Advance Notice (A River Valley Mystery, book 2)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Yeah, but I had to take a break. This costume is hot.” He wobbled his head, making the fangs on the snake head dip closer to my face. I knew his voice, but the mask effectively hid his identity. “Are you under here spying on the kids making out?”

  “What? No.” Kids were making out? Where?

  “There’s always several, Mrs. Steele. You should keep your eyes open.” Timmy gave a wave of one scaly paw, despite snakes not having hands, and left.

  I glanced around the surrounding area, trying to determine whose conversation I had been listening to. Timmy was right. There were at least four different couples in lip-locks. Not wanting to know any more, I headed back to Mom and Leroy. Wait a minute! That was Lindsey.

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  Lindsey jumped back from the boy she was kissing as if stung. “Mom?”

  I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. “Explain, and you…” I pointed at the boy I didn’t know. “Can leave.”

  “You’re embarrassing me,” Lindsey hissed. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m trying to make Bobby jealous.”

  “By kissing under the bleachers like common trash?” Lord, save me from teenagers. “I thought you were a good girl.” Had I jinxed her by telling everyone my daughter was good?

  “I am a good girl. We were only kissing! What are you doing under here?”

  “Picking up garbage.”

  She shook her head. “I have the weirdest mother in the world. Why can’t you be normal? You were under here snooping.”

  That set me back. What was normal, anyway? “Not on purpose. Who all was under here, anyway? I heard something.”

  She groaned. “I am not going to snitch.” With a toss of her hair, she stomped to the edge of the stairs.

  With her flouncing off, I’d lost any chance of knowing whose conversation I’d overheard. I shrugged. Most likely some kid who didn’t want to do what his parents said, and an evil girl out to mislead him. Spirits low, I sank down next to Mom. My daughter had shattered all my illusions about her. What kind of girl made out under the bleachers during a crowded football game? Just to make another boy jealous!

  I watched the second quarter under a depressed fog. Even my wave to Duane, when he turned, was half-hearted. No doubt he’d ask me about it later. I watched as Timmy hopped along the sidelines, tripping over invisible obstacles, and harassing the cheerleaders. At least someone was having fun.

  “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Mom handed me a bottle of water.

  “I caught Lindsey kissing a boy under the bleachers. I’m devastated. It feels like someone ripped my heart out and filled my stomach with cement.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Everyone makes out under the bleachers at some time during high school.”

  “I never did.” Really? Everyone?

  Mom patted my knee. “Sorry, sweetie, but you weren’t real popular in school. You’ve always been a bit…weird. I was always surprised that Duane dated you. Now, I bet he spent some time under the bleachers before dating you.”

  And I intended to ask him first thing why he never took me! I bolted to my feet and stomped down the stairs, eliciting some frustrated glances from the other spectators. Making my way to the fence, I waited until half-time, then waved Duane over. “Why haven’t you ever taken me to make out under the bleachers?”

  “Excuse me?” His brow wrinkled, and he glanced over his shoulder to the ball team. “Do I have to answer that now? I need to talk to the team.”

  “No, but I expect an answer after the game.”

  “Wait there.” He sprinted to the team, said a few words, then dashed back to me. He leaped the fence and grabbed my hand. “I’ve been wanting to do this for years.”

  I yelped as he dragged me along behind him. “I didn’t intend for us to do this now. I only wanted to know why we never did.”

  He pulled me to a secluded spot and into his arms. “Because I thought you’d slap my face.” He wrapped his hands in my hair and planted a heavy kiss on my lips. He kept it up until my breath came in gasps and my legs swooned. If this was what making out under the bleachers was like, I was going to kill Lindsey.

  “Way to go, Coach!” A young man strolled by, his arm around a girl’s shoulders.

  My face heated as hot as my blood, and I pulled away.

  Duane gave me a crooked grin. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

  Heaven. I struggled to breathe, and nodded.

  After another kiss, Duane pulled me back to the fence. “Woman, you are a distraction.” He grinned and jumped back to his team, who all gave him high-fives.

  If I weren’t the one writing the paper’s gossip column, I’d bet there’d be a blurb in next week’s paper about us. Thankfully, no one, other than the kids, seemed to know what we’d been up to.

  Despite the race of my pulse, I sat with a grin on my face for the rest of the game. Whenever Mom asked what was wrong, I’d giggle and say nothing. Not that she believed me, but the interaction with Duane was our little secret. Our steamy little secret.

  “Dottie seems to be testing the waters,” Mom said. “She told me today that she plans on staying home alone on the thirtieth day. Said if somebody wanted her dead, they could fight her over it, because she didn’t plan to just roll over and let them take her out.”

  “That’s a crazy bunch of women you hang out with.” Leroy uncapped another bottle of water. “Here, Marsha, you look a little flushed.”

  I accepted the water with a thank you. When he kept watching me, I guzzled about half the bottle and prayed I wouldn’t drown. Was this the subterfuge most teenagers went through? The normal ones, at least?

  “I don’t hang out with Dottie.” Mom glowered at him. “We can’t stand each other. Can barely tolerate being in the same room together for longer than a minute.”

  The Copperheads scored another touchdown, bringing them up by six points and the spectators to their feet. My water bottle rolled down the bleachers, splashing the feet of everyone in its path.

  “You are a walking disaster.” Mom scuttled after it, retrieved the now empty bottle, and handed it back to me.

  I shrugged. “At least I’m not going to be the prime suspect when Dottie winds up dead.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mom didn’t talk to me for the rest of the night, despite my apology to her and to God for my petty remark. But, she’d kept her lips clamped as tight as a kid given medicine. I took a sip of sweet tea and popped up the foot rest on my lawn chair. It was after ten p.m., but I couldn’t go to bed until Lindsey got home, so I decided to enjoy a calm autumn evening in the Ozark foothills.

  Considering my senses still tingled from Duane’s kiss under the bleachers, I refused to let anything mar the evening. Especially since after the game, he invited me to join him in the same spot at half time in two weeks. I sure had missed out on a lot by being shy in high school. Even with my then boyfriend, Duane. He’d respected my wishes and let me keep him at arm’s length.

  Maybe that was why he left so soon after graduation. I took another sip of tea. Dwelling on the past never accomplished anything, though. Duane and I were engaged. All I needed was a wedding date. Maybe in the spring. May would be a beautiful month for a wedding. An outdoor wedding.

  The ringing of my cell phone interrupted one of the few times I actually spent on wedding planning. I set my glass on a nearby café table and fished the phone out of my pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “You think you’re so slick, eavesdropping under the bleachers,” the electronically modified voice said. “Stop putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Click.

  Well, drat. Here we went again with the threats.

  Six months ago, I’d almost single-handedly been responsible for the arrest of the women’s ministry leader. Sure, she hadn’t actually meant to kill anyone, but poisoning them so they would forget certain details was just as bad. And one of those episodes had resulted in a death. It was time to dig out
my twenty-two pistol and Tazer. Duane would not be pleased.

  Maybe I could add to the gossip column that I’d received a threat? By doing so, I could possibly drag the murderer out of hiding, instead of dragging the investigation on for the rest of Dottie’s thirty days. Of course, by doing so, I’d be increasing the risk to myself.

  Me or Dottie? That was a tough one.

  I picked up my glass of tea and watched as Mom’s bedroom light flickered off. I’d miss her and Leroy when they left to travel America. One more reason to set a date before they left. Then, I’d have Duane and Lindsey to keep me company, not to mention full control of the store.

  Thwack. The glass in my hand exploded.

  I knew that sound and dove to the ground, taking what cover I could under my chair. Slivers of glass pierced my hand. Blood glued leaves and dry grass to my sliced palm.

  Either someone was a very good shot, or a very poor one. I trembled, realizing how close I’d come to dying. I leaned more toward a very good shot. Otherwise, why bother with the phone call? They could have just put a bullet through my head, and I would have been none the wiser.

  For several minutes, I sat and shook like an old Chihuahua before figuring the shooter had left. I dialed Bruce’s personal number.

  “What?” From the tone of his voice, I gathered I’d woken him.

  “Someone just took a shot at me.” My throat clogged with tears as the adrenaline started to wear off. “I’m bleeding.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In front of my cottage hiding behind a lawn chair.”

  Silence. “Uh, that isn’t much protection. Get in the house.” Click.

  I crawled through my front door and closed it, then dialed Duane’s number. By this time, I sobbed so hard my words were unintelligible.

  “I’m on my way.” My hero.

  I still sat on the floor blubbering when Bruce and Duane arrived, both bursting into the cottage at the same time. Duane immediately went to his knees and took my bleeding hand in his. “What happened?”

  I shook my head and lunged into his arms.

  “She said she was shot at.” Bruce stood in the doorway. “I’ll look around out here while you take care of that hand. If it’s a bullet wound, she’ll need to go to the hospital. We have to record things like that.”

  “Shot at?” Duane pulled me to my feet and over to the sink. “Talk to me.”

  I sniffed and wiped my face on my sleeve. “First, I got a phone call telling me not to eavesdrop, then someone shot my glass out of my hand.”

  “Who called?” Bruce whipped out his ever present pad of paper and a pencil.

  “The voice was disguised.” I hissed through clenched teeth as Duane thrust my hand under the faucet. “I was sitting there planning our wedding.”

  “You were?” A grin spread across Duane’s face.

  “I’m thinking May.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Once the blood and dirt was washed away, Duane dabbed my hand with a paper towel and started picking out bits of glass. “Of course, tomorrow would work for me, too.”

  “Don’t be silly. Mom would kill us.”

  “Maybe if she knew what was going on.” Mom pushed past Bruce, tightening her terry robe over a long flannel nightgown. Lucky Leroy.

  “There’s been a shooting, Mrs. Bohan. Please step aside and let me do my job.” Bruce bristled with importance.

  “Marsha!” She shoved past him, causing him to drop his pad, then continued to my side where she yanked my hand out of Duane’s. “Who shot you? Are you okay? Why isn’t an ambulance here?” She glared.

  Obviously, she was no longer angry with me. “We don’t know yet, yes, and we didn’t call one. Someone shot the glass I was holding, and I got cut.” My knees wobbled. “There’s no need for an ambulance.”

  If not for Duane’s quick response to scooping me in his arms, I would have fallen. Seconds later, he’d laid me on the sofa, pillow under my head, and placed a colorful afghan across me. Then, he resumed work on my hand.

  I met Mom’s hurt gaze over his head. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. For so many years, she’d taken care of me. Then, I married Robert, he died, and Mom had me back. Now, she stood aside while Duane took over. How would I feel when that happened with Lindsey? “Mom, I’d love a glass of tea. Almost getting shot has made me thirsty. Do you mind?”

  “I’ll make you a fresh pot.” She bustled back to the main house.

  “That was sweet.” Duane lifted my hand to his lips and gently kissed the palm. “She was having a hard time not bandaging this hand. I could have let her, but, I needed to do this, too.”

  “Mom?” Lindsey entered the room, eyes wide, and furtive glances at Bruce. “What did you do?”

  Why did she always assume that whatever happened to me was my fault? This definitely wasn’t. Well, maybe it was, considering I spent time contemplating a murder and warning another potential victim. But, I would stick with my story. “Nothing. I was waiting for you.”

  “It’s not my curfew for another twenty minutes.”

  “I was only enjoying the nice night.”

  “Stop badgering your mother.” Duane gently sat my freshly wrapped hand on my stomach and stood to face Lindsey. “Most of the time, I butt out of things between the two of you, but your mother was shot at and injured, and all you’re worried about is her keeping tabs on you. I may only be your uncle, soon to be your stepfather, but I will not allow you to speak to your mother that way.”

  Lindsey stared at him for a moment, eyes flashing, then flounced down the hall to her room. Since she’d been so young when her father died, she’d never had a man correct her behavior before. Thankfully, I rarely had to discipline her. But lately, I hardly recognized the teenage girl down the hall.

  “Thank you.” I motioned for Duane to bend down. After kissing him, I smiled. “I’m exhausted. Do you mind?”

  He smoothed the hair away from my face. “Not at all. Are you staying on the sofa or do you want me to help you to bed?”

  “Mom would be scandalized by you taking me there, but the bed sounds lovely.” I sat up, and although I was now perfectly capable of making it to my room on my own, I relished the gallant gesture from my knight. Assuring him I’d be fine, though, I stayed on the sofa. Minutes later, I kissed him again, promised to call him when I woke in the morning, and waved him away.

  Mom had never returned with my tea. I suspected Leroy waylaid her and told her the truth about my wanting a glass. With my good hand, I pulled the afghan up under my chin and closed my eyes. Cleopatra, my German Shepard, laid her head on my hip. “Where were you, girl? You could’ve warned me that a madman lurked in the bushes.” I scratched behind her ears. A not-so-small measure of guilt over how little time I’d spent with her assailed me. Yet, she loved me with every wag of her tail.

  Wait. Cleo had been nowhere in sight while I enjoyed my tea and explored what little I knew of the mystery. I rolled back over. Twigs and dirt covered her coat. “Had someone tied you up? Is that why you weren’t around?” I’d thought she was off, nose to the ground, to scare up a squirrel. I’d been so preoccupied with my thoughts I hadn’t noticed my companion wasn’t lying at my feet.

  What if she’d never come back home? What if the shooter and done away with her?

  I fell to my knees, wrapped my arms around her neck, and buried my face. “Girl, I thought you were a tough watchdog. You need to stick around.”

  Lindsey strolled back through, two oatmeal cookies and a glass of milk in her hand. “So, what did you do to your hand?”

  “Cut in on a glass.” Was there any way to keep Lindsey from finding out the whole truth?

  “Can’t find anything.” Bruce held up a bullet casing. “Sniper rifle. You were lucky.” He slipped it into his pocket. “Come down to the station tomorrow to fill out the report, okay? I’m going back to bed.”

  Lindsey watched him go as she took a bite of her cookie. Then, she turned her narrow gaze to me. “I don’t want to
know.” She whirled and marched out of sight.

  Suit herself. Since I was awake and no longer felt as if the ground heaved under my feet, I tucked my throbbing hand close to my stomach and moved to the bedroom. Cleo’s nails tapped on the wood floor behind me. There’d be no more forest wandering for her. Not for a while. For both of our safety, I needed her close.

  Through my bedroom window, I could see Mom’s kitchen light still on. What if I went over there to pass some time? Was she still angry about my comment at the game, or Duane’s sending her away? I decided to chance it. There were moments in every woman’s life when she needed her mother. This was one of mine.

  “Going to Mom’s!” Opening the front door, I peered both ways into the night, then scuttled to the main house as fast as I could. Cleo kept so close to my legs, she threatened to trip me several times.

  The screen door squeaked as I opened it. Mom glanced up from the table, jumped to her feet, and came running. She wrapped me so tight in her arms, I thought she’d smother me. “I’m so sorry, Marsha. I have a sharp tongue. I should cut it off and feed it to the cat.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m the one saying mean things. I’m so sorry.”

  Mom led me to the table. “Do you want some coffee? Tea?”

  “Just water, thanks.” I rested my hand on the table, wishing for something strong to kill the pain, but knowing how dopey I got while on pain meds.

  “Do you really think I’ll be the main suspect if Dottie dies?” Mom filled a glass with ice cubes and water from the refrigerator. “Because, that would make it seem as if I’d killed the other two women. I might have a sharp tongue, but I’m no killer.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I stared across the desk at Bruce and cradled my bandaged hand in my lap. “Are you willing to accept the fact that Dottie Baker is in danger?”