Forest Outings (A Coffee and Crime Mystery Book 3)

by Nan Sampson

  FOREST OUTINGS

  A Coffee & Crime Mystery

  By Nan Sampson

  Published by Last Chance Press

  Copyright © January 2017 Nan Sampson

  First E-Edition: January 2017

  First Last Chance Press Edition: January 2017

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Last Chance Press. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Art © by Raven Blackburn

  To the Mad Hill Hunters of Lake Meep for providing love, hugs, butt glue, dark chocolate, writerly advice and the occasional whip crack; to Steve, Rachel and Admiral Lord Nelson for their love and support; and to my awesome editor, EJ McFall for always believing in me.

  Chapter One

  Spring had sprung in Horizon. Or at least Ground Hog’s Day, better known in Pagan circles as Imbolc, had come and gone by a week. Despite the fact that Ellie Gooden’s belief system affirmed that the earth was beginning the long journey into renewal and growth, you couldn’t have guessed that by looking out the window.

  A blanket of snow a foot deep lay over the hills that ranged behind her small cabin, and in the valleys and the low-lying farmer’s fields, it was even deeper. The sky was the brilliant blue of the very coldest, clearest days, and the sun dazzled, glinting off the ice-coated tree limbs, turning the rural landscape into a winter faery’s sparkling palace.

  Pretty, Ellie thought, but potentially deadly. A biting wind blew steadily out of the north, whipping the crystalline snow into drifts and swirls of icy daggers that stung the skin and stole away warmth from even the most heavily bundled folks.

  She harumphed like her long dead grandfather. Spring indeed. The January deep freeze had come right on time according to the infallible Farmer’s Almanac then decided that it liked it here in south central Wisconsin and settled in for a long visit. She gave a snort. Kind of like her current guest. What was it they said about fish and house guests?

  Charlie McCallum was stretched out on her couch on this lazy Sunday morning, reading the Sunday paper, looking for all the world as though he belonged there. One long-fingered hand hung off the couch, absently scratching the broad head of Erik the Red. The large mixed-breed dog, whom Ellie had rescued as a puppy the previous spring, had taken an unconscionable liking to McCallum, making her consider returning the dog to the gas station outside of Madison where she’d found him. She gave the big, loping mutt a traitorous look, which he studiously ignored.

  From where she sat at her tiny kitchen table, a few yards away, she thought the phrase ‘big loping mutt’ could have described either man or dog equally well.

  For some reason that made her smile.

  She wiped the idiot grin off her face and looked back down at her laptop and the spreadsheet on its screen. It was a graph of her bottom line for the coffee shop she owned in town, and the line that should have her net profits was dipping depressingly. Gods and Goddesses, this weather was killing business. She wasn’t in danger yet, but it would be a tight spring, that was for sure. She thought briefly about the money that her old college friend Lacey, who had been murdered the previous fall, had left her. It was, in a sense a safety net, if she chose to use it – but she knew that would never happen. Ellie had promised herself that money would go for her best friend Kate’s kids’ college educations; she just didn’t feel comfortable using the money to keep her fledgling business afloat. She wanted to earn success.

  Charlie folded the paper and set it on the couch, then unfolded his tall, lanky form. Standing six two in his worn brown loafers, he virtually towered over her. Ellie had never considered herself short, but Charlie had a good eight inches on her.

  He yawned and stretched, and so did the dog.

  “All that reading tire you out?” Her tone was perhaps a bit sharper than she’d meant it to be, but Charlie had stopped minding that along about the end of December.

  He grinned at her, blue eyes twinkling like sapphire stars. “It’s really quite exhausting. First there’s all the comic strips to get through – that Brenda Starr’s hard to keep up with – and then the horoscopes. It’s a wonder I can manage to stand.”

  “Well, if you think you can push yourself just a little bit harder, could you go get another load of wood? Fire’s getting low and in case you were done in before you got to the weather section, we’re due to dip into the double digits below tonight.”

  Charlie grabbed a red down jacket from ‘his’ peg by the door and patted his leg. “Come on, Erik. Lady Elspeth bids us do more work. It’s a dog’s life for you and me.”

  “Yeah. Ain’t it awful. Don’t forget to put on your hair shirt, Mr. Martyr.”

  She was spared his comeback as he and the dog headed out, the sharp wind taking his words with it as it gusted past the door.

  She returned to her spreadsheet, logging in the last of the month’s receipts and invoices, scowling again as the profit margin got even narrower. She tinkered with the projected expenses in the coming months, trying to alleviate the downward spiral by postponing some needed repairs to the shop, and was deep in “what-if” land when a sharp rap sounded on the glass pane of her backdoor window.

  She started, looked up, then swore, but waved in the well-muffled figure on her back stoop.

  “Per Gustafson, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  The tall septuagenarian unwound the scarf from his ruddy face, his weathered features molded into his perpetual smile. The Norwegian accent was thicker today, although still barely perceptible. “And a good Sunday morning to you too, Ellie.” He glanced around the small, single room of living space her quaint old cabin allowed, then even up into the loft that served as her bedroom. “Where’s Charlie?”

  Ellie sighed. “You came to see Charlie? Don’t you get enough of him every evening when he finally decides to leave my premises to mooch off your hospitality for the night?”

  “Do I detect a note of jealousy?” He chuckled. “Actually, I came to see both of you. You, because you requested to reread Jack Kerouac and I finally found where I’d stashed, and Charlie because I wanted to tell him he needn’t come back early this evening. Earl Mough made a hay delivery this morning and was kind enough to help me out with a few chores.”

  Since Charlie’s arrival in Horizon a few months earlier, he’d become Per’s ‘younger’ set of hands, helping with the llamas on Per’s farm, chopping wood and other chores. Not that Per really needed the help, he was as fit as a man half his age, but it gave Charlie something to do, Per seemed to enjoy his company, and it got Charlie out of Ellie’s hair for some much needed alone time.

  “How is Earl? I haven’t seen him since…” She thought back. “Probably not since right after New Years.”

  “He’s fine. Worried, of course, but healthy at least.”

  “Worried? Is something wrong with Patti?”

  “Patti’s fine. It’s that developer woman.”

  Ah. Margaret Roesch. Known around town as ‘Real Estate Developer to the Stars’ or more simply, the Odious Margaret, Roesch had made it her mission in life to acquire as much land in and around the small town of Horizon as, in Earl Mough’s words, God had acres in heaven. Rumor had it she had small town roots somewhere in Grant County but you’d never know it from the way she acted. Hand-altered business suits in
bold primary colors, silk blouses and a swooping, hair-sprayed hair-do that reminded Ellie of former First Lady Betty Ford, Ms. Roesch was a snooty, malicious, barb-tongued pest that Ellie had hoped winter would drive away. Instead, the woman had taken up practically permanent residence in the town’s only Bed and Breakfast, The Birches, to everyone’s annoyance. Add to that that she’d also apparently taken up with the town’s most developer-friendly businessman, Karl Howard, who owned Howard Hardware, and somehow managed to continue to get elected to the exalted role of mayor despite everyone hating his guts, and the lovely to loathe Roesch was on the top of everyone’s gossip list.

  For those in town whose land she was after, the once merely annoying woman had become Public Enemy Number One. Followed closely, both literally and figuratively, by the besotted Karl Howard, whose political position made him a frightening force to be reckoned with.

  It made Ellie’s blood boil. “Has she been harassing Earl again? Man! She just doesn’t know when to quit.”

  Per sat down in out the third, mismatched chair that Ellie had been force to acquire when Charlie had first come to stay, since despite Per’s much larger home, the two men seemed to delight in invading her small personal space at every odd moment. He leaned forward, voice low, as though he might be overheard. “But that’s not the worst of it. Maggie and Faye are sick.”

  It took Ellie a moment to remember that Maggie and Faye were two of Earl’s milking cows, and the mainstay of his organic dairy, and not any of the Mough’s many grandchildren. “That’s not good.”

  Ellie knew what kind of strictures were placed on organic dairies, in regards to treating sick animals. If homeopathic remedies didn’t help the cows, and antibiotics were required, it would keep the two cows out of commission for months. Maybe even longer. With a herd of only forty animals, that meant a big hit to the Mough’s milk production.

  “He was already hurting from the cost of the new milking salon they put in last year. You know he had to take out a loan?”

  “Patti told me. She said it was the first time Earl had borrowed money since their original small business loan.”

  “Earl is positively squirming about it. Says, “the Man” owns him now. Don’t know how much income he can afford to lose and still make his payments.”

  Ellie glanced down at her spreadsheet. She knew exactly how Earl felt. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Keep good thoughts.”

  Ellie stood up and moved to the stove. “Kettle’s still hot. Want some tea?”

  “Sure. But none of that herbal stuff, if you please. Do you still have that Darjeeling?”

  She grinned. “I keep some just for you. Although the herbal stuff is better for you. You don’t need the caffeine, Per.”

  “This from a woman who sells coffee for a living.”

  She turned the burner on and heated up the kettle for a moment, until it started to whistle at her. The she pulled out the old red and silver tea tin, scooped the strong-smelling loose leaves into a tea ball and poured the steaming water over it. She placed the cup in front of Per, then fixed herself another cup of Chamomile as well, before sitting down again.

  “Seems to me the best thing for Earl would be if that annoying wench Margaret Roesch got whatever the cows have. Maybe she’d head back to whatever rat hole spawned her then.”

  “Now, Ellie. Is that anyway for you to talk? What about the Law of Three?”

  Ellie scowled at her friend. The Law of Three stated, in simple terms, that what you sent out into the universe you received back threefold. That worked for bad energy as well as good. Typically, it was a rule that she lived by. But.

  “To make life easier for Patti and Earl, I’d gladly take on some bad Karma. If it weren’t for them, and for you, I’d never have survived this winter here. I owe all of you more than I can ever hope to repay.”

  Per laughed, and his bright blue eyes crinkled. “Well, I must admit, I wouldn’t be terribly sad if she got run down by one of those idiot tourist buses.”

  “Per!” She joined his laughter. “Just think about that poor bus!”

  “You’re right. That helmet head hairdo might very well take out the bumper.”

  The front door banged open and Erik bolted in, thick tail wagging. The dog made a bee line for Per, jumping up to put his paws on Per’s shoulder, the better to slather the man’s face with dog slobber.

  Charlie followed the dog in, carrying an enormous canvas tote filled with wood. He kicked the door shut behind him, deposited the wood in the rack by the fireplace, then brushed himself off. “Per, old buddy! S’up?”

  Per finally managed to disentangle himself from his canine friend. “I just stopped by to tell you you’re relieved of llama duty today.”

  Was that a crestfallen look on Charlie’s face? If so, it disappeared quickly, replaced by his characteristic mischievous grin. “Probably a good thing. I’m completely exhausted. Been hauling wood all morning to keep Her Ladyship warm.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Whiner. Next thing you’ll be complaining about how I make you sweep the chimney and wash the dishes, and how I won’t let you go to the ball.”

  Charlie shook his finger at her. “Never fear. I have a plan. Unbeknownst to either of you, I’ve hidden a pumpkin in the shed and just as soon as my Fairy Godfather shows up, he’s going to—”

  “— turn a blow dryer on it to thaw it out? Good luck with that, Cinder-Charlie.” She rolled her eyes. “You see what I have to put up with? We should both make him pay rent. Me for days, you for nights.”

  Per chuckled. “So, how’s the leg feeling today?”

  The leg, as her Norwegian friend so aptly put it, was the reason Charlie was here to begin with. Back in the fall, Charlie had sustained a broken leg in the process of saving Ellie’s life. The injury had been treated but the doctors had recommended rest afterward, and as Charlie had been living with his brother and sister-in-law – Ellie’s best friend Kate — in Chicago at the time, and they had three kids and a busy life, Kate had suggested Charlie recuperate in Horizon for a few weeks. Ellie had argued against it vehemently. She had no room, either in her small cabin or her life, but then her rat bastard Norwegian neighbor had offered up his guest room. It all smacked of a conspiracy to Ellie, concocted by Kate and Per, to fix Ellie and Charlie up. That Ellie was in fact warming up to the big goof was something she had no intention of telling either conspirator. A few weeks had become a few months and at this point Ellie wasn’t sure Charlie would ever go back to Chicago. Nor was she sure she wanted him to.

  Charlie laid a hand on his thigh, gave a shrug. “Just like the old Chicago song, feelin’ stronger every day.”

  Ellie found herself smiling. “He thinks if he says it’s completely healed, I’ll make him go back to Kate and Dan’s.”

  Per nodded. “So, he’s figured out you’re a cold-hearted woman already, eh? That honeymoon didn’t last long.”

  Charlie flashed a grin. “Oh, I knew that years ago. You forget, her best friend is my sister-in-law, and Kate just loves to talk about her friends.”

  Ellie scowled at Charlie. In truth, she had no idea what Kate had told Charlie about her, but if the amount of detail Kate had shared with her about Charlie was any indication, it made her feel more vulnerable than she liked. “Is that all the wood you’re going to bring in?”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “You see what it’s like? Why do I come over here? Forgive me, my Lady. I’ll go fetch more immediately.”

  He scooped up the canvas wood carrier and headed for the door, her traitorous mutt at his heels. “See you tonight, Per.”

  When he’d left, Per sipped at his tea as well before speaking again. “So how is it with you two?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, please, Ellie. We know each other too well by now. When will he be packing his bags to move in over here?”

  “I don’t think…” She was going to say that it was none of his business, but she’d made a point over the last t
en months of years of sharing almost everything with her older confidante, so the words rang hollow even before they passed her lips. “I don’t know,” was all she finally managed.

  “Not that I mind the company, or the help, but do you ever plan on letting him in?”

  She stared down into her mug. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.”

  “I think you’re fooling yourself then. I think you know exactly how you feel. But I also think you don’t know what to do with those feelings. So rather than explore them, you push them aside. It’s the same thing you’ve been doing with your anger and sadness over your parents.”

  She didn’t deny it, but it galled her to think her conflicting emotions were so transparent to the man. “It’s not as though Charlie’s pushing for anything.”

  “He respects you. I think he understands you better than you give him credit for. If he pushed, rather than waiting until you’re ready, you’d toss him out into the cold.”

  Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready.”

  Laying one sun-weathered hand on hers, he waited until she looked up and met his eyes. “You owe it to yourself to at least try, my dear. Sooner or later, you need to open your heart to someone and I couldn’t have picked a better someone if I’d gone looking for him.” He paused. “After all, I was right about the dog.”

  It had been Per who had predicted and even recommended she would get a dog. Damn, but she hated it when he was right. She gave him a smile she didn’t feel and gently pulled her hand away. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thinking, instead of feeling, is how you got into this mess in the first place.” Then he raised his hand before she could open her mouth to object. “But enough. I have llamas to tend to before the Scrabble game tonight.”

  “Good lord, is it that time of the month again? I suppose you expect me to come replete with left-over baked goods from the shop again?”

  Per waggled his eyebrows at her. “Well, you’re always welcome, goodies from the shop or no, but if you two have something else planned for tonight…”