Advance Notice (A River Valley Mystery, book 2)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Leroy hired some young man to help him. They’ll clear the old room for us before starting on the new one.”

  Hammering outside the back door alerted me to the fact the men had already started. Mom was very convincing, when she wanted something done. It didn’t hurt that Leroy was still in the throes of honeymoon bliss and retired. He had all the time in the world to succumb to Mom’s wishes. I opened the back door and almost ran over Danny Vera.

  The young man frowned and whipped his head, slinging his long hair out of his eyes. “You like running over people, don’t you?”

  “You two know each other?” Leroy glanced up from where he hammered a two-by-four onto another slab of wood.

  “Briefly.” I smiled at Danny, trying unsuccessfully to melt the scowl on his face. “I almost hit him with my car a couple of days ago.”

  Leroy shook his head and mumbled something about women drivers. That elicited a flicker of a smile from Danny. “This young man is skilled with a hammer and has some knowledge of electrical wiring. You leave him be.”

  “Yes, sir.” I stepped back into the shop and closed the door. Men. They sure had their boundaries as to where women belonged when heavy work was going on.

  Picking back up the embroidery, I settled into the rocking chair and let my mind wander. Three elderly ladies, two dead, one threatened. Obits in the paper before their death, which turned out to be a relatively easy thing to accomplish. The two deceased women died from a gas explosion. I sighed. I had nothing. No other clues and no suspects. I let the placemat fall to my lap.

  Time was ticking, and Dottie Baker’s days were numbered. I knew it in my gut, and I had no idea how to save her. The thought that the next name listed might be Mom’s, chilled my blood. But the other women had lived alone, with no family. Was that the key to the mystery?

  The bell over the door jingled. I pulled my mind from my musing to watch Duane stroll in. One look at the clock showed he was on his short lunch break. I set my work in the basket at my feet and stood to greet him with a kiss.

  “Hey, good looking.” He returned my kiss and added a hug. “Now, tell me about this job of yours, and why I shouldn’t be as nervous as a raccoon surrounded by hunting dogs.”

  “It’s just part-time. I’m selling advertising space for the paper and collecting gossip for the gossip column, but that part is a secret.” I motioned for him to sit in one of the rockers we had for sale. “I went in to snoop about the obituaries and walked out with the job. It was a total surprise.”

  “And?”

  “There’s no reason to worry. Both jobs are perfectly safe.”

  “Not snooping into other people’s business.” A frown line appeared between his eyes, and I clenched my hands to keep from smoothing it away.

  “Don’t be silly. The quilting club starts on Thursday. All I have to do is eavesdrop, or ask Mom for details. I won’t have to leave the shop to gather enough gossip for ten papers.”

  “I hope not. I agreed to let you snoop…safely.” He leaned over and kissed me again before standing. “I love you, Nancy Drew. Now, I’ve got to get back to work. Dinner?”

  “In or out?”

  “How about I take you out for steak? I’ll pick you up at five thirty.”

  “Perfect.” I picked up the embroidery and set to work on the last one as my handsome hunk of a man strolled back out the door, leaving me happy and peaceful.

  “Maybe I’ll get Leroy to take me out to dinner, too,” Mom said, coming from the back room with an armful of quilts.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d watch Lindsey.” I cut the last stitch of thread. “Done. You can call the happy bride now.”

  “Your daughter is almost sixteen. Perfectly old enough to stay home alone for a couple of hours.” Mom placed the folded quilts on a rack. “Since we need to clean out the back room for now, we might as well set out everything we have for sale.” She planted her fists on her hips and surveyed the room. “Sure will make it crowded in here, though.”

  “How about placing an ad in the paper for an overstock sale?” I hefted the basket and slid it behind the counter.

  “That’s a thought. We’ve never done much advertising.”

  “What kind of stipulations did you put on the quilting club? Are you charging them for the room?” I grabbed a broom and started sweeping up bits of silver thread I’d dropped.

  “They had to promise to buy all of their supplies from us.” Mom dragged a big box from the store room. “Good thing I bought all these scraps of fabric at the discount store. Once we get them rolled and priced, we can set them out next to the quilting books.”

  A slow selling day, but by the time we finished cleaning out the “club” room, my feet and back ached. Mom was right. The front of the store looked crowded. Hopefully, Leroy and Danny wouldn’t take too long to get the extra room built on. After that, there was no more room for expansion. Not unless we wanted part of the shop to be in the alley. Maybe Mom should look into moving to a larger property.

  “Hi, Mom. Hi, Grandma.” Lindsey waltzed through the door and tossed her backpack on the floor. “Who’s the guy out back? He’s kind of cute.”

  Danny? Never in my wildest dreams would I have classified that sullen young man as someone Lindsey might be interested in. “He’s too old for you.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to marry him. Good gravy!” Lindsey stomped through the back room, returning a moment later with a soda from the refrigerator we kept there. “Maybe I should take him a drink,” she said, as if she’d never left the room. “It’s kind of a hot day.”

  “I’m sure Leroy is taking care of him.” I speared her with my mom look. “How’s your photo shop class in school coming?”

  “Good, why?” She narrowed her eyes at me over her Mountain Dew.

  “We need a half-page ad for the paper saying we’re having an overstock sale. Can you handle it?” Anything to keep her from making googlie eyes at a sullen young man.

  “Easy.” She cast another glance over her shoulder toward the alley. “Something simple or folksy?”

  “Somewhere in the middle?” I suggested.

  “With our logo.” Mom waved a couple of knitting needles at her. “Don’t forget that. We want folks to know who’s having the sale.”

  Lindsey and I exchanged exasperated glances. “Of course, Grandma. I’m not stupid.”

  “Watch your mouth.” I wiped the back of my hand across my sweating forehead. “Duane’s taking me out to dinner tonight. Will you be all right on your own?”

  She nodded. “I have homework and can work on the ad. How much are y’all going to pay me?”

  I didn’t raise a fool. “Fifty dollars?”

  “Done.” She finished her soda and retrieved her backpack. “I’ll meet that guy some other time. Him and Leroy look all dirty and sweaty anyway. They probably stink.” With those words, she sashayed out the door.

  Maybe I needed to make sure Danny always looked stinky. Since Lindsey broke up with her previous boyfriend, Bobby, star of the football team, she’d been on the prowl for a newer model. I shook my head. Teenagers.

  “Don’t worry,” Mom said. “She’s a good kid.”

  “I know. I thank God for that every day.” And I did. Not being exactly un-devious as a teen, I was thankful Lindsey seemed to have her head on straighter than I did. I’d drooled after Duane like a puppy after a bowl of water. Then, the moment he ran off after graduation, I’d upped and married his brother within six months. Nope. Not exactly level headed.

  Dottie Baker barged through the front door. “Well, I’m still alive!” She made her way to the front counter.

  “You have thirty days from when I warned you.” Mom glared. “Are you here to buy something or to harass me?”

  “I want to look at the jewelry your granddaughter makes. I’ve got another hot date tonight, and I want to look as young as possible.”

  I turned to hide my grin. With her pink hair, heavy makeup and deep wrinkles, Dottie would n
ever look young again.

  “Might as well live it up while you can.” Mom waved toward the jewelry display. “Who’s the unlucky man?”

  “Dwight Linney.” Dottie patted her hair. “He owns the feed store and is quite a catch.”

  “I know who he is.” Mom shook her head. “The man’s as old as medusa.”

  “And loaded.” Dottie winked and pulled a butterfly bobby pin heavily studded with crystals from the display and slid it across the counter. “Twenty dollars is a bit steep, isn’t it?”

  “Nope, not for Swarovski.” Mom rang her up and held out her hand. “Cash or credit?”

  “Check.” Dottie opened a purse the size of a satchel and dug around in its purple confines. “I don’t want anyone knowing anything about me by stealing my identity.”

  “People won’t need to steal your identity if you wind up dead.” Mom’s voice rose.

  “If you don’t stop threatening me, Gertie Bohan, I’ll go straight to Officer Barnett! Then, if I do end up dead, you’ll be the prime suspect.” She grabbed her purchase. “Wouldn’t that just suit you fine?”

  Chapter Eight

  By Thursday, my nerves were shot. The feud between Mom and Dottie had to stop. Why couldn’t the old biddie see that Mom only wanted to help her? With only three weeks left before the deadline, my stomach churned. Especially knowing that Dottie would be one of the quilters meeting at the shop in an hour. I’d have the pleasure of listening to more back and forth insults from her and Mom.

  I set a pitcher of iced sweet tea and a tray of Snickerdoodle cookies on a side table. Mom said it wouldn’t do not to have separate snacks for the ladies. They wouldn’t want the same ones we had in the main shop with the coffee. They needed to feel special.

  Whatever. The bell over the door, followed by loud voices, announced the women’s arrival. I squared my shoulders and prayed I could work the front of the store and let Mom flutter around the ladies. Of course, if I did that, I might not pick up any juicy gossip. I was in a quandary.

  “Don’t just stand there.” Mom straightened the pile of napkins, then turned with a gracious smile. “Greet our guests.”

  “Good morning, ladies.” I forced a smile. “The shop opens in thirty minutes, but I can help you now, if you need to purchase anything.”

  Mom stomped my foot. What? Weren’t we here to make money?

  Hammering started outside, competing with the women’s conversation. Oh, this could get interesting. Maybe I would stay and let Mom run the store. Sure enough, not ten minutes in and before the first needle pierced the backing of the first square, Dottie and Betty glowered at each other, then at me.

  “Do we have to listen to that the entire time?” Betty practically crumpled the square in her hand. “I’ll have a frightful headache. We may have to reconsider our choice of meeting place.”

  “Just be glad they aren’t trying to kill you,” Dottie said. “I still say we should have checked to see if we could meet at the church.”

  “We are not trying to kill you.” I opened the back door. “We’re trying to keep you alive.” Her strident voice as she explained the circumstances to the other women followed me.

  “Leroy, the girls are complaining about the noise.” I slowly closed the door so it wouldn’t slam.

  “You want this room finished or not?”

  “It’s going to be bad for business.” I caught sight of Danny lurking around the corner. Most likely afraid I’d bump into him again. “Hey, Danny.”

  “I suppose we could spend the morning sawing. Or will that bother the queens?”

  What was up with Leroy? My usually mild-mannered stepfather acted like he had a burr in the waistband of his underpants. “That should be fine. Thank you.” Come to think of it, Mom was a little snippy, too. I had more than one mystery to solve.

  I marched inside, took Mom by the hand, and dragged her out of ear shot of the other women. “What is wrong with you and Leroy? Are y’all having problems?”

  “No.” Her eyes widened, then filled with tears. “He wants me to sell you my half of the store so we can travel. That silly man wants to buy an RV.”

  Didn’t sound like much of a problem to me. “So…you’re upset because your husband wants to spend every waking moment with you. The nerve!” I tried to keep my mouth from twitching, and failed.

  “It’s not funny.” She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her apron. “I love this store, but I love Leroy, too. What will we do with the house?”

  I chewed my bottom lip, still not knowing what the problem was. “Lindsey and I can move into the house. I can hire part-time help here at the store, and you can be a silent partner. That way, if y’all get tired of gallivanting around the country, you can come back to work.”

  She cupped my face. “I raised the smartest daughter in River Valley, if not the entire world.”

  “Agreed.” I gave her a hug then a gentle shove back to our guests. “Go find me some juicy gossip.”

  Part-time help wouldn’t be difficult. Lindsey was my first choice, and I was sure one of her friends would be willing to earn some money. The long days might be harder to fill, especially with my two-hours a week of checking into the newspaper. But, if I’d learned anything in my life, it was that God worked everything out. All we had to do was trust and wait.

  Danny slipped through the front door, his hair hanging in his face. “Leroy wants to know if there’s any more tea, or if the women drank it all.”

  “I can make more. Tell him I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

  The young man nodded and skedaddled as silently as he’d come in. That boy had a story for sure. Maybe one day, I’d have time to find out what it was.

  By the time I had the tea made and delivered to the hard working men out back, the women had stopped stitching to take a break. At the rate they were drinking, I’d need another pitcher of tea for them, too. I turned toward the small kitchenette counter as the bell over the door announced a shopper. The quilters would have to wait.

  Stacy stepped inside and stopped. Her perfectly made-up face crinkled, and I fought back the urge to tell her such a look would cause wrinkles that no amount of expensive makeup would cover. She heaved a dramatic sigh. “This place is so cutesy it makes me want to gag.”

  “Can I help you?” My frosty tone matched hers.

  “Just point me to the quilters. Frank seems to think their new group is newsworthy.” Shaking her head, she ran her hands down the skirt of her pin-striped gray suit. “I told him to let you handle the mundane type of articles, but he said you aren’t ready.”

  “I don’t do the news.” Just gossip. I grinned, wondering whether there was some juicy tidbit I could post about her. “The ladies are through that door.”

  Chin tilted, shoulders squared, Stacy clutched a notebook to her chest and sashayed her way out of my sight. Her entrance seemed to open the floodgates, and I stayed busy with customers for the next half-hour. By the time the last one left, there was fifteen minutes left of the quilters’ time. I hadn’t had the opportunity to glean any gossip for my column. With one last glance at the empty door, I hurried into the back room.

  “You are a mean, spiteful woman.” Dottie pointed an arthritic finger at Stacy. “Just because you waltz in here with your fake…boobs…you think you’re better than the rest of us. Well, let me tell you, girlie, that a man wants a real woman. Not a plastic one.”

  Bingo. Column tidbit. I grinned and crossed my arms, waiting for Stacy’s response.

  “You wouldn’t know what it takes to get a man if it bit you in your wrinkled bottom.”

  “I’ll have you know,” Betty Larson spoke up. “That Dottie is the most sought after woman at the retirement home. Why, she won last year’s beauty contest. You should know, since you interviewed her.”

  “And I’ll win this year’s, too.” Dottie glared.

  “If you’re still alive,” Mom piped in.

  “Don’t start that again!” Dottie whirled on her like a duck
on a June bug.

  “What’s this?” Stacy clicked her pen. “Who’s dying?”

  “Nobody. Certainly not me.” Dottie tossed her spool of thread onto the table. “Most likely it’s you, or Frank, putting these fake obits in the paper. Anything to sell a few more copies and keep the paper from going under.”

  Stacy looked confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She glanced at me. “Marsha?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to give her anything newsworthy, but the more people who knew about the suspicious deaths, the better. “Seems someone is putting people’s names in the obits thirty days before the person actually dies. Dottie’s name came up last week.”

  “Why is this the first time I’ve heard of this?” Stacy speared each woman with her gaze.

  “Maybe you don’t read your own paper,” Mom said. “Danny, quit eavesdropping at the door. If you want something, come on in.”

  Red-faced, Danny sidled through the door, empty pitcher in his hand. “Mr. Bohan told me to bring this in before it got broke.”

  I took it from him, feeling pity for the poor shy young man suddenly thrust into the center of attention by a group of fuming females. “Thank you. Now git, before they turn on you.”

  He disappeared so fast, I thought maybe Houdini played a magic trick. “Times up, ladies. See you next week.”

  For the next five minutes, there was a flurry of activity as they cleaned up their work and stashed it on a shelf Mom had provided. Stacy stayed and watched for a few minutes before storming out.

  It was quite a productive morning. I had gossip on Stacy’s fake chest, on Dottie being the belle of the ball, and also on Dottie believing she’d win the pageant at the retirement home again. Yep, this gossip stuff was easy.

  Once the women had gone, Mom wiped down the table. “Well, that was interesting. Next week, you can stay in here and I’ll mind the store.”

  “Not on your life.” No way did I want to spend two hours with that bunch. Most of them were okay, but Dottie’s sharp tongue more than made up for the others.