Once Upon a Summer

by Brooke Moss

  Pulling out his cell phone, he began double-checking each address that had been manually entered into the system. A couple of entries caught his attention. "Most of these are residential and are probably clients, but these two from Wednesday are interesting. One is a lawyer specializing in probate, and the other is an antiquities shop." He turned the car off and got out. "When the state boys get here, ask one of them to get a full list of the navigation system. Also, find that lawyer in Jackson. It's Sunday, so he's most likely not at work. I want to know why Ms. Billups visited him earlier this week. In the meantime, I'm going to go pay a visit to Mickey's Treasures, Antiquities, and Estates."

  TJ frowned. "The city boys are there now because there was a break in this morning. I heard it on the radio earlier. Do you think it's a coincidence?"

  Hunter marched to his car, yanked open the door and hopped in. "Maybe. Maybe not," he growled. "I'm going to go see. Call me when State gets here."

  CHAPTER 3

  How could anyone do this?

  Harmony took in the front of the shop with dismay. It looked like a crazed bear had run through on a rampage. Tables were knocked over, china shattered, and a stack of magazines from the 1930's and 40's littered the floor. Uncle Mickey stood by the front door, talking with two officers while Aunt Jolly checked out the diner next door with a third. Luckily, it didn't seem to have been affected by the vandalism. Several technicians had spent the last hour dusting anything which looked to have been disturbed for prints. Harmony and Mickey were finally allowed to examine the store and point out anything that could be missing.

  Working her way around the mess and to the back counter, she peeked inside her workroom. "Oh no!" she gasped and ran the rest of the way.

  The workroom was in the back between the storage and Mickey's office. It contained a long bench where she kept her current projects in various stages of completion along with her tools and cleaning compounds. The bench rested on its side with all her belongings scattered across the room. The shelves containing her books, schematics, and other tools had been knocked off the wall. Crouching down, she reached out and picked up a lampshade comprised of colored glass and wire. When Uncle Mickey found it at a yard sale several weeks ago, it didn't work and was missing almost half of the little teardrop glass pieces. She replaced the wiring and had managed to find several comparable glass drops online. It was almost back to its 1930's former beauty. Now, the wire frame was crumpled and many of the teardrops shattered. It looked like someone had taken great pleasure in stomping on the fragile piece.

  "I'm sorry, honey." Aunt Jolly hugged her from her left side. "People just burn me up. That was nothing but pure meanness. You worked so hard on it."

  Harmony dropped the mangled shade and took a ragged breath. "I can almost understand taking things, but why did they destroy so much? It doesn't make any sense. Most of it was repairs and cleanups and didn't even belong to us. Poor Uncle Mickey."

  Jolly patted her on the arm. "You don't worry about it, Harmony. We've got insurance. The things unable to be repaired will be compensated."

  Stooping, Harmony picked up a piece of silver and held it up to the light. "Mr. Hellson's pocket watch. His great-grandfather bought it in 1891." She ran her fingers over the shattered crystal. "It was in almost pristine condition. He brought it in to be cleaned. I was going to call him tomorrow to come pick it up and now look at it. I should have put it in the safe."

  "Wouldn't have done any good. The safe is gone." Mickey's face was lined with worry. "They took it but left the register and both computers. The thing I can't understand is why they took time to destroy the clocks and music boxes."

  Harmony's head whipped up. Moving to the side, she noticed for the first time the big cuckoo clock on the wall was gone. Stuffing the watch into her pocket absently, she hurried to the front and stopped at the wall. The clock lay on the floor and looked like someone with a large foot had thrust his shoe through the middle of the box. The little bird that sang the hour lay on its side. The metal rod which activated it bent and misshapen.

  Okay, that one hurt.

  A lot.

  A knock sounded on the open door. Harmony ignored it, knelt beside the pile of broken clock, and carefully picked up the pieces, cradling them in her arms. Maybe she could salvage it?

  "Who's in charge here?"

  Harmony froze as the warmth of a baritone voice twined around her senses. A tickle raced up her spine and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. Rising from her crouch, she turned with the pile of shattered pieces in her hands and looked for the owner of the amazing voice. Nearby, a man with his back to her stood. He wore a pair of dark slacks and a crisp, white short-sleeve shirt. His broad back, narrow waist and an extremely fine rear had her mouth watering. Tearing her eyes from his butt, she let them travel up his torso hoping to see if the face matched the rest of him. Damn, he still had his back to her, only gracing her vision with a thick mop of dark hair cut close to his head. She swallowed a plea for him which threatened to escape her traitorous lips. Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, turn around.

  Shaking her head, she mentally chastised herself. She wasn’t one of those airhead women who went crazy over a sexy male form. Harmony stole a glance again and bit her lip. No matter how nice the body was, now wasn’t the time to let her hormones out on a jaunt. Instead, she turned away and made her way down the aisle to the workroom and gently placed the pieces on her chair. On her next trip, she covertly glanced around hoping for another glimpse of the hotty with the body. She was disappointed when she didn't see him. On the third trip, she did.

  "Um. Hi? You're here. I mean you're in my spot." Harmony groaned. Her words stumbled from her lips to find him standing in her work area staring at the destruction littering the floor. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "Can I help you?"

  The sight of his gorgeous face sporting a charming grin nearly knocked her on her butt. She only thought he was hot before. The perfect sculpt of his back had continued around to his front with a broad chest, defined arms and muscular thighs. Wow, this guy must work out.

  Her eyes traveled up his body again, hesitating only a moment at the bulge in his pants before coming to rest on his face again. Harmony hadn't checked out a man's body before and his left her flustered. She also hadn't ever believed she had a type, but apparently, it was the dark, smoldering type with a cleft chin, five o'clock shadow at ten in the morning and eyes so paleblue they looked almost transparent.

  It took her a minute to realize the smoky voice which had captured her attention earlier was now being directed at her. She blinked a couple of times and wrinkled her brow. "I'm sorry, what?"

  He chuckled and a brilliant smile erupted on his face. The double shot of his smile with the words, "I said, I'm Sergeant Hunter Masterson of the Lauderdale County Sheriff's Department" in that deep voice slammed into her like a tidal wave making her rock slightly and losing the pieces of her beloved clock to gravity.

  Hunter Masterson. Well, at least now she knew what his name was.

  He sunk into a crouch and began to pick up the pieces she’d dropped. Shaking herself out of the sexy male induced stupor he had hit her with, she joined him. With the two of them working together, it took only moments to retrieve the missing clock parts. Placing them on her rolling chair, she stood to her feet and turned her back to him, unwilling or perhaps unable to face him at the moment. Living in California while at school guaranteed she would see a smorgasbord of tasty males on a regular basis. However, she had never reacted in this manner before, and it confused her. She wasn't some mindless flibbertigibbet. She was a strong, independent woman who graduated in the top one percent of her college class and was poised to receive her Masters by the end of the year. Harmony didn't have time for silly crushes; especially not over hot police officers who were so far out of her league, they were playing totally different games.

  Feeling she had herself in control, she straightened her shoulders and turn
ed. Thrusting her hand out, she gave him what she hoped was a warm smile. "Harmony Tailor. Nice to meet you, Detective Masterson. How may I help you?"

  ***

  Harmony Tailor. The name suited her. She looked like a Harmony with short brown hair kissed with streaks of golden honey held in place by a headband, a pixie face complete with a button nose and lips that were made for sin. Hunter had heard of eyes the color of a stormy day, but until this moment had never seen them. They were striking and provocative. He noticed her tanned cheeks color a deep shade of red as she stumbled over her words and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to nibble. He could tell from her body language she wasn't comfortable. Even though she wore loose clothes, he got a hint of her shape and found the curves to be appealing. As he checked her out, she fidgeted uneasily. She was shy, skittish and absolutely stunning.

  Hunter shook her offered hand, then let go reluctantly. He had seen the way she reacted to his presence. They shared a mutual attraction.

  He shoved back the part of him which found Harmony Tailor to be fascinating and forced his mind back to the subject at hand, Grace's murder. "I know you are busy trying to deal with this situation so I won't keep you long, Miss Tailor. I'm working on a case and was hoping you could help me regarding Grace Billups' visit to this shop a few days ago. Your uncle said you waited on her?"

  Harmony wrinkled her brow. "Grace Billups?" She chewed her lip slowly then nodded. "I remember her because of the automaton."

  "Automaton?"

  Harmony nodded absently then searched through the littered mess on the floor. "I'm sure it's here somewhere. I took it off before..." She looked at him expectantly. "Would you?" she asked as she grabbed one end of the workbench.

  "Sure.” He picked up the other end and helped her right it. She then fell to her knees and shuffled through a scattering of yellow tags lying haphazardly where the bench had been. Picking one up, she glanced at it then handed it to him.

  "She brought in a 1920's automaton bird box to be fixed. I'd never seen one in person before and couldn't wait to start on it." Her face lit up and became more animated as she got into the subject. "It's absolutely amazing how they work especially when you take into account it takes so many individual gears created to exact precision. A burr on one side, even a flaw in the material could throw the whole thing off and render it useless. I mean, it's amazing to think these intricate pieces of machinery were first created by hand - and by hand, I mean using hammers, files and the like. Don't even get me started on the bellows operated organ that makes the whistling. Paper, bits of balsa wood and glue. Can you believe that? All the way back to the 1700's people were able to manufacture these amazing little bits of whimsy. Of course, Ms. Billups' one wasn’t that old, and most of the parts were made in a factory. But still, it's astounding. Did you know, the first known boxes came from France and were so finely crafted and expensive only nobility could afford them? There are rumors Marie Antoinette commissioned several." She mumbled the last as she stared at the tag.

  Hunter took the ticket and noted Grace's name and telephone number along with a description of the object and a notation that the works were jammed. "I can see why your uncle would value your help. You are very knowledgeable about antiques."

  "No, on mechanics. I wouldn't know a Chippendale from an IKEA. It's how things work inside that gets me." She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a geek."

  The movement caused the loose T-shirt she wore to tighten over her chest. Hunter's attention zeroed in on one of the finest racks he had ever seen complimenting a drool-worthy, hourglass shape. Just the peek at her luscious body made all kinds of desires flitter through his head and sent all his blood detouring south. Hunter had always been attracted to girls with a little more padding than muscles. Call him crazy, but he preferred softness as opposed to the over-toned body four days a week in a gym brought.

  "Detective?"

  Hunter wrenched his eyes from her body and back to her face. Her cheeks were stained a light pint again, and she nibbled on her bottom lip causing the already plumper top to poke out in an adorable pout. Heat slammed into him, and an aching throb caused his slacks to become too tight. He cleared his throat at being caught ogling her. Get it together, Masterson.

  "Miss Tailor, this bird box she brought in, was it among the items stolen in the break-in?"

  The pink on her cheeks became a blazing red as she fidgeted. Finally, Harmony shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor. "No. It wasn't here." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly then continued in a whisper. "Mickey has a strict policy that client's possessions are not to be removed from the premises. It has to do with liability and his insurance. It was supposed to be in the safe, but I couldn't stand to wait to work on it, and I didn't have anything else to do on a Sunday, so I brought it home with me last night. I had just started taking it apart when the alarm company called about the break-in. The box is in my room at home."

  "All right. How about we take a trip and get it? I'd like to take a look."

  "Okay, yeah sure." She pulled her hands out of her pockets. "Uh, I rode here with Mickey and Jolly. They aren't ready to leave yet."

  "We'll take my car."

  CHAPTER 4

  It was the first time Harmony had ever ridden in a police vehicle. True, this one wasn't marked like a regular one, and except for the blue light sitting on the dash, one wouldn't even know it wasn't a normal car. However, if not for being hyper-aware of Hunter Masterson sitting so close and infusing the air with whatever cologne he used, she would have paid more attention to her surroundings. Instead, her mind ran through questions she had no business asking. Things like how it would feel to have those strong hands run along the curve of her back as he spread sunscreen on her naked flesh.

  "So, Miss Tailor, what do you like to do for fun?"

  Harmony jolted at his question having gotten lost in her thoughts. "Fun?"

  He nodded but kept his eyes on the road ahead. "Yes, fun. You know what I mean, don't you? Those things people do when life isn't serious."

  She let out a laugh. "Life is always serious, Sergeant Masterson. When it's not, it's over."

  "Point taken. Let's approach this from another angle. If you weren't working, what would you be doing?"

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "It doesn't matter what I’d be doing. Wishing for things that never will be only brings your heart pain and your mind sorrow."

  "Profound. Who said that?"

  She grinned at him slyly. "I did."

  Hunter laughed heartily. "How about this instead? What about the beach? I noticed you had a nice tan and it doesn't seem to be from a booth."

  The smile dropped from her face. "I love the beach. One of my favorite things to do on the weekends is to grab my textbook and spend the day in San Gregorio. I'd pack a lunch, get there about eight in the morning and watch the waves, study and enjoy life in general." She hugged herself as she shrugged. "I miss my beach."

  Hunter pursed his lips as if in thought. "San Gregorio? I don't think I've heard of it. Is it down near Orange Beach?"

  "It's in California. San Francisco, to be exact. I attend Stanford, or at least until I finish my Masters in December."

  "Wow." He breathed out the word in awe. "If I can ask, what's your degree in?" He glanced at her as the car came to a stop at a sign.

  Harmony hated to talk about herself, especially when her geekdom showed. However, it was also impolite to ignore a direct question, and he was the police. Dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap, she muttered, "I have a double BSE in Mechanical Engineering and Mechatronics with a Siemen’s International Certification: level 3."

  "Wow. That's... uh... impressive."

  The blood pounding in Harmony's head overwhelmed the silence in the car. She swallowed as her face became hotter. She wasn't embarrassed at having the double degrees, in fact, she was damned proud of her achievements. She could, however, feel the intense stare
coming from the man sitting beside her which did embarrass her. Being the center of his attention unnerved her.

  The honk of an irate driver behind them drew Hunter's attention back on the road. Moving through the intersection, he turned at the next one and into her neighborhood. Pulling into the driveway she had indicated, he turned off the engine but didn't move.

  Unable to withstand the weight of his scrutiny, Harmony bolted from the car as fast as she could remove the safety belt. She hated that he looked at her differently because she was smart. It wasn't her fault school came easy for her. She didn't ask to be strange, awkward and unusual. For the first time in forever, she wished she wasn't like this. She wished she was normal.

  Avoiding the front, Harmony practically ran to the side door, unlocked it and entered without waiting for him to catch up. Her room was just off the kitchen in what was once a mudroom before the new addition Mickey built ten years ago. Flipping the light switch, she grimaced. Electronics and engineering books littered her bed along with pieces of paper containing scribbles. Schematics, mechanical drawings and several photographs of her robotics team from her junior and senior years covered the pale gray walls. In one corner, a stack of Popular Mechanics magazines from the seventies leaned haphazardly to one side supported by a cardboard mockup for a mechanical sorting bank she made in high school. There was nothing girlie or feminine in the space. Even her bed left unmade from this morning contained dark blue sheets with images of the TARDIS from Dr. Who. Her sleep shirt lay face up with the words, "I'd love to change the world, but they won't give me the source code" plainly visible. She winced at the utter nerdiness.

  "Harmony?"

  She whirled around. Sgt. Masterson stood in her doorway, a frown married his handsome face. She wanted to reach out and smooth away the harsh lines but clasped her hands into fists instead. Clearing her throat, she schooled her face into careful indifference. "There's the box," she informed him as she lifted her chin toward her desk next to the door.