Advance Notice (A River Valley Mystery, book 2)

by Cynthia Hickey

  Blinking back tears, I drove slower than I needed to and crowded the shoulder of the highway. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any poor animals for me to run over.

  “Look out!” I wrenched the wheel in order not to hit a young man. With my eyes full of tears, I almost didn’t see him. He dove into a ditch. I slammed on my brakes, shoved the car into park, then rushed to his side. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You should watch where you’re going.” He got to his feet and brushed off the knees of his ragged jeans. “Are you trying to kill somebody?” He fished in his pocket for a lighter, pulled a cigarette from somewhere inside his vinyl jacket, and lit up.

  “No. I said I was sorry. My name is Marsha Steele. Can I give you a ride somewhere?” I didn’t usually pick up strangers on the side of the road, but considering I’d almost made him road kill, it seemed the least I could do.

  “Danny Vera.” He stuck his cigarette in his mouth, then thrust out his hand.

  “Oh, you’ve been staying with your grandparents for several years, right?” I took in the layered hair spiked around his face, the skinny jeans, and black sneakers. A good-looking young man who should have better things to do in the middle of the day than hike down a major highway.

  He nodded. “Off and on. I’m going to college at Arkansas Tech next semester. Thanks for the offer of the ride, but I live half a mile from here and prefer to walk. Be careful with your driving, Mrs. Steele.” He blew out a puff of smoke and continued on his way. “No one should die before their time.”

  A weird thing to say. Frowning, I watched him saunter down the highway, his cigarette smoke leaving a gray haze over his head.

  As I got in my car, my cell phone rang. Duane. “Hi, Babe.”

  “I just heard what happened. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just a little shook up.” More than a little, judging by the way my hands still trembled. I glanced in the side mirror and pulled back onto the highway.

  “Where are you? Do I need to come get you?”

  “There’s no need for you to leave work. I’m going home.”

  “I’ll meet you at your mom’s in ten minutes. Love you.” Click.

  Which was the same as going home, since I lived in Mom’s guesthouse. I dropped the phone in my purse and pressed the gas pedal. The sooner I got home and into my bag of dark chocolate M&Ms, the sooner I’d start to settle down. The candy-coated chocolate made everything better.

  My phone rang again, this time being my mother. News traveled fast in River Valley. “Hello, Mom.”

  “I heard what happened. Don’t bother coming in to work today. I’ll meet you at the house in ten minutes.”

  “Who’s minding the store?” We couldn’t all take off work because of an explosion.

  “Leroy can handle it. I want to hear all the details.” Click.

  I sighed. I’d rather not relive them, especially with Bruce coming by later, but it appeared I’d have no choice. I’d have to tell the horrible afternoon’s events over and over.

  Thankfully, no news vans waited in the driveway when I got home. I hated that whole ‘no comment’ thing. The reporters didn’t pay attention anyway. They made something up. Why couldn’t the vultures leave folks alone and go straight to the police department for their information?

  Ooops. I spoke too soon. The local channel news van sped up the road. I cut the ignition, grabbed my purse, and sprinted like an Olympic Champion for Mom’s back door. Not only did I not like talking to the press, but I’d heard one of my high school non-buddies was now the main reporter. Stacy Tate was definitely not on the list of people I wanted to talk to. Especially after trying to steal Duane away during our Junior year of high school. Nope. I burst into the house. Not in the mood for her.

  Dropping my purse on the counter, I opened the cabinet above the refrigerator, climbed on the counter, and grabbed my candy. Obviously, putting it out of easy arm’s reach didn’t work at keeping me from them, but it made me work a little harder when stress called, and I didn’t feel quite so bad at ruining my diet.

  “Marsha.”

  I whirled and screamed, almost falling from my perch. “Duane! You scared ten years off me.”

  “Sorry.” He scooped me in his arms and marched to the living room, where he plopped both of us on the sofa, me on his lap. I clutched my purple bag and burrowed my face in his neck.

  His arms tightened around me. “You’re going to be the death of me, Marsha Calloway Steele.”

  “You’ve said that a hundred times, yet you still live.” Thank you, God. I couldn’t do without my bear of a man.

  “Ready to talk about it?”

  “No. Mom’s on her way, too, then Bruce. I’d rather not go over it too many times. It was awful.” I sniffed and tossed in a handful of therapeutic chocolate. “All I did was drive poor Nina home. I’m thinking she was right about the obit being a warning.”

  “Stop the wheels in your head right now.” Duane tilted my face toward his. “You could’ve been killed today.”

  “Not really. I was in my car.” The paint job was ruined. Maybe I wasn’t meant to drive new vehicles. Something always happened to them. “Nina unlocked her door, and whoosh, fireball Worth flew across the yard.”

  “Marsha!” Mom fumbled getting her key in the front door. “Marsha! Why’s the door locked? That evil Stacy is heading this way. Let me in.”

  “Should I?”

  Duane shook his head. “No, this gives us a couple more seconds of privacy.” He grinned. “Not enough of that with you living so close to Nosey Gertie.”

  I giggled and kept my head where it lay, watching the door bang open and Mom charge in. She rushed across the room and plopped next to us, taking my hands in hers. “First of all, you two should not be alone in the house without supervision, and—”

  “Mother, I’m thirty-four years old.”

  “All the more reason. Secondly, tell me all about it. Oh, wait.” She jumped to her feet. “Let me fix us some tea and grab some cookies.” She flew to the kitchen.

  “Let’s make out before she returns,” Duane suggested. “Get you all flustered and her imagination running wild.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” I lifted my face for his kiss and closed my eyes.

  “But girls always fall for the bad boys.” His lips covered mine, sending my heart into a race that even a thoroughbred couldn’t win.

  I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening my response. He smelled of a musky cologne and tasted of coffee. I wanted my fill before our chaperone returned.

  The sound of footsteps alerted us to Mom’s return, and I slid from Duane’s lap, sitting as close to him as humanly possible without being on top of him. I rubbed my lips and blinked at my … daughter.

  “Seriously? You have a fit if you see me kissing a boy, but it’s okay for you to be all over Uncle Duane?” She took a deep breath. “Double standards. Oh, sometimes you make me so mad!”

  “Is school out already?” I glanced at the clock.

  “Don’t change the subject.” Lindsey tossed her backpack on the floor. “Did you know that Mariah’s mom is having a baby? At her age? I don’t want a baby brother or sister, Mom. Really!”

  Duane and I glanced at each other and burst into laughter. We’d already said we’d try for a baby immediately after the wedding. I stopped laughing. Was that the reason I hadn’t set a wedding date yet? Because I wasn’t sure I wanted another baby?

  Chapter Three

  “Why is Officer Barney sitting outside in his car?” Lindsey asked. “The last time he stopped by was because of a crime.” She glared at me. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” I unfolded myself from the sofa and moved to peer out the curtains. “I witnessed a crime today and Officer Barnett, not Barney, is here to take my statement.”

  “You are so embarrassing, Mom.” She grabbed her backpack and stomped to the kitchen.

  Me? How quickly she seemed to forget that the last crime we w
ere involved in was because she was the prime person of interest. I sighed and let the curtains fall into place. “I might as well see what’s taking him so long.” I stepped on to the front porch and crossed my arms.

  Bruce stared at me for a few seconds, then got out of his car. “Glad to see you’re here.”

  “Where would I go? I live here. Were you sitting in your car trying to think of witty ways to irritate me?” Stacy, the well-dressed reporter, made a beeline toward us. “Hurry up before the vulture lands.”

  He increased his pace. “I’m here on police business, Marsha. You need to respect the badge.”

  “Whatever.” I stepped aside and waved my arm for him to enter. Respect my right foot. This little weasel accused my daughter of theft not so long ago. He wasn’t starting this newest misfortune off much better. I straightened my shoulders and marched back to the living room.

  Mom entered with a tray of packaged lemon cookies and a pitcher of iced tea. She narrowed her eyes at Bruce. “You, again.”

  “Who else would there be, Mrs. Bohan?”

  “I keep hoping they’ll scrape the bottom of the pickle barrel for someone else.” She set the tray on the coffee table and sat on the couch, leaving me room beside Duane.

  Bruce glanced at all three of us. “I’d like to speak with the witness privately, please.”

  “Never mind.” I shook my head. “I’m going to tell them anyway. Tea and cookies?”

  “I’m on duty.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket. “Please start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

  “Well,” I dug into my candy, choosing one of each color. “A month ago on Sunday, Nina came to me and said—”

  “What happened today?” Strain showed in his voice, and we’d just begun. Poor man.

  “Okay, but that isn’t the beginning.” I peeled Duane’s fingers off my leg where he squeezed in an attempt to get me to curb my tongue. “I picked Nina up from the jail and drove her home. She stuck her key in the lock of her house, and BAM!”

  “And?” His pencil paused its scratching.

  “That’s it. You and the ambulance arrived shortly after. Great job on the quick response, by the way.” I popped a blue M&M in my mouth and tried to ignore Duane’s increasing pressure on my thigh. “I think she died on impact.”

  “This isn’t much to go on.” Bruce snapped the notepad against his hand. “Maybe we should go back to that Sunday. What happened?”

  “Her name was in the obit column of the newspaper. She was still very much alive.” I studied his face, noting his mustache now resembled Hitler’s rather than the curved look of an old-fashioned cowboy like he usually wore. “She said the same thing happened to Mae Campbell. Obit, then death, instead of the other way around.”

  “Mrs. Campbell’s death was from a gas leak.”

  “As Nina’s appears to be until someone investigates further. Ouch, Duane, stop it.” I slapped his gripping hand. “Way too similar of deaths, don’t you think?”

  Bruce stood. “I’ll take it into consideration. Duane, keep her out of the investigation, please.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He fought, trying to keep me from pounding him, until he captured both my hands in one of his strong grips. What was wrong with everyone?

  “Right. Well. I’ll be leaving.” He tossed a business card on the cookie tray. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

  Once he’d left, I yanked free of Duane and turned with the ferocity of a cornered cat. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to keep you from mouthing off and upsetting our local police department.”

  “I’ll behave if he does. I’m going to have bruises on my knee, thank you very much.” I rubbed the offending spot.

  “I’m sorry, but I could tell you were working up a good steam of sarcasm.” He kissed the tip of my nose. My legs went weak and whatever annoyance I felt from his death grip on my knee, went out the window. “Don’t get involved, don’t make people angry. Live to see another day. I love you. Now, I have football practice.”

  “Come for dinner?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” He kissed me long and hard, unmindful of Mom’s eagle eye. “I’ll get rid of the news reporter for you.”

  I glanced outside. Sure enough, Stacy leaned against her van, microphone in hand, shapely legs crossed at the ankles. “Thank you. Don’t let her try anything funny. I’ll be watching from the window.”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Way too soon, Duane stood next to the temptress in an expensively tailored red suit. She said something. He laughed. She giggled. My hands curled into fists. What would Stacy look like if I pulled out every strand of her honey-blond hair?

  “Relax. Duane loves you too much for a vixen like that to take him away.” Mom lifted the untouched tray. “Come on into the kitchen. I set the newspaper on the table before leaving for work this morning.”

  Would another living victim’s name be in the obituaries? I prayed not, as I followed my mother. If we did find a name, how would we convince them to take care? So far, two victims had died of gas leaks in their house. If Nina’s premonition had been taken seriously, would the killer have gotten to her somewhere else? If she had waited until tomorrow to go home, would the killer have found a way to get to her in jail? My head ached from more than the blast of the explosion.

  I pulled the rubber band off the paper and spread the thin Wednesday edition out on the table. Only three names were listed, and I knew all three were deceased and from our church. I plopped into a chair and accepted the cup of sweet tea Mom handed me. “Mom, how long between Mae’s death announcement and Nina’s?”

  “About thirty days.”

  “Exactly?”

  “I didn’t mark it on the calendar, Marsha. That would be gruesome.” Mom opened the drawer by the refrigerator and pulled out a hot pink clipboard. “Until Nina mentioned it, I didn’t think anything suspicious was going on.”

  I grinned, recognizing the notes I’d taken on our last mystery. “You kept it.”

  “Figured it would come in handy again.” She handed me the board and a pencil. “Now, start writing things down.”

  “Duane will kill me.”

  “There’s nothing against the law about taking notes.” Mom sat across from me, clutching a sweating glass of tea. “What do the two victims have in common?”

  Oh, but I did love the thrill of a good mystery. “They both went to our church.” I wrote that down.

  “And belonged to that quilting circle that will be meeting at our store soon.” Mom pointed at the pad. “Add that. First chance I get, I’ll head down to the newspaper office and see exactly when both obits were published. That will give us a better time line.”

  “Here.” Lindsey entered through the back door, carrying my laptop. “I’ve been eavesdropping. The obits should be online.”

  “You’re a genius.” I turned on the computer and waited for the screen to boot up. “But it’s wrong to listen in on other people’s conversations.”

  “I know.” She poured herself a glass of tea and joined us at the table. “But talking about murder is way more interesting than what you usually talk about.”

  Within minutes, we’d discovered that Mae’s and Nina’s obituaries ran sometime during the week thirty days before they died. I sat back in my chair. If the killer stayed true, there would be another obit sometime this week. I wrote down gas leak and put a question mark beside it. Was this the only way the killer offed his victims? Unfortunately, only time would tell. Sad that someone had to die in order for an MO to be brought to light.

  I shut off the computer and sat it on the counter before hiding the notes back in a drawer. Duane would be back in less than an hour. I definitely didn’t want him to know how I’d spent my afternoon. I’d plead curiosity, which would be the truth, but we both knew it probably wouldn’t stop at that.

  “Marsha, come fix the salad while I get the spaghetti water boiling.” Mom handed me a large w
ooden bowl. “I’ll make sure to pick up a paper tomorrow, and we’ll go through it between customers at work.”

  “Don’t forget, I have those placemats to finish.” A customer had ordered two hundred white cotton placemats, complete with embroidered initials, for her wedding. “I still don’t understand why you won’t purchase an embroidery machine. It’s taking me forever to finish.”

  “That’s an expense we don’t need, since God gave you two perfectly good hands.”

  “Hands that are quickly developing carpel-tunnel syndrome.” I ripped into a head of iceberg lettuce.

  “See,” Lindsey said, setting her glass in the sink. “These are the types of conversations that I am not interested in hearing. Call me when supper’s done. I’ll be in the cottage doing my homework.”

  “Teenagers.”

  “Mothers.”

  We grinned at each other, then she sailed out the back door. Thank you, God, for the gift of a good kid. One who unfortunately, enjoyed mysteries as much as I did. I grabbed a tomato and started slicing. Between me, Lindsey, and Mom, we’d managed to solve a crime a few months ago, and stayed alive while doing so. Just call us the Three Musketeers.

  My cell phone rang. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel, ignored Mom’s complaint about wiping tomato hands on her white towel, and then fished my phone from my purse. Lynn.

  “Hey, Bestie.”

  “Is your life so boring that you have to regularly get involved in death?” Lynn sighed hard enough to vibrate the phone.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.” Was there anyone in River Valley who didn’t know I was there when Nina died?

  “You never do. I thank the good Lord you decided not to take the aide position at the high school. Heaven forbid you should drag death to the school.” Lynn taught high school English.

  “You’re being kind of harsh.”

  “Honest.”

  “Evil.”

  “Watching out for you.”

  “Fine.” I propped the phone on my shoulder, not an easy task since it was a slim smart phone, and started rinsing the mushrooms.

  Mom butted me with her hip. “Tell her I said hello.”