was worried about rumors. And I’ve spent way too much energy getting upset over the rumors people tell about me. From now on, I’m just going to be grateful that people talk about me because I’m part of something, part of this town.”
She nodded slowly. “So, you don’t mind that people say you walked away from billions of dollars?”
“It’s more interesting than the truth,” I said. “I did work in venture capital, and I was responsible for investing large sums of money in startup companies, but it was never my money. Fairchild Capital wasn’t even an angel investor. We used other people’s money to finance investments using a pool of money. The profit got reinvested or paid out to the investors. It never went to me, Stormy Day. Sure, there were some bonuses, and I did get paid nicely, but I would have gotten the same working for any other large company.”
She smiled. “Since you’re not rich, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re lucky.”
I laughed. “And don’t forget smart,” I added.
She nodded solemnly. “And good looking.”
“Not to mention humble.”
“So humble,” she agreed.
“Cheers to that.” I clinked my coffee mug against hers.
* * *
Author's note: Thanks for reading Stormy Day Book 1, Death of a Dapper Snowman. If you love what you’ve read so far...
Stormy Day Book 2, DEATH OF A CRAFTY KNITTER, is available now!.
Stormy Day Mystery Series
(Links go to Amazon)
Book 1 - Death of a Dapper Snowman
Book 2 - Death of a Crafty Knitter
Book 3 - Death of a Batty Genius
Book 4 - Death of a Modern King
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