Stormy Day Mysteries 5-Book Cozy Murder Mystery Series Bundle

by Angela Pepper

  “Okay,” Della said to me. “You’re kind of a genius, aren’t you?”

  “I must be,” I said. “You’re looking at me the way my cat does when I use the magical can opener.”

  The women both blinked at my joke. There are two kinds of people in the world: Cat people and the yet-to-be-enlightened.

  Someone knocked on the front door and started pushing it open without waiting.

  “Bodyguard’s here,” came a man’s voice.

  Chapter 29

  "Did someone call for a bodyguard?” My father, Finnegan Day, walked in wearing his suit and hat, plus a pair of sunglasses, despite the fact it was dark outside.

  “Hi, Dad,” I said. “Give us a sec.” I pointed to Saundra’s purse and gestured for her to hand over the phone. “We won’t delete them all,” I promised.

  She hesitated before handing us her phone. It was the same model as mine, so I was able to find the wedding photos easily.

  Saundra seemed more concerned with the bodyguard in the kitchen.

  “Wow,” said Saundra. “You sure dress good for someone living in a small town like this.”

  “Misty Falls is full of surprises,” he said. “Have you considered moving here?” He set his hat on the counter, took off his sunglasses, and refilled the kettle for tea.

  Saundra, who was probably eager to put some distance between herself and Della thanks to the nearly violent altercation over the wedding photos, got up from her chair and joined him in the kitchen area.

  “Not until now,” Saundra said. “What’s the weather like?”

  “Where do you live currently?”

  “Seattle,” she said.

  “We don’t get nearly as much rain here,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who prefers gray skies.”

  She giggled girlishly. “I like blue skies.” She held out her hand. “I’m Saundra.”

  He took her hand and held it. “Finnegan Day. You can call me Finn. Would you like a warm-up?”

  She giggled again. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Your cuppa tea,” he said, laying on the Irish accent for extra charm. “Would you like a little more hot water?”

  “If you think I would, then yes.”

  Next to me on the sofa, Della said, “Gross.”

  I leaned over and said, “He’s always like this.”

  “Gross,” she said again.

  I looked down at her hands and realized she was referring to the wedding photos on the phone, not to my father hitting on our kidnapped witness.

  Meanwhile, my father was asking Saundra if she’d seen the movie Bodyguard, starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston. She had never seen the 1992 romantic suspense film but sounded genuinely excited about watching it with my father at his house, which he kept referring to as the Safe House, as though it were a residence kept by the FBI for housing witnesses on the run.

  After another cup of tea, my father left with Saundra. Della said she was going to wait around for Logan to come home. I yawned repeatedly in front of her, hoping it would be contagious.

  Wednesday morning, I woke up with my feet on the pillow and my head at the bottom of the bed. I was fully dressed, but not in the same clothes I’d worn the day before. There were only two possible explanations for my condition. Either I’d been abducted by aliens and done some time traveling, or I’d taken one of Jessica’s sleeping pills the night before.

  As I got up, brushed my teeth, and adjusted my bra so the front part was at the front, memories of the previous evening came back in waves.

  After Saundra left with the bodyguard, Della raided my kitchen for a bit. When she discovered I didn’t have her preferred brand of vodka, she left in search of a better party.

  Jessica came home at eleven, saw the bruises on my arm, and dragged me away from my laptop and the photos of Della and Dieter’s wedding. She fed me some deep-fried tortellini that she’d brought home from work, gave me a sleeping pill, and tucked me into bed.

  With my memory restored, I could go about my day secure in the knowledge I had not been abducted by aliens and sloppily redressed.

  “Good morning,” I said as I entered the kitchen.

  Jessica was already up and baking.

  “I thought you deserved some apple turnovers,” she said.

  “Deserved?” I snagged a few almonds she hadn’t slivered yet and munched them. “Apple turnovers are my father’s favorite. Is he coming over again today? Do you know something I don’t know because I slept right through it? What year is this?”

  She laughed. “Finn’s next door with Logan, delivering the witness.” She nibbled on a thin slice of green apple and arched her red eyebrows. “She’s really pretty.”

  I let out a sniff-laugh. “He just likes the attention. That Saundra girl is in her twenties. He does date down in age, but he’d never touch anyone younger than his daughters. That’s the line.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  She dusted the countertop with flour. “Remember when we were kids and we tried to set up my mother and your father?”

  “We thought we were so clever,” I said with a chuckle.

  “It almost worked,” she said.

  “You have a funny definition of almost.”

  “We should keep trying,” she said.

  “If you go over to your mother’s place and start breaking things on purpose, people might not find it so cute now that you’re old enough to know better.”

  “There are other ways,” she said.

  “You’re on your own with that particular project,” I said, laughing.

  Back when we were too young to realize how transparent we were, we’d get my father to come in and fix something at the Kelly residence whenever he picked me up from a sleepover.

  At the time, we thought our plan was working well. Our two single parents would talk and laugh while he fixed things. It wasn’t until the fifth or sixth time that my father asked me to ask Jessica to stop breaking things, because he couldn’t handle another minute of her mother reaming him out about how terrible and useless all adult men were. That was when I realized that not all forms of grownup talking was positive. The funny thing was, Jessica wasn’t breaking that many things on purpose. Her older brothers were just really hard on drawers, balustrades, and anything else they could climb on or hang from.

  “Knock knock,” said a voice behind me. It was my father, coming in the front door with Logan right behind him. They were alone.

  “Where’s Saundra?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you lost your prize witness. You’ve got to be a better bodyguard than that, even if it was your first assignment.”

  Logan pointed at the wall dividing our living spaces. “She’s picking out something to wear.”

  “You’re loaning her one of your puffy pirate shirts?”

  He pursed his lips, suppressing a grin. “I don’t own any pirate shirts, they just look that way on tiny people.” He gave me a hug and kissed my forehead. “Saundra’s choosing something from the selection Corine picked out. I know Corine’s taste in clothing is questionable, but it’s better than the postage-stamp dresses Della would have loaned her.”

  “I could have loaned her something,” I said.

  “No, you couldn’t have,” said my father. “She’s much bigger than you up top.”

  I looked to Jessica for emotional support. It was bad enough my bra didn’t look too bad when it was on backwards, but now this? From my own father? Jessica gave me a sympathetic look and continued making apple turnovers.

  My father and Logan thankfully moved on from Saundra’s wardrobe needs to talking about other aspects of the case. They talked while I helped Jessica with the pastries by providing moral support and eating the extra fillings.

  My ears perked up when my father said, “Nobody’s heard from or seen Tim Barber in twenty-four hours.”

  “You could check the casino again,” Logan said.

 
My father answered, “I might drive out to Canuso Lake, but I figure we’ll swing by Barber’s house first.”

  “And pay a visit to Erica Garcia?” Logan asked.

  “We wouldn’t want to be rude and not say hello, provided she’s home.” My father looked at me. “What do you say? Want to go for a spin in your old man’s new car?”

  Jessica and I said, in unison, “New car?”

  He grinned. “Now, that’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

  Chapter 30

  The new car wasn’t new at all, and it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it.

  It was an older-model green Ford Torino. Unless there was a second one in town, it belonged to my friend Harper, who worked with Jessica at the Olive Grove.

  “Ain’t she gorgeous,” my father said, patting the car on the roof. “I’m test-driving her for a few days before I make up my mind. Hopefully there aren’t any major mechanical surprises. She drives like a dream, but you can’t be too careful. First dates can be deceptive.”

  “Dad, are you ready to commit to a collectible car? It’s a big commitment.”

  He ignored me and stroked the roof lovingly. “I don’t know why anyone would sell this beauty.”

  “There’s one good reason,” I said.

  He waved his hand. “I’m just puttering around town, so gas mileage isn’t a huge concern.”

  “Dad, I know why the owner is selling.”

  He waved his hand again. “If it’s bad, I don’t want to know. When you fall in love, you want the honeymoon to last forever.”

  “It’s not a bad reason,” I said. “Did you borrow it from a girl named Harper?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “She’s a friend, Harper, and she’s probably selling her car because her younger sister wants to drive it.”

  “How old is the sister?”

  “She’s in the twelfth grade this fall.”

  “That settles it,” he said. “The little sister’s too young for a car like this. I’ll have to buy it as an act of preservation. They should give tax credits for good deeds like this.”

  “They really should,” I agreed.

  He turned to Jessica and Logan for their opinions.

  Logan said, “I have no opinion on the purchase or sale of used cars. Ask a mechanic.” He walked away from us, toward his side of the duplex. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to gather my star witness and head in to the office.”

  I waved good-bye. “Good luck with everything.”

  He paused, staring at my arm. “Stormy, why is there dirt all over your arm?”

  I pulled my sleeve down to cover the bruise. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Now both he and my father were staring at me.

  Sighing, I said, “We had a little car-whoopsie when I was out with Kyle yesterday.”

  Jessica chimed in, “It was more than a car-whoopsie. They destroyed a billboard and a police car.”

  I gave her a dirty look. “You would have made a great little sister, you tattler.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  Logan came back to my side and pushed up my sleeve to look at my arm. With all the excitement of Della and Saundra showing up the previous evening, I’d only talked to Jessica so far about the accident. I assured everyone I wasn’t in any pain, and I wasn’t. I felt great—rested and refreshed and ready to close the case.

  I finished with, “And we don’t know who was in the truck, because they got away. All we know is that it belongs to the Koenig Estate.”

  Logan said, “It might have been the butler and the handyman.” He shook his head. “That sounds funny to say out loud.”

  My father said, “Anything with the word butler in it sounds funny.”

  Logan hugged me—carefully, to avoid my bruised arm. “You be more careful,” he said.

  “Yes, Dr. Feelgreat.” I pushed him away. “Go do your lawyering.”

  He started toward his door again, calling back, “Let me know how it goes with Tim Barber.” He disappeared into his place to retrieve Saundra.

  My father gave my bruises a good scowl and then returned to admire the vintage car.

  Jessica walked up to the Torino and leaned over the hood as though preparing to kiss it. She fanned her hair with her fingers and let her red locks fall across the green paint.

  “This car really goes nicely with redheads,” she said to my father. “Hint, hint.”

  My father replied, “Jessica Kelly, I’m not taking your mother out unless she’s wearing a muzzle.”

  “Dad!” I gave him a dirty look.

  Jessica straightened up and also gave him a dirty look. “Mr. Day, I just meant that maybe you could bring me with you to the Show and Shine days. I could wear a vintage dress and pose with the car.”

  “Oh.” He looked sheepish. “That would be all right,” he said. “Don’t tell your mother what I said about her. She’s a good woman.”

  “It is a cool car,” I said. “But it’s so old. It doesn’t have any modern safety features, or a navigation computer.”

  “Daughter dearest, are you saying old things aren’t any good? That they should be left to rust somewhere, silent and forgotten?” He grinned.

  I sighed. “Sometimes older things are actually the best,” I said. “Let’s take it for a spin and check on Tim Barber. If he was driving in that truck, I’m going to show him my bruises and make him feel awful.” I turned to Jessica. “Want to come with us?”

  She scooped up Jeffrey, who had come to christen the car’s hood with paw prints. “I’ll stay back here and get those apple turnovers in the oven. If you two don’t take long, they should still be warm when you get back.”

  “Keep the home fires burning,” my father said.

  She went inside with Jeffrey, and my father tossed a set of keys at me. I caught the keys midair, but my right arm burned with pain from the sudden movement. I forced a smile onto my face. I wasn’t exactly uninjured, but there was no need to worry him.

  “You can drive,” he said. “I’ve already been out with Saundra for a spin around town before we came here. The pedal heights seem fine for my new hip, but I don’t want to overdo it.”

  I slid into the driver’s seat. “Your hip is fine, Dad. You just enjoy having me as a chauffeur.”

  “Consider it a compliment to your driving skills.”

  “My driving skills in this vehicle remain to be seen.” I jingled the keys in my right hand as I glanced around the interior. “And we may never find out, if I can’t figure out where the key goes in.”

  Chuckling, he took my hand and guided it to the ignition. “New endeavors take time,” he said. “Patience is your ally.” He clicked his seat belt.

  The engine started with a low rumble that surprised me—not the volume, but how enjoyable it was to be at the controls of the rumbling beast.

  “Oh, my,” I said. “It’s purring like a big kitty.”

  “Check your blind spots,” he said. “Back it down the driveway nice and easy, and once we’re going, try not to hit any billboards.”

  Chapter 31

  There was no answer when we knocked on Tim Barber’s front door.

  “Drink pineapple juice,” my father said. He was looking at my bruised arm again. “There’s something in pineapple that helps with bruising.”

  “Dad, you’re turning into a real health wizard.”

  He patted his lower ribs. “I gotta keep up with the new hip, plus I don’t want to have to replace any more parts. Pineapple juice is delicious. Add some fizzy water if you find it too sweet.”

  “I’ll pick some up,” I said, relieved that a juice recommendation was the extent of his comments on the previous night’s adventures with Dimples. Although I hadn’t been the one at the wheel, I did feel somewhat responsible. If I hadn’t been yelling about shooting out tires, Officer Kyle Dempsey might have practiced more caution, and the casino billboard might have lived to advertise another day.

  I knocked on the door
again. “Maybe he’s gone in to work,” I said. “Or he went up the street to visit Erica Garcia. Or maybe he’s at the police station right now, giving his statement on whatever lie detector Tony rustled up.”

  “Kyle would have let me know.”

  “He’s at work today? His shoulder looked pretty scary last night.”

  “I thought you said the accident was minor?”

  “It was minor! It’s just that Kyle has those adorable cheeks, and when you see him hurt, it looks scary.”

  My father gave me a skeptical look and stepped down off Tim Barber’s porch. He crossed the lawn toward the tailfins of the Fairlane that appeared to be submerged in the front lawn.

  I asked, “What are you thinking about now?”

  “The Torino replaced the Fairlane,” he said as he leaned over the vintage tail lights.

  I’d meant about Tim Barber, but I was curious about the car. I compared the back ends of the car coming out of the lawn with Harper’s green Torino.

  “But they’re so different,” I said. “They look nothing alike. Are you sure?”

  “The body designers at Ford moved away from rockets as their inspiration and started looking at modern jets. Everything got sleeker and more bullet-shaped.” He straightened up and looked down the street. “Now everyone drives boring gray things that look like pills or cough lozenges.”

  “Dad, you’re doing it,” I said. “You told me to warn you if you started to sound like grandpa.”

  He returned to Tim’s door and used the end of his cane sword to ring the doorbell.

  “That, I did,” he said. “But maybe the old man was right all along, and things used to be better.”

  “You have to take it all,” I said. “So what if we all drive boring, lozenge-shaped cars? We’ve made great strides in other fields, like forensics. Right this minute, people in a lab are analyzing microscopic skin cells taken from a baby soother, comparing it to the DNA of a dead man to determine paternity. Back in the good ol’ days, you’d have to wait for the kid to grow up and see if folks could agree that he looked an awful lot like somebody, or held his caveman club the same way as the alleged father.”