Restless Natives (A Coffee & Crime Mystery Book 1)

by Nan Sampson

  Hard porch planks beneath her, she sat cross-legged, focusing on a spot just above the flickering candle flame, willing herself to grow still, to open, to become one with the earth. Pulse slowing, mind emptying, she listened and looked for any messages awaiting her on the inner landscape. At first there was just a peaceful nothing, and she enjoyed the unlimited vastness of the universe flowing around her, doing nothing to push or pull, simply existing for that moment in time that had no relation to any other moment.

  The hoot of an owl, the shrill bleat of its dinner brought her back to the physical world and she took a few cleansing breaths to center herself back into her corporeal body before opening her eyes.

  Slowly opening her eyes, she stared out into the darkness, imagining planting a row of rose bushes along the front perimeter of her property. Her eyes scanned along, as she planned, a red one there, maybe some peach and yellow there, and a clematis twining around the—

  She stopped her mental inventory at the mail box, not quite able to stifle a scream. There in the gravel, just where the driveway met the road, lay a dead llama.

  Chapter 19

  Ellie gulped air, her inner quiet shattered. She could tell the poor animal was dead – even if she hadn’t just been meditating, she would have been able to sense the lack of life force, the dead black aura. Then there was the blood. Black against the animal’s pale fur, it pooled on the gravel in a wide puddle that seemed to grow, even as she watched in horror, like some hole to the underworld, waiting to swallow her up.

  She jumped up, unnerved, ready to run back into the house, when a movement further back in the shadows caught her eye. She heard a car door slam and then the squeal of tires and a loud motor fading into the distance.

  Resisting the urge to go check on the animal, which was clearly beyond help, she ran into the house and closed and locked her door before calling the number on the card Gruetzmacher had left her. A woman answered, and Ellie briefly explained who she was and what had happened. There was a muffled conversation on the other end and then Gruetzmacher got on the line. “I’ll be right over. Lock the door and don’t let anyone but me in.”

  The door seemed little protection from the deranged maniac who’d left her that gift, and the night beyond the door seemed darkly malevolent now, instead of soothing and bucolic. She climbed up the sturdy little ladder into her loft, hauling it up after her, like some sort of cliff dweller, and sought the childish safety of her bed, waiting for the police to arrive, wishing she already had that dog she had no intention of acquiring.

  When the knock came at her door, she was almost too frightened to go down and answer it. She wasn’t expecting the person who stood there.

  “Mr. Gustafson! What are you doing here?”

  His face was pale, his eyes red rimmed. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes. Shaken up, but otherwise okay. Here, come in.” She let him inside then automatically closed and relocked the door. “I’ve called the police. I imagine… I mean, you had to have seen…”

  “Yes. I saw. Miranda. She was a yearling. Had the sweetest temperament. Gorgeous brown eyes. You’d have liked her.” His voice caught and he turned away for a moment, clearing his throat. “Did you see the culprit?” He spun and began pacing. “Could I have been wrong about Artie? Maybe he didn’t poison my girls. Maybe it was someone else. But he admitted it.” He clutched his hands together. “Although he could have done, just to be ornery. Just to piss me off more. That was Artie all over.”

  “I didn’t see anyone. Or rather, just a flash in the darkness, a sense of movement. Then whoever it was jumped in their car and drove off. I think I startled them. I was sitting out on my porch, meditating. They may not have known I was there until I saw the… the…body and screamed.” Then she added, embarrassed, “Just a little.”

  “Do you have brandy?”

  Did she? She wasn’t sure, was having trouble putting coherent thoughts together. “I’ll check. I imagine I would have put it somewhere in the kitchen.” She went back to the small pantry and rummaged around. Yes, there it was. Not brandy, though, just sherry. Someone had given it to her as a going away present at the office and she hadn’t found a way to re-gift it yet.

  Grabbing a small orange juice glass from the cupboard, she opened it up and filled up the glass. “Here. It’s sherry. Or port. Or something. Not brandy, but it still might help.”

  He pushed it back at her. “Not for me. For you. Drink it up.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t drink. Other than the occasional beer or glass of wine.”

  “This is for medicinal purposes. Down the hatch.”

  She took the glass. “Really, I’m okay.” But her hand shook violently as she held the glass. “Alright, but if I collapse in a sodden heap, you get to explain to the Chief that I’m not a perennial drunk and that I didn’t make this up.”

  She downed the sweetish tasting liquid, felt it burn going down. And she was amazed to find her hand steadying. “That could be addictive.” She handed him the empty glass. “Here, go pour yourself some. I think I hear our boys in blue approaching.”

  Peering through the front window, she was ready with the door open by the time Bill Gruetzmacher climbed the porch steps. He’d left two of his officers, who were unidentifiable in the darkness and in their identical uniforms, at the body of the llama. His notebook was already out.

  “Ms. Gooden.” He looked her up and down as he entered. “You okay?”

  She nodded, her head feeling oddly heavy. It had been a long time since she’d had that much alcohol. “Sorry to have to call you out in the middle of the night.”

  “You did the right thing.” He noticed her company, gave a nod in Per’s direction. “Gustafson. Sorry about your animal.”

  “Chief. You have any leads yet? Anybody see anything?”

  “Nope. Not yet.” He turned back to Ellie. “Why don’t we sit down, you can tell me what happened.” He motioned her over to the couch.

  She glanced back outside then allowed Gruetzmacher to lead her to the couch. “I’m not sure what I can tell you. I didn’t actually see anything. Just the… aftermath.”

  “You were in bed?”

  “No, no, I was out on the porch.” She launched into her tale, having to explain, at length, about meditation and how she hadn’t really been aware of anything in the outside world for what had probably been twenty minutes or so, and that what she’d thought had been an owl and its prey screaming had brought her up from the depths.

  “But now you think it was the llama.”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it must have been.” She glanced back outside again, eyes drawn to the nightmare in her driveway. “How did it…”

  “Throat cut. Nasty, but fast. They’re fairly docile animals, I’m given to understand.” He looked over at Gustafson. “How did they get it here? Thought you had peacocks to keep away mischief makers since that last incident.”

  Per gave a shrug. “I do. I’m not sure how this was managed.”

  “You sure it’s one of yours?”

  Per nodded. “Quite sure. I recognize her.”

  “Hmph.” Gruetzmacher scanned his notes. “So you heard a car door slam, heard the car squeal off down the road. But you saw nothing.”

  “That’s about it, yes.”

  “Did they see you?”

  Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I must have startled them – I stood up suddenly – and I had been sitting on the floor of the porch, so I probably wasn’t readily apparent before that. I also think I made some kind of a sound.”

  A flicker of amusement crossed Gruetzmacher’s sun-weathered face. “You screamed.”

  “No,” she objected. “I… gasped. Loudly.”

  He didn’t quite smile. “Okay, I’ll write down gasped instead of screamed like a girl, if it makes you feel better.” Then he sobered. “What I’m driving at, however, is if you think the person who did this thinks you might have seen them. If so, you’re in even more danger than
we might have otherwise imagined.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would someone do this? Not just to one of Mr. Gustafson’s llamas, but to me?”

  Gruetzmacher shrugged. “I don’t know, but I will find out. In the meantime, I’d advise that you find somewhere else to stay. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.” He stood, closed his notebook. “Is there something particular you want done with that animal, Per?”

  Per shook his head. “No. I’ve said what needed to be said for her.” He turned to Ellie. “You’d be safe at Seth and Arabella’s. I’ll call for you, make the arrangements while you pack a bag. Bill, why don’t you have one of your officers ride over there with her.”

  “Hang on.” Ellie put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere. Seems to me this whole horrific incident was designed to scare me. I don’t know why, but I’m damn sure not going to let it do the job.”

  “Ms. Gooden—” the Chief began, at the same time Per was saying, “Now, young lady—”

  She raised her hand to silence them. “Look, they’re not likely to come back. They must know the police have been called, and they know I’m going to be wary now. They’d be stupid to come back here tonight.”

  “Or desperate.”

  “No. I will not be frightened out of my home.”

  “Would you prefer to spend the night in one of my cells? I could arrest you as a material witness.”

  Ellie’s hands clenched. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Per put a hand on her arm. “Don’t believe it. He would and he will. Why don’t you come stay with me? I have the room.”

  “No offense, Gustafson, but I don’t believe she’d be any safer there. No, it’s the Inn or one of my holding cells. Take your pick.”

  She glared at Gruetzmacher, but even her patented Gooden ‘look of death’ didn’t faze him. “Great. I’ll call the Inn, but if they don’t have availability, then I’m staying here.” She crossed her arms in front of her and stared at Gruetzmacher, who didn’t move. “Well? You can go now.”

  “Not until I hear you make the call.”

  She fumed. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No. Not at all. Just doing my job, protecting the citizens of our community.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest as well, mimicking her posture as well as her attitude.

  Behind her, Ellie heard Per say, “Hi, Bella. Hope I didn’t wake you. Say, we’ve got a little problem out my way – wonder if you could put Ellie up for the night?”

  Ellie spun, found Per holding her phone. He was smiling benignly. “Great. I thought that would be the case.” A pause, and then, “It’s an unpleasant tale but I’ll let her explain it all when she gets there… Good, okay, you’ll see her in a little while.” And then he hung up the phone.

  Feeling betrayed, she gave Per the look of death as well. “Traitor.”

  He grinned at her, spread out his hands. “You would rather spend the night in a cell?”

  Angry with both of them, and angrier still that they were probably right and that she’d certainly sleep better someplace else, she stomped up the ladder to the loft – a feat in and of itself, as ladders weren’t meant to be stomped on – to pack a bag.

  Chapter 20

  Arabella was waiting at the back door when Ellie parked her car. Gruetzmacher, in a show of little faith, had insisted on accompanying her himself. He saw her all the way inside, refused a hot scone and a cup of tea from the innkeeper, then bid them a quick goodnight as the deputy who had followed them honked his horn.

  Arabella gave her a quick hug and Ellie tried not to flinch in response. “Oh, you poor thing,” the woman cooed at her. “What a hell of a week it’s been for you. Come sit down and tell me all about it.”

  Ellie did, finding the events began to lose some of their horror simply through the act of repetition. “I don’t understand why, though,” she finished up. “Why would someone do that?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t know, dear. It’s a horrible thing. Best thing to do is to leave it in Bill’s hands. He’ll take care of it. Here now, drink this tea, it will take the edge off.”

  Ellie wasn’t so sure about either the tea or Gruetzmacher. She disliked in the extreme leaving her future in the hands of someone else. Particularly someone who was a cop. In her experience, that way led to disaster. “I get the feeling whoever it was wanted to scare me, but I don’t understand why. Do you think…” She looked up at Arabella, wanting to gauge the woman’s reaction. “Do you think it’s because I’m Wiccan?” She sipped at the tea that Bella urged on her.

  “No. There is more than the usual number of pagans in our fair town. I can’t imagine anyone targeting just you, if that was the intent. Hell, if it was a religionist kind of thing, they’d have to come after Seth and me too. We’ve never made any bones about our beliefs. There’s also Per, who’s more druid than wiccan. And Laura. And a few more you like as not haven’t met.”

  “Then what? What can I possibly have done to piss someone off that bad? I’ve only been in town two days, for pity’s sake.”

  Arabella stared down into her tea cup as though the dregs might tell her something, then looked up to meet Ellie’s gaze. “I surely don’t know, dear. But—”

  “Yeah, yeah, Bill will figure it out.” She was tired of hearing that. As far as she could tell, Bill hadn’t figured out much of anything yet. Except how to push her buttons. She finished her tea, pushed out a breath, found herself unbearably tired all of a sudden.

  “Poor dear. You’re exhausted. Here, let’s get you to your room. Do you want a glass of warm milk to take up with you?”

  “No thanks. I’m sorry to have to put you out like this, especially so late.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s no trouble. I’m a night owl anyway. I have to be, with guests coming in and out at all hours. Seth’s the early bird. Here, you just follow me.”

  Ellie let herself be led up the stairs, and to the same room she’d stayed in on her first trip to Horizon. Cheerful yellow and white striped bedding, and a gorgeous braided rug reminded her of her grandmother’s little Cape Cod in Massachusetts. It made her feel right at home. “Thanks, Mrs. Kemp.”

  “Arabella. And you’re welcome anytime. Good night, dear. You let me know if you need anything.”

  She sat down on the bed, feeling almost instantly drained. She blamed it on the brandy, as opposed to the emotional strain, telling herself she was stronger than that, but ten minutes after she’d turned down the sheets, she was sound asleep.

  The sun was shining brightly through the pale yellow curtains when she finally opened gummy eyes the next morning. A glance at the old fashioned round alarm clock told her it was after eight, long after she would normally have been up.

  Dressing quickly in her jeans and the collared t-shirt she had thrown into her overnight bag the evening before, she headed downstairs to find Arabella. There was a cluster of people in the foyer when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Arabella was there, and her niece Chloe, plus another woman Ellie didn’t recognize. She was a mousey thing, about five foot two, wearing a worn tweed skirt suit in a drab brown color, with a pink blouse beneath that tied in a bow at her throat. Her hair, a sort of faded brown and streaked liberally with grey, was pulled back in a severe bun. Pinched, thin features made her seem almost skeletal. Ellie thought she might have been in her sixties, but her dowdy clothing and old-fashioned hairdo might have just made her seem older than she really was.

  Ellie’s thought was to turn around and head back up the stairs before anybody noticed her, but such plans never worked out for her. Arabella waved to her with a wide smile.

  “Ellie! Come here. I want you to meet Jeanne Hertz. She’s one of my primary herb suppliers – owns a little business called ‘As Ye Sow’. If you’re looking to bake savories, Jeanne will be the one you’ll want to talk to for fresh rosemary, thyme, peppermint and so forth.” Arabella winked at her conspiratorially. “She also has a son about your age. A school teacher a
t the local High School.”

  Ellie came forward with her best marketer in action smile, assiduously avoiding the mention of Todd Hertz. “Pleased to meet you.” She held out a hand.

  Jeanne’s smile was cold. “Likewise, I’m sure.” She made no attempt to shake Ellie’s outstretched hand. “I understand there’s been some delay in opening your shop. How unfortunate. But it’s all in the Lord’s plan.” She didn’t sound terribly sorry, but maybe sour was her usual affect.

  Ellie tried to keep her tone upbeat. “It’ll all work out. Do you have a business card? I always prefer to do business with locals, and if Arabella uses your herbs I’m sure they’re top quality.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m sure Arabella can give you my number if you need it.” She gave Arabella a wan smile. “I should be going. You have everything you need, then?”

  Arabella nodded. “I’ll fax you the finalized menu along with the formal quote later this afternoon. I just know you’re going to love it.”

  Jeanne Hertz nodded. “Good. Thank you for handling this on such short notice.”

  Ellie sent a questioning glance at the innkeeper, who responded with a happy smile. “Jeanne’s church is going to have their monthly Ladies Auxiliary suppers here for the next couple of months while their church basement is being remodeled. I’ve promised to keep the cuisine simple and tasty.”

  Jeanne’s brow furrowed. “Please. You know how some of the older women can be. They only like the sorts of things their mothers made.”

  “I know.”

  Jeanne nodded briskly. “Well. I need to get back to the house. My son is coming for dinner tonight and I’ve got to get my roast in the oven. He does love my pot roast. Bless you, Arabella, you’re a good woman. God will smile on this act.”