by B L Crumley
An Alpaca Witness
A Charlee King Mystery
By B. L. Crumley
Copyright © 2020 by B. L. Crumley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing suggestions and cover design by: Denning Print Company
www.denningprint.com
Chapter One
I knew coming home was a bad idea.
But as I stood in the foyer of the banquet hall, I realized it was too late to hightail it out of there like I desperately wanted to — my mother had spotted me and was heading in my direction.
“Charlotte!” My mother, Maggie, grinned brightly as she enveloped me in a delicate embrace. She always hugged me like I was going to break, which was ridiculous, since I was just shy of six feet.
Freakishly tall. I know. Whereas my mom was a slender five-six. Other than my mother’s nose and greenish-blue eyes, I didn’t inherit much from her gene pool. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her eyes shimmering with delight as she released me.
There were several ways I wanted to respond to that greeting, the first one being that my name was Charlee, not Charlotte, but the good daughter in me chose the polite and appropriate reply. “It’s good to see you too, Mom.”
And it was. It was the tactic she’d engaged to get me here that I wasn’t thrilled with. My mom had guilted me into returning to my hometown to attend my father, Benjamin King’s, mayoral election celebration. And while this might seem like a big deal, it was my dad’s second term as mayor, and he’d won an uncontested race in the small coastal tourist town of Rockfish Bay, Oregon: population 7,452. Need I say more?
Personally, I didn’t really see what the big deal was. But to my mother, everything was a big deal.
My mom’s gaze slid somewhere behind me, before focusing back on me. “It looks like I’m needed for some photos.” She gave me another quick once-over. “Why don’t you go freshen up and join us? I’d love to get a family picture now that we’re all finally together.”
I nodded automatically, trying to curb my growing annoyance. Freshen up. That was code for put on some makeup. I glanced down at my black knee-length skirt and floral-patterned camisole under a cashmere cardigan. I’d worn this boring outfit because I knew my mom would deem it “tastefully appropriate,” a virtue every member of the King family was expected to abide by at all times, but apparently it still wasn’t enough.
Fine, I’d go put on some lip gloss.
In the women’s restroom, I fished around in my purse for some makeup and took a deep breath. I was only in town for two nights. I could do this. My mind wandered back to the phone conversation almost a month ago that had gotten me roped into my current predicament.
“Charlotte, please. It’s important,” my mother pleaded, laying the guilt on thick. “How many opportunities will we have to celebrate your father winning an election?”
At least four, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut. My dad had been elected as the district attorney twice before retiring. Then, after six weeks of golfing, he’d declared he was bored and ran for mayor.
“And since you missed the last election party, I would really appreciate it if you would make an effort to come.” She barely paused to take a breath. “Your brothers have been so supportive, helping with the campaign and attending all of the events.”
What those events were, I wasn’t entirely sure. I would never call my mom a liar, but was she stretching the truth a bit? Heck yes.
“Okay, I’ll come,” I half interrupted, knowing that my mom was just winding up. She’d called while I was taking a late lunch, waiting in line at my favorite Mexican food truck, and I was starving. My defenses weaken when I’m hungry. And usually it was just easier to do what she asked.
To be perfectly honest, I didn’t come home very often. Once, maybe twice a year for a few days, usually at Christmas or for the birth of one of my nieces or nephews. My mother didn’t care that I had a pretty good reason to avoid coming home, or that I didn’t think my dad winning another landslide mayoral election was a big deal.
So, I’d sucked it up in support of my family and driven the four hours from where I lived in Portland. Because that’s what family did. Well, that’s what the Kings did. And I did love them. It was the town I wasn’t so crazy about. Or rather a few people in this town.
Suck it up, Charlee. I took another deep breath.
Hopefully, those people wouldn’t even be here. Besides, it had been ten years since I’d last lived here. I could just pretend that it never happened.
Liar.
Finally finding my lip gloss in an obscure pocket of my oversized leather tote, I applied a thin layer and rubbed my lips together. Good enough. With a parting glance in the mirror, I dropped the lip gloss into my bag and headed for the door.
Then, just as I reached the foyer, half of my pretty good reason for not wanting to come home waltzed in the door. My feet cemented themselves to the tile floor as I willed them to move.
Anywhere. Just not here. Not five feet from the woman who’d stolen the man I was going to marry. I swallowed, a surprising feat, since the rest of my body seemed to be paralyzed.
The woman, Ashley, casually glanced my way, then halted abruptly, as did the man beside her.
So, this was the new guy. Tall, dark hair, handsome as sin. Of course he was.
Ashley always got what she wanted. And he was definitely eye candy. Bitterness coiled in me, and I forcefully relaxed my hand that had fisted at my side.
“Charlee King,” said the blonde, petite Ashley, blinking several times, as if she couldn’t believe it was actually me. “Hi, I barely recognized you.”
I tried not to glare. I don’t think I succeeded. Other than gaining about ten pounds… okay, fifteen, I hadn’t changed that much.
“Wow, it’s been forever.” She flashed a fake grin. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Well, it is a party for my dad,” I forced through a tight-lipped smile.
Her mouth parted as if she planned to say something else but then changed her mind. Then her lips curved in a ridiculous, exaggerated smile. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Now there was a bold-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one, but she didn’t give me a chance to respond. Turning to her date, she murmured something I couldn’t understand and moved into the reception hall. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome tipped his head in my direction and followed Ashley.
If I hadn’t driven all the way here, and agreed to come to this wretched event, I would have left. I was seriously considering it. The door opened behind me again, and I heard a familiar voice call my name.
“Charlee! My favorite girl! I’m so glad you made it!” My Aunt Fern waved her hands in the air before I found myself swallowed in a fierce hug.
“I told you I was coming.” I stepped back from her embrace and smoothed my skirt.
“Well, I know, but this wouldn’t be the first time work stopped you from making it.” Fern gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Since you are the most talented wedding cake decorator on the West Coast!”
In that moment, I didn’t regret coming. Aunt Fern was by far my favorite person on this earth. And she always knew how to make me feel loved, even if it meant exaggerating my culinary talents. Today I’d take it.
“Oh boy.” Fern leaned in and lowered her voice. “Your mother is coming this way, and by the look on her face, I�
��d say she doesn’t like my outfit.”
I turned to see my mom waving us over, wearing an anxious frown that I had to agree probably had something to do with my hippie aunt’s peacock print tunic over lime green leggings. Not to mention the colorful tail feather sticking out of her headband, reminiscent of something from the 1920s. I’m sure my mother worried her sister-in-law’s ensemble would ruin the family photo. As I said, to my mom, everything is a big deal.
“Lead the way, hon,” Fern motioned. As she followed behind me, I heard her whisper. “Charlee, you’ve lost weight. Good thing you’re staying with me. I hear your mother is on another one of her carb-free kicks again. We Amazon women have to stick together.”
I smiled, in spite of her fib, since last I’d checked I’d gained three pounds. My aunt just wanted me to make French crepes for breakfast. Fern was my dad’s younger sister, and with those electric blue pumps she had on, was pushing 6’ 2”.
I didn’t have the confidence to wear something so bold that would have me towering over every female and most of the men, but I loved Fern for it. She’d always celebrated her height, and mine too, getting me through my adolescence, when my mom became frustrated that we couldn’t find appropriate feminine clothes for me to wear.
The cute girly shoes never came in a size 12, and skirts, pants, and shirts were always too short. It’s not my fault I was tall, and while my mother would bemoan the retailers for not making clothes in larger sizes, I overheard her on the phone on more than one occasion telling her sister how she wished I were shorter.
At least she didn’t tell me I was fat back then. Then again, that may have changed now.
“Hurry, Charlee, Fern,” my mother waved her hand impatiently. “Everyone is waiting.”
Sure enough, my entire family stood facing the photographer, arranged in typical King family fashion. My dad stood in the center with my two older brothers on each side. Their wives cozied up next to them, touching the shoulders of their children standing in front of them. It was all very picture-perfect.
And then there was me. The younger, single sister. Oh, and my Aunt Fern, but it wouldn’t shock me if my mom excluded her from this family photo. Peacock feathers and lime green pants aren’t “tastefully appropriate” attire. Not according to my mother.
“Hey, Charlee,” my brother Caleb waved. “Why don’t you come stand by me?”
I scrambled over to his side before my mom suggested I kneel in front with the kids.
I watched my mom whisper something to Fern before stepping into place by my dad. Fern stood off to the side while the photographer snapped several shots. She didn’t seem bothered by being left out, and I admired her thick skin to not let my mother’s slights offend her.
When the pictures were done, I greeted the rest of my family and was met with hugs and smiles. As the party got underway and my family dispersed to mingle, I lingered near the wall, scanning the room for the person I was most anxious about seeing.
Kenny Miller.
The other half of my pretty good reason for not wanting to come. Relieved not to see him, I blew out a deep breath, only to spot the back of a man with dark blonde hair and a thin build, wearing a striped long-sleeve shirt, tucked into jeans.
My insides twisted into knots. Maybe it wasn’t him, I tried to lie to myself. But it was, and I wasn’t ready to see him. It didn’t matter that it had been ten years; it still felt like a knife through my heart.
And then he turned around. Our eyes locked. The smile on his face vanished as he stared at me, and the knots in my stomach tightened. I couldn’t do this. Not today. Maybe not ever.
I bent down to pick up my bag from the floor, and began weaving my way around the tables toward the exit.
Don’t follow me. Please don’t follow me.
“Charlee, wait!”
I kept walking.
A calloused hand gripped my arm. I froze.
“Charlee, please,” he begged, sounding hurt.
I turned and faced the man who’d broken my heart. “Kenny.”
His hand fell from my arm. “Hi, Charlee.”
I stared back at him, my mind refusing to conjure up any words for the man who used to be my best friend.
“How are you?” he asked, his brown eyes silently pleading with me.
Pleading for what? To forgive him? I thought I’d already done that, but now with him in front of me, I wasn’t so sure.
“I’m…” This reaction to him was quite pathetic. I couldn’t seem to manage a polite response. Albeit a fake one, but still. I was a King. And Kings were polite and proper.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ashley suddenly appeared at Kenny’s side.
I instinctively retreated a few steps.
“Kenny, the sitter called and said Nicky isn’t feeling well. I know you were going to pick her up in the morning, but I—”
I wasn’t going to wait around to hear the rest. Spinning on my flats, I speed-walked as gracefully as I could to the exit. As I rounded the corner to the foyer, I bumped into the back of a man talking on the phone.
“Excuse me,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.” Before I could move around him, he turned and slid the phone into his pocket. It was Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. Ashley’s date, or boyfriend, or whatever. My nauseous stomach soured further.
“Hi,” he greeted as he looked down at me, extending his hand. “I’m Cole Walker. I saw you earlier, but we weren’t introduced.”
I shook his hand, noting the feel of his firm, warm grip, momentarily forgetting he was with Ashley. “Hi, I’m Charlee King,” I smiled, and it was almost genuine. Not quite, but close.
“It’s nice to meet you, Charlee,” he grinned, revealing dimples. Oh my. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh,” I laughed nervously. “Well, I hope it was good.”
“Yes, of course.” Now he seemed a little nervous. “I’ve done some work with your dad. I’m the new sheriff.”
Recognition dawned. My parents had mentioned the town had gotten a new sheriff sometime in the last year, after he’d helped take down a drug smuggling operation. But they had failed to mention he was younger than forty and smoldering.
In Rockfish Bay, that was a rarity. Despite his hotness, I was only in town for a few days, and he was with Ashley. Therefore, I didn’t see the point of us having much to do with each other.
“That’s great. My parents have said wonderful things about the work you’ve done.” I smiled again, a fake one this time. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Sheriff Walker. If you’ll excuse me, something has come up that I need to attend to.”
With a parting grin, I stepped around him and raced to the door. I’m sure he thought I was a bit nutty or maybe even rude, rushing out of my dad’s party, but I didn’t care. Because right now, I couldn’t handle any other painful reminders from my past.
Chapter Two
W hen I woke up the next morning, I found myself surrounded by owls. That’s right, I was at Fern’s house. My aunt liked birds and she liked to collect them (the fake variety), so this had been dubbed the Hoot Room.
It was a little quirky, kind of like my aunt, but that was just another one of the things I loved about her. I’d come here last night after I’d left the party, and gone to bed soon after. All that social interaction, however brief, had worn me out, and I wanted to forget it.
Okay, maybe not the part with the hot sheriff, but that was a dead end, so there was no point in dwelling on it.
On my way downstairs to the kitchen, I was greeted with a loud meow. Moose, my aunt’s black-gray tabby Maine Coon, must be hungry. I reached down to pick up the enormous cat, and let out a humph. “Geez, Moose, and I thought I had gained weight.”
The fluffy feline had to be at least twenty-five pounds. Depositing Moose by his dish, I went to the fridge and pulled out a can of tuna and gravy. No w
onder Moose was on the hefty side. I’d gain weight too if I ate this three times a day.
Once Moose was happily chowing down, I rummaged through the cupboards for a coffee pot. Fern was a tea person, but usually kept some coffee around for her guests. It wasn’t the best stuff, but with the long hours I worked, I’d learned I couldn’t afford to be picky.
With the coffee percolating, I switched my focus to the crepes. My aunt made an appearance right around the time the crepes were ready to cook. Funny how she did that.
“Good morning, Charlee,” my aunt said cheerily. She shuffled around the island to grab a mug from a shelf by the stove. Today she wore a bright purple robe over her sunflower flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers. “Smells delicious.” She moved to the sink to fill up the tea kettle.
I waited for her to say something else. “So,” she started in again, “I missed you at the party last night.”
I noticed she said she missed me, not the rest of my family. Hopefully they’d been too busy to notice my absence. It was certainly what they were used to. “Yeah,” I exhaled a deep breath. “About that…”
“You saw Ashley and Kenny, didn’t you?” Concern covered her face. “That was the first time, right?”
“Yep,” I swallowed, hating that my voice cracked. It shouldn’t be this hard. Not after all this time. But seeing them felt like my heart was being ripped open all over again. Admitting that, even to myself, made me feel pathetic. I was a grown woman at twenty-nine years old. I needed to get it together and move on.
“Fern, why does this still bother me so much?” I blinked away the impending tears, and turned to the stove to pour batter in the pan.
“Because you spent over half of your life in love with the boy. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Charlee. Even though it’s been a long time, seeing someone again who caused such a deep hurt is bound to bring up some buried feelings.” Fern reached over to pat my back.
“Kenny tried to talk to me, and then Ashley interrupted with something about Nicky. I know she did it on purpose. She could have talked to Kenny anytime about their daughter, but she chose when he was with me to do it.” I picked up a spatula and flipped the crepe, trying to replace my pain with anger instead.