Once Hunted, Twice Shy: A Cozy Paranormal Mystery (The Happily Everlasting Series Book 2)

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Well, ma’am, we found two dead bodies not far from there. Foul play is suspected in the men’s deaths. We’re looking into all leads now and questioning anyone on what they may or may not know.”

  Gasping, Penelope sat up so fast that she bumped the desk and nearly spilled her coffee. She caught and steadied it, her wide eyes going back to Deputy March. “What happened?”

  He licked his lower lip. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Me? Why would I know anything about it? I don’t know anything about the dead men.” Confused, Penelope stared at him and realized her mouth was open as if she were trying to catch flies with it.

  The look in Deputy March’s eyes was one that screamed no mercy. For a split second she actually began to wonder about his age. He didn’t look any older than her, twenty-six, but his eyes held wisdom in them far beyond the years on his face. “Because we got reports of you and your car in that area around what our coroner is telling us was the time of death.”

  Jolene snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. “March, look at the girl. Does she look like a hardened killer? She has a puppy dog on her sweater. She’s what? A buck ten soaking wet? What is she going to kill? And where, exactly, were these men found?”

  “The bottom of the cliffs. We’re still trying to determine the cause of death, and we don’t know their identities just yet.” He cleared his throat. “I’m just following up on the lead, Ms. Jolene. I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “That may be so, but I’m offended for her.” Jolene didn’t let up a bit in her firm, no-nonsense stance on the matter.

  “Be that as it may,” said Deputy March. The larger the puddle at his feet grew, the more his courage around Jolene seemed to expand. “I’ll need to ask her some questions.”

  Jolene rolled her eyes. “Call Deputy August, he lives for the chance to play detective.”

  Deputy March’s hard façade cracked ever so slightly, the only sign he found Jolene’s comment amusing. “He does, doesn’t he?”

  Everlasting had deputies named March and August? What a strange town.

  “Rumor has it that you were a big-city detective before you came to our sleepy little fishing town,” mentioned Jolene, her gaze on Deputy March.

  “Yes ma’am,” he said, inclining his head.

  “How long were you there?” she questioned.

  Deputy March’s shoulders slumped slightly before he quickly righted himself. “Feels like I’ve been policing things in one form or another for centuries.”

  “I’m sure it does,” returned Jolene, something off in her voice. “Do you ever get tired of it all?”

  He cleared his throat. “Ms. Jolene, any information you can provide would be helpful. Same for your friend here. Whatever she might know could help us figure out what happened to the men we found.”

  Penelope put her hands on her knees, nervous, though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she’d murdered anybody or had anything to feel guilty over. “I don’t mind answering your questions. Do I have to go down to a station or something? Should I call an attorney? Am I being arrested?”

  Jolene shook her head. “For the love of pecans, no. He can ask what he wants here, and if he pushes too far, I’ll take him by his ear to Sheriff Bull. Francine and I go way back.”

  At the mention of the sheriff, March paled. “Here is good.”

  Penelope felt like she was in a bad movie. The kind where the big-city girl enters a small town, only to be pulled over by the small-town officer, never to be seen again.

  “Where were you tonight?” he inquired, somehow managing to ask his question while Jolene glared holes at his head.

  Jolene groaned. “For Pete’s sake, March. We’ve already established she was up near the cliffs on the edge of town. Follow along, would ya?”

  Penelope wasn’t sure if Jolene was helping or hurting her case. “Um, I was near the cliffs, like Jolene said. I was trying to find my grandfather’s house, but my GPS tried to route me into the ocean. I was first parked by a lighthouse, and there was some guy in boxer shorts there, so I didn’t want to ask for directions, plus I couldn’t stop sneezing, so I turned around and tried to find my way into town. I couldn’t see very well when the rain increased and the road was narrow, so I pulled off a bit to wait out the storm. That was when Jolene found me.”

  Jolene stared blankly at her. “You know you ramble a lot when you’re nervous.”

  She’d been told that more than once in her life.

  Deputy March pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen. “Okay, you were out by the lighthouse, and there was a guy in boxers. Can you describe him?”

  “Erm, he was older, wearing plaid boxers and a sports jacket. Nothing else.”

  Jolene snickered.

  Penelope squirmed in the chair, feeling like she was on trial for her life, and Jolene thought it was funny.

  “Did you get his name?” asked Deputy March, staring hard at his pad of paper as he wrote.

  Penelope blinked. Was he serious? The expression he leveled on her said he was. She swallowed hard. “No. It seemed unwise to get out of my car during a storm and go up to a stranger who was wearing only boxer shorts to have a chat.”

  Jolene laughed more, sipping her coffee. “She’s talking about Cornelius, March.”

  Deputy March exhaled loudly and began scratching through the notes he’d taken. “That damn ghost. I swear he’s on my last nerve. If he’d just make himself visible to men too and start wearing some pants, my life would be so much easier.”

  Ghost?

  Penelope went rigid. Surely the man was kidding.

  No one laughed.

  She thought about the man she’d seen wearing boxers. He’d been real, hadn’t he? He’d looked real. And she didn’t believe in ghosts.

  Deputy March stared at her once more. “Can anyone verify what you were doing out near the lighthouse and the cliffs?”

  She stiffened as she realized he really did think she was a suspect. In all her life, she’d never even gotten so much as a speeding ticket, let alone questioned over a murder. She was the type of person who didn’t litter, didn’t jaywalk, put extra money in parking meters, and who followed the rules. She didn’t kill people. She didn’t even kill spiders. She relocated them. They had a right to live too.

  “I was lost. Jolene found me. I’m not sure what there is to verify,” she said, staying calm, despite the sweat forming on her palms. Flashes of being forced to wear an orange jumpsuit and talk to her grandfather through glass came to her mind. She’d never survive the slammer. She could barely make it when her internet connection went out. A six-by-six cell and communal showers were not something she could deal with.

  “Did you see two men out there?” he asked. “They were mid-thirties.”

  She shook her head, panic continuing to well in her. “Just the older man in the boxers.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “You’re telling me you didn’t see anyone else out there.”

  “Yes. That’s right. Well, other than Jolene.”

  He looked to Jolene. “Ms. Bails, did you happen to see anyone else out that way?”

  “No,” snapped Jolene, and from the expression on her face, she was done discussing it.

  “Ms. Jolene?” asked Deputy March, adding a bit of saccharine to his voice.

  Jolene eyed him in a way that said she wasn’t having any of his questions, and she wasn’t falling for his charms. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about what two men were doing near the cliffs at that time of night, in the middle of a storm, than what Penelope and I were up to?”

  Deputy March kept his pad of paper out. He glanced at Penelope. “Okay, you said you were headed to your grandfather’s house. Does he live here in Everlasting?”

  Jolene sat up so fast that she spilled her coffee, but she paid no mind to it. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  Penelope wasn’t sure what harm could come from answering the man’s question. “Yes. My g
randfather owns an antiques shop here in town on Main Street.”

  Deputy March managed to pale even more. “Wilber Messing is your grandfather?”

  She nodded—and the man unsnapped the top of his holster as if he might need to pull his weapon in a hurry.

  Penelope froze.

  Hold the pickles.

  Did he really think she was a threat? Was he going to shoot her on the spot, just for getting turned around on the edge of town?

  Without thought, Penelope put her hands up as a sign of surrender.

  Jolene stood and limped around the desk in the deputy’s direction. “March, you got about two seconds before I have Sheriff Bull on the phone. Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t the new Jack Reacher novel come out? She’ll be deep into reading that and none too pleased she got interrupted because you’re on a mission to ruin a young girl’s life.”

  He stepped back from Jolene, but his gaze landed on Penelope. “Don’t leave town until we get this cleared up.”

  His radio went off, and a woman’s voice came over it. “March, you there? Templeton is on Main Street dressed in a general’s costume, riding around in a shopping cart. He’s scaring tourists again.”

  Deputy March pressed the button on his handheld. “Judy, can you send August? I’m wrapping up at Jolene’s.”

  “Can do, sugar,” the woman said, her voice raspy.

  All Penelope could do was manage a small incline of her head as Jolene really did shove Deputy March out of the door. She locked it behind him and flipped her sign around to read closed. She eyed Penelope. “You can put your hands down.”

  She did.

  “That wasn’t good at all,” said Penelope.

  Jolene sighed. “It could be worse though. It could be Deputy August looking into it all. He’s completely incompetent. At least March has a brain.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I know that, but now that he knows who your grandfather is, the whole town will be hearing about it by midday. Trust me when I say you’ll be guilty until proven innocent in most of their minds.” She sighed. “You’d think with the amount of dead bodies we get around here this wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.”

  Penelope’s throat felt as if she’d swallowed sand. “Exactly how many dead bodies does Everlasting see?”

  Jolene shrugged a shoulder. “I honestly stopped counting years ago. You mentioned that you were staying at the B&B?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be better if you stayed with Wil,” she said. “No one would dare to bother you there.”

  “But they will at the B&B?” asked Penelope, her mind racing. All she’d wanted to do was visit her grandfather for a bit, and now she was a murder suspect. “I can’t just impose on my grandfather without warning. I’ll stay at the B&B.”

  “I’ll call the sheriff. As soon as the storm breaks, we’ll get you settled in at the B&B, but trust me when I say it will be better to stay with your grandfather. Folks around here have a healthy fear of him.”

  She nearly laughed at the idea of anyone fearing him. He was sweet and lovable. The biggest fear they should have was if he’d start wanting to hug them. He was a hugger. At least he always was with her.

  Jolene took a deep breath and glanced out the window. “The storm is just about over. We can get you on your way to your grandfather’s.”

  “Should I be worried that I’m a suspect in Deputy March’s eyes?”

  Jolene pressed a smile to her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No. Not at all, honey. Here, let’s get you another scone. They make everything better.”

  Suddenly, Penelope was regretting her decision to come back to Everlasting.

  Chapter Four

  Hugh Lupine weaved around a large oak tree as he stepped out and onto Main Street. It was still early enough in the morning that Main Street wasn’t filled to the brim with people just yet. Freak storms had blown through during the night and into the early hours of the day, leaving leaves scattered about the street, and most people hunkered down for a bit.

  He wouldn’t have been in the area if he didn’t need to check on his friend who wasn’t on his boat this morning. Captain Petey tended to vanish for days at a time. Most went with it, knowing the man was old, set in his ways, and touched in the head. Hugh thought of him as an uncle who, while certifiable, was family of sorts. He’d worry until he knew where Petey was.

  If he guessed right, Petey would be sleeping off too much whiskey down at the Magic Eight Ball. The place catered to the locals and was a watering hole that Petey frequented. Shorty, the owner, often took pity on the old man, letting him sleep there rather than making Petey head back to the marina late at night. Often Petey had company during his all-nighters in the form of Monte Gallagher and Sam Chester. The three of them were all old-time fishermen and Magic Eight Ball regulars.

  Petey lived in a small cabin that was near Hugh’s home. The two did their best to look out for one another. Though Petey tended to leave bottles of booze as peace offerings and wellness packs when Hugh left groceries and food for the old man.

  Hugh walked quickly past Hunted Treasures Antiques & Artifacts, making sure he stayed off the sidewalk in front of the shop. He treated the area like it was lava and if he dared step into it, he’d instantly burst into flames. It was dramatic, but how he felt about the place.

  The brick building was old and more than likely considered historic, as it had been there since the town was built. The storefront fit with the quaint aspect downtown Everlasting had. The green awning that was above the giant picture window, and below the sign for the shop, was always spotless. It was as if the birds were even afraid to do their business anywhere near a Messing property.

  He couldn’t blame them.

  The old man probably had some sort of hexed artifact in there that repelled pigeons. He’d heard all about the artifacts that called the shop home. They varied from crystal balls to end-of-the-world stones. From his understanding, the shop would give Ripley a run for its “believe it or not” money.

  No thank you.

  Hugh shuddered slightly as a case of the heebie-jeebies came over him. He hoped no one noticed his obvious discomfort around the shop. He’d be hard-pressed to live down the reputation of being scared of it if they did.

  The place always seemed to have tourists venturing in and out, looking for a great find. While he knew the shop held more than mere antiques, he’d never been curious enough to wander in. He’d taken the townsfolks’ word on Old Man Messing being the keeper of artifacts that were best left out of the hands of humans. Hugh had never set foot in the place despite having lived in Everlasting all his life, and he didn’t intend to ever enter.

  Giving Hunted Treasures a wide berth was ingrained into Hugh’s being. He’d grown up hearing stories about the Messing family and how they’d hunted a number of supernaturals to the point of extinction.

  For a brief period during his youth, he’d been neighbors with some of the Messing family. He’d even played with the little girl who had lived in the house next to his—even with their age difference. He could still remember the look of horror on his parents’ faces when they’d found the two of them playing together. Hugh hadn’t understood the issue then. Why he couldn’t be friends with the little girl. That had seemed like a lifetime ago.

  While Wilber Messing claimed he was no longer into the old family business of hunting and killing supernaturals, Hugh wasn’t taking any chances. Especially since a number of his ancestors had been victims of the Messing supernatural hunts and culling. They were famed, and stories were often passed down generation to generation, told to frighten young supernaturals and to keep them in line. As far as he knew, Wilber hadn’t offed anyone in town, but a lot of strange things happened in Everlasting. And Hugh had no desire to have his pelt end up on the wall of the old man’s shop.

  Right now, Wilber was the least of Hugh’s concerns. Currently, he was trying to artfully dodge the small, annoying man walking behind hi
m, a glass jar in hand. The jar was nearly filled to the brim with coins and cash, and it had all been courtesy of Hugh and his mouth.

  He didn’t understand what the big deal was. So what if he tended to be colorful with his language? Apparently, not everyone in town liked it, and they’d suckered him into a bet with a man he hated to lose to. Now, it was a case of clean up or pay up.

  And pay up he had.

  It seemed as if all he’d done the last four days was pay up.

  “We all heard you, Hugh,” said Buster, trotting after Hugh like a stray dog, as he held out the jar more. There was no way Hugh could miss the thing, yet Buster continued to make it obvious. He shook the jar, and it barely rattled—a testament to just how many times Hugh had to use cash rather than coins because of his mouth, and the steep fines that came with certain words, along with the frequency of use.

  Apparently, Hugh was a master wordsmith.

  Buster smiled so wide, Hugh wasn’t sure how the man’s face didn’t break. There were very few times in the man’s life that he got to boss Hugh around. This was one of them. “Pay up. You know the rules, and you’re the one who said you could do it. Now, if you want me to tell Curt that he wins the bet, I can give him a call.”

  There was no way Hugh was going to fold this soon into the bet. It didn’t matter how hard it was for him to watch his mouth, he’d figure out a way. And then he’d make Curt eat his words.

  With a growl, Hugh reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out his wallet, withdrew a five-dollar bill, and shoved it into the jar. “There.”

  “That one was at least a ten-buck infraction,” said Buster, still holding the jar out. He shook his head, as he whistled long and loud, drawing the attention of a few people passing by. “You somehow managed to string together four sentences full of nothing but foul language. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

  “Yeah, well we all have our gifts,” snapped Hugh, annoyed he’d allowed himself to agree to the bet to start with. Curt Warrick had been a pain in his backside since elementary school, and his best friend. Now that the men were in their thirties, not much had improved between them when it came to competing. If anything, it had gotten worse. Such was the way of it between cats and dogs though.