When The Rooster Kills (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 2)

by Jeff Shelby

  “So what have you been up to these last couple of days?” Sophia asked. She was still behind the counter, and I could see she was unwrapping things inside a box. It looked like a shipment of some sort.

  “Oh, the usual,” I said, setting the creamer back down. “House and garden stuff.”

  She tossed a handful of paper aside. “I assume you’ve heard the news?”

  “News?” I asked, hoping my voice held just the right amount of confusion and curiosity.

  Sophia looked up from the counter. “About Leslie?” Her own voice had lowered to just above a whisper.

  I shook my head. “No, not really.” And then, because I didn’t want to outright lie, I added, “I mean, I saw a little snippet on the news this morning, that she was now being considered a missing person. I can’t believe they haven’t found her yet.”

  Sophia made a face. “I know. It’s just terrible, really. Viv is a mess.”

  I felt a pang of guilt. I’d spent so much time trying to convince Vivian not to worry, that Leslie probably wasn’t missing, and I had been wrong. Dead wrong.

  “Do they have any leads?” I asked. “Any leads at all?”

  Sophia hesitated. She busied herself with unwrapping another bundle and, for a few seconds, the only sound in the store was the rustle of paper.

  “Well, there are a few theories floating around,” she finally said.

  “Theories?”

  “The sheriff has been working the case nonstop for the last couple of days,” Sophia said. “He’s pretty sure he found a clue in her car. I don’t know what—Vivian doesn’t even know—but he got pretty excited about it yesterday and hurried back to his office. Said he needed to make a couple of phone calls.”

  I digested this bit of information. A clue in her car. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. It seemed a little odd that the sheriff had just discovered it yesterday, considering he’d been working the case for more than 24 hours, but I already knew that nothing the sheriff did or didn’t do surprised me anymore.

  “There’s also been some talk about…” She hesitated again.

  “About what?”

  Sophia’s eyes darted to the door, and then back to me.

  “What?” I asked. Did she have information about Shawn or Mikey? Or maybe about Vivian?

  “Aliens,” she whispered.

  It was a good thing I’d put the creamer back because if I’d been holding it, it would have shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor. “Aliens?”

  Sophia’s eyes were huge. “Chip—he owns a farm just south of the city—said he saw some strange lights Saturday night. He was out setting traps, something about a skunk problem, and said there was this weird light in the sky. Almost like a tractor beam.”

  “A tractor beam?”

  “It was so bright, it blinded him for a second,” Sophia said. “At least that’s what he said. So he went to investigate. Went out to one of the fields but by then, it was gone.”

  “What was gone?”

  “The spaceship.”

  I looked around for something to lean against. There was nothing. “A spaceship? Did he actually see one?”

  “Well, no,” Sophia admitted. She tossed more paper aside and I finally zeroed in on what she was unwrapping: a herd of clay cows, all different colors. Some spotted, some striped, but all of them were cows. They were adorable and I wanted all of them.

  “So if no one saw a spaceship, then…”

  “Chip said there was just something weird about the field, some kind of…energy, he called it. There were no marks or anything, but it could have hovered, you know? I bet that’s how they do those things, how they manage to stay hidden.”

  “I’m not following,” I said. “What does seeing a spaceship have to do with Leslie?”

  She looked at me as if I were daft. “Don’t you get it? Leslie could have been abducted by aliens.”

  I tried to think of the best response. I could accuse her of being a lunatic, but that probably wouldn’t go over well.

  “Doesn’t that seem like a bit of a stretch?” I asked, trying to keep as much mocking disbelief out of my voice as I could. “I mean, we don’t even know that Leslie was down by this property, do we?”

  Sophia smoothed back her hair. “Chip said there were some broken branches in the woods just by the clearing.” She looked at me, her eyebrows raised. “And the woods were due north, right in the direction of where Leslie would have been coming from.”

  “Does he have deer on his property, too? Or dogs? Or anything? Does he know for sure that the broken branches were caused by a person walking through the woods?”

  “Well, no,” Sophia said. “But it would certainly explain her disappearance. Because right now, there is nothing else to go on. No other explanation.”

  I thought about reminding her of whatever the sheriff had confiscated from Leslie’s car, but then thought better of it. It was Sheriff Lewis, after all, who wasn’t exactly the king of competence when it came to detective work.

  The bell on the door rang, and we both swiveled in its direction.

  Vivian stood in the doorway, a purse looped over her arm, a tight expression on her face, and I wondered if she had somehow managed to overhear some of our conversation.

  “Vivian,” Sophia called out warmly. “How are you? Any news this morning?”

  Vivian walked toward us, her lips pinched into a thin line. She looked tired, and I didn’t know if that was due to lack of sleep or because she was wearing less makeup than normal. But there were bags under her eyes and her complexion, normally like porcelain, had a sallow look to it. She was dressed as dowdily as I’d ever seen her, in nondescript jeans and a plain white t-shirt. She wore no jewelry, not even a pair of earrings.

  “None,” she said, dropping her purse on the counter. “I am at my wit’s end.”

  I straightened. Vivian didn’t sound defeated or worried or sad. She sounded…angry.

  Sophia made a sound, some tsking noise, and patted Vivian’s hand. “I’m sure it will all be figured out soon.”

  Vivian expelled a breath. “How? She’s been missing for more than two days. Disappeared without a trace.”

  Sophia glanced at me with a knowing expression, and I knew what she was insinuating.

  Aliens.

  “Sophia mentioned the sheriff found a clue in Leslie’s car,” I said. “Has there been any news on that?”

  Vivian shook her head. “None that I’m aware of. I haven’t talked to the sheriff yet, but I would assume he’d call me if he found something.”

  I would never make that assumption about Sheriff Lewis, but I didn’t say this.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I hoped she could hear the sympathy in my voice. Despite Mack wanting to treat her like a suspect, I did feel sorry for her. Her stepsister’s disappearance was clearly taking a toll on her, as evidenced by her disheveled appearance. “I’m sure you must be worried sick.”

  To my surprise, Vivian rolled her eyes. “Worried?” A short, bitter laugh escaped from her lips. “I’m not worried. Knowing Leslie, this is just one of her little stunts.”

  I was taken aback. How had Vivian gone from concerned sister, calling in her stepsister’s disappearance an hour after she hadn’t returned home on time, to thinking she was somehow responsible for her own vanishing act?

  “Little stunts?” I asked, hoping for clarification.

  Vivian picked up one of the ceramic cows and studied it. It was a purple one with white polka dots. “She’s always up to something. Always scheming. Always looking for ways to get her grubby little hands on Daddy’s money.”

  “So you think she did this on purpose? Staged her own kidnapping?”

  Vivian’s eyes locked on mine, narrowing with suspicion. “Who said anything about kidnapping?”

  I blushed. “Well…I just thought…you know, since the sheriff is investigating a missing person…”

  “No one would have kidnapped her,” Vivian said. “A hundre
d dollars said she did this herself. She’s probably hiding out somewhere, thrilled that we’re all worried sick. She’ll show up with some sob story of how she got lost, or how someone abducted her or whatever, and then Daddy will feel sorry for her and shower her with money. And then she’ll ride off into the sunset until the next time she needs a handout.”

  The bitterness in Vivian’s voice was unmistakable.

  “I don’t know,” I began.

  “You don’t,” she said, her eyes blazing. “You don’t know her. I called you because I was worried about her, because I thought you could help. And then I called the sheriff, because I thought bringing in the professionals would make a difference. But no one can find her. And you know what that means? It means she doesn’t want to be found. Not until she’s ready.”

  There were a dozen things wrong with her statements, and I knew she was caught up in the heat of her emotions. She was venting to a friend and, because I was there, to me, too.

  But what I was witnessing right there in Sophia’s boutique made me realize something.

  Mack Mercy might actually be right.

  Vivian Swanson’s name belonged on the suspect list.

  TWENTY

  I excused myself as soon as I could. Sophia was busy with Vivian so she didn’t even remember to ask if I wanted to buy the sunflower creamer, which was a good thing. I wasn’t prepared to spend fifty dollars on a hunk of clay.

  I stepped out into the sunshine, squinting my eyes and shielding them from the bright light. Sophia’s store was well lit, but the lighting was soft, muted. I blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust as I fished around in my purse for my sunglasses.

  Vivian’s outburst had confused me. She was obviously upset about Leslie being gone, but the implication was loud and clear: she thought Leslie was staging her own disappearance. Her conviction was convincing, but I had to wonder if she was saying those things because she believed them, or if she wanted to divert our attention from what might have really happened. Because if she was that upset over her stepsister’s repeated requests for money, if she saw her as someone who was constantly trying to bilk her father for cash, maybe she’d broken the final straw. Maybe she’d done something to ensure that Leslie would never take advantage of their father again.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the thought and the images that followed. It was too awful to think about.

  A horn sounded, a soft blare from the road that got my attention. A semi was lumbering through town, its gear grinding as it downshifted to a stop at the stop sign. Martin was in the cab, smiling and waving at me. I couldn’t help but smile back. I envied his sunny disposition. Despite having a witch of a wife, he seemed to perpetually be in a good mood.

  A couple of other cars drove by, unfamiliar ones that I was sure belonged to townspeople I hadn’t managed to meet yet. A few more cars lined the road, people visiting the hardware store and the hair salon that were nearby.

  But one car stood out.

  A tan sedan, parked in front of the Wicked Wich.

  I found my glasses and put them on, then focused in on the car just down the road.

  It was definitely a tan sedan. A quick check of the license plate confirmed my suspicions: it was the same sedan that had been parked on my road the previous morning. And there was a woman driving it.

  She wasn’t looking in my direction; I knew this for certain.

  Quickly, before I could talk myself out of it, I hurried in her direction.

  She startled when I rapped my knuckles on the passenger side door. Her fingers flew to the keys still stuck in the ignition and I grabbed the door handle, pulling it open.

  “Hey,” she began.

  “Hey yourself.”

  The girl glared at me. “Get out of my car.”

  She didn’t look much older than Leslie. Her hair was still up in a ponytail and her face was caked with make-up: black eyeliner ringed both lids, smudged a little under her eyes, and her complexion was positively ghost-like. I didn’t know if it was the color foundation and powder she was using or if she really was that pale.

  “I have a couple questions for you.”

  Her glare intensified. “Yeah, well I don’t have any answers.”

  I was a little out of my element. I wasn’t exactly in the habit of jumping into strangers’ cars and bombarding them with questions. But I desperately wanted to know why she’d been lurking by my driveway. Not once, but twice.

  “Why were you at my house yesterday?”

  Her ruby red lips pressed together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “My house,” I repeated. “Out off of County Road 11. You drove by twice. Slowed down and basically parked in my driveway for a minute. What were you doing?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she asked, curling her lip.

  “No,” I said. “But I have your license plate now. The make and model of your car. I’m sure I could call it in to the sheriff and ask him to run your info, tell him that it looked like a stranger was casing my property. I don’t know if you know this, but this town doesn’t take kindly to strangers.”

  Her expression changed. The arrogance was gone, replaced by confusion. “I wasn’t casing your property.”

  Inwardly, I smiled. So it was her; she’d just admitted it. “Okay, so tell me what you were doing there.”

  Again, I was met with silence.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse.

  “Fine,” she spat out. She played with the end of her ponytail, tugging on it. “I was looking for my boyfriend.”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  She nodded.

  “Why would you think your boyfriend would be at my house?”

  “I didn’t,” she said.

  Now it was my turn to be confused. “But you just said…”

  “I didn’t think he was going to be there,” she said, the glare returning. “I saw him there. With my own two eyes.”

  I immediately thought of Gunnar. Did he seriously have a teenaged girlfriend? And not just a teenaged girlfriend, but one who looked like she’d just stepped out of a goth ad?

  “You saw your boyfriend at my house?”

  She nodded again, folding her arms across her chest. “I sure did.”

  I swallowed. “Can I ask who your boyfriend is?”

  She blew out a breath. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It sort of is,” I reminded her, holding up my phone. “Unless you want me to involve someone else, who you can then share ‘your business’ with.”

  She made a noise that sounded something like a growl. “You are relentless. Fine. His name is Shawn.”

  TWENTY ONE

  “Shawn?”

  “Yes. Shawn. Now get out of my car.”

  I leaned back against the seat. I wasn’t prepared to hear that name.

  “Look, I have some place I need to be,” the girl said. “I gave you what you wanted. So get out.”

  “Hang on a sec,” I said. “I…I have some more questions.”

  “Yeah, well, this time I’m not gonna answer them.”

  She turned the key in the ignition and the engine sputtered and coughed as it tried to turn over.

  “Shawn is your boyfriend?”

  She didn’t answer.

  I didn’t want to mention Leslie, so I tried a different tact.

  “So this confirms it,” I said.

  She glanced at me. “Confirms what?”

  “He was on my property yesterday morning.” I was still holding the phone and I made sure she saw it. “Trespassing. He insisted he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but he took off the minute I started asking more questions. Seems to me that maybe he was lying. Maybe he was casing the place. And maybe you were his accomplice.”

  “That’s a load of bull.”

  “You showed up immediately after he left. How do I know he wasn’t crouched
down in the back seat?” I swiped the phone, bringing up the home screen. “I think I need to let the sheriff know about this.”

  Her hand shot out and she grabbed my phone. “Don’t!” Her tone wasn’t angry; it was scared.

  “Give me one good reason not to.”

  She bit her lip. “Look, I’m just trying to find my boyfriend, okay? He took off about a week ago, said he was headed here, but I haven’t heard from him. I…I got worried, so I decided to come look for him. I’ve never been to this town, know nothing about it other than that Shawn was headed here. That’s it. I swear.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you were at my house.”

  She nodded. “I was driving around, just sort of keeping my eyes open for him. I saw him there yesterday morning, out at your place. And I…I thought maybe he was there for a reason.”

  “What kind of reason?”

  She dropped her eyes. “I thought…I didn’t know if he was seeing you or what.”

  “Seeing me?”

  The girl wouldn’t look at me. “We’ve had some…issues in the past. I was pretty sure it was all behind us, but when he took off and didn’t get in touch, I got worried. Angry, too. I saw him at your place, just sort of hanging out in the back. Then he took off and I stuck around because I wanted to see who lived there. But then when I saw you, I knew he couldn’t be involved with you.” Her eyes widened a little as she realized her gaffe. “I mean, not that you aren’t nice-looking or anything, but…well…you’re a little…old.”

  I tried my best not to be offended. There was no way I was interested in Shawn—or any other guy at least twenty years my junior—but I didn’t need to hear that I had aged myself out of the running. No one ever wants to hear that.

  “So you think he’s in town because he’s with someone else?” I asked.

  Her features hardened, and she looked like an angry mime. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  I decided not to tell her about Leslie, and about what I knew about Shawn. I thought about what I’d seen and the conversations I’d had with both Shawn and Leslie. This girl had definitely been right to trust her instincts, because, if she was who she claimed to be—Shawn’s girlfriend—then he was absolutely two-timing her.