Apple Cider Slaying

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  * * *

  I woke seven hours later feeling stiff but rested.

  The kittens were asleep on the windowsill, their water was overturned, and their dry food was gone. They’d clearly had a party and I’d slept right through it. I stretched my aching muscles and headed for the shower.

  Late-afternoon sunlight streamed over me as I made an appointment with Mrs. Cooper’s plastic surgeon in Virginia and polished off the end of a turkey and swiss sandwich while leaning over my kitchen sink. I swept crumbs down the drain to avoid dirtying a dish. Whatever defeat I’d felt as I’d fallen asleep had worn off with rest or been washed away in the shower. My mind and muscles were alert, ready, and filled with resolve.

  I called off work when the sandwich was gone, then I checked with the nurse working the phones on Granny’s floor to see about an update. There weren’t any changes in her condition, so I didn’t need to hurry back to visit. I had time to make a quick trip across the river.

  I grabbed my coat and keys, then brought up the business address for Dr. Manny Davis on my phone. I was eternally thankful for the last-minute cancellation that had made my appointment possible. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until I knew who hurt my granny, and to do that, I needed to know who killed Mrs. Cooper. Maybe her plastic surgeon in Winchester could shed some light on the subject, especially since she might have recently dumped him.

  I bypassed Sally and grabbed the key to the little red SVO this time. With luck, I’d fly under the radar of anyone looking for me in my usual white Mustang. Just to be safe, I donned large black sunglasses and pulled my coat’s hood over my knit cap before turning out of Granny’s driveway, then I hunkered down inside my coat and tried to be less noticeable.

  I crossed the river without a tail and enjoyed the beautiful drive to Winchester. It was too cold to put the windows down, but the Mustang floated around the gently winding strip of highway forged between two ancient mountains. I didn’t need the brake until I hit the Winchester exit. After that, I barely needed the gas.

  I’d never been to Winchester before, but I was surprised to find it was a lot like Blossom Valley. Small, country, filled with pickup trucks and folks who looked like my neighbors passing outside the windows. The posted speed limit waffled between twenty-five and thirty-five, so I was passed by folks on bicycles, tractors, and foot while I waited at every light through town. Usually twice.

  Eventually, I took the last open spot in a small lot when my GPS insisted I’d arrived. The building was much newer than the others around it and the style too modern to fit in. A mini-billboard at the edge of the crowded lot had the hashtag #MillionDollarMama printed beneath a larger-than-life photo of five women with slinky sequined dresses and perfect figures.

  I climbed out feeling more than a little self-conscious about my figure, and absolutely certain I had the right place. Most of the women in the ad were twice my age and looked vastly better than me. I brushed nervous fingers through my bangs, fanning the long, side-swept strands over a few budding age lines. Then, I fixed my posture and hurried inside.

  The smattering of patients in the lobby looked up as I entered. I hustled to the desk and scribbled my name on the line as illegibly as possible in case anyone tried to confirm I’d been there. Still putting my nose where it didn’t belong.

  The room was spa-grade fancy with slightly dimmed lights and a bubbling water feature. The color palette was endless shades of beige on beige, from seating and carpet, to walls and artwork. The whole thing felt oddly unsettling. I concentrated on the classical music drifting softly from hidden speakers and helped myself to a cup of tea from a stand in the corner. A little beige sign encouraged guests to “Enjoy a cuppa.”

  “Miss Jones?” the receptionist called. “Miss Jones?”

  No one moved.

  I gave the room a long look before I realized she was talking to me. “Oh! Here!” I abandoned the tea and rushed in her direction, eager to get out of the waiting room and into a private space where I was less likely to be recognized by anyone who might want to hurt me.

  The nurse gave me a wavering smile. “I just have a few papers for you to fill out while you wait.”

  I took the clipboard and grinned.

  “Right this way.” She led me down a long beige hallway to a small exam room with startlingly white walls and multiple photos of people before and after various surgeries. Smaller noses, fewer wrinkles, bigger breasts, tighter thighs. “Consultations are painless. You can even take off your hat and sunglasses if you’d like.”

  I pried my gaze off the results photo of a very successful tummy tuck. “Thank you.” But no thanks.

  Alone, I wondered if Dr. Davis would ever use his trained surgeon’s hands for harm. I’d come in search of information on Mrs. Cooper, her life, known enemies, and general state of mind before her death, but what if I’d been so worried about being seen by the killer while I was leaving town that I’d unintentionally come to visit him?

  I shivered as I filled out the pile of forms on the clipboard, then froze at the sound of a familiar voice outside the exam room door. “Thank you for agreeing to reschedule on such short notice, Doctor.”

  “Of course,” a second man said. “It’s no problem at all, Sheriff Wise. Nadine Cooper was important to me.”

  I abandoned the paperwork I’d been falsifying and went to peek into the hallway. How was it possible that Colton was here? Now? The door moaned as I turned the handle and pulled it open an inch.

  Colton stood outside my room, sheriff’s hat in hand, beside a man in a lab coat who couldn’t have been ten years my senior. That was Dr. Davis? Somehow I’d expected a baby boomer on a misogynistic power trip, not a sweet-faced thirty-something in a Mr. Rogers cardigan and Harry Potter glasses. Maybe he’d gotten a little work done himself.

  Colton twisted at his waist, scanning the narrow hallway. His gaze hung on my slightly opened door for a long beat. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” he asked.

  “Certainly.” Dr. Davis walked through the open door across from mine and into a small beige office.

  Colton followed, dragging the door closed behind him until it touched the jamb without latching.

  I crept across the hall to listen. If I could get the answers I needed to satiate my curiosity without ever coming face-to-face with the potentially deadly doctor, all the better.

  “Of course not,” Dr. Davis answered. His voice rose sharply in response to a question I hadn’t heard.

  “You’re sure?” Colton asked.

  I set my hands on the wall and leaned in close, hovering my ear outside the nearly closed door.

  “I would never have a relationship, like the one you’re describing, with any of my patients.”

  I blushed on his behalf. At least he was polite enough not to mention the fact Mrs. Cooper was old enough to be his mother.

  Sheriff Wise went through the usual questions from there. I’d heard them asked a thousand times on my favorite television shows. Did Mrs. Cooper have any enemies? Did the doctor have any idea who might’ve wanted to hurt her? Did she seem upset or distressed the last time they spoke?

  I stiffened in anticipation of that response. Oscar, the trail master, had overheard Mrs. Cooper breaking up with someone on the phone the last time he’d seen her, and I believed that man was Dr. Davis. Furthermore, Oscar said Mrs. Cooper told the man on the phone she was seeing someone else. Another plastic surgeon! Considering she’d been one of Dr. Davis’s spokesmodels for the last few years, there had to be a good reason she’d left, and he had to hate it. Maybe Dr. Davis did have reason to lash out at her.

  “Not at all,” he answered smoothly. “Mrs. Cooper seemed fine the last time we spoke.”

  “Pfft.” The dismissive sound was out of my mouth before I’d thought better of it.

  Colton shifted in his chair, eyes fixed on the door.

  I sprang upright.

  “Miss Jones?” the nurse’s voice sprouted in the silence behind
me. “Can I help you with something?”

  Torn between the urge to provide a plausible excuse for my blatant eavesdropping and an absolute unwillingness to speak at all, I covered my mouth and ran.

  “What’s going on out here?” the doctor asked as I rounded the corner at the end of the hall and darted through the monochromatic waiting room.

  “I found your next appointment, Miss Jones, listening at the door,” the nurse tattled.

  “Miss Jones?” Colton’s voice echoed.

  I bolted into the parking lot, doubly thankful I’d had the forethought to drive a different Mustang for this adventure. He didn’t see me, I thought to myself, gunning the engine to life. No one knows it was me. I’m fine. It’s fine. I hooted in relief as I pulled the shifter into reverse and slid out of the parking space, keeping one eye on the office door behind me.

  Miraculously, no one followed.

  I eased into traffic feeling slick as a whistle and supremely victorious.

  Two traffic lights later, the flashers of Colton’s patrol car lit up my rearview mirror.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I pulled into the next parking lot and got out my license and registration. I highly doubted Colton was pulling me over for a traffic violation, and I was positive his authority ended at the river, but what else could I do?

  He rolled his cruiser into the empty spot beside me and took his time getting out. Eventually, he knocked on my window.

  I forced myself to roll it down.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a tight smile.

  “I guess it truly is a small world.” I handed him my papers. “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but what seems to be the problem, Sheriff?”

  He kept his hands at his sides, knees slightly bent for a look in my open window. “I’m not trying to give you a ticket,” he said. “I was just trying to get your attention before you hurried off again.”

  I lowered my dark shades to the end of my nose. “Well, I’d say you’ve succeeded. Seems like a phone call would’ve worked too.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  I dropped my sunglasses into my purse, then pulled the hood on my coat down, slightly irritated because he still hadn’t come out and told me what he wanted. I could only assume he intended to scold me for meddling again. I caught his amused gaze as I peeled off my knitted hat and fluffed my fully mashed hair.

  The wind changed and the mouthwatering, buttery scents of melted cheese and fresh-baked breads wafted over my face. My stomach rumbled in response.

  Colton braced his hands on his hips, drawing my attention back to the sheriff’s uniform, coat, and badge. “You tore out of Dr. Davis’s office mighty fast. Why was that?”

  Answering felt like a trap, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “I don’t know if you’re in the market for advice,” he said lightly, “but I feel your disguise was lacking, and the alias probably wasn’t your best work either, Miss Jones.”

  I tapped my thumbs against the steering wheel, unwilling to bite.

  “Were you thinking of having some work done and change your mind?”

  I grimaced. What was that supposed to mean? “You think I need some work done?”

  “No judgment,” he said, “everyone has something about themselves they wish they could improve.”

  “And what would you like to improve?” I asked, daring him to point out a flaw.

  He squinted down at me against the biting wind and afternoon sun. “My ability to keep you out of this murder investigation could use some work,” he said.

  “Funny,” I said flatly.

  Colton shifted his weight, losing his good humor. “Not really. It’s becoming nearly impossible to keep tabs on you, let alone keep you safe and catch a killer at the same time.”

  “Maybe you should just follow me around,” I suggested. “Whoever is behind all this seems to be back there already. The two of you would be bound to run into one another.”

  Emotion flashed over his features, there and gone before I could label it, and his serious sheriff stare was fixed back in place.

  I glanced away, unsure what to make of the fleeting expression I’d seen. “Did you pull me over to yell at me?” I asked. “I know I broke our deal, and I deserve it.”

  Colton rocked back on his heels, relaxing his stance. “Nah,” he said smoothly, yanking my shocked gaze back to his face. “I pulled you over to see if you’d want to split some fries and maybe grab a milkshake with me.”

  My eyes flicked to the delicious-smelling burger joint in front of us, and my traitorous stomach agreed before my mouth could.

  Colton grinned. “We can talk about what you were doing at Dr. Davis’s office while we eat.”

  “Great.” I climbed out and accepted his offered arm, then let him lead me inside an adorable fifties-themed soda shop.

  The intoxicating scents were doubly potent inside the building, and a walk past the ice cream display case to the hostess stand added fresh-baked waffle cones and homemade fudge to the air.

  A woman in a retro uniform and white apron greeted us. “Two?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Colton answered kindly, removing his big sheriff’s hat and clutching it to his chest.

  “I’m Ginny,” she said. “It’ll be my pleasure to take care of you today, Deputy.”

  “Sheriff,” Colton corrected, with an easy smile.

  “Sheriff,” she agreed. Her attention drifted briefly to me. “You picked a great spot for a date.”

  I fidgeted under her, albeit quick, appraisal. She was blonde and beautiful, at least five years younger than me, and clearly interested in Colton. It didn’t take her long to return her attention to him, apparently satisfied that I wasn’t much to worry about. I couldn’t blame her. Unlike Ginny, with her adorable outfit and face, I was bundled in a puffy winter coat and plagued by sweaty hat hair. I probably even had little red marks on both sides of my nose from wearing sunglasses all day.

  “It’s not a date,” I said.

  Colton’s gaze jumped to mine.

  “Is that right?” Ginny’s smile grew.

  “Yep,” I assured. “We’re just a couple of friends who ran into one another by utter coincidence and decided to get some food.”

  Ginny smoothed her palms down the sides of her uniform, obviously pleased. “I see.”

  I shut my eyes so they wouldn’t be seen rolling, then smiled at Colton. He frowned.

  “Right this way,” Ginny said, swinging her hips across the high-polished black-and-white checkered floor to an empty red vinyl booth near the windows. She set the placemats, menus, and cutlery on a silver-flecked tabletop, then lanced Colton with a come-hither smile. “I’ll be right back with your water.”

  “Jeez,” I complained when she left.

  “What?” he asked, still frowning. “You don’t want water?”

  I dragged a disbelieving gaze from Colton to Ginny’s retreating form then back. “Are you kidding?”

  “What?” he asked again, sounding slightly irritated now.

  “Ginny was hitting on you,” I said. “Right in front of me.”

  His features relaxed a bit. He cocked his head and let one side of his mouth tilt in a lazy half smile. “You said this wasn’t a date. We’re just friends who happened to run into one another.”

  I bit my tongue. Continuing that line of discussion could paint me as jealous or imply I wanted this to be a date. Which I wasn’t and didn’t.

  Colton’s cocky smile returned.

  “I don’t care that she was flirting,” I said. “I was just making conversation. Clearly we should change the subject.”

  Colton leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table between us. “Okay. Let’s talk about what you’re doing in Winchester. You told me you were finished getting involved in this, and I believed you. I’m not usually wrong about people, so that irks me.”

  I matched his posture and body language, setting my joined hands on the table across from his. “I meant
it when I said it, but now Granny’s hurt, and someone needs to catch the man who did it before she winds up like Mrs. Cooper.”

  Colton’s brows went up. “That’s quite a jump. The man’s focus had been on you until she came out shooting. You care to elaborate on why you think he’d target her now? Unconscious and hospitalized?”

  “It could be about her land—” I said, cutting myself off when the waitress reappeared.

  Ginny delivered two glasses of water then poised a pen over her little green-striped notepad. “Y’all ready to order?”

  We hadn’t even looked at the menus, but Colton ordered a burger, fries, and chocolate malt.

  “Just fries and a malt,” I said quickly, unwilling to ask her to come back again.

  “Okay.” Ginny jotted the orders onto her notepad, then winked at Colton and left.

  “Surely you see she’s flirting,” I said.

  “She’s being nice. She’s a waitress.”

  I rolled my eyes but regretted it immediately.

  “Let’s circle back to the land theory. Why don’t you finish telling me what you were doing at Dr. Davis’s office?”

  I assumed this conversation would be like most unpleasant things, and the best way through it would be headfirst. “I found Mrs. Cooper’s connection to Dr. Davis online when I noticed all the hashtags she put on her photos. Then, I remembered her hiking group’s trail master saying he’d heard her break up with one man for another, and I realized those men might’ve been doctors, not boyfriends. So, I drove out here to ask him about Mrs. Cooper and the Million Dollar Mama hashtag. Once I was here, I wondered how mad he might’ve been about one of his success stories leaving him.”

  Colton’s frown was back. “You thought he might be the killer.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Colton asked. “See, that bothers me. You put on a hat and some sunglasses then marched right into a potential murderer’s office. A man you thought might be stalking you and who’d hurt your grandmother. Do you see the problem there?”

  I narrowed my eyes on him. “It’s not like he was my prime suspect. I’m just working through some theories.”

  “You have others?” he asked, pleasantly, though his expression wasn’t pleasant at all. “Do tell.”