Stormy Day Mysteries 5-Book Cozy Murder Mystery Series Bundle

by Angela Pepper

  “Hello,” the man said.

  “Hello, yourself,” she said.

  “I mean you can say hello all day long, morning or evening.”

  She snorted in response. Brianna was an agreeable, joke-loving girl, an aspiring cartoonist with her own web comic, but this man was eliciting far more than her typical friendly patter.

  “Are these for curtains?” the man asked.

  “Those are technically napkin rings, but you could use them for anything you like. I think you could use them with a curtain rod, if you got the right hardware. Is that something you’re looking for? A curtain rod? We mostly carry gift items, but we can do special orders.” The way she was carrying on, I half expected her to offer to sew him some curtains out of our best tea towels.

  I straightened up enough to peer over the top of the counter. The customer was a handsome, dark-haired man in a gray suit paired with a trenchcoat-style jacket.

  If my brain were able to make cartoon sound effects, it would have made one now, perhaps the AWOOGA of a jalopy honking.

  This dapper-looking customer was Logan Sanderson, my new tenant who didn’t know he was my tenant. He’d recently trimmed his mountain man beard to a refined and fashionable length and looked nothing like the sloppily dressed drifter I’d seen the day before.

  “Why do napkins need these beaded twirly things?” he asked Brianna. “Do napkins have a habit of getting all unruly?”

  “Napkins have been known to misbehave.” She twirled a lock of brown hair around her finger.

  He continued, “Then I’ll need these for future dinner parties. If the napkins are bare-naked, everyone will know I’m a dumb bachelor who doesn’t know anything.”

  “You don’t look dumb to me. Aren’t you that new lawyer guy?”

  “That’s me, the new lawyer guy. Let me know if you require any legal services. Do you find yourself getting into trouble a lot, here in the bustling metropolis that is Misty Falls?”

  “We’re not that boring!” she squealed. “We had a real murder. Technically, they think the murder happened two weeks ago, but the body was frozen inside a snowman.”

  “I did hear about that.” He continued browsing, moving over to the cloth napkins and tablecloths.

  “My boss found the body,” she said.

  “Your boss?”

  Brianna clamped her hand over her mouth. “Actually, forget I said anything about that. I shouldn’t talk about other people’s business, and my poor boss didn’t deserve to get caught in the middle of anything.”

  “I heard that my new landlady was the one who found the body, so I guess you and I have something in common.”

  She glanced over at the hall to the office, presumably looking for me. I ducked the top of my head below the counter quickly to avoid detection.

  “Your landlady is my boss?” she hazarded.

  He chuckled. “And we both live under her iron rule. Does she put up bossy signs around here, too? There’s one in the basement laundry room, about not leaving wet clothes in the washing machine because it makes the whole house smell of mildew.”

  Still in my hiding spot behind the counter, my jaw dropped open with indignation. The bossy sign in the laundry room had been there when I bought the place. Sure, I agreed with it, which was why I hadn’t taken it down, but it wasn’t an unreasonable request.

  “I can’t complain,” Brianna said through giggles. Then she got louder, presumably for my benefit. “Stormy is a terrific boss. I’m extremely grateful to be working here. Yes, Stormy is very nice, and totally cool for a lady in her mid-thirties.”

  I thought my jaw couldn’t drop open more, but it did. Mid-thirties? Thirty-three was early thirties, barely thirty, not mid-thirties.

  “So, she’s my age,” he mused. “From the stories and the signs, I imagined someone much older. Do you know where she is? I’ve been keeping an eye out for her at the duplex, so I can properly introduce myself, but she hasn’t been around.”

  “I’ll get her for you. I think she’s in the office.”

  I heard footfalls as they walked together to the back of the store.

  “Not if she’s busy,” Logan said. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

  “It’s no trouble. I think she takes naps in the office when she’s here.” She let out a laugh. “I’m kidding about that, by the way. Stormy is not the kind of lady who takes a nap. You’d need to give her warm milk and sleeping pills to get her to slow down.”

  Brianna walked past the counter, not noticing me where I crouched. She creaked open the door of the office and called my name.

  I didn’t respond because that would give me away. She would see me upon her return unless I hid better.

  The space under the counter was a hodgepodge assembly of cabinets and scrap wood. There was a curtain to hide the mess, but we always kept the curtain open for easy access. Still crouching, I inched my way back, huddled up, and squished myself into the cupboard. I pulled the curtain across, but it got stuck and wouldn’t close all the way.

  “Stormy?” she called again into my office. The door clicked shut. “You might catch her at the bank,” she told Logan.

  She walked past me again, not looking down to see me huddled below the store’s counter, half hidden by a curtain.

  “She must have slipped out the back,” she said apologetically and then abruptly cried, “Oh, no!”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “She left her coffee behind, and she barely had a few sips. Such a shame.”

  He made a hmm sound.

  Brianna asked him, “Do you want to leave a note for her?”

  “No, but I will buy some cloth napkins and the beaded things that keep them from becoming unruly. Can you help me pick out a good combination? I’m colorblind.”

  “Aww, you poor thing,” she said.

  “It’s just blues and greens that are hard to tell apart. That’s why I always wear brown suits and brown ties.”

  “Um. Your suit and tie are gray, sir. A moody sort of gray.”

  He chuckled. “I know that. I was testing you.” Something rustled. “I’ll take these ones if you think they’re okay.”

  “Excellent choice, sir. I’ll ring these right up.”

  As she returned to the counter, I nudged a few inches further into the cupboard, next to the computer and extra rolls of receipt paper. I should have stood up as soon as they’d started talking about me, but now it was beyond awkward.

  Brianna clicked away and gave him the total, adding, “That’s with the family discount, since technically you live with the store’s owner.”

  “Watch yourself,” he said dramatically. “That’s how rumors get started.”

  She laughed. “You’ll like Stormy,” she said. “Just don’t make her mad, and you’ll be fine. She really is funny, and smart, and generous, and kind.”

  My cheeks flushed. The cupboard was getting very warm.

  Objects clattered on the counter above my head, and a bag rustled. They finished the transaction, and the door chimed as he left.

  Once Brianna was distracted with another customer, I opened the curtain, crept out from under the counter, and slipped away through the back door.

  Chapter 20

  For the second time that morning, I walked into the House of Bean for coffee. My first vanilla latte was back at Glorious Gifts, barely touched. I couldn’t have taken it with me, or Brianna would have known I’d overheard her conversation with Logan.

  I approached the coffee shop’s counter with rising dread. The little bundle of evil known as Chad was working the cash register. He was my least-favorite barista, the one who insisted on using official House of Bean menu terminology.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  The young man replied with an aggressively cheerful, “Good morning to you, ma’am!”

  I dug in my purse for my wallet, avoiding eye contact. “Vanilla latte, please. Large.”

  “Sorry,” he said in a sing-song tone that was an
ything but apologetic. “We don’t have those. May I interest you in a Teenie Weenie Beanie Steamer?”

  I glanced up with a blank expression, playing dumb. “But isn’t that just a latte with vanilla syrup?”

  Evil Chad’s eyes narrowed to their most evil setting. “Our Teenie Weenie Beanie Steamer is a delicious blend of steamed milk, hot espresso, and two pumps of our signature vanilla bean flavor.”

  We faced off in silence.

  Evil Chad didn’t know who he was up against. I would quit drinking their specialty coffees before I ordered a Teenie Weenie Beanie Steamer.

  There was nobody waiting in line behind me, and I wasn’t in any rush, so I took the opportunity to share some helpful tips with the young man. What followed was less of a discussion than an informative lecture. After about five minutes of my persuasive, reasonable, somewhat loud words, he bowed his head slightly, as though acknowledging that perhaps when a customer ordered something that he knew darn well was something they offered, albeit with their own silly name on the menu board, he could just make them their coffee without further humiliation.

  Evil Chad took my money wordlessly and made my drink, letting his grumpy expression speak volumes.

  “Careful you don’t burn yourself,” he said, handing it over. “It’s very hot.”

  “Can I have a sleeve?”

  He tossed a cardboard sleeve on the counter. “Yes you may,” he said. “You may have a sleeve for your Teenie Weenie Beanie Steamer, Mountain-Sized.”

  “Thanks, Chad,” I said brightly. “I appreciate your commitment to excellence.”

  On my way out of House of Bean, a dark figure, lean as an exclamation mark, caught my eye. I turned my head just as the shape disappeared around the corner. I could have sworn it was Creepy Jeepers, but it had to be my overactive imagination because Leo Jenkins had been arrested.

  Chapter 21

  Residents jokingly refer to the Fox and Hound as the Lost and Found, on account of the many scarves and mittens left behind in the darkened booths, as well as the spontaneous relationships that are “found” right around last call. With its many interconnected rooms and well-worn upholstery, the place was a far cry from the nightclubs in bigger cities, but in a small town like Misty Falls, it was the closest thing to a “scene.”

  After a full day of normal activities, I drove to the corner of town, parked at the pub, and went in to meet an old friend, Jessica Kelly.

  It was eight o’clock when I walked in. The Fox and Hound pub was about a third full, and my entrance did not go unnoticed. Many heads turned my way; I checked behind me to see if someone far more interesting had followed me in, but I was on my own.

  I self-consciously wove my way around the tables, scanning for Jessica’s bright red hair. I walked slowly, dreading this reunion, though I couldn’t remember exactly why I’d been avoiding her since my return to town. I’d only sent her a message because I was playing detective, but now that the police had made an arrest, I didn’t need to ask about her coworkers. When she’d messaged back, suggesting drinks tonight at the Fox and Hound, I’d felt so guilty for my selfish intentions, I’d said yes, and now here I was, out in public, with everyone staring at me. I climbed the stairs to an upper level, spotting her near one of the pub’s three cozy fireplaces, alone at a round table for three.

  She saw me and jumped up, squealing my name. We hugged, and I got a mouth full of her red hair. She squeezed me so hard I had to gasp for air. “So good to see you,” she said, finally releasing me.

  I felt many eyes on us as I took a seat at the table. “Small-town life is so different,” I said. “In the city, nobody even looks up when you walk into a place.”

  Jessica grinned at me over her drink, a glass mug of something amber, speared with a cinnamon stick.

  “I’m sure guys were always checking you out,” she said. “Even if you were too busy to notice.” She leaned to the side to look under the table at my boots. “Wowzers. Nice dress, bracelet, tights, and new boots, too. Stormy, did you go to Blue Enchantment and buy everything off the window mannequin?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only because I’ve been dreaming about doing the same thing. But on my salary, I have to hope the good stuff is still around for seasonal clearance sales.”

  I turned quickly toward the glowing logs in the fireplace so she wouldn’t see my reaction. I remembered why Jessica and I lost touch. She’d talked about money every time I saw her, mostly about how she didn’t have any whereas I did.

  Her comments about my spending always put me on the defensive, which wasn’t fair. I worked hard, and didn’t deserve to feel bad for having a nice car. Other people didn’t see the long hours I put into my career, the sacrifices I made. I missed our high school’s ten-year reunion because I was overseas on business, having the most miserable time of my life. The trip to Hong Kong had been years ago, and while I couldn’t recall details about the business, I remembered vividly how lonely I’d been in my hotel room, looking at the online photos of everyone who’d made it to the reunion.

  If Jessica had ever needed a loan, I would have given it to her, but she refused both charity and debt. I’d try taking her for dinner at nice places as a way of sharing, but she was too proud to let me pay. It killed me to see her digging through the change in her purse for her share of a bill. I eventually resorted to fibbing, secretly intercepting the waitress so I could pay the bill before telling Jessica the restaurant had comped our meal because a dish had been too spicy.

  “Earth to Stormy.” She waved a pale hand in front of my face. “What are you thinking about?”

  I considered telling her the truth, all at once, like ripping off a bandage. If we were going to be friends, I didn’t want money coming between us.

  “Just remembering that one time in Portland, when we went to the Japanese steakhouse,” I said. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something about that night.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “The steak house? That was the best night ever! Seriously, it was the best night of my life, better than prom.”

  “Really?” I shifted my chair away from the fire.

  “And you’re so smart, the way you always get those freebies for us.” She used her cinnamon stick as a straw to finish the last of her mulled cider. “You know what? I ordered a hot chocolate, but Dharma brought me this cider, and I drank it anyway. I’m such a dummy.” She waved for me to lean in over the table and said, “Can you coach me in your ways, oh wise one? How do I charm my way to a free refill?”

  I was still reeling from the news that our trip to the steak house had been better than prom for her, but even if I hadn’t been so stunned, I didn’t have the first clue how to get free stuff in a restaurant.

  “Do you want the hot chocolate you ordered, or another cider?”

  She licked her lips. “The cider was really good.”

  I pushed my chair back. “That’s an easy one,” I lied. “Which one is our waitress?”

  Jessica pointed out an older woman with pure white hair. She must have been in her sixties, but by the way she balanced pitchers of beer and a platter of buffalo wings for another table, I could tell she was the type of granny who dragged the other grannies out for tango lessons.

  When I intercepted the woman near the bar, she apologized for not checking on our table yet. I gave her my credit card to run a tab. I finished my instructions by saying, “And if my friend asks, could you imply that the next round is on the house?”

  “Let me guess,” the white-haired waitress said with a knowing smile. “Your friend’s poor and you’re rich?”

  “I’m not rich.”

  “Your car tells another story,” she said. “I was outside to checking that the sidewalks were salted when I saw you pull up.”

  My cheeks warming, I admitted the priciest car in the parking lot was mine.

  “Then you’re not rich after all,” she said. “Rich people don’t drive flashy cars. They drive old ones, so people won’
t know.”

  “I should trade my car for something more practical.”

  “You could trade it for my old van.” She winked. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t trade my van for anything. The old gal’s hitting her prime, and we ladies need to stick together, you know? Men and everything else may come and go, but friendship is forever.”

  I murmured a half-hearted agreement and returned to the table.

  Jessica had her eyes closed and was swaying to the blues song playing over the pub’s speakers.

  “Good song,” I said.

  She startled and held her hand to her heart. “I’m the worst,” she said. “I’ve been babbling about steak dinners and hot ciders, and I haven’t even asked how you’re doing. You look great. Do you want to talk about everything that happened yesterday, or would you rather I didn’t pry?”

  “Thanks for asking,” I said. “Yesterday was—”

  I cut myself off when the waitress arrived with two fresh hot ciders. “On the house,” she said with a smile.

  After the waitress left, I finished, “Yesterday is in the past. Let’s leave it there. We’ve got better things to catch up on. We can talk about boys, like we used to.”

  I picked up my mug, but she put her hand on my arm, stopping me from taking a sip. Her expression got very serious; I braced myself for something upsetting.

  “You should do a toast,” she said. “One of those fabulous Irish toasts your family does. Would that be okay?” Before I could respond, she was shaking her head, saying, “No, I’m being silly. Never mind. It’s just the two of us, and you’re only here tonight because you feel sorry for me, weird little Jessica Kelly who never left Misty Falls or even tried to make something of her life.” She turned toward the fireplace, the orange glow of the gas flames catching in the tears she blinked away.

  I pushed my chair back and stood.

  Still facing the fire, she said, darkly, “We’ll save that toast for your going-away party when you get to leave again.”

  I grabbed my mug and raised it. People were watching, but I didn’t care.