Cat Killed A Rat (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 1)

by ReGina Welling

  The jelly went into a canvas bag along with several books that EV intended to drop off in the borrow boxes along the way.

  Someone’s brainchild over the years, the borrow boxes were one of EV’s favorite Ponderosa Pines innovations. Perched atop a post, each box boasted a peaked roof and glass door to keep out rain and snow. In summer, the boxes contained books for trade. Townspeople were welcome to select a book as long as they replaced it with another. In winter, the boxes contained knitted hats, mittens, and scarves—no trade required. Priscilla and her knitting group stocked the boxes every couple of days.

  Armed with her bag of goodies, EV stepped out into the baking heat where sweat immediately beaded on her brow. It was the kind of day where you had to make your own breeze. So instead of the leisurely stroll she had been planning, EV lifted her bike down from where it hung on a pair of hooks screwed into the ends of the logs that made up the walls of her home.

  A short time later, she wheeled into Sabra’s yard and prepared herself for the inevitable attack. She didn’t have long to wait before the ugliest pug dog in town raced across the yard to bark at her.

  “Hush up, Mugly Pugington; I’m wise to your act.” The dog grinned up at her with crooked teeth poking over his top lip. Chase the Bike was his favorite game, though since he only had one good sprint in him, it never lasted long enough for him to ever catch one. Take now, for instance, he had already waddled off to fall over, panting, into the grass where he waited for EV to come give his soft, pink belly a scratch.

  Having heard the barking, Sabra stepped onto the porch. She was a woman of substance and plenty of it. Salt and pepper hair flowed down her back and over a pair of watermelon-sized bosoms clad in a tank top so tight EV could see the floral pattern of her bra poking through the material. Based on other things poking through the material, the thick, rammed-earth walls of her place were doing their job and keeping the interior of her house nice and cool.

  “Come in out the heat. Homemade root beer?”

  “Always.” Sabra’s brew was like heaven in a glass: deep, dark, and rich with a scent that could make an angel sing. At the first sip from the frosted mug, foam tickled EV’s nose; sighing with pleasure, she reached into her bag to pull out the jelly.

  “Ooh, is that…”

  “Crabapple jelly.” It might have been a bribe, but EV couldn’t help finding satisfaction in Sabra’s obvious delight at the gift.

  While the exteriors of the adjacent B&Bs were eerily similar, the interiors couldn’t be more different. Stuccoed walls painted a pristine white to reflect more light was Lottie’s choice for every room while, here, Sabra had chosen earthier colors like a mustard-like ocher and terra cotta for the walls to play up the variations in texture. Shelves and tables with chunky legs in dark walnut contrasted perfectly against their warm tones.

  Between the banks of solar panels mounted on the roof, several skylights delivered plenty of natural light—always a concern when using extra thick walls to maintain energy efficiency. Sabra had also added a few recessed lights whose beams were directed toward the shelves that housed her bottle collection.

  The woman must spend all her free time polishing glass, judging by the way each bottle sparkled in the light. Still, the jeweled colors really were beautiful additions to an already pleasing room.

  “Quite the to-do the other night, eh?” As always, gossip was a give-and-take thing which meant Sabra was just as eager to get EV’s opinion on recent events as EV was to get hers.

  “I know, right?”

  “I noticed a certain married someone watching Evan very closely during the meeting?”

  “Who?” And how did I miss that? EV wondered.

  “Ever seen a cougar on the prowl? The human variety, I mean.”

  EV waved a hand for Sabra to continue but knew, from way-too-satisfied look on her face, the other woman was not going to spill the details, “Let’s just say the feline in question is barely out of the kitten stage, and I’m thinking he might have been willing meat.”

  “Evan has been known to do some prowling of his own.”

  “Well, there was a vibe between them, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t one-sided. Feel sorry for her husband, though. I don’t think he has a clue his wife was giving some other man the side eye.” Astute though she was, EV knew she had dropped the ball by being so preoccupied with trying to parse out Evan’s ulterior motives she lost track of the nuances going on around her.

  “What do you think about this whole Gilmore scheme?”

  “Worst idea in history. No, second worst behind Evan Plunkett becoming mayor of anything. Can you just imagine? First thing he’d do is put up a statue of himself in the middle of town.”

  Wrinkling up her nose at the thought of that preening jackass being immortalized in stone, or worse, in bronze, EV nodded her agreement. Even with heavy campaigning, the list of people who would support Evan in his bid for office was minimal at best. Most had come here to escape forms of town government that hinged on the opinions of the few over the good of the many.

  Funny, though, how some of those who, upon arrival in Ponderosa Pines, were most vocal about wanting a committee-style system; but then went completely off the deep end when that same committee decided against something they wanted. But that was only human nature, she supposed.

  Mind wandering, she missed most of the story Sabra was telling about Lottie’s latest lodger.

  A smirk flirted across Sabra’s face, “Lottie nearly had a hemorrhage,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “ if you ask me, I think her whole problem is she could use a little romp in the sheets.”

  Even if she agreed with Sabra on that score, EV would never admit it out loud. There was a fine line, for her, between harmless gossip and the spiteful kind. Okay, so it was a hair-thin line and moved around a lot—depending on who she was with—but still, Sabra and Lottie were rivals and agreeing with Sabra now was too much like taking sides

  After being quizzed for about the hundredth time about her mother’s secret jelly ingredient, EV took her leave and pedaled back to the Mudbucket for a cup of coffee and a bit of eavesdropping.

  The place was nearly deserted when EV settled into her usual spot—the table in the far corner, nearest the kitchen. When young Rhonda Erickson served her an iced coffee with a double shot of caramel alongside a turkey club sandwich, EV cast a calculating eye over her figure.

  Sure enough, Chloe had been right. Mrs. Erickson was expecting. If the slight thickening of her middle hadn’t been enough, there was the telltale puffiness around her face and neck that often signaled a woman approaching the middle of her second trimester.

  “Sit down, Rhonda. Looks like those ankles of yours could use a rest.”

  “But Mr. Burnsoll needs a refill.”

  “You sit right here and let me take care of Dalton.” Before Rhonda knew what hit her, she was seated at the table, and EV was behind the counter, “decaf or regular?”

  “Decaf,” his grin was a mile wide as he gave her the once-over. Not in a lecherous way, but in an I-like-what-I-see kind of way. The corners of his eyes crinkled when she bristled under his gaze.

  Debating whether to pour decaf in his cup or in his lap, EV snapped, “Eyes to yourself, mister.” She refilled his cup.

  Newly divorced—and that was a story EV intended to learn more about, though, so far, he had kept hush on the details—Dalton had used the opportunity to make more than a few new life choices. The first had been to sell this very establishment to the Ericksons. He’d recently gotten himself a new job and now, it looked as though he might be ready to start dating again.

  Taller than her by a couple inches, Dalton’s love of hiking kept him physically fit. Thick, dark hair curled softly at his collar with only touches of gray at the temples giving away his age. Dark eyes framed by a few crinkling laugh lines gazed at her with the barest hint of a twinkle.

  He was a good looking man, a pleasant man, but totally not her type if she had a type, wh
ich she did not.

  “Can’t help it; you’re a fine figure of a woman, Emmalina.”

  Now she regretted not dumping the coffee in his lap.

  “EV.”

  “EV,” his voice was a caress.

  “You’re not my type, Dalton. Give it a rest.”

  “I could be if you give me half a chance.”

  That this was nothing short of truth had exactly the opposite effect Dalton intended. EV froze, tension tightening her spine, setting her back teeth on edge. Before she could stop it, her imagination went on a flight of fancy; the two of them holding hands, snuggling in front of a roaring fire, growing older together. Admitting she needed or wanted any of these things set up shrieking alarms in her head. EV’s mental doors slammed shut with a resounding thunk. Letting Dalton in? Worst idea in history. Admitting the possibility she might want to? Never.

  “Never going to happen. I’ve seen you in diapers, remember?” Dalton was another second generation resident. His folks were among the few remaining original commune members, so he and EV had grown up together. In fact, they’d been more like brother and sister until puberty hit and he’d begun to look at her differently. She had deflected him then, and she would deflect him now.

  And she would admit to no one, not even Chloe, how his flirting made her feel vital again.

  “Yeah? I’ve seen you in nothing at all.”

  “We were kids, and you said you wouldn’t peek before I had a chance to get into the water.”

  “I was a hormone infested twelve-year-old and I lied.” Without regret, it seemed.

  She scorched him with a look before returning to her seat, her sandwich, and maybe a little gossip.

  At the first bite of soft, yeasty bread filled with sliced turkey, she closed her eyes and made yummy noises, “Tell David this is a tiny taste of heaven. I’m glad you two decided to expand the menu.”

  “He makes his own aioli.” Rhonda paused, a frown marring her pretty face. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Too busy eating to answer, EV waved her sandwich to indicate Rhonda should go ahead.

  “Do you really own the whole town and only let in people who will do whatever you tell them?”

  EV nearly choked on a piece of turkey while, behind her, a guffaw burst from Dalton.

  “What the… What?” EV’s haste in swallowing the bite of sandwich had her gulping water to wash it down. She turned to a red-faced Dalton, “Giggling like that isn’t very manly. Get hold of yourself.” He snorted and kept laughing.

  “Okay,” Rhonda nodded. “I didn’t think so, but I had to ask.” Raising her voice, she called out toward the kitchen, “Did you hear that, David? I told you it was a load of hooey.”

  “Let me guess, Evan Plunkett.”

  There was no need for Rhonda to affirm EV’s guess, the answer was written all over her face. “I’m sorry for repeating such…”

  “A load of steaming crap?” EV finished the sentence with a twinkle in her eye. She had to give it to Rhonda, the younger woman had guts and, from what she could see, a sense of humor. “He’s only partly right: my family did own the entire town at one time and, technically, they—we—still own a great deal of land here. If you’ve read the town charter and history, everything you need to know about my family and their role in Ponderosa Pines is laid out, in black and white.”

  “I’d just hate for anything to change. We haven’t lived here all that long, but we love this place, just the way it is. I don’t think we would want to stay if Ponderosa Pines becomes part of Gilmore.”

  How many others would feel the same?

  Chapter 7

  Parked in front of the church where Luther was working, Evan’s stomach clenched then tossed up a wash of acid when he saw the now familiar handwriting scrawled across the third envelope in the pile of mail he’d tossed onto his passenger seat earlier. Whoever had his nuts in the wringer must be fully connected because it had only been two days since the town meeting, and it took at least a day to get mail here from Gilmore.

  He’d failed; Evan knew that as he raked a hand through his hair with short, angry strokes until it stood uncharacteristically on end. He’d figured EV would kick up a ruckus, which was why he had tried to work around her by setting up a meeting with the selectmen first. When they hadn’t gone for the plan, he saw no other choice than to lay it out at the quarterly meeting. He should have known that nothing much went on in Ponderosa Pines without her knowledge. Knocking her down a peg or two while she watched some of her iron-fisted control slip away was nearly as big a draw as getting out of the tight spot he was in.

  Being blackmailed into convincing the townspeople of Ponderosa Pines to throw in and combine their town with neighboring Gilmore had not seemed like much of a hardship since it dovetailed nicely with his deepest desire: to launch a political career by becoming mayor. Total win-win, really. His mind spun out the fantasy—Ponderosa Pines citizens would jump on the opportunity to be annexed by the larger town. Then, in order to maintain some feeling of control, they would wield their voting power to slap his butt in the mayor’s office where he could finally take Miss Holier Than Thou Torrence off her high horse and, as an added bonus, make the blackmail go away.

  He knew high and mighty EV thought he was all about the money, but she was wrong. He had plans for Ponderosa Pines. Once he was in a position of authority, and had the blackmailer off his back, he could work toward opening up the middle of town, let in a smaller chain store or two, take some of the tax burden off the community and provide jobs.

  Before it was all over, he’d be considered a genius, a benevolent benefactor even. They’d erect a statue of him in the center of town. He’d be the man who saved this godforsaken hole of a planned community from itself.

  Evan was still basking in that daydream when his brother walked out the door and headed toward his truck.

  “You’re going to finish here by tomorrow, right?”

  “Probably not. I’d need two guys to help, but I got all the workers over in Emerson digging holes to pour footings for that addition. Can’t ask them to work all day and all night, too.”

  Luther hefted a small stack of trim molding over one shoulder, nearly slapping his brother in the head with it as he turned to go back inside.

  Clamping down on the urge to punch his own sibling, Evan merely pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers to relieve the tension headache that threatened to settle there.

  “It’s not a paying job; I gotta keep my guys on the paying work or I don’t make no money.” The whine in Luther’s tone grated on Evan’s nerves.

  “Then do it yourself. Just get it done by end of day tomorrow. I got another blackmail letter today, and I need as many chips as I can cash in with the board before the referendum meeting in a few days. This needs to go in my favor or I’m toast. With that witch against me, I’m screwed unless I can line up the selectmen on my side. And that’s never going to happen unless you do your part.”

  “I still think you should just talk to her. EV’s not as bad as you think. You used to like her. “

  “Yeah, well, things change.” Evan poked Luther in the shoulder, “Now tell me you’re going to finish up here by tomorrow.” It was an order.

  “Only way that’s going to happen is if I work all night.”

  “If that’s what it takes…” Evan broke off when he heard the footsteps and voices of a couple out for an evening stroll. “He’s got me by the short hairs. Do you need me to lay it out for you?” He left off the again, but it was implied in his condescending tone. His brother might be good at fibbing his way into jobs, but there was no doubt which one of them had gotten the brains in the family. Luther liked to say that his customer service skills were top notch and that it was because he knew how to talk to potential clients, that he was articular. Every time he heard and corrected his brother, it set Evan’s teeth on edge.

  What an idiot.

  Still, Evan had promised his mother that he would
look after his older brother. And what kind of deal was that anyway? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shows she hadn’t had much confidence in Luther’s skills.

  Getting him on board had been easy enough; all it had taken was a promise to loosen up on the building codes that forced Luther to use certain materials—materials that he could not mark up to make more money. It was the first step in getting rid of the alternative building requirements. Then there had been the promise of more work.

  Flipping his brother a piece of the commercial pie was not as much a given as Evan had led Luther to believe. There was no way he was up to the challenge of actually being a contractor on any scale, especially at the level required for what Evan had in mind. The smaller projects that he was barely qualified for would keep him busy for a couple years; and, right now, Evan needed him to be a vocal proponent for incorporating the two towns together.

  What Luther also didn’t know was that Evan didn’t give a tiny rat’s tuckus whether he helped his brother or not. Getting into office was his main focus. Increasing commercialism was just one of his plans and not even the one most likely to further his ambitions.

  A career in real estate, even a lucrative one, paled in comparison to his true life’s ambition of becoming a politician. It should be an easy progression from small town mayor to becoming a member of the House of Representatives and from there, to Senate or Congress.

  Previously a resident of Gilmore, he had already run for mayor there each of the past three years and been summarily shut down by receiving less than one third of the vote. Not surprising since most of the residents thought Ponderosa Pines was an embarrassment. A community of aging hippies and their equally-tripped-out children couldn’t hope to have produced a worthy Mayoral candidate.

  The fact that other than their commitment to green living, Ponderosa Pines was very like any other town went ignored. Once a commune, always a commune—at least in the eyes of their neighbors. Unless they were able to successfully annex Ponderosa Pines and absorb it into Gilmore. Then, the added tax dollars would go a long way toward offsetting any lingering embarrassment.