by Nan Sampson
Arabella nodded. “That’s a good girl. You’ll be fine there. Patti’ll take care of you. Not,” she added wryly, “that you need taking care of.” Her face fell into a frown. “What I can’t figure out is that message. Who on earth called to cancel your reservation?”
The hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck prickled. “I don’t know.” But she had a feeling it was important to find out.
Having convinced her new best friend Laura that the book store owner was NOT to drive her to the Mough’s but to the Chief’s office, so Ellie could be printed and probably make a formal statement, she arrived in time for her ‘appointment’ with Chief Gruetzmacher only twenty minutes late. Despite the fact that they left the Inn with over an hour and a half to spare.
The first delay was the fact that Laura had to stop by the bank (that is, THE Bank, as it was, apparently, the only one in town) to drop off the previous week’s receipts. Ellie made the mistake of accompanying her inside, and the two of them were immediately swarmed by both customers and employees alike, wanting to hear all the details – whilst simultaneously welcoming Ellie (whom they all treated as though they’d known her all their lives) to town. It took twenty minutes to make their escape.
Then Laura made a ‘quick’ stop at the post office, wherein followed more of the same. By the time Laura ‘just popped in’ to the Quickie Mart, Ellie had learned to stay in the car. It didn’t make the stop any shorter, but she wasn’t overwhelmed by well-meaning townsfolk. Did everyone in the county know her name and her life history? It felt that way.
She thought they were finally free as they left the town proper, but about a mile or so down the road a man in a Ford Taurus stopped Laura in the middle of the two lane highway and rolled down his window.
“Where you headed, Miss Laura? Thought you opened at 11:00.”
“Hey, Karl. I’m just running a couple of errands. It’s a slow day anyway.”
Howard, whose badly-arranged toupee made him look at least ten years older than he probably was, scowled disapprovingly. “Well, I surely hope you put up a sign. I don’t want a bunch of unhappy tourists tromping into my office, complaining that the stores aren’t open when advertised.” He seemed to notice Ellie for the first time. “Ah, Miss Gooden. I didn’t remember until I heard the news about Artie that you were supposed to arrive today. I hope that incident in your shop this morning isn’t going to prevent you from opening on time. The Council is very excited to have a new shop in town. We’re counting on you to be a great tourist draw.”
Ellie clamped her mouth shut to keep from saying something snotty. Incident? A man was dead, for Goddess’ sake. A man Karl Howard had probably known most of his life. “Good to see you again, Mr. Howard.”
He scowled again, clearly not happy with the response. And then his fake smile returned. “Well. You ladies have a good day. Miss Gooden, a pleasure as always. I look forward to seeing you at our next Business Owner’s Association meeting.” He rolled up his window and drove off down the road.
Laura was scowling now too. “Yech. What a jerk. Artie Cullen may have had his faults, but he was, at heart, a decent man. That guy… I’m surprised someone hasn’t sent HIM to an early grave.” She put the car into motion again.
“If he’s such a jerk, how come he keeps getting elected as president of the Town Council?”
“Because he’s got power, and he knows how to play the game.” Laura grimaced. “Plus he has more money than just about anyone in town.”
“You’re saying he bribes people?”
“Well, you couldn’t charge him legally… but he knows whose palms to grease.”
“Good Lord and Lady. What have I let myself in for?”
“Don’t worry. He’s the worst of us. Most folks in town, and for that matter on the Council and in the Association, are all good people. I know you’re going to like it here.” She gave Ellie a pleading look. “Please don’t let this horrible mess scare you off.”
Ellie took a breath. Yes, she did feel like running. Back to her old life. Her nice, safe, boring, soul-sucking life. Although it hadn’t been so safe or nice, as it turned out. She shook her head. There was nothing back there for her now, nothing to run back to. She was committed to making this new life work. “I don’t scare easily, Laura. At least, not anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”
Satisfied, Laura gave her a sunny smile again. “Good. I know we don’t know each other well, but I really like you, Ellie.”
Well, Laura had one thing right. She didn’t really know Ellie very well. But she’d take a friend in town over an enemy and the way the day was shaping up, she might need all the friends she could get. Surely one of them would be able to post bail for her if Chief Gruetzmacher decided to arrest her, an eventuality that seemed more and more likely by the minute. She gave a mental snort. Maybe one of her new friends would be able to find her a lawyer too.
Chapter 7
Two hours later, she’d been printed (just for a reference sample, they’d said), questioned and eventually released, whereupon the Chief had driven her back to her car, which still sat in the alley behind the shop.
“Now, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to leave town,” Gruetzmacher had told her as he dropped her off.
“You’re right. You don’t have to tell me.”
He gave her an odd look. “I’m, uh, sorry about all this. I didn’t realize you were… who you are. I’ve still got friends on the force in Chicago, I heard about the murder of your parents. I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection. Gooden is not a common name.”
She gave a little shrug. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Nor did she want to see that pity in his eyes. Dealing with it by ignoring it, she popped open the door to his 4x4. “Thanks for the lift.”
He put a hand on her arm then just as quickly withdrew it. “Look, you be careful. I don’t know who killed Artie. One could hope that it’s some stranger passing through town and that he’s already gone on his way. But you and I both know that’s not how these things work out. So chances are our killer’s still here.”
More things she didn’t want to talk about. Or even think about. “I’ll do my best, Chief.”
“You’ve got my card. You call me if you need me.”
Was that a line, or some sort of fatherly concern from a small town Chief? Gruetzmacher wasn’t young, but neither was he old. She wasn’t sure, so she gave what she hoped was a noncommittal smile and pushed the car door shut before heading to her own vehicle, keeping her back to him as a stop gap to further conversation.
The 4x4 idled there for a moment longer then headed off down the alley, leaving Ellie alone for the first time in what felt like days. It was almost five o’clock. Nowhere near dark, but late enough that the shadows in the alley were growing long.
Waiting until the 4x4 turned out into the street, she pulled her shop keys out of her jeans pocket and unlocked the back door to the shop. Ducking under the yellow police tape stretched across the doorway, she entered, even though she’d been told not to.
Her throat closed up as she passed through the hallway and into the front of the shop. This was supposed to have been a day filled with joy and new beginnings. Now, every time she walked into the kitchen, she was afraid she’d see the body of Artie Cullen, slumped forward in the chair he’d been tied to, syrup and feathers covering his spare frame.
She sat down at one of the ice cream tables and stared forlornly at the black smudges that marred every available surface – evidence that the crime lab boys had been hard at work. How would she ever get this place cleaned up in time to open next weekend? Not to mention that the shop was now a crime scene and the Chief had given her no indication when he thought that status might change.
Standing, she wandered through the shop, trying to assess the damage and how long it might take her to put things back the way she wanted them. Other than the finger print powder, the front area wasn’t terrible. The kitchen would be the worst of it, she supposed, an
d she forced herself to push open the swinging door to see just what would need doing.
She almost expected the body to still be there, but where the chair had been there was just a blank spot in the congealing syrup and feathers. Avoiding that, she walked gingerly around the edges of her kitchen, thinking that in the final analysis all that would really be needed was several hundred gallons of bleach and cleanser and maybe a bottle or two of Jameson Irish – the last to wash the memory of Artie Cullen’s body from her mind.
Knowing there’d be hell to pay if she was caught there, and feeling the gloom start to settle as the sun disappeared behind the shops across the street, she finished her tour of the shop by quickly checking the store room, which looked as pristine as she’d left it, and lastly, the little room that would be her office.
It too, looked much as she had left it the weekend before, with one exception. Sitting on her desk (an Ikea special in the sleek, pale ‘Birch’ shade) was a well-worn, gilt-edged, leather-bound Bible. A Bible which, she was dismayed to note, was the only thing in the office not covered in finger print powder. Apparently, the local constabulary felt that that was some kind of sacred violation.
And it might be the only item in the whole room that would actually harbor actual evidence, because the thing damn sure didn’t belong to her.
She considered picking it up, taking it over to the Police Station herself, but then she’d have to explain why she’d gone into the shop, after being explicitly told not to. She was pretty sure that removing evidence from a crime scene was a crime itself, even if she was bringing it to the police, who’d missed it the first time round. So she left it exactly where she’d found it, and promised herself that she’d call the number on the card Gruetzmacher had given her later, once she’d gotten settled in at the Mough’s.
Ugh. Why couldn’t she just go get a hotel room somewhere? Damn it, she really should. She could get in her car, drive a couple of towns over, find some other B&B or even a Motel 6. She wasn’t picky. Then she’d call the Mough’s from her room, explain that she’d found a place to stay…
And have Patti Mough get all offended that she’d refused her hospitality.
She sighed. Maybe it hadn’t been such a smart thing moving to a small town. There was, apparently, no hope of anonymity here. She’d thought, when she’d seen the little cabin that was part and parcel of her real estate deal to buy the shop, that it was perfect. Small. Inconspicuous. And way the hell out of town, down a little dirt road in the middle of a dense copse of trees. Heck, her nearest neighbor, an elderly man who raised llamas of all things, was nearly a mile distant. It had seemed ideal.
She had no idea that she would be required to befriend half of Montgomery County her first day in town.
Taking a last look at her smudge-ridden shop, she let herself out the back door, car keys in hand. It was dim in the alley now. She scanned the shadows like any long time resident of the city would do before stepping out of the doorway and heading towards her VW.
She hadn’t gone more than two steps when a shadow detached itself from the greater darkness of the gangway between her shop and the next.
Acting on reflex, she swung her purse like a bolo, connecting squarely with the tall figure. There was a satisfying ‘oof’, as her weapon made contact with the man’s solar plexus, then a string of expletives worthy of a city dweller.
“Jesus wept, Gooden, what the hell are you doing?”
Ellie stared at the tall, lanky figure in the hooded sweat shirt. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Heart thudding, she fumbled in her purse for her canister of pepper spray. “Who the hell are you?”
The man stepped forward and Ellie stepped back. “It’s me. Charlie McCallum. Katie’s brother-in-law?”
Fear faded and fury took over. It seemed these days those were the only two emotions she was permitted to feel. “What the hell are you doing here? You scared me half to death, you moron.” She grimaced. Probably wouldn’t do to insult her best friend’s family. “Where’s Kate?”
“I left her at the hotel. Or, rather, ‘The Inn’. I was supposed to come find you and bring you back for a celebration dinner, but when I got here, I found police tape across the door. I looked inside, but couldn’t see anyone.” He stepped closer, touched her arm lightly. “For a minute I thought something might have happened to you.”
Was that worry in fly-by-night Charlie’s eyes? Nah. Couldn’t be. The man was incapable of experiencing a serious emotion.
As if to prove her right, he grinned – an expression most women found adorable and endearing. The same women who cooed over memes of kittens on Facebook and videos of precocious babies on YouTube. “Then I thought to myself, no criminal in his right mind would mess with you, Gooden. You’d clobber him with that purse of yours and ask questions later.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and gestured at her car. “So I waited around for a bit, figuring if your car was here, you couldn’t be too far away.”
She gave him a scowl. “Great deductive reasoning, Sherlock. I’m sure that comes in useful when you’re handing out parking tickets and arresting people for jaywalking.”
He chuckled, taking all the sting out of her jibe. “That’s Officer Sherlock to you. So, what happened here? Break-in? Vandalism?”
She rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here, Charlie? I don’t mean here here. I mean in Horizon?”
“Katie wanted to come up to surprise you. To help you celebrate. And because she’s still hobbling around in that cast of hers, she needed someone to play chauffeur.”
Ellie groaned. “I told her not to come. She should be resting, not gallivanting around the country. Oh, she’s so stubborn.”
He laughed again, flashing her that ridiculous grin. “Yeah, so unlike anybody else we know.” He glanced around. “So. We should probably get back. Kate’ll start to worry.”
Something occurred to her as she stood there watching him. “You know someone called and cancelled my room reservation. I don’t suppose that was your idea of a joke?”
He stared at her for a moment then shook his head as if in disbelief. “You must really think I’m some kind of schmuck. No. I did not call and cancel your room reservation. Jeez, Gooden.”
She wished she could read his eyes, but it was just too dim in the alley. “Fine. Whatever.” She turned to go. “See you back at the Inn.”
He followed her to her car. “Um, I, uh, walked down here. You wouldn’t leave a fellow Chicagoan stranded in an alley in a strange town, would you?”
With one hand on the door handle of her car, she sucked in a breath that was supposed to center her, but left her smelling garbage cans and other alley smells instead. “Fine. Get in.” As he complied, she asked, “Are you sure it wasn’t you? If I find out that it was, Kate won’t be the only one hobbling around on crutches.”
He folded his lanky frame into her passenger seat and buckled up. “See. I knew you were okay. No one in his right mind would mess with you, Glenda Goodwitch.”
She’d hated that nickname, no matter how well-meaning Kate said it was. “Yeah, well, that kinda lets you out of the running, doesn’t it?”
Glaring straight ahead, she started the car and took off with a screech down the alleyway.
Chapter 8
The car stalled twice on the hill that led to the Inn. Ellie blamed the cops. Clearly they’d done something to her car. Charlie, contrary as ever, blamed it on the fact that her car was nearly fifteen years old and had over two hundred and fifty thousand miles on it.
“Plus,” he told her, “you can’t shift worth a darn. I’m surprised you haven’t stripped the gears. How long have you had this antique, anyway?”
She scowled. Wondered if, as her mother always told her, her face would stick that way. “Since it was new.”
Charlie laughed. “You’ve had the same car for fifteen years? Maybe I was wrong about you.”
“What’s wrong with keeping a car that runs?”
He waved
his hands as he climbed out of the car. “Nothing. It’s just, I always had you pegged as the typical suburban type. You know. Leasing a new Lexus every two years, Prada shoes and business suits, manicures every other Thursday.”
The description was so not her, Ellie had to laugh. “Take a look at these nails.” She held up her hands. “Do they look like they’ve ever been manicured?”
Charlie just shrugged.
“Trust me. They haven’t.” Popping the trunk, she found her small gym bag that doubled as an overnighter from among all the other things piled in the space, and slung it over her shoulder. Maybe she could talk Kate into letting her stay in her room with her tonight. She didn’t want to insult Patti, but she’d rather have that ridiculous manicure than stay at the Mough’s.
“You want me to carry that?”
Hefting the bag on her shoulder, she gave Charlie another scowl. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own overnight bag.”
He raised his hands again to fend off her tone. “Yeah, I get that. I was just being a gentleman. Jeez.”
Tromping loudly up the stone steps to the porch made her feel better, in a childish sort of way. It felt as though everyone in the world wanted to intrude on her quiet, private little weekend. She loved Kate – she’d been her best friend since college. But there was no reason for Kate to be here. She’d broken her ankle at one of her son’s soccer games the weekend previous, and she should have been sitting at home, ensconced on her couch, being waited on by her family. They’d even discussed this very thing and Ellie had told Kate that she was, under no circumstances, to drive up.
Yet here she was, and now Ellie not only felt guilty about Kate being here, but perhaps even more guilty about not really even wanting her here. She sure as heck didn’t want Kate’s good-for-nothing, free-loading brother-in-law hanging around. What people saw in him – and there were always swarms of people who’d tell you how great good old Charlie was – Ellie had never been able to fathom. He was eccentric. Couldn’t keep a job – or even a profession for more than a year at a time. He never seemed to have any money, and had absolutely no problem cadging handouts. To say that Charlie marched to the beat of his own drum was the understatement of the millennium.