Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  I guess I figured I’d have a better grip on the situation considering it had been four years since his untimely passing. It was safe to say I was dead wrong. Maybe the fact of the matter was that I’d never truly settled into the role of a widow. The water was just as uncharted now as it had ever been. In my eyes, that was understandable. For close to forty-six years, my identity was as Harold’s wife, his life partner, so now with his life cut short, I had to start over from scratch, with mixed results.

  There was a chance that the very nature of Harold’s death was the reason I hadn’t been able to get over it. My husband spent his entire professional career with the local police department, which meant that I’d spent his career worrying that he wouldn’t come home alive on any given night. The spouse of a police officer lived their life with their guard up, preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. That Harold was able to make it thirty years until his retirement without a scratch on him was a blessing in itself.

  So, after living through all the various occupational hazards a policeman was confronted with on a daily basis, including being shot at, imagine my shock when it was a heart attack that killed my husband that Wednesday morning four years ago. It was a silent killer that attacked from within.

  I’d never forget the moment it happened. We’d just gotten up and were in the kitchen. Harold asked me if I wanted some peanut butter toast. I said yes. He went from grabbing a couple of slices of bread to put in the toaster, to grabbing his chest. Before I knew it, he was on the ground, unconscious. Ever since then, and especially on the anniversary of his death, the scene had replayed in my head. I knew there was nothing I could have done, that anyone could have done for that matter, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing there was.

  Anyway, I had to stop there. I was getting worked up again just telling you about it. The fact that it happened four years ago and it still felt so fresh in my mind was a sign of how little progress I’d truly made in getting over him. I had to take a few deep breaths to try and calm myself down.

  So, naturally, when I was at my most fragile, I was taken completely by surprise.

  “How are you holding up?” Ginny Foster asked.

  I nearly dropped my watering can I was so shocked. Usually, I was perceptive as could be, but I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t see Ginny approaching the fence between our yards.

  That was saying a lot. Ginny was a hard person to miss. Like me, she was in her seventies. The similarities largely stopped there. I was a slight, short woman with long gray hair, while Ginny was a tall, lanky redhead with freckles and an affinity for floral-print sundresses.

  When the initial shock of Ginny sneaking up on me wore off, I caught my breath and replied.

  “I’ve been better.”

  My answer was purposefully vague. I wasn’t feeling terribly chatty. In addition, I was also trying to spare Ginny the specifics. She’d heard them before. Not only was it nothing new, but it was well-worn territory. Surely, she didn’t want to hear it again. I certainly didn’t want to go over it. If it were up to me, I’d get out of this funk immediately.

  Ginny had a question for me. “Have you been worse?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then you know how much worse things can get. So be thankful they aren’t that bad right now.”

  It was definitely a different take on the situation, one I wouldn’t have come to without her. I wasn’t quite sure I agreed with her, but I also wasn’t in the mood to argue either.

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? At our age, it’s the only way of looking at it. There are only two sides, and life is too short to look on anything but the bright side.”

  There was a particular irony in a woman approaching eighty years old saying life was too short for something. I didn’t bring it up, mostly because I was struck by something more interesting about Ginny.

  “You’re unusually chipper today,” I said.

  “I have my grandkids coming in today to thank for that.”

  Ah, grandkids. That was the kind of thing a woman my age lived for. They were young, energetic, and born to be spoiled rotten.

  I wasn’t a jealous person, but at that moment, I felt a tinge of envy. Unlike Ginny, I had no grandkids. I assure you, that wasn’t my choice. I’d certainly nagged my daughter enough for some.

  My daughter was an only child, which meant she was my only hope. That only made it more disheartening knowing that police work was her entire life. She hadn’t found enough time for a husband, much less kids. I’d been wondering if I’d ever live long enough to see grandkids. Let’s just say I wasn’t holding my breath. Still, a retiree could dream.

  I turned my attention back to Ginny. “You lucky devil.”

  Ginny looked deep into my eyes. Concern was all over her face. “Are you thinking of Harold again?”

  She knew me so well. Ginny also knew that was the reason I try to keep looking forward. The past was haunted by ghosts now, so much that I’d become afraid to look over my shoulder.

  The only answer I’d come up with to combat the loneliness was to keep busy. That was why I was part of so many groups. I didn’t particularly love book clubs, knitting, scrapbooking, tai chi, or water aerobics. It was not that I had a distaste for them, it was just that I’d rather spend my time with my husband.

  In his absence, I’d do almost anything and everything I could think of to keep my mind off the truth. During the day, it wasn’t so hard. It was the nighttime that the loneliness got to me. He was a part of my life for forty-nine years. That was not something I could just move on from.

  “Is it that obvious that I’ve been thinking of Harold?” I replied.

  “If your face was a book, it would only be one chapter long, and it would be called Harold.”

  I was either worse at hiding my feelings than I thought, or Ginny was especially perceptive. It was probably a combination of both. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. The cat was out of the bag, and it had long claws.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Ginny said.

  I remained guarded. “I wish there was.”

  “Let me know if you think of anything. In the meantime, you know where to find me.”

  It was bad enough that I was monopolizing her time now. No way would I keep it up.

  “I wouldn’t think of interrupting your precious time with your grandkids.”

  “That’s considerate, but grandkids or not, I’m there for you.”

  It felt good having a dear friend like Ginny. A for richer or for poorer, for better or worse, in good times and bad kind of friend. Those were truly hard to come by. When they did, they needed to be appreciated. Gratitude was one of the most underrated things around. There never seemed to be enough of it going around, even though you could never get too much of it.

  “I know. It’ll be ok. I have water aerobics today. That always improves my mood.”

  Ginny got a gleam in her eyes as she turned playful. “I thought that’s what chocolate was for.”

  “Why do you think I go to water aerobics in the first place? So I can afford to eat chocolate afterward.”

  She had a different take on the situation. “You’re seventy-five years old. That’s reason enough for a truffle any time.”

  “Seventy-five years young,” I corrected.

  “The point is, young or old, you don’t need a special occasion to have chocolate.”

  Chapter Four

  After my conversation with Ginny, I was reenergized and ready to give the day another try. Sometimes, a change of perspective was in order, and Ginny definitely gave me that. I tried to look on the bright side. For example, considering it was so early in the morning, it stood to reason that there was still plenty of time to turn the day around. It didn’t hurt that I had something new to keep my mind busy either.

  By nine thirty, it was time to head out for my water aerobics class. If all went according to plan, that would bring me
some much-needed relief. At the least, it would get my energy pumping and my serotonin levels up. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t feel better afterward.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t even make it to the front door without life interfering with my plans. This time, it was a ring at my doorbell that commanded my attention. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard it.

  At my age, I didn’t get many visitors, and the few I did announced themselves ahead of time. I also wasn’t expecting any packages to be delivered. Additionally, it was too early for a solicitor to try and get me to sign a petition or to donate or to get me to buy something. Although, I wouldn’t object to a box of mint chocolate cookies offered my way.

  I had a sneaking suspicion that cookies were not in my immediate future. It wasn’t often that I prayed I was wrong. Unfortunately, as I approached the door and looked through the peephole, I was a hundred percent correct, at least about the minty chocolate void in my life continuing.

  As for the unexpected visitor, it turned out it was my daughter, Kaitlin. Normally, that would be a good thing. Except, without fail, she always called ahead of time. Why not now? More importantly, why was she dressed for work?

  When I opened the door, those questions were followed by more. Kaitlin’s solemn face gave it away. She was a beautiful, full-figured, jet-black-haired woman in her midforties with a dynamite smile that I rarely saw since she joined the police department. It was kept under wraps even more since she’d gotten promoted to detective.

  She hated when I pointed that out, or “nagged her,” as she liked to say. I only brought it up because it was one of her most dynamic features and it was always beneficial to put your best foot forward. Like all mothers, I wanted the best for my child. She’d understand that one day when she became a mom herself. Correction, if she became a mom.

  The fact was, seeing as she was in her forties, Kaitlin was past the typical age for giving birth, much less child rearing. She’d been hitting the snooze button on her biological alarm clock for so long that it probably wasn’t even working right anymore. Still, both surrogacy and adoption were options if she wanted to have a child.

  That was a big “if.” For me, hope sprang eternal. It was the only thing that did. Youth sure didn’t. I gave up on discovering the fabled fountain of youth and drinking from it long ago. Hope, while intermittent in other phases of my life, had never abandoned me when it came to becoming a grandparent, even at this late stage. That was because it represented the last hurrah for me. It was the only item left on my bucket list.

  Unfortunately, it appeared it wouldn’t ever get crossed off the list. I wanted to be a grandmother more than my daughter wanted to become a mother. Sometimes, I wondered if I was just being selfish, but I always dismissed that thought the more I went over it in my head.

  While Kaitlin having a child would give me a grandkid to spoil, there were a number of benefits for her as well. For instance, a kid would smooth out the rough edges in a mother’s personality and soften her up. When it came to someone with such a hard exterior like my daughter, that would be a good thing.

  Ultimately, I was hemming, hawing, and exerting all this mental energy for little effect. I’d made these exact points to my daughter before, only to have her quickly change the subject. Still, an aspiring grandmother could hope, couldn’t she? But, enough about my dreams. Let’s get back to reality.

  Namely, the tight-lipped expression my daughter was sporting. I could read her face like a map, and she looked as if her plans had made a wrong turn and veered wildly off course. Whatever was on her mind this morning, it wasn’t good.

  The sudden passing of her father years before had devastating effects on her as well. Unlike me, who wallowed and became quite vocal with my mourning, she’d turned inwards, bottling up her feelings while pouring herself into her work. Had her feelings finally caught up with her on the anniversary of his death, or was it something else?

  I hated seeing so many stress lines on her face. I’d have to remind her later to finally take some of that vacation time she’d been racking up. She could use a break. Time away from her job would do wonders for her body and mind, not to mention her soul. She’d been working herself to the bone, and it showed.

  Besides, how was she ever going to meet someone when she was always on the beat? She was in her forties, hopelessly single, with nary a date to her name since her divorce three years ago. With each passing day away from the dating scene, it would only get harder for her to meet someone. This was about more than just grandkids--it was about her happiness.

  The only road that being married to her job led down was to an early grave. There would always be more work to do, no matter how many hours she put in. Joy, when it came, was ultimately a more fulfilling and satisfying pursuit.

  As I waited for Kaitlin to speak, my gut told me this wasn’t a personal, but rather a professional matter. I was dead right.

  Surprisingly, I had to be the one to say the first word. “Dear, what’s going on?”

  Even with my prompting, Kaitlin had trouble getting the words out. “Mom, sit down.”

  Uh-oh. That was never a good sign. The only reason she’d want me to sit down was if she had news that would knock me off of my feet. She might as well have come in wearing a sandwich board with Bad News Ahead written all over it. At first, I resisted, hoping to get her to just spill the beans then and there.

  “Kaitlin, what is it?”

  My daughter was firm with me, not even budging an inch. “Could you please just sit down?”

  That only made me more impatient. The longer I had to wait, the more stubborn I became. “No. Tell me what’s going on now.”

  “Mom, please just sit down.”

  This was a different side to my daughter. The authoritative tone was gone, replaced by an undercurrent of pleading. Even more surprising, she actually looked vulnerable. What had broken through her notoriously hard shell? Whatever it was, it must have been big. I stopped putting up a fuss, went into my living room, and took a seat on the sofa.

  It was hard not to fear the worst. I tried to stay positive--well, as much I could. At the same time, I knew there was no good way to do this. Like a bandage being torn off, it would be best to do it quickly, toughing out the pain briefly only to end up better off in the long run.

  “All right, I’m sitting. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  The news had been at the tip of Kaitlin’s tongue this whole time but didn’t seem to want to go any further. Instead, it was tying her tongue in knots. My impatience egged her on, enough that she finally managed to get her thought out.

  “Sid Harper is dead.”

  There was no way to prepare for news like that. I was glad I had listened to my daughter and had sat down, but even so, I felt bowled over. My ears were just as sharp as ever, but I wanted to believe I hadn’t heard that right. The sinking feeling in my gut assured me that I had.

  I almost wanted to cry but was too shocked to do anything but stay frozen in place. While my body was stationary, my mind raced. One thought kept pounding against the inside of my head, threatening to bring on a migraine--not Sid, too. I’d lost my parents, my husband, and now one of my dear friends.

  Year after year, more loved ones kept dropping around me. This was devastating news at the worst possible time. Typically, words were my strong suit. Now, the right ones failed me.

  I couldn’t even muster a complete sentence. “Wait, but, what?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Kaitlin replied.

  Sorry wasn’t the word for this. Heartbroken beyond belief was more like it. Sid wasn’t just someone I casually knew. He was one of my husband’s oldest friends, and also my previous employer. For over thirty years, he was a private eye in town, and until my recent retirement, I was his secretary. Unlike other secretaries, or administrative assistants, as they liked to be called these days, I did more than take phone calls and greet clients. I did research too, not to mention, the occasional legwork on some of his cases.
That was back during my younger days when I was a lot more spry.

  Sid always treated us as a team rather than lording authority over me like so many traditional bosses did. In turn, I had a great deal of respect for him. I knew the respect was mutual. This was a terrible loss, one that I could not make heads or tails of. When I thought of all the septuagenarians I knew, Sid was in the best shape of all of them. He didn’t have any glaring health problems, at least that I knew of.

  Then again, I’d learned that death could come to anyone at any time for any reason, without warning or remorse. My naturally curious mind wanted to know what the culprit was this time.

  “How did it happen?”

  I thought the awkward exchange between me and my daughter would finally be over, but she still had more to reveal. Was it possible there was worse news yet to come?

  “That’s actually why I’m here. It looks like he’s been murdered.”

  Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I was proven horrifyingly wrong. This latest bit of news was the biggest bombshell of all. It was such a punch in the gut that it nearly took the wind out of me. I was completely reeling. If anyone other than my daughter had told me the news, I wouldn’t have believed them.

  It just seemed too surreal, too unlikely to have happened in a picture-perfect small town like Happy Creek, and too awful to be happening to someone I knew. I was wrong on all accounts. All I had to do was take one look at Kaitlin’s somber face to know it was true.

  With my emotions surging, I found myself replying in almost an out-of-body fashion. The words just dribbled out of my mouth on their own.

  “This is so horrible. And for this to happen today of all days.”

  Surely, that was the work of my subconscious wreaking havoc on an already volatile situation. We both got quiet after the thinly veiled reference to my husband’s death. My daughter averted her eyes, unable and unwilling to make eye contact. Kaitlin had no interest in being reminded of the significance of this date on the calendar.