Murder on Main Street

by Shannon Kaper

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE Chapter 1

  CHAPTER TWO Chapter 2

  CHAPTER THREE Chapter 3

  CHAPTER FOUR Chapter 4

  CHAPTER FIVE Chapter 5

  CHAPTER SIX Chapter 6

  CHAPTER SEVEN Chapter 7

  CHAPTER EIGHT Chapter 8

  CHAPTER NINE Chapter 9

  CHAPTER TEN Chapter 10

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Chapter 11

  CHAPTER TWELVE Chapter 12

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Chapter 13

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Chapter 14

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Chapter 15

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN Chapter 16

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Chapter 17

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Chapter 18

  CHAPTER NINETEEN Chapter 19

  CHAPTER TWENTY Chapter 20

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Chapter 21

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Chapter 22

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Chapter 23

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Chapter 24

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Chapter 25

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Chapter 26

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Chapter 27

  Author Notes

  MURDER ON MAIN STREET

  Shannon Kaper

  Copyright © year Shannon Kaper

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781093266726

  Dedicated to Jase, Raymond, Adilyn, & Elijah

  CHAPTER ONE

  Chapter 1

  “State offices, the airport, schools, and most roads are closed this morning after a heavy dumping of snow overnight in the greater Reno, Tahoe area,” the voice boomed, as the radio turned on at 4:00 am letting me know it was time to get up. I hesitated, knowing how cold it would be to leave the down comforter and flannel sheets on my bed. A strong wind blew all night, and according to the radio, we got a lot of snow, which meant there wouldn’t be any business again today.

  As I laid there avoiding the inevitable fact that I would have to get up, my phone chimed with a text message from Julia, my assistant, letting me know she would be in as soon as they opened the roads. I responded letting her know not to worry, that I would handle things today. Winter roads kept the customers to a bare minimum - a few regulars who might tempt the hills to get to the main street would probably be the only ones I would see today.

  This winter was difficult on the small businesses in Virginia City, an old west mining town that thrives on tourism. When the tourists can’t make it up the mountain the local businesses suffer and having been hit by storm after storm since mid-October, the weather had crippled travel in and around the area. There was talk of several businesses considering closing their doors, and as much as I hated to admit it, I started to consider the same thing.

  On a whim three years ago, I leased an old bakery right in the heart of town. It’s been a struggle from day one and after a prosperous summer where I was finally able to catch up on past due bills and put a little bit into savings, we were hit with this hard winter and I was hit with having to replace one of my ovens. Needless to say, I drained my savings and was now about to fall behind once again unless business picked up quickly.

  Taking a deep breath and steeling myself against the cold I knew was about to hit, I threw back the warm covers and slid out of bed to start my day.

  “Good morning, Frosty,” I said to the raggedy old cat that adopted me when I moved in here. The poor black cat was sitting outside the bakery door one night when I came home after joining some friends for pizza and beer at the pizza place a block down the street. He was covered in snow and was shivering, so I invited him in out of the cold and he’s been here ever since, never once going back outside. No matter how much he eats or how many evening treats I give him, he remains a rack of bones. Frosty sleeps at either the foot of my bed, on a rug in front of the wood stove, or in a box by the oven downstairs in the bakery.

  “Ready to get up and go to work?” I asked him, knowing I would get the usual stretch and yawn, but as soon as I opened the door leading to the bakery, he would be right behind me. We started through our usual routine of getting dressed and heading downstairs to start the day. No matter what I thought business might be or not be, I had to get a minimum number of things done.

  We start by turning the ovens on to pre-heat while we pull out the butter and eggs from the fridge so they can come to room temperature. Then it is on to unwrapping the sourdough starter we set out the night before, and finally Frosty gets a bowl of warm milk. While I go about the measuring, mixing, and baking of the daily specials and breads, Frosty sleeps in his box, only coming out to greet the regular visitors he likes.

  While the sourdough cinnamon rolls bake and the various loaves of bread work on rising, I roll and cut out the donuts then start on mixing the blueberry muffins. As soon as all the breakfast items are almost done, it is time to start baking the breads and pretzels which would be used for lunch and afternoon snacks.

  As I placed the last few muffins into the display case, I heard a knock on the front door. That would be Paula coming for her morning coffee and muffin.

  “Good morning, great weather again huh?” I asked, as I unlocked the door to let her in.

  “Looks like another long, non-prosperous day ahead. How are you this morning, Abby?” Paula asked with a sigh, as she shook snow off her coat and stomped her feet before entering the bakery. “I love coming in here first thing in the morning; it’s so warm and cozy, and the smells are just heavenly.”

  “The usual?” I asked, as I went behind the counter and grabbed a plate and poured a cup of coffee.

  She laughed. “Yes, please.”

  Paula has a candy and gift shop two doors down. We met the day I signed the lease on The Silver Strike Bakery. Paula came looking for Mr. Sampson, the landlord of her shop and mine. As it happens, Mr. Sampson has a jewelry store between my bakery and Paula’s gift shop. If she had walked in a few minutes sooner, I might never have signed the lease. She was livid at the fact that he was refusing to let her decorate her front window for Christmas, which was one of the big winter events in Virginia City.

  “So, are you going to decorate and stay open for the Valentine’s Day event?” I asked, even though I knew what her answer would be.

  “You bet I am. I don’t care what that dang old codger says,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of next door.

  “I don’t understand why he is so against participating in the events. To me, that is part of what being here is all about,” I shrugged.

  Virginia City, located in the high desert southeast of Reno, was settled in 1859 when both gold and silver were discovered. The city, which was built on a steep mountain, is rich in history and boasts many historic buildings, mines, graveyards, and ghosts. Each month throughout the year there is a special event which draws hundreds of people to the tiny little town.

  “Are you going to be open?” Paula asked.

  The upcoming Valentine’s event is a “bar crawl”. With more than ten bars in a five-block stretch, these crawls are highly popular events. Participants buy a special glass in a color indicating if they are single or taken, then they go from bar to bar trying the special drinks concocted for the day. If they like the sample, they can purchase a full serving. Many of the bars will have special music, and of course, the town is decked out in hearts and cupids.

  “I thought I would try it this time,” I told her. The crawl events are on Saturday afternoons from noon until 5:00 pm. I’m generally only open until 3:00 pm since most people have eaten lunch by then, and I’m out of everything baked in the morning. “I’ve been researching and studying recipes and was thinking of using the event to introduce a sourdough
pizza crust that I’d like to start selling, and also to introduce some sourdough cookies.”

  “Sounds wonderful and would really reinforce the fact that you are the Queen of Sourdough.” Her reassurance boosted my confidence.

  “I don’t know about being the Queen, but as long as people keep coming back and calling to see if they can order stuff, I’ll be happy.”

  “It’s addictive; once you’ve had any of these baked goods or one of your sandwiches on that homemade from scratch bread, you can’t help but want more,” she encouraged me even more.

  “The only thing I’m concerned about is stepping on the toes of The Red Dog Saloon and their pizza.” I looked at Paula to see her reaction.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them. They’ll be so busy serving drinks they won’t care about the pizza. It’s not something you are considering serving all the time, is it?”

  “No, I’m just planning to take orders for the crust dough, so people can take it home and make their own pizza.”

  “There shouldn’t be any problem; overall you are both offering different things. Hey, I need to get going, get the heater going, and get the lights on for whatever good it will do today.”

  After Paula left, I settled myself at a table with a cup of coffee and worked on my plan for the Valentine’s event. I usually didn’t do anything special for the events because I didn’t offer anything people wanted past lunch. But after receiving many requests for afternoon treats, I’d spent hours pouring over recipes and was ready to start experimenting with some different dessert type items and see if they would be a hit.

  Thankfully, by late morning the streets were plowed and the sun came out, which enticed visitors to Main Street. Lunch turned out to be a busy one and even more so because I didn’t have Julia, my assistant, there to help. The special for the day was a chicken Caesar salad stuffed sourdough pita. Sounds a lot more difficult than it is, which benefited me as a time saver. I was also serving broccoli cheddar soup and the regular array of deli sandwiches on a variety of sourdough breads.

  When the lunch crowd thinned out and I had everything cleaned up, it was time to start experimenting with some of the dessert recipes. I decided to start with the sourdough carrot cake, and while that was baking, I would try one of the cookie recipes I had found. If everything turned out, I would take samples around to some of the shop owners and let them know I would soon be offering these items in the shop and as special order items. Hopefully adding the additional items would boost business a little bit because, at this point, I was out of ideas. After all, there are only so many things you can do with a small bakery and deli that specializes in sourdough.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chapter 2

  “Good morning, Abby.” Paula greeted me when she arrived for her usual muffin and coffee. “Have you talked to Mr. Sampson?”

  “Hi, Paula. No, I haven’t seen him for a few days,” I said, as I handed her a plate with a muffin and a cup of coffee with a splash of vanilla creamer.

  “He’s on the warpath, adamant that we not participate in the crawl event, and he’s going to raise the rent as soon as our leases are up. It’s cold in here this morning.” She added to the information about the landlord we rent our retail spaces from.

  “Great, just great. I can’t afford higher rent. What is he thinking? He knows how bad business has been this winter. He’s had even less business than we’ve had,” I ranted, in a panic over the thought of having to pay more rent. My lease would be up in May and I would either have to close the shop, find a new place to rent, or pay the higher amount. Unfortunately, space is at a premium in this town and it is doubtful that another place would open up that would be suitable for a bakery. That left me two choices to debate.

  “I can’t afford to pay his higher rent, so I guess I’m going to have to close when my lease is up in July,” Paula said, shaking her head.

  “Then, what?” I asked, wondering what she would do.

  “I don’t know. It’s not likely I’d be able to move into a different location. I guess I could start asking around to see if any of the other merchants would be interested in carrying my candy, and I could make smaller batches at home,” she shrugged.

  “Wow, I don’t know what I’ll do. If I give up the bakery, I’d be giving up my home, too, since I live upstairs.”

  “I didn’t even think of that. I was thinking of your new oven and all the improvements you’ve made in here to make it inviting to customers.”

  In the nearly three years I’d been here, I’d invested a lot of blood, sweat, and money into not only the bakery but the upstairs apartment, as well. When I signed the lease, I didn’t plan to live in the apartment, but I quickly found out that housing was at a premium here. Since I was paying for the space, I figured I might as well live there.

  Mr. Sampson warned me against living upstairs, saying the place is haunted and why he included it in the rental price for the bakery. He figured he wouldn’t be able to rent it separately because the entrance was inside the bakery, as well as a ghost that likes to make random appearances. In the time that I’ve lived and worked here I have experienced a few strange things, but nothing scary or intimidating enough to send me packing or make me believe there is actually a ghost here with me.

  “Did he give any reason for the increase in rent? I mean, is he not making ends meet or is he being greedy?” I asked Paula, wondering why after all this time he would increase the rent. From what others around town said, I knew I was paying the going rate for the size building I was in.

  “His reason was that he owns the building, he can do it if he wants, and he wants to do it,” she shrugged. Paula is a widow who depends heavily on the income she makes from her shop. Lucky for her, she lives in a cottage on her daughter’s property.

  “Greedy old fart. Karma will get him if the ghosts don’t,” I laughed, thinking of Mr. Sampson running down the street being chased by one of his ghosts. Evidently, Paula had the same image, because she started laughing with me. We laughed together until a string of customers came in for coffee and a cinnamon roll or scone.

  “I better get going; let me know if the old man comes by,” Paula said, as she put her coat on. She blew a kiss as she went out the door. I went behind the counter to help Julia with the customers, then to start laying out lunch. Today’s lunch special is a turkey, bacon, guacamole, sourdough tortilla wrap. It is one of the more popular specials I offer.

  Mr. Sampson came in with the lunch crowd, demanding to speak to me immediately.

  “I’m sorry; I’m rather busy helping my customers at the moment. How about if I pop over to your store as soon as I’m done here?” I asked him, while I assembled a sandwich. Anyone could see we had a line of people waiting to order and pick up their lunch, most of whom only had a short lunchtime. I tried to make it a point to always be prepared so we could get people fed quickly. I didn’t want to be “that place” - you know, great food but terrible service.

  “No, we need to speak now,” he yelled at me, not caring how many people were in the bakery. A hush came over the entire building as people turned to see what was going on.

  “Mr. Sampson, as I said, I’m rather busy right this minute. I have a line of hungry people waiting to get their lunch. I’m sure they would appreciate being helped, so if this isn’t an emergency I will come by after lunch,” I said sternly.

  “You are very rude and inconsiderate. Your lease is up in a few months. At that time if you want a new lease, the new rent will be double what you are currently paying,” he yelled again, as he stomped toward the door.

  “Double? You can’t do that,” I said in shock.

  “Oh, yes I can. It’s my building, and I can do as I damn well please. By the way, if you decide to break my rule about being part of that damn Valentine’s Day thing, then I will terminate your current lease and evict you.” I watched as he pulled his stocking cap down over his head and went out the door. Every customer in the bakery was looking at me to see what
I would do.

  “Well, I hope everyone has a better day than old Mr. Sampson seems to be having,” I said cheerfully, as I continued to make sandwiches. I wasn’t going to let people see me react negatively to the threats lobbed at me. It wasn’t a good business practice and I had every intention of keeping my ways of business full of integrity. This town was far too small to have a bad reputation.

  Julia and I continued taking orders, making sandwiches, and clearing off tables. People were shocked at his behavior and the threats Mr. Sampson made, and they let us know they were standing behind us. Once the lunch crowd was gone, I fixed a small basket of goodies to take next door to the crotchety old man, hoping he would be in a better mood. I let Julia know where I was going, grabbed my coat, and headed out the front door only to run straight into Mr. Sampson who was shoveling ice and snow off the old wooden walkway in front of the door of his store.

  “I have a basket of baked goods here for you Mr. Sampson, fresh out of the oven this morning,” I said with a smile. He swatted the basket out of my hand as I held it out for him. Muffins and scones went flying.

  “You just keep that crap to yourself; I don’t want any of it. Can’t you see I’m busy?” he yelled.

  “I’m sorry. I thought maybe you would enjoy some of these things. Look, can we talk about this rent increase thing?” I asked.

  “Nothing to talk about; if you don’t like the terms, you can just pack up and get out.”

  “Mr. Sampson, you know how bad business has been this winter. There is no way I can afford to pay double what I’m paying right now. That just isn’t fair,” I tried.

  “Fair, huh? Life isn’t fair. It doesn’t matter to me if you don’t want the place - I’ll find another sucker that will pay what I want,” he shrugged.

  “What about Paula? She can’t afford an increase.”

  “I don’t care about her problems either. I’d be better off with two empty buildings than to have the two of you here conspiring against me and causing trouble.” He waved his arms around as his voice increased in volume, drawing the attention of curious onlookers.