Restless Natives (A Coffee & Crime Mystery Book 1)

by Nan Sampson

  “Hi! Can I help you?”

  A cheery brunette with a mass of carefully coiffed scarlet ringlets stood behind the little front desk, stuffing small silver bags with swaths of colored tissue paper.

  “Um, I’m uh—”

  “Oh! You’re Ellie Gooden! I recognize you by your hair – Terri said you had those fab curls. Although…” The woman came around from behind the desk and reached out to touch Ellie’s unruly mane. “I could probably recommend some conditioner that would tame the tangles.” She pushed and pulled at Ellie’s hair for a moment, while Ellie simultaneously glanced around inside for Louisa and wished the girl would stop messing with her hair.

  “Did you come in for a trim?” And then, she put a hand to her mouth. “Oops, sorry. I’m Irmina. But most people round here called me Irmie.” The woman – who upon closer inspection looked older than Ellie had first guessed – stuck out her hand. “Hi.”

  Ellie shook Irmie’s hand. “Hi. I guess I better get used to everyone knowing me before I know them. Terri also has a great future as a publicist.”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s great at that – she knows just about everyone and everything. So. How about a cut? Or were you thinking of changing color? I bet if we added some red, it would look absolutely wicked.”

  Ellie shook her head and took a step back. “No, no, I really don’t need anything today. I was just, uh, checking things out. You know, getting familiar with the area.” She looked around as if assessing the shop. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

  Irmie beamed then waved away the compliment. “Oh, it does. It’s no fancy salon, but we do offer a lot of services that other places around here don’t. I’ve got a massage therapist who comes in every Thursday and Saturday now, and we’re just getting into all kinds of wonderful aromatherapy stuff.”

  “Well, that’s great. It’s uh, a pleasure to meet you.” She began backing towards the door.

  “Me too! So when does the shop open? I heard there might be a delay because of what happened to old Artie Cullen. Oh, my gosh, that must have been awful for you. Sam said you were the one that found him. And that he was all tied up and covered in syrup and chicken feathers.” Her expertly shadowed eyes grew wide. “Was there a lot of blood?”

  Ellie shook her head. Shame on Sam Klein for telling tales out of school. “No. Not really.”

  “How do you suppose the killer got in there? I mean, you’d think somebody would have seen, wouldn’t you?”

  Ellie shrugged. She hadn’t thought of that, but Irmie was right. It was worth thinking about – but not here and not now, and definitely not with Irmie. “I really don’t know.”

  The door opened behind her, and the little bell rang, as an older woman bustled in. “Hello, dear.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Ostervang. I’ll be right with you – why don’t you go have a seat in my chair.”

  The older woman hung up her coat on the wooden coat stand and then bustled over to one of the chairs. “I’ve got to be home by five, young lady.”

  Irmie gave Ellie a grin. “Stop in again soon. I can’t wait to get my hands on your hair!” And with that she hurried off after her customer.

  Ellie stepped back outside and searched in vain for a sign of Louisa. Nothing. Just gobs and gobs of tourists, all of whom might be longing for a good cup of espresso or cappuccino. They came mostly for the wine-tastings at Steinhoff’s Vineyard or for the Cheesefest in early summer. But the Inn had also become a popular destination for weekend getaways, and the opening the summer before of the open-air theater had been a great boon to recent traffic.

  She stood on the corner for a moment then decided to head down Third Street for a short distance. There were a couple of shops in the first block, but after that, she quickly found herself in an older residential neighborhood. Figuring she had completely lost the scent, she was just turning around to head back to Main Street when movement in the front window of one of the little brick bungalows caught her eye.

  Two figures stood in the center of a large bay window, bodies practically twined around one another, lips locked together. He was tall, and probably fair-haired, although it was hard to tell with the afternoon light glaring a bit off the glass. Dressed in a tweed sports jacket and a white button down shirt, he looked like Wally Cleaver’s English teacher. Ellie had no idea who he was.

  But there was no mistaking the spiky, ink-black hair of Louisa Cullen as she wrapped her tattoo-covered arms around Mr. English Teacher’s neck.

  As though sensing they were being watched, the couple, still entwined, slowly shuffled out of view.

  Ellie stood staring for a moment longer then noted the street address on the house. She was turning to leave when another movement caught her eye, off to the side of the house, where three large fir trees cast deep shadows. She stared at the spot, trying to see what had caught her eye. It seemed to her a figure stood there, behind the trees.

  A gust of wind brought her a sound now too, the fluttering of pages.

  She strained to see further into the trees, trying to make out what, or who was there, and what they were doing. Someone else spying on Louisa perhaps? Or someone spying on the man Louisa was with?

  Another breeze came up from nowhere and the tree branches swayed, opening a window on the figure just as it looked up from the book he appeared to be reading, and met her eyes.

  She stared, dumbfounded, into the face of Artie Cullen.

  A chill rippled down from the top of her scalp to her neck.

  And then, even as her eyes locked onto his, the tree branches moved again, and the figure simply vanished, there one second, gone the next.

  Ellie stared for a moment longer, willing Artie back. She needed him to say something, to indicate something more, but he was gone. Her mother, the soul of practicality, would have said he’d never been there, that it was just light and shadows and her overactive imagination.

  Maybe it was, the result of her brain making patterns out of light and shape. But her gut told her otherwise.

  She combed nervous fingers through her hair. Regardless of whether Artie had really been there or not, other things she had seen remained, along with the questions they raised. For instance, what male person had Louisa been kissing? Louisa, who was supposed to be a lesbian. Louisa, who didn’t appear to have the social skills of a grape.

  She jogged back to her car, still chilled despite the warmth of the day, trying to figure out how best to find out. And she wasn’t at all happy with the handful of solutions she came up with. Still frowning, she started the car and headed back towards the other end of town.

  Chapter 15

  Her little cabin had grown uncomfortably warm in the afternoon sun. She flung open all the windows, happy to see the new screens Earl Mough had thoughtfully installed over the new, double hung, triple-paned windows he’d put in. There were even screen doors on both the front and back doors, so if there’d been any wind, she’d have had a nice cross draft.

  But there was no wind. Pulling out a tower fan she’d brought from Chicago, she plugged it in and then plopped down on the couch, pulled out her smartphone and punched in the address of the house on Third Street to search for the name of the property’s owner.

  Damn. She found the owner, but it wasn’t a person. The house was owned by Horizon Rental Properties. Terri Kohler had mentioned the company to her as a stop gap in case she’d hated the cabin, at least until she could find a place in town to buy. They were a Madison outfit that bought up properties from retirees and the families of locals who had passed and rented them out to locals who couldn’t afford to buy.

  She considered calling Terri, to see if the woman would divulge the name of the renter – if she even knew. But Terri would no doubt want to know why, and Ellie had no idea what to tell her. Certainly not the truth – Terri clearly liked to talk and no way did Ellie want the whole town, and especially Bill Gruetzmacher, finding out she was following people around town.

  She glared at her phone and chewed the inside of h
er lip. There had to be a way. She’d spent ten years coming up with creative solutions to problems on the job – there had to be a way to get the information she wanted without anyone in town finding out.

  Who would be able to get her what she needed?

  She grinned. Of course.

  She speed-dialed the first number on her phone.

  Kate answered on the second ring. “Hi! I’m so glad you called. I’m bored out of my mind.”

  “How’s your foot?”

  “Okay, I guess. It was really hurting a couple of hours ago so I took one of those pain pills. I don’t think it hurts anymore.”

  “I should let you rest then. You should take a nap.”

  “Oh, Ellie, I’m sick of napping. Tell me what’s going on there. Have they figured out who killed that man? Are you able to get into your shop yet?”

  “No, and no. But I think I might have a lead.”

  Kate’s tone was stern. “I thought you were going to leave things to the police.”

  “I am. I mean, I’m just…”

  “Sticking your nose into things. Ellie, that’s dangerous. Stop it.”

  “I will. I just need to get this one piece of information.” She explained about Louisa, told her what she’d seen. She debated briefly whether she should mention seeing Artie, but her desire to talk to someone about it won out. And if Kate didn’t believe her, no one would.

  “Oo, Ellie. That’s creepy. What do you suppose he was doing there?”

  “He’s trying to tell me something. I just don’t know what. But this just makes me more convinced that Louisa is somehow involved.”

  “Maybe he was visiting her, and you just happened to show up. Maybe he’s just saying goodbye to his children.”

  Ellie shook her head, even though Kate couldn’t see the gesture. “No, I don’t think so. If he were checking on Louisa, wouldn’t he have manifested inside? He’s a ghost – he doesn’t need to peep through windows.”

  “You said he was reading something.”

  “I think so. I heard the sound of pages fluttering… or at least I think I did. It has to be related to the Bible I found in the shop.”

  “Maybe. Or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or your subconscious may just be building you a picture to support your theory.”

  “Now you sound like my mother.”

  “Who was a wise woman that I greatly admired.”

  Ellie felt a lump rise suddenly in her throat. She steered her mind away from that particular emotional sink hole and focused on what she’d seen. “Okay, put the woo-woo stuff aside for a minute. What about Louisa and this guy? If I could just figure out who lives there, I might be able to figure out a motive.”

  “Ellie, just because she’s romantically involved with someone doesn’t mean she killed her father.”

  “No, I know, but you have to admit, she was acting pretty weird. What if she and this guy colluded to kill him.?”

  “But why? Why would she kill her father? Okay, yeah, he was a jerk and he embarrassed her way back when. Why kill him now?”

  “Because she couldn’t stand the thought of him coming to live with her. Of seeing him day after day, knowing what a bastard he’d been to her mom.”

  “I think you’re making a mountain out of a mole hill. Let it go, Ellie.”

  Ellie sat fuming for a moment. She hated when Kate was logical. It had happened a lot in college, too. Kate was always the one to remind both Ellie and their friend Lacey that the supposedly magical and mysterious very often had a perfectly logical explanation. And while Ellie had now become a bit hardened herself to the woo-woo side of her faith system, she’d also seen enough genuine unusual phenomena to keep a half-open mind.

  “Okay. I will. Just as soon as I find out who Louisa is seeing.”

  “And how are you going to do that? Ask her? ‘Oh, hey, Louisa, I was peeping through strangers’ windows today and saw you swapping spit with some guy – mind telling me who he was?’” Kate giggled, and the laugh went on a little bit too long. Clearly the drugs were starting to kick in.

  “I think Vicodin agrees with you, Katie. You sound like you’re drunk.”

  Kate laughed harder. “I think I am. But seriously, how are you going to find out about mystery kisser number one?”

  “Well, I tried Googling the address but it’s apparently a rental property. So I’m going to have Charlie help me. Right after you give me Charlie’s phone number.”

  Kate was still giggling. “Mystery kisser number one. I’m so funny. But I don’t have to give you Charlie’s phone number. He’s right here.” Kate put her hand over the mouth piece and hollered, “Charlie! Phone!”

  The most annoying thing about Charlie was that he was always so insufferably cheerful. It set her teeth on edge. It made her want to smack the stupid grin off his face. Even over the phone.

  “Hey, Gooden! How are things up in the great white north?”

  “They could be better. Listen, I have a favor to ask you.”

  “You miss me and want me to come up there and regale you with my witty stories about Chicago police officers?”

  She paused for a beat. “Did you hear me rolling my eyes?”

  He chuckled. “I think Papua New Guinea heard you rolling your eyes, Gooden. So what is this favor?”

  “I need you to do a reverse directory for me. I have an address here and I need to know who lives there. It’s a rental property so I need to know whose name is on the lease.”

  There was a pause. “You want me to what?”

  “I want you to find out who the renter is.”

  “Um, why? Who is he? Is he hot? Or did he clip your car in the parking lot of the local Buy ‘n Bag?”

  “He’s neither. He’s a suspect in Artie’s murder, and I need to know who he is.”

  “If he’s a suspect, then the police already know who he is.

  “He’s not…” She sighed, and for some reason lowered her voice. “He’s not an official suspect. Not yet anyway.”

  Another pause, this one longer. So long, Ellie wondered if they’d been disconnected. “McCallum?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Look, there’s easier way to learn that. I know you don’t have much love for the CPD, but we’re not all on the take and we’re not all bad guys. The best way to handle this is to let the police do their jobs.” He paused, and when she didn’t respond, went on. “But... since I know you’re not going to listen to that piece of advice, then the best way to find out who he is, is to ask him.”

  Phones made such nice projectiles, she thought. If only McCallum had been standing within slinging distance. “Sure. I’ll just walk up and ask him.”

  “Why not? He’ll think a good-looking woman is hitting on him. Do it in a bar, and you’ll have him spilling his life history to you in five minutes.”

  “I don’t want to date him, I want to—”

  “You’d make a lousy PI, Glenda Goodwitch. You don’t have to follow through – just get him to talk to you. Run into him at the grocery store. Ask him for directions on the street. If you know where he lives, you stake out his place, follow him, then contrive to run into him somewhere. Allow him to feel gallant, as though he’s helping you out, and you can make an innocent acquaintance. Get his name, thank him, say ‘see you around town’ and go on your merry way.”

  It sounded idiotically simple. She felt like a moron for not thinking of it, which made her dislike Charlie even more. Not to mention the fact that he’d called her Glenda Goodwitch. Again.

  “You there, Gooden?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. I’m just trying to think of a way to kill you without leaving trace evidence.”

  “You’d have to do something witchy. Maybe put a hex on me. Frankly, I don’t know why you can’t just look into your crystal ball to find out this guy’s name, but maybe there are Wizard Union rules about that kind of thing.”

  She growled into the phone. “You are an insufferable boor, McCallum.”

 
“And you’re a delightfully uptight witch, Gooden. We’re perfect for each other.”

  In the background, she heard Kate giggle and say, “You two. You bicker like an old married couple.”

  “She should be in bed,” Ellie snarled, “Resting.

  “She’s on the couch. Resting. And I’m playing Step ‘n Fetch It, so she doesn’t have to get up. So get off your high horse.” There was a real edge in Charlie’s voice now. He was always protective of Kate and Ellie knew she’d just crossed a line. If Charlie had one good quality, it was that he was devoted to his sister-in-law.

  “Thanks. I know you take good care of her. And I appreciate it.”

  “I live to serve. That’s my motto.”

  “Sure it is. I’ve gotta go now. Thanks for nothing, McCallum.”

  “Hey, Gooden. Stay out of this, okay? Let the police do their job.”

  “I’m really getting tired of hearing that.”

  “Fine. Get yourself killed. Kate – don’t you dare get up. Look, just be careful, Ellie.”

  The sentiment was well-meaning, she’d give him that. “I will. Take care of Kate.”

  “Somehow I think I’ll be the more successful. Call me if you need help.”

  It’d be a cold day in a place she no longer believed in before that would happen again, she thought. She hung up and collapsed back against the old leather couch, sinking into the soft cushions. Her hand slid to the side, searching for something, and she realized with a jolt that she’d been expecting to feel fur – a dog, sitting beside her.

  Damn that sneaky Norwegian. She was not going to get a dog. She had no time for a dog. Pushing that thought out of her mind, she refocused on solving her problem. How was she going to bump into ‘mystery kisser number one’? She supposed the best way to do it would be as Charlie had suggested, to follow him and see what opportunity presented itself.