The Dana Potter Cozy Mystery Collection

by Liz Turner

  “What you trying to find this woman for, Ms. Potter? She not got a phone?”

  Dana relayed what she’d seen the woman do to Pete.

  Ricky shook his head slowly, a disgusted look on his face. “Ah, heck. If I’d have known that, I would have told her to shove it!”

  Dana nodded firmly. “Well, I’m not letting her get away with it.”

  “I’m sure you ain’t.” With that, Ricky tipped his baseball hat at her, and Dana left.

  When she exited the garage, she found the sun was shining brightly, the heat having finally settled into the town.

  I suppose no rain then, she thought.

  As she squinted at the bright sky, she turned on her heels and went back inside the garage. “Ricky,” she called again.

  Once again, Ricky’s head popped up from behind the car. He looked at her expectantly. “I need one last favor,” she said.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, Dana sat in the passenger’s seat of Ricky’s pickup truck as they breezed along the main street that headed into the east side of town. Ricky had his country music playing and was drumming his hand on the leather covering of the steering wheel, happy to just listen to the music without talking much.

  Dana nodded her head along with the music. She respected people who preferred silence. Years as a real estate agent, learning to read people within minutes and determine which sales approach would work best, had taught her that with some, less was more. Getting too bubbly and energetic made them recoil.

  Shortly, they pulled into the parking lot of the Walker Inn. It was a small family-run Inn that felt more like a bed-and-breakfast. Pippin didn’t have many visitors that wouldn’t stay with family, so the inn mainly housed out-of-town wedding guests or the odd person in town for a job interview. It was a bright white-washed building with four little balconies on its front side.

  Dana thanked Ricky for the ride and assured him she would find her own way back. He nodded and wished her good luck as he drove away, the pickup rattling down the road.

  Dana pushed her cart up the wheelchair accessible ramp, glad she’d had the good sense to not buy anything that needed to be kept cold. Once inside, she looked around. The place was all dark wood inside, giving the impression of a log cabin in the woods rather than the suburban inn it actually was. She saw a toddler running a toy truck over the rug by the fireplace, his parents sitting on the sofa behind him. But no blond woman was in sight.

  Dana directed herself toward the small check-in desk and hit the little bell.

  Moments later, a middle-aged man bustled from around a corner. He was pale, balding, and wore a short-sleeved dress shirt. His face lit up when he saw Dana. “Hello, Ms. Potter! Are you checking in? Has something gone wrong with your house?” His eyes flickered with concern.

  “No, nothing like that, Dean. I just came by to find one of your guests.”

  “Okey-dokey. What’s the last name?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just trying to return the change she left at the grocery store in front of me.” Dana gestured at her cart. “Normally, I’d just forget about it, but it was fifteen dollars, so I suppose she might be wanting it back.” She put on a gallant smile.

  Dean treated his inn like it was a five-star resort on the beach. Hence, he would never reveal the names of his guests, let alone their room numbers, if he suspected someone bore ill-will toward them. Even if Dana told him what the woman had done, Dean wasn’t the sort to break his own principles just because someone else had broken theirs.

  “Aren’t you sweet, Ms. Potter. Perhaps you could leave it here at the desk and I’ll let her know. What does she look like?”

  Dana feigned like she was trying to remember; people like Dean always appreciated a good bumbling-elderly-person scene and Dana needed his endearment right now. After looking concerned for a moment, she snapped her fingers. “Let’s see. She was blond, tall…wearing a nice-looking dress and heels.”

  Dean smiled. “Well, as a matter of fact, Ms. Potter, I know exactly who you’re looking for. Her name is Susan Mendel. She’s staying in Room 9 with her daughter, Maura. I can set aside her change and when she comes down, I’ll let her know someone brought it by.”

  “Oh, thank you, Dean. But I’d really like to deliver it myself. I’m always a little curious to talk to people passing through!”

  Dean mulled it over. “Okay, Ms. Potter,” he finally said, smiling. “But you be nice to them, you hear?”

  “Nice is my middle name,” Dana said as she pushed her grocery cart into the elevator.

  She found Room 9 on the second floor. After listening at the door for a moment to determine that they were still in there, she knocked. She heard a few muffled voices, the sound of footsteps, and then more voices. Finally, the door opened about five inches to reveal the face of a teenager. She was as striking as her mother though she couldn’t be older than sixteen. Her own white-blonde hair hung straight down, framing her heart-shaped face. Powerful blue eyes fixed on Dana with a mixture of fear and annoyance.

  “Can I help you?” the girl said.

  Dana smiled, hoping to disarm her. “Is your mother in?” she asked sweetly.

  The girl’s eyes darkened. “Maybe. Why? What do you want?”

  Not so quick to trust a sweet old lady? These two must be a pair of traveling thieves! Dana quickly deduced. They’re clearly used to being hunted.

  “I think she forgot her change at the coffee shop,” Dana said brightly. “Lydia asked me if I would run it over to her, since the inn was right on my way home.”

  Suddenly, the door forcefully opened wider and the mystery blonde appeared behind the girl, looking taller and more formidable than ever. Her eyes were piercing, and her mouth was set in a straight line. “I didn’t leave any change at the café, I’m sure of it.” She stared threateningly at Dana. “I know this little old lady act probably works on the people around here, but I’m not from here and I know a little more about the world outside of this dumpy town than you might think!” She spoke in an angry hushed tone. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re after and leave us alone? Who sent you?”

  Dana was taken aback but refused to be scared off. She dropped her appeasing smile. “Okay, Mrs. Susan Mendel. You’re right. I’m not here to return any change. I’m here to collect some.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I saw you steal from Pete’s begging cup, and after all my years on this planet, I can honestly tell you I’ve never seen something so depraved! Stealing from a blind homeless man like that in broad daylight! Have you no shame?” Dana resisted swinging her pocketbook across the woman’s chest.

  Susan blinked. “That’s what this is about? Do you want the money back? Well, go ahead, look around. We don’t have any.” She swung open the door to the room, her defensive posture evaporating.

  Dana looked inside briefly to see two suitcases packed neatly on the ground. The place looked untouched. She studied Susan’s face for a moment. She was beautiful, with full pouty lips, dark eyebrows, and round blue eyes. But in the light of the room, Dana noticed that she was wearing an absurd amount of makeup, as though she would be performing on stage at any moment. Her eyelashes were caked with mascara, thick foundation clung to her skin, and her bright red lipstick was fading somewhat.

  “I’m sorry,” Susan said, leaning against the door. “It’s just…we’re… me and my daughter, Maura—we’re looking for my husband. He’s been kidnapped, and I just can’t go to the bank to take out cash, or they’ll find me!”

  “Don’t they want a ransom, dear?” Dana asked. She didn’t believe that story for a second.

  Susan shrugged sadly. “They didn’t say. Only that if my husband didn’t do what they wanted, Maura and I would be next.” She looked around the room slowly. “So I packed up and left straight away. We were heading for my sister’s place in Tallahassee when my car broke down here.”

  That bit about the car breaking down, at least, is true¸ Da
na thought. “How did you pay for this place then?”

  “Credit cards. This dumpy town doesn’t take credit cards much though, so I was out of luck if we wanted to eat.”

  Dana frowned and looked at Allie. The girl stood frozen by her mother, her eyes wide with fear. They were clearly afraid of someone and afraid of being caught, but Susan’s story just didn’t make any sense.

  How could she not know why her husband was kidnapped and then flee without going to the police?

  “Forgive me,” Dana said, “I’m perhaps a little behind the times, but can’t credit cards be traced just as easily as bank withdrawals?”

  Susan stared at Dana, her eyes seeming to seek an answer. Dana stared back. But then, quick as lightning, Susan reached behind her into a purse that hung on a wall hook.

  Dana heard the definitive clanking sound of a gun being cocked. The next moment, she found herself staring into the barrel of a tiny pistol. “What in the—?”

  “Get out and don’t tell anyone you saw us here,” Susan said menacingly. She jerked her head toward the door. “I mean it. You tell anyone what I said, or about this gun, and I walk downstairs and start shooting people, you hear me?”

  Dana nodded slowly. She put her hands up and quietly exited the room. The door was shut abruptly behind her, and she heard the click of the lock being turned. Dismayed, Dana realized she’d left her grocery cart inside.

  She sighed.

  She wasn’t afraid—that woman, as threatening as she was trying to appear—hadn’t lied about one thing. She was deathly afraid of being found. Thus, Dana doubted she would draw such attention to herself as to shoot up a lobby. Otherwise, she’d be thrown in jail and her daughter would be left on her own.

  Still, most of her story was bogus.

  Why would someone who’s hiding from kidnappers and trying to track down her husband go through the trouble of getting all dolled up like that?

  Chapter 3

  Melting Ice

  Dana decided to mull over the situation a little longer before deciding what to do. After all, the woman hadn’t committed any terrible crimes other than pointing a weapon at her. As she continued to think about it, she figured she better go back to the grocery story to rebuy her things.

  She ducked back into the inn’s lobby and approached the desk.

  Dean popped up from behind it. “How’d it go?” he asked cheerfully.

  “It went well. I’m glad I got that sorted out. Do you mind calling me a taxi? Ricky drove me here, and I didn’t want to make him wait.”

  “Of course.”

  ***

  Shortly, Dana was back in her side of town, in front of F & F’s Homegrown Grocery. Just as she was making her way inside, she spotted the constable sitting on a bench outside sipping coffee. She made a beeline for him, suddenly clear on one thing—she wanted to involve law enforcement. They would be able to decide whether to intervene better than she could.

  “Constable Hollows.” She waved at him. Constable Hollows had been in Pippin law enforcement his whole adult life. Now, at sixty, he ran the small department with a steady hand and gentle touch.

  “How are you this fine afternoon, Ms. Potter?” he asked, smiling back brightly at her.

  She looked at her watch. “Is it the afternoon already? Goodness, time gets away from you at my age!”

  He chuckled. “That it does!”

  “Constable, I had the strangest morning. I wonder if you can help me decide what needs to be done about it.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “Well, I’m intrigued. What was so strange about this morning?”

  She relayed her wild-goose chase after the mystery blonde, beginning with the theft of Pete’s money and ending just short of the gun. She didn’t want to alarm the town any more than was necessary, especially since she was sure the woman was more frightened than aggressive.

  The constable listened intently. He squinted at Dana beneath bushy eyebrows. “Well, Ms. Potter—that’s about the strangest thing that’s happened around here in a long time, at least since that swamp gator found his way to Main Street during Hurricane Lolita.” He whistled and shook his head. “So I take it you want the Pippin Police Department to go over to the Walker Inn and check out her story?”

  Dana thought for a moment, not entirely sure what she wanted. While, she didn’t trust that Mendel woman for a second, she now felt some sort of obligation to her since she had claimed to be in trouble.

  And at least the constable is privy to her thievery now, she thought.

  “I think you better pay her a visit and make sure she’s all right,” Dana said, patting him firmly on the hand.

  “It’s just one woman and her daughter, right?” he asked.

  Dana nodded.

  “All right then. I suppose you and me can go over there right now then. No need to get the other officers involved.”

  Dana nodded but said nothing. She decided the constable would probably be enough to frighten Susan Mendel into telling them the truth.

  The constable helped her into the passenger’s seat of his car and then they headed down the road at a leisurely pace. Dana resisted the urge to tell him to go faster; she kept seeing those neatly packed suitcases in her mind.

  Finally, they arrived at the inn.

  “Hi, Dean,” Constable Hollows said, tipping his sun hat at the manager.

  Dean smiled at first, but then frowned when he saw Dana coming in behind him.

  “Can you tell me where I can find Ms. Susan Mendel?” the constable asked.

  “Er, yes, Constable Hollows. She—er…I’m sorry, but why are you lookin’ for her? What’s happened?” Dean’s gaze flitted toward Dana.

  “Oh, it’s no big deal, Dean,” he said calmly. “And don’t worry. Nobody’s in trouble. I just want to speak to her for a moment. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”

  Dean nervously drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’m sorry, Constable, but she checked out about twenty minutes ago. If I’d known you were looking for her…”

  Constable Hollows clapped an affectionate hand on his shoulder. “That’s all right. You didn’t know. Anyway, it’s no big deal, like I said. But do you mind if we take a look around her room?”

  Dean nodded woodenly and then led the two to the elevator. They came to a stop at Room 9 where he inserted a key and swung the door open.

  Dana’s natural curiosity kicked in as she entered the room and scanned for any sign of where the Mendels might have gone. It was strange being there when only an hour or so earlier, she’d been in that same spot staring down a pistol. The place was spotless except for Dana’s empty grocery cart in the center of the room.

  “The maid hasn’t come yet,” Dean said.

  Nevertheless, the room was neat, the bed was made, and even the trash had been removed.

  Yup. She certainly doesn’t want to be found, Dana thought.

  Her ears perked up when she neared the bathroom door. She could hear something that sounded like a slow trickle down a metallic drain. Pushing the door open, sure enough, she found the bathroom sink full of half-melted ice cubes.

  Thank goodness the air conditioning had kept the room ice cold, or this clue would have melted away long ago, she thought.

  Dana studied the pile of ice, wondering if it was truly a clue. It wasn’t like they could find out anything by looking at the ice. The real question was why it was there in the first place. Clearly, the Mendels hadn’t been enjoying a bottle of summer wine on ice that morning.

  Dana stared at the ice for a moment longer before noticing something sticking up from the drain. Curious, she pulled it out—and it ripped.

  It was a piece of paper towel.

  Dana’s wheels turned.

  Paper towel and a mound of ice¸ she mused. It sounded like the makings for a cheap ice-pack. As she looked around the otherwise spotless room, she wondered what had happened that would require such a thing.

  For the first time, she began to feel more concern tha
n distaste and suspicion toward Susan Mendel.

  “Well,” Constable Hollows said, shrugging, “she cleaned the place up pretty good.” He turned toward Dean. “She didn’t mention where she was going, did she?”

  Dean shook his head nervously.

  Something dawned on Dana suddenly. “Her car. It broke down, and it’s still in the shop. She couldn’t have gone far! The bus out-of-town doesn’t come on Wednesdays.”

  “Sh-she must have got it fixed,” Dean stammered. “I saw her pull away.”

  “What car was she in?” Dana asked.

  Dean reddened. “Oh, gosh, I don’t remember. I think it was…blue? Dark blue or black… or maybe silver. Oh, geez.” He put a hand on his head.

  “That’s actually helpful, Dean. She must have stolen a car out of the lot.”

  Dean looked stricken. “Stolen—?”

  “We can figure out which of the guests is missing their vehicle and then we can try to locate it,” the constable said. “This is actually good news, Dean. Well…” He smiled. “Not for some unlucky guest who doesn’t have a car now, but it’s good for us and our little hunt. We’ll know the license plate and everything now.”

  With that, they all exited the room.

  “Dean,” the constable said, “can you please send a message out to the guests to check and see if their vehicle is still in the lot?”

  “Yes,” Dean said and then sighed audibly.

  Dana couldn’t blame him. Business probably wasn’t great, so having to inform guests that someone’s car had likely been stolen surely wouldn’t help matters.

  Regardless, about thirty minutes later, a family of three ambled up to the front desk.

  The father, a short man with a mop of curly dark hair, was fuming. “Our van’s not in the lot!” he shouted in Dean’s face. “You’re telling us someone stole it? What kind of town is this? You’ve got, what, fourteen citizens, and half of them are car thieves?”

  The constable coughed from behind the man. “I assure you, sir, this is the first such theft we’ve ever had in my forty years in service with the Pippin PD, and we’d like to help you find it. Dean here has been very helpful in getting us started lickity-split on this investigation. In fact, if it wasn’t for his noticing a car was missing from the lot, you probably wouldn’t have realized until it was time for you to check out, so you ought to be thanking him.”