Under the Moonlight collection

by MaryAnn Kempher

  Mocha, Moonlight, and Murder

  (Under The Moonlight, Book 1)

  MaryAnn Kempher

  Copyright 2014 MaryAnn Kempher

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: kempherm@gmail.com

  Cover Design by Shari Ryan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  For further information regarding permissions, please contact MaryAnn Kempher at KempherM@gmail.com.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013936828

  Acknowledgments

  This book would never have been written if not for my husband, Doren. His encouragement, love, and support kept me going during the times when I just wanted to quit. I can’t thank him enough. But, he isn’t the only person that I owe thanks. I would be remiss if I didn’t thank Beth Jusino and Karinya Funsett-Topping, both members of the editorial staff at The Editorial Department. Their spot-on input/suggestions greatly improved the quality of this book. I’d also like to thank my cover designer, Shari Ryan.

  Chapter One

  Monday afternoon, the raspy wind snarled Katherine O’Brian’s long hair and reddened her face as she quickly walked into the building. She pulled her gloves off and blew on her hands for a few seconds before weaving her way through the thick crowd in the college’s hallway. It was the first night of class and she was nearly late.

  She looked around the classroom self-consciously; she seemed to be the oldest person in the room. Well, that’s what you get for putting off college. You get to take classes with kids barely out of high school.

  All the desks had been placed in a circle and the professor was moving from one student to another, having them introduce themselves. Katherine’s eyes widened when the teacher got to the man directly across from her.

  The day before she’d stopped at a nearby Starbucks. After placing her order, she’d casually looked around. Her eyes had met those of a woman sitting across the room. When the woman smiled, Katherine had blushed. She was a he, dressed in drag.

  Slap on some eye shadow and a pair of high heels and that’s the guy I saw yesterday, minus the dress.

  Once everyone had introduced themselves, the professor began talking about the term project.

  “You’ll be working in pairs, and this assignment is worth seventy percent of your grade, so obviously you’ll need to work together to do a good job.”

  Katherine quickly looked at her syllabus. There it was: the class term project. Very writing-intensive. Even PowerPoint slides were required. This was why she’d put off taking the class—writing wasn’t her strongest subject. “You’ll find your partner listed there,” the professor continued, pointing toward the chalk board, to which a piece of paper was taped.

  After all the details of the project had been covered, class was dismissed. Katherine quickly looked at the paper on the board. Oh, this just gets better and better. She looked around for her new partner, but he was speaking to the teacher.

  I’ll talk to him about the project on Wednesday.

  She hugged her book to her chest and walked toward the exit. When she dropped her purse and stopped suddenly to pick it up, she heard a deep voice.

  “Hey.”

  Katherine looked up—and up—to the face that went with the deep voice.

  “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realize you were behind me.”

  He was smiling. Not that it matters, but of all the men in the class, why do I get the one that wears dresses?

  “I’m Scott Mitchell. We’re partners on the project.”

  She turned back and held out her hand. “I'm Katherine.”

  As he pulled on his coat, he said, “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go get something to eat or drink, to talk about it.”

  Katherine stalled by moving closer to the wall, as if to let other students hurry past. Her first instinct was to say no, but then she remembered her resolve to do well in the class.

  “Sure, where?”

  They started walking outside together.

  “There’s a Starbucks near here,” he said. “We could meet there.”

  Coffee was always the magic word for Katherine, or chocolate.

  “Sure, I’ll see you there.”

  As she sat in her car waiting for it to heat up, she noticed her hands were shaking slightly. She looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Jeez, it’s just a guy. Get a grip.

  They arrived at the same time. The hard part came after they’d gotten their drinks and sat down. Katherine could hardly put two words together; it had been a long time since she’d had a decent conversation, especially with a man. After a few minutes, Scott broke the silence.

  “So, how about that project?” he said, a little too loudly. Katherine flinched and turned pink. When she answered, the words flew out. “Going to be an avalanche of work: slides and an oral presentation, thousand words each. A monster.”

  “Yeah,” said Scott, “and not really what I expected from a history course. Doing a biography from birth to death is a big deal, especially with all the details the professor wants. Do you have any ideas who we should do it on?”

  “How about van Gogh?” suggested Katherine.

  “He committed suicide, didn’t he?”

  “So?”

  Scott sighed. “Well, I don’t know. I’d just prefer to do the biography on someone I can respect. For me, it’s hard to respect anyone who kills themselves. Seems so cowardly.”

  “That’s very presumptuous of you,” said Katherine. “To assume the man was a coward because he killed himself. And such a generalization. Sometimes people are just in pain, and that’s the only way they see to end that pain.”

  Scott held his hands up defensively. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were such a fan of van Gogh.”

  Katherine rolled her eyes. “That’s what you take away from what I said?” Jeez, this guy’s hot, but what an idiot.

  Scott tipped his cup forward and backwards, side to side. Katherine held her cup to her lips, blowing on the coffee. Judging by the attention their cups received, Starbucks’ coffee had never tasted so good. Scott sat up, leaning forward, his arms folded in front of him. He seemed to take up the whole table. Katherine sat back in her chair.

  “We should probably plan on getting together at least a few times during the week,” he said.

  The prospect of seeing him so often filled Katherine with both dread and excitement - dread, because she wasn’t sure she even liked him, and excitement because his baritone voice made her unwilling heart flutter, and his mahogany eyes made her blush. He’s right, though: If I’m serious about getting a good grade, this project will need a lot of attention.

  “You’re probably right,” she answered, her eyes avoiding his. “When do you want to meet?”

  “How about tomorrow at the library,” replied Scott. “The one on Virginia Street near the mall, does five thirty work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  After exchanging numbers, Katherine stood. “I should go,” she said. “It’s getting late.”

  They
walked out together, Scott holding the door for her.

  Chapter Two

  The young boy stood on the curb looking up at his mother. He knew that she was going away and that he’d be staying behind, but though he was nearly nine, he didn’t realize she wouldn’t be back. She squatted and looked into his eyes.

  “Mommy, why are you crying?”

  She coughed, then pulled his coat collar a little higher and adjusted his scarf.

  “Mommy’s just sad to have to leave you, honey. Promise Mommy you’ll be a good boy.”

  “I will.”

  His mother took a small box from her pocket. Christian smiled. She placed the box in his hand and closed his fingers over it.

  “Put this somewhere safe, and when you miss Mommy look inside.”

  Christian opened the box and his eyes grew wide.

  “They’re shiny like your eyes are now.” She hugged him tightly, and covered his face with kisses. “Never ever forget how much I love you,” she said, then quickly turned and got back into the cab they’d arrived in. Christian started to follow her, but a woman dressed in a long dark dress with a white bonnet took his hand and led him inside. She told him he should call her Ms. Ann. She took him to a long room with ten beds on each side, each one numbered, and ushered him over to bed three. At the end of each bed sat a locker. All except one were shut; Christian could see his clothes inside.

  “This will be your home, at least for now. This is your bed. That is your locker. You’ll wake at six o’clock in the morning and are expected to make your bed before going down for breakfast. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Ma’am? Are there others?”

  “Yes, two. A brother and sister. They’re at school right now. You’ll meet them later. What is that Christian?” Ms. Ann asked, tapping the little box in his clenched hand.

  “My mommy gave it to me.”

  “Put it in your locker and let’s go get you a cookie.”

  Later that afternoon, as Christian sat at a long wooden table in the kitchen, a boy and a girl walked in. They dropped their book bags onto the floor next to the table and sat down. “Teddy, this is Christian. Christian, this is Teddy,” Ms. Ann said, pointing to the boy, who was a few years older than him. His hair was short, but his bangs were long. He kept blowing them out of his eyes. The boys mumbled hello.

  “Christian, this is Sophie. Sophie, this is Christian,” Ms. Ann said. The girl had very short blond hair and was so thin that a decent breeze might have knocked her over. He’d thought she was a boy at first.

  She smiled and held out her hand. “How do you do?” she said assertively.

  “How do I do what?” asked Christian.

  She didn’t answer; instead, she just rolled her eyes.

  Ms. Ann made them all dinner, and after Sophie and Teddy were done with their homework, they all read in the common room. Later, the three went back to the room called the dormitory - Christian just thought of it as the room with the beds. Teddy sat on the bed next to his, and Sophie’s bed was across from them, but not for long. Once she turned 11, she’d share a room with Ms. Ann.

  Bedtime was eight thirty, and it was nearly time for lights out. Every now and then lightning would flash through the row of windows high above, and they could hear the rain pounding on the roof. Sophie and Teddy had been at the orphanage for over a year, and they had each other, but this was Christian’s first night, and when the lights went out he’d never felt more alone in his life. As the rain continued its assault on the roof and the thunder rumbled, he held his box and quietly cried for his mother.

  It took three months before Christian stopped watching the door, expecting to see his mother’s face, six months before he stopped crying himself to sleep, and three more before he stopped sleeping with the box she’d given him.

  Chapter Three

  Katherine turned on her side and looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was late but she’d been unable to sleep. Going back to school had stressed her out more than she’d thought it would, or was it her handsome new partner? She went to the living room and sat on the couch, turning the television on.

  Ah jeez, men with limp wieners and the home shopping channel, these are my only choices? Where are the reruns of “I Love Lucy” and “MASH” when you need em?

  Her belly growled. She stood and walked to the kitchen, yanking the refrigerator door open. Empty, just as she’d known it would be. Next, she looked into the cupboard, which held nothing but ramen noodles. If I have to eat one more noodle...

  Looking out her second-floor window, she strained to see the blinking “open” sign of a diner just three or four blocks away. She glanced at the clock above the stove. It was nearly midnight, but this was Reno – and like Vegas, it was a city that never slept. Five minutes later, she was dressed and standing on the stairs outside her building, having second thoughts. A breezy day had turned into a very windy, cold evening, and the nobody-else-in-the-world quiet was unnerving; the only sounds were the wind and the loud sway of tree branches, like ocean waves. Her neighborhood was an old one, without nearly enough street lights, but the moon above was full and bright.

  She’d left her car keys upstairs; it would have been quicker and more comfortable to drive, but she didn’t want to waste the gas. Her hesitation didn’t last long. Like a puppy that can smell a treat from across the house, she almost believed she could smell a double cheeseburger from four blocks away.

  She’d only walked a couple of blocks when the large, ominous clouds above began to swirl and play hide and seek with the full moon; soon they hid it completely. Katherine made a tsk sound and then mumbled, “Damn.”

  Luckily, up ahead on the other side of the street, a dim light shone from an outside lamp attached to someone’s garage. She focused on that. A man was standing near the trunk of the car in the driveway. Katherine couldn’t help smiling, he looked so comical as he struggled to contain an overflowing bag of Styrofoam tubes, like something out of a movie. She was nearly parallel to the garage and the man when the moon reappeared.

  When the sky went from black to bright, her smiled disappeared. She looked back and forth between the man’s face and the arms and legs she’d mistaken for Styrofoam tubes. He was holding a woman, and Katherine wanted to laugh hysterically, she’d been so stupid. It was a mannequin! Of course. Her eyes traveled from the legs sticking out from the blanket up to the arms, so fake looking now that she knew her mistake. She looked for the faceless head, but it was hidden. Carefully, the man set the mannequin down on the cement. The blanket fell open and finally Katherine could see everything. Including the head, drained of color and covered in blood. A voice in her head shouted run!

  Running as fast as she could, the trees and homes she’d passed earlier were a blur. Her eyes turned to slits as freezing wind hit her face, feeling like tiny sharp needles, and it didn’t take long before her throat started to hurt from breathing in the cold air. She sensed rather than saw that he was behind her, but she’d been on the track team in high school and was confident she could outrun him. Hopping over a small ditch filled with water, she hid in the space between two apartment complexes and tried to make as little noise as possible.

  Soon, she heard a soft splash and a loud cussword. She didn’t need to look to know it was the man from the garage and that he’d fallen.

  The night became noisy with silence; every tree branch sway, every car speeding in the distance, even her own breathing sounded deafening. She imagined her father standing next to her. His hand on her shoulder, his low voice whispering, “Relax, he doesn’t know where you are.” But her father wasn’t there, and relaxing was not an option.

  For Katherine, time seemed to slow down. Had it been a few minutes or a few seconds? It was difficult to remain calm when all she wanted to do was run from her hiding place screaming hysterically. But she instinctively knew that given the opportunity, this time he would catch her. And she would die. If I’d only eaten the damn Ramen. She was barely breathing,
and her heart was thumping so hard it hurt. If he doesn’t leave soon, I’m gonna pass out.

  He was so close, she heard him breathing heavily and could even see the white cloud of his exhaled air. His shadow moved closer to the opening between the buildings. Any moment, she feared, his face would confront hers, and then what? She was ready to fight for her life. If I’m going down, I’m taking some of him with me.

  But suddenly she heard him sigh loudly, then the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement in the quiet night, slowly fading until there was silence She stayed put for a couple of minutes before peeking around the building’s corner to ensure he was gone; that was when she saw something on the ground, gleaming in the moonlight. She picked it up. It was a coin, and unlike any other she’d seen. She tucked it into her pocket and quickly ran for home.

  ***

  Katherine sat on her couch, a blanket around her shoulders and head, the image of a bloodied face forcing itself upon her mind’s eye. She’d called the police, but was still startled by the knock on the door. She hesitated - was it the man from the garage? She almost started laughing. Don’t be stupid, she told herself. He wouldn’t knock. She opened the door a crack. In the hall stood two police officers, one who looked too young to drive, much less be a cop. The other was older, maybe middle aged.

  “You called about a dead body?” the older man said matter-of-factly, as if this were a common occurrence.

  “Yes, down the street. I’ll take you there.”

  Katherine grabbed her coat and followed the officers downstairs. She felt embarrassed riding in the back of a police car, as if someone would see her and assume she was a criminal. She was thankful the ride was short.

  “That’s the house,” she said, pointing.

  The driveway was empty. Katherine slowly got out of the car.