"I understand," Nikki assured Lidia, thinking back on her divorce. "Well," she said standing up and taking a deep breath, "it looks like I need to make a trip to the library. And I need your assistance."
"What for?"
"I need to go to the archives. I need a beginning date, when the first story began, and when the last story was printed. I also need the names of everyone Denforth trashed in his paper," Nikki explained.
"Oh, dear," Lidia said nervously, "I don't know. You might stir up a sleeping hornets' nest. Please understand, if you're going to make it in this town, you need the support of the locals. Herbert and I live out at the campground, but we understand that our welcome mat, even at the campground, can be yanked out from under us in a hurry. You're new here...I don't think it's wise to shake the nest of the elders, so to speak."
"Lidia," Nikki said holding her ground, "a man has been murdered. I will conduct my own, private investigation, very quietly. Back home, on certain cases, Detective Dalton used to request my help. You see," Nikki hesitantly confessed, "my father was an FBI agent. Oh, he was the best. He taught me practically everything I know about solving crimes."
"You were a cop?" Lidia asked examining Nikki's beautiful and soft features.
"Well, no," Nikki smiled bashfully. "I met my ex-husband when I was twenty-two. I was preparing to go to the academy to become an FBI agent, but Andrew--my ex-husband--changed the course of my life. About...oh, two or three months before I was due to leave for the academy, I was out jogging through the historic downtown district. I always enjoyed jogging in the early morning hours. So peaceful. Birds singing, fresh, cool, morning air, flowers waking up."
"Sounds very nice," Lidia agreed, listening to Nikki with care. "But..."
"But," Nikki sighed, "I came to the end of the street and decided to cross over to the other side and jog back home. So, I began to cross over, and the next thing I know I'm lying in the street holding my ankle in pain."
"You tripped?"
"I can't rightly say," Nikki confessed. "A man named Mr. Green was nearby. He was opening his restaurant--you know, the kind that serves breakfast and lunch only." Lidia nodded, motioning to Nikki that she knew that type of restaurant. "He's an old man, but he sure made it over to me in record time. After examining my ankle, he insisted on taking me to the emergency room. I have to say, as much pain as I was in, I didn't put up much of a fuss."
"Did you break your ankle?"
"Oh no," Nikki explained, "a severe sprain was the diagnosis. Which leads me to my ex-husband. He was the attending ER doctor at the hospital that morning. Oh, I believed it was love at first sight. And maybe, for a few years, it was."
Hearing pain and grief strike Nikki's voice, Lidia hurried over to her. Putting warm, loving hands around her shoulders, she squeezed Nikki. "A broken heart takes time, dear. Now, let's forget this whole business of going to the library and--"
"No," Nikki politely interrupted, "even though I never attended the Academy, I did get my degree in journalism. My husband ended up moving to Atlanta, and I landed a job on the paper. That's where I met Detective Dalton. I sure was a thorn in his side at first, but after he found out I was the daughter of Famed FBI Agent Henry Bates, he softened up on me some...or maybe my father gave him a call?"
Lidia smiled. "Fathers do make calls."
Nikki thought of her ex-husband. "My ex-husband was spending many hours at the hospital. I was spending many hours at the paper. We became strangers passing in the night. Our son became our anchor. But I knew we were falling out of love; I simply refused to believe it. And when Detective Dalton started asking me to help him on certain cases, oh, I became consumed. I guess it was as much my fault as it was my ex-husband's. We both stopped putting effort into being married, and we focused on our son."
"But it still hurts," Lidia told Nikki.
"Yes, because I did truly love my ex-husband at one time in my life. We shared so many special memories together...memories lost," Nikki sighed painfully.
"I'm sorry, dear. But I still don't see why you're insisting on stirring the hornets' nest here?"
"I regret to admit this, but after what you have told me, I believe the murder involves this town and everyone in it, including me. I'm new here, remember? When people learn about my past, that I worked for a newspaper in Atlanta, all eyes might be on me. As this point, once again, everyone is a suspect. It's obvious that Steven Denforth didn't leave our quaint little town, and someone knew it," Nikki explained. "That someone might end up being made out to be...well, yours truly. I have to investigate this murder to protect myself."
"Oh dear," Lidia said uneasily. Staring at the office door, she considered Nikki's suggestion. "Okay, I'll go to the library with you. I don't know how much help I can be, but I'll try."
Grabbing her purse off the desk, Nikki looked straight at Lidia with determination. "This Steven Denforth walked into the store, looked around at the customers, focused on an old German couple, and then walked out. Afterward, he was run down and killed. Any help you can give me will be greatly appreciated."
Chapter Four
Opening her purse, Nikki took out a pair of stylish reading glasses. Sitting in a cushioned chair in a small but convenient reading room, she put on the glasses and focused on the newspapers sitting on the table before her. "A total of five stories," she told Lidia.
Sitting across from Nikki, Lidia eased her eyes around the room nervously. "Just pretend you're reading the papers. If anyone gets wise to us, we're sure to be tarred and feathered."
"The door is shut," Nikki said glancing at the door separating the reading room from the library, "Mrs. Slokam was nice enough. She didn't seem the least bit suspicious."
Watching Nikki pick up a newspaper and examine the front page with intelligent and curious eyes, Lidia tried to relax. It was one thing to have a murder in town; it was a completely different side of the coin to be sitting in a reading room investigating the murder. Oh pooh, Lidia fussed at herself, she wasn't investigating any murder. She was simply assisting a friend with research...at least that was the story she was going to stick to if questioned. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"The people written about, do they still reside here?" Nikki asked opening the newspaper.
"As far as I know," Lidia answered "I'm not aware of anyone leaving, but I live out at the campground and don't keep track of everybody's coming and going."
"Fair enough," Nikki told Lidia, focusing on the 'Around Town' section. "This is the section each story was printed in. The first person is...Dr. Ronald Mayton."
Lidia felt her stomach tighten. She was certain the door leading into the reading room was going to burst open at any minute, and a flood of people was going to run into the room screaming at her with furious faces. "Ronald Mayton is Mr. Boss over at the hospital. He's a lousy doctor who can't even stitch up a cut finger properly," she explained, staring at the door.
"The article reads: 'The heartbeat of a small town cannot properly function without a strong medical facility staffed with confident, skilled, educated personnel obedient to the life-saving task of providing quality medical care. Yes, a medical facility skilled at patient care is the heart that pumps blood into a small town. So what does Maple Hills have? Oh my, the mere thought of confessing the messy and ugly truth about our little hospital makes me wish I could infect myself with an infectious disease and run to rabid dogs for treatment instead of our esteemed Doctor Ronald Mayton. Our little hospital is an open morgue in itself, but do we really have to add to the horror by adding an incompetent imbecile to the list of uneducated staff members who have difficulty understanding how to read your blood pressure?
'Oh yes, I am talking about you, Dr. Mayton. In the town of Maple Hills, you stroll around, esteemed and honored, your head arrogantly in the air, waving, smiling, pretending to be someone you're not. You self-righteous little man, filled with dark lies. How is it, Dr. Mayton, that you, a man who beats his wife and smokes illegal drugs, holds a
position as a physician? I suppose you have learned a trick or two over the years, though, right? Sure you have. You know how to make sure the bruises you inflict on your wife appear only under her clothes and that the drug test you take somehow--very tidily by the way--come back very clean, even though you have a basement full of drugs...'"
Lidia looked at Nikki. "Why did you stop reading?"
"Talk about vicious," Nikki whispered. "This article is libelous. Dr. Mayton would have every right to sue."
"Keep reading," Lidia sighed.
Nikki finished the article. At the bottom was a list of sources to support each harsh claim against Ronald Mayton. "Arrest records, court records, dates, names of judges..."
"Ronald Mayton has lived very quietly in our little town for ten years. He moved here from Boston," Lidia explained. "I'm surprised he's still employed at the hospital."
"I wonder if all the charges against him were dropped?" Nikki asked. Pulling out a pen and notepad from her purse, she scribbled down a few notes and then moved onto the next paper. However, before she could throw her eyes onto the article, someone knocked at the reading room door.
Nervously, Lidia stood up, walked to the door, and slowly opened it. "I'm sorry," a tall, thin, lady with squiggly gray hair told Lidia, "but I'm afraid I must ask for the newspapers back."
"Why?" Lidia asked Mrs. Slokam, examining the woman's face as quickly as she could. Mrs. Slokam was a pleasant woman. Always wearing brightly colored dresses and happy smiles, she never had a cruel or unfair word to say about anyone. She and her husband attended the local church and participated in food drives and every charity event imaginable. An outstanding member of the community, or so it seemed. Now the woman stood facing her with a stern, severe, determined face. "Lidia, I'm not a foolish woman. I can't deny anyone access to the newspapers in this library. But I know what editions your friend asked for. I called Chief Daily. He instructed me to lock up the editions in question."
Lidia bit down on her lower lip. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Nikki stand up. Very calmly Nikki walked to the door. "Ma'am, if you try to take these newspapers away from me, I will be forced to contact my attorney. At this point, all I have is your word that you contacted a law enforcement official who instructed you to remove the newspapers from my possession. However, you do not have any proof. Now, I'm sure you're a wonderful woman, and that you are telling the truth, but I must ask for proof that Chief Daily has instructed you to remove these newspapers. Please, go get the proof and I will remain here. The newspapers will not leave this room."
Mrs. Slokam eyed Nikki carefully. "You are forcing me to ask Chief Daily to come here in person," she warned Nikki. "Please, let's resolve this situation without it becoming more than it needs to be."
"I'm sorry," Nikki said, pulling Lidia away from the door, "I must insist that you present me with evidence. I'll be waiting." Nikki closed the door to the reading room and rushed to her purse. Pulling out her cell phone, she asked for Lidia's help. "Start opening the papers to the stories. I need photos."
"Oh my," Lidia said with shaky hands, "you are getting me into trouble."
"I have a plan. Please, just help me," Nikki begged.
"Okay," Lidia caved in. For several minutes she opened each paper, allowing Nikki to take a single photo of each story. When the last photo was taken, Nikki grabbed Lidia's hand and rushed her out into the library. Walking over pale green carpet, she approached the check-out desk. "Mrs. Slokam, my friend here has convinced me that I was in the wrong. She has told me so many wonderful things about you. Please forgive me for being so stubborn. The papers are in the reading room, neatly folded on the table."
A gentle smile of relief washed over Mrs. Slokam's face. She told Nikki to forget their little disagreement and that she would call Chief Daily and have him cancel his trip to the library. "You seem like a very pleasant person," she said to Nikki. "Perhaps the next time you pay our library a visit we can talk and become more acquainted."
"Without newspapers," Nikki joked.
"Of course," Mrs. Slokam agreed without even wondering what Nikki wanted with the papers, and even how she knew about the papers to begin with, for that matter. After all, Nikki was still a stranger in town. Focusing her attention on Lidia, she lost her smile. "Good day," she said and went back to checking in a short stack of books.
Walking out into a parking lot surrounded by thick, beautiful trees, Nikki turned back and examined the cozy yellow house. "This house belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield. In 1984 the town converted it into the library," Lidia explained, ready to pinch Nikki's neck off. "Did you see the look she gave me? Cold as ice."
"Well, she was smiling...at first," Nikki tried to comfort her friend. "I guess a light went off in her attic. I'll drive you back to the store."
Standing in a refreshing breeze that smelled of roses, Lidia shook her head no. "Listen, Nikki, you're a sweet woman, and I'm glad we're friends. But my husband and I live simple lives. We like our life here in Maple Hills. People know me and I know them. I can't afford to become a black sheep, okay? I'll see you at the store tomorrow...that is, if I still have a job."
"Of course, you do," Nikki promised Lidia and gave her a grateful hug. "And you have my word, from this point forward, I'm a solo woman. I hereby take the handcuffs off you."
Appreciating Nikki's humor, Lidia allowed herself to relax. So what if Mrs. Slokam gave her a cold eye; who cared? If people asked, she would simply tell those nosy do-gooders that she was helping a friend do research. And if she was really pressed, she would hold her ground and stubbornly proclaim that she helped the newcomer in town because the lady happened to be her boss, and she needed a job. "I'll walk back to the store; it's only a few blocks from here. And to be honest, I could use the walk."
"Okay," Nikki told Lidia. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Nikki walked to her white SUV and crawled in. From instinct, she guessed Chief Daily was going to pay the library a visit anyway. Hanging around and having her cell phone checked was not an option. Throwing the SUV into reverse, she got moving. Minutes later, a chubby man with a thick gray hair pulled into the parking lot and parked a brown and white patrol car in the same spot Nikki had been parked in.
Chapter Five
Hearing the tea kettle begin to cry and whine, Nikki walked to the stove with her cell phone in hand. Scrolling through the photos she had taken of the newspapers back at the library, it seemed to her that each person written about had been a specific target. Clicking off the stove, Nikki grabbed an oven mitt hanging over her head from the wooden pot rack. Picking up the tea kettle, with her eyes examining the photos, she poured water into a cream-colored mug. "I would like to speak with each of these people, but I wouldn't guess they would lay out a welcome mat for me. I'd most likely get a few doors slammed in my face and a few complaints filed against me...which would harm my store."
Pondering her options as she set the tea kettle back on the stove, Nikki decided that the best path for her to follow, for the time being, was a path that allowed her to simply play dumb. After all, the only real person she had to deal with was probably Chief Daily--that was if he even opted to pay her a visit. With the newspapers properly secured, Chief Daily would most likely keep Nikki's sudden burst of curiosity on the back burner and get around to her in a manner associated with police work instead of personal interest. "A man is dead, and I go snooping around sensitive papers...not smart," Nikki scolded herself, dropping a blackberry tea bag into her mug. "But what choice did I have? The killer--or killers--might have paid a visit to the library and disposed of the papers. I had to see the paper and act fast, but still, gotta be more careful in the future."
Deciding to get some fresh air, Nikki walked to the duck pond. Sitting down on a wooden bench near the pond, she drew in a breath of lovely, fresh air. Tall, gorgeous trees hugged the backyard, creating absolute privacy. Healthy and bright flower gardens circled the pond, ending up at the wooden bench Nikki was sitting on. A river r
ock walking path stood between the flower gardens and the pond. To Nikki, her backyard was a dream come true. So beautiful, so serene, so tranquil, so...Hearing her cell phone ring, she felt her inner peace shatter. "Well," she told the four ducks living in the pond, all of them lazily floating on the water with bored, gray eyes, "it was nice while it lasted."
Setting the mug down onto the bench, Nikki examined the incoming number. Recognizing the call as a local number, she hit the accept button. "Hello, Nikki Bates speaking," she said, forcing her voice to appear friendly and nice.
"Get out of town or else," a cruel, harsh voice hissed at Nikki.
"Why would I do that?" Nikki asked, feeling fear grip her chest. Through years of experience, she had learned never to show fear, even though fear had become one of her greatest enemies. Standing up from the bench, she began to study the tree line for any sign of movement.
"Get out of town or else," the voice hissed again, and the call ended.
Drawing in a deep breath, Nikki lowered the cell phone from her ear. She kept patrolling the tree line with her eyes. Even though it seemed that Maple Hills was a safe haven compared to Atlanta, Nikki clearly realized as she examined her backyard that danger could swallow her whole in a small town just as quickly as it could in a metropolis. If the caller was lurking out in the woods, hiding behind a tree, watching her, holding a gun--or worse, aiming a rifle at her--she couldn't tell. The wonderful, thick, beautiful nature she adored had now become a strange and dangerous curtain that hid potential threats from her view.
Unable to control the tightness in her chest, Nikki picked up her mug and jogged back to the house, glancing over her shoulder a few times. With the kitchen door securely locked behind her, she sat down at the kitchen table. "I can't become a prisoner in my own home," she said in a shaky voice. "Come on, Bates, you've got worse calls than that back home. Now think...the caller was a man. Age? No age, he was muffling his voice...local number...caller knows I was at the library snooping around."
Raspberry Truffle Murder (A Maple Hills Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 2