by Shannon West
The shop always smelled so good in the mornings, and I made myself my second cup of coffee and sat down at one of the tables to rest a minute before the breakfast customers came in. I was drinking my coffee and had only taken a sip when the bell over the door jangled. Nick Moody came sauntering in, and spotting me in the back, he came over to take himself a seat at my table. He leaned back in his chair and gave me the once over, stopping as usual on my hair.
I glanced at him uneasily when he continued to stare at me. I sighed and decided to be the bigger person. “Can I get you some coffee and a fake doughnut, Sheriff Moody?”
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t that much of a bigger person.
He smirked at me and said, “No thanks. I came in to ask you some questions before you got too busy.”
“Some questions?”
“Yes,” he said a little distractedly, staring at me. “You got your hair cut.”
“Yes, Captain Obvious, I did.”
“Why?”
I gave him a little shrug. “So I wouldn’t continue to offend the delicate sensibilities of the residents of Indian Springs.”
He looked as if he were trying not to smile. “Have you always been so prickly? I didn’t remember that.”
“There seems to be a lot of things you don’t remember.”
That wiped the smile off his face pretty quickly. He stared at me a moment longer and then folded his arms over his chest, looking down his nose at me.
“I wanted to apologize for some of my remarks the other day at your grandmother’s house. I shouldn’t have said she was…you know, crazy.”
“Bat shit crazy is how, I believe, you so charmingly phrased it.”
His face flushed and he lowered his gaze. “Well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
He rolled his eyes a little. “And I’m trying to apologize.”
“Well…okay then. Apology accepted, I guess.”
We stared at each other for a moment longer and I felt like the whole world was holding its breath. His eyes were so deep and so blue, I thought I could drown in them. He gazed down at my mouth and I gazed right back at his. We swayed ever so slightly together.
Then a car outside blew its horn, breaking the spell. He sighed and pulled out a little notebook.
“Uh, listen…we have a report of a missing person that maybe you can help us with. A Mrs. Julie Covington. She runs the antique shop down the street from you.”
“Oh yeah, sure. She’s missing? She was just in here yesterday.”
“Her husband reported it last evening. Said she didn’t make it home last night.” The sheriff pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket and consulted it. “We’ve pulled the security footage, but in the meantime, I thought I’d ask around. Her husband said he talked to her around one thirty in the afternoon, and she told him she was coming down here to eat lunch and talk to you. Do you remember seeing her?”
“Yes, I just said I did. I spoke to her. I think you and your deputies might have even been here then. She was sitting at that table right over there.” I gestured to the back table and he glanced back at it.
“I think I remember her. What did you talk about?”
“Nothing really.” I tried to remember and drew a blank. “I think she asked me about Emma Mae Millican’s antiques—if I knew whether or not her niece would be selling them.”
His gaze sharpened on me. “Why would she ask you?”
“I don’t know really. She saw me talking to Ms. Millican’s niece—and somehow she got the impression we were friends. It was at the repass the day of Ms. Millican’s funeral.”
He gave me a blank look. “At the what?”
“The repass. You know, when you invite friends and family over for food after the funeral. I’m told that’s the proper name for it.”
“Okay. So she saw you and Ms. Reinhart talking at this thing and thought what? That you and the niece were close?”
“I guess so. We weren’t. Or we aren’t, I should say. I barely know the woman.”
“And yet I saw you with the niece coming out of the back of your shop yesterday.”
“Oh well, yeah.” I blushed and I had no idea why. What was there about this man that put me on the defensive whenever I talked to him? “She came by to see me to get my grandmother’s address.” I glanced up at him apologetically. “She said she wanted to talk to my gran about a stupid recipe book they’ve all been arguing over.”
“I see.” He made some more notations on his little pad and I wondered if he really did see. Because I was still having a hard time understanding it. “And did you give it to her?”
I shrugged. “The address? Sure, why not?”
“And then what happened? With Mrs. Covington.”
“Nothing, really. I left to go out back to smoke a cigarette and that’s when Adrianna came to see me.”
“Who?”
“Adrianna Reinhart. She asked me to call her by her first name.”
“Okay,” he said and I could have sworn he narrowed his eyes a little like I’d said something suspicious. “Go on.”
“That’s it. We came back inside and passed Mrs. Covington’ table and she was getting ready to leave. She asked to walk with Adrianna to talk to her about the antiques and Adrianna said she was busy, but Ms. Covington walked out with her anyway. And that’s all I know.”
“Did you notice the direction they went?”
“Yeah, back toward Ms. Covington’ shop, I think.”
“And that was about what time?”
“I don’t know. Two, or a little after, maybe?”
He stood up, closing his notebook and looking down at me. “Thanks. If you happen to see Julie Covington, give me a call right away.”
“Of course.”
He nodded, all business now and got up to leave. “Nick,” I called after him. “Would you maybe like a cup of coffee? Or some doughnuts to take with you for the station? No charge.”
He hesitated, glancing back at me and then seemed to make his mind up about something. “Okay, sure, why not? If it’s not too much trouble. But I’ll pay for them.”
“No, really. I-I made a few too many, and they’ll just go to waste. You’d be helping me out if you take a box. Really,” I said, getting to my feet and moving over to quickly box up a dozen of the doughnuts and then make him a cup of coffee to go. I turned to give it to him and our hands touched as he took the coffee. I could have sworn a spark leaped between our fingers, and he looked at me with maybe a touch of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite read.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said, stepping away quickly and wiping my hands on my apron, before he thought I might possibly be flirting with him. “Have a nice day.”
“You too,” he said, a little curl of his lip that could have been a smile quirking up one side of his handsome mouth, as he turned and left the shop.
“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath and sagged back against the counter. What was it about that man that made my heart bang against my ribs like it was trying to escape? He still made me lose my breath every time I got close to him, and we’d actually managed to have a civil conversation for once.
Was I ever going to get over him? I needed to bundle all my old, complicated feelings for him up and put them in the “no way in hell” file and forget about him. Then the bell over the door jangled again and I shook it off and turned to take an order.
The morning went by pretty fast, and we were super busy, because Tina had a doctor’s appointment and the other girl who helped at breakfast, Kristie, was slow as Christmas, as my gran said. A nice girl, and recently divorced so I knew she needed the job, so I kept trying to help her. I decided for the third or fourth time that week to get Tina to speak to her about it. Anyway, by the time Tina showed back up, along with Brittany, our lunchtime help, it was past noon, and I hadn’t had a chance to empty the trash all morning.
Since I wanted a cigar
ette anyway, I called to Tina to tell her I was stepping out back, grabbed a jacket and the bags of trash and went out onto the deck. I stood out there for a few minutes, lighting up and pulling the smoke into my lungs for that first drag that always felt so damn good. It was a gorgeous day—already sunny, but still early enough that the sun hadn’t warmed things up much yet. The weather felt just about perfect, with none of the humidity that summer would bring.
I smoked a bit longer, gazing out over the back yard behind the shop, shaded by some big oak trees at the far end of the property. I think at one time my father had thought about letting people park back there, but there was only one way in or out, down a fairly narrow alleyway between buildings, so he had to give up on that idea. It might be nice to put some picnic tables back here though, to let people eat outside if they wanted to. I’d have to put in a separate door from the dining room for that, and get someone to build me a bigger deck, but if sales kept getting better, it was doable, and it would be really nice in the Spring and Fall, whenever it wasn’t so hot.
I finished my cigarette and my break, and hefted the bags to take them to the dumpster near the alley. I noticed the smell as I got closer and thought, oh hell, what the fuck is that?
Instead of tossing the bags in like I usually did, I went up to the side and peered over the edge, expecting to see a dead rat or maybe a raccoon, though it wasn’t exactly a “dead” smell. It had elements of that in it, but smoky too, with a tinge of rotten eggs. I peered over the edge and saw Julie Covington, one eye at half mast, and the other wide open and staring up at the sun, looking almost as if she’d decided to climb inside the empty dumpster and take a little nap. Except for the odd angle of her neck, that is.
I couldn’t see any blood or any real sign of violence on her, other than a huge bruise on the side of her face, but she was so obviously dead I knew it right away. I’d seen a few dead bodies in my time—but mostly at funeral homes where the bodies were sanitized, and groomed enough that people could say, “Doesn’t she look good?”
But Julie didn’t look good. She looked fucking dead. She was pale and her eyes were filmy and her lips were gray. As I watched, a big cockroach ran up her neck from her blouse and across her cheek, and I let out an unmanly scream as I reeled backward and fell on my ass.
I sat there for a moment, unable to think what to do. Should I climb in there and make sure she was dead? I honestly didn’t know if I could bear to do that. I fished in my pocket for my phone and quickly dialed 911. A female voice said,“Sheriff’s office, may I help you?”
“I-I…yes. This is Noah Smith. I’m at the doughnut shop at 223 Main Street and I think I…I mean I found a body in the dumpster. She’s dead! Send me some help right away!”
There was a brief silence on the other end and then the lady said, “Sir, are you sure she’s dead? Did you check her breathing or her pulse?”
“N-no, no, she’s down inside the dumpster. I’m sure she’s dead. Her eyes are…look, just please send someone out here.”
“Sir, we already have someone on the way. Stay on the line with me, please, while I get an ambulance started.”
“She doesn’t need…Okay, just send somebody, please! I’m in the back—just come down the alley and I’ll be waiting.”
“Stay on the line, sir.”
“Shit! Okay, okay, I’m here, but I’m freaking out a little.”
“Yes sir. We have someone en route to you now. You don’t have any weapons, do you, sir?”
“What? No, I don’t have any fuck…no, I don’t have any weapons! I didn’t do this! I just found her in the dumpster when I was taking out the trash! Will you just send somebody?”
“They’re already on the way. Now give me your name again, please.”
“Noah Smith.”
“And your address there?”
“223 Main Street. The Donutery.”
“Yes sir, and do you know the victim?”
“No! I mean, yeah, I”ve seen her a few times. A couple of times. Look, I need to hang up.”
“Wait until the deputies get there, sir.”
“Well, where the fuck are they coming from? Birmingham?”
I could hear her speaking to somebody else and a radio voice talking behind her, crackling over the line. “A deputy should be pulling up outside now, sir. Can you go out to meet them?”
“Yeah. Okay.” I hung up and rushed up the steps of the deck to go to the front, but the door opened as I reached for it, and Nick Moody caught me as I crashed into him.
His gaze swept quickly over me as he steadied me on my feet. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yeah,” I said, my breathing fast. “She-she’s out here. In the dumpster.” I pointed to it needlessly, as there was only one in the back yard, and then I started toward it, so that Nick ran into me again. He grabbed my shoulders and moved me almost gently to the side.
“Stay here.” Behind him, almost on his heels were two EMTs. They ran down after him and then another deputy, Harrison, the one I’d seen that night at the station, came through the kitchen door.
By this time, Tina and the other girls were peeking around the doorway, looking alarmed. “Are you okay?” Tina called to me and I nodded. Then I went down the steps to follow Nick and the others. Deputy Harrison met me before I stepped out in the yard and he said something about going back inside and waiting there to talk to the sheriff. I said okay, still feeling shaky and went back in, where I was immediately bombarded with questions by the girls. I told them what I knew and then sagged against a counter, not knowing what to do next. Should I tell the customers to leave or did the deputies want to question them? I had no idea. I kept seeing that cockroach crawling across Julie’s face and I shuddered.
Tina and I just stood there, shocked and quiet, until the deputy returned and told me the sheriff said for me not to leave, and that when he had “the scene secured,” he’d be back up to talk to me.
“You don’t look too good.” Harrison led me into the dining room. “Why don’t you sit before you fall down?” He asked Tina to bring me something to drink, and she brought me a cup of hot tea that was so sweet it made my teeth ache. I drank it though, and felt a little better, or at least my hands quit shaking. By the time the sheriff arrived, the deputy had cleared the dining room and had the girls sitting with me at my table.
He glanced over at me and then asked Tina and the girls a few questions about what time they got there and if they’d seen anything suspicious lately or anyone outside in the back. He soon found out that they hadn’t been outside since they got there and didn’t know Ms. Covington except to know she had the antique shop. He told them they could leave, and glanced over at me.
“I have a few more questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
They all got up to leave, and Tina looked back at me questioningly. “I’m fine, Tina. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded and left, and I turned back toward Sheriff Moody, who was looking after them with a little smile. “She looks worried about you.”
I shrugged and met his gaze again. “She’s a nice lady. But I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Okay.”
“I barely knew the woman. Why would I have killed her?”
“I don’t know, Noah. Did you kill her?”
I gasped out loud and stared at him. Noah. Not Smith anymore and certainly not Mr. Smith. I thought I’d read somewhere that when police were interviewing you and called you by your first name it was to show a lack of respect. Was that what this was? He’d shown me plenty of that already.
“No! Of course not! I have no idea how she wound up in my dumpster! You should be out there taking finger prints or something. Finding potential witnesses. Questioning people in the area to see if anybody saw anything.”
“Good suggestions. Thanks.”
Even I recognized sarcasm when I heard it, though he’d kept his tone reasonably polite. “I wouldn’t have called to report finding the body if I’d killed her,
now would I? The whole idea is ridiculous. I’m not a murderer.”
“Don’t get so excited. I just wanted you to tell me exactly how you found her. What time, what you did next, that kind of thing.”
“Oh. Okay, well, it was a little after twelve o’clock and we’d been busy—my assistant manager, Tina had a doctor’s appointment this morning. So I hadn’t had time to empty the trash.”
“You usually do that?”
“Most times I do, yeah. The stairs are kinda steep and the trash can be heavy.”
He motioned for me to go on. “So I went out to smoke a cigarette and take a short break. Then I picked up the bags and carried them to the dumpster. As I got close, I noticed the-the smell.”
He nodded. “Then what did you do?”
“Yes. Well, I thought it smelled like something dead, or like rotten eggs or something, and I thought it was maybe a raccoon or a rat or...I don’t know. I looked over the edge and saw…saw her there like that.”
“You try to check her pulse or anything?”
“No, I-I didn’t want to touch her. I should have, I guess. But she was so pale and her lips were gray and her eyes were staring. I knew she must be dead.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I called 911. I told them I’d found a dead body and they said, ‘Are you sure she’s dead?’ and I said ‘Yeah,’ and she kept asking me stuff and kept me on the line until you came.”
“Did you see anyone outside this morning when you arrived?”
“No.”
“What time did you leave here last night?”
“About seven.”
“Can anybody corroborate that?”
“I don’t know. No, I guess not. My grandmother wasn’t home when I first got in. She came in around eight.”
“Did you come back to the shop for anything last night?”
“No. I went to bed around nine. I was tired and I had to get up early to make the doughnuts this morning.”
“Okay, Noah. You can go home, now, if you like. I’m going down to the hospital and talk to the coroner about cause of death. I might ask you to come down to the station later if I have some more questions. Would that be okay?”