“Fine. I won’t mention the ring to anyone.”
He stepped closer and tipped her chin up with one finger. “You know how beautiful you look when you’re peeved with me?”
“I’m not peeved. I just don’t like lying to my friends.” She’d done enough of that growing up. Lying to protect her alcoholic father from losing his job, lying to keep the social workers away, lying to bill collectors, the landlord, her friends.
“You don’t have to lie, babe. They’ll understand if you tell them you can’t talk about it. The same way you understood when I couldn’t share everything about the cases I worked on as a detective. Information is key. We have to keep it to ourselves until the exact right moment. Get it? Surprise attack. We want to get a natural, unguarded look at our suspect’s true feelings. Most people wear a façade, especially when they feel cornered.
“Now our client is a suspect?”
“Until I’ve proved otherwise.”
She leaned into him and he drew her close. She closed her eyes and breathed in his just-showered scent. “You smell like fresh strawberries.”
“I used your fruity shampoo. Mine was empty.”
“It smells good on you,” she said, nuzzling his neck.
“Hold on now.” He moved back out of reach, a silly grin on his face. “Are you trying to get an invitation to lunch, or…?”
“I can’t believe you’d think that. Only married four years and you’re already pouring sand on the flames.”
His brows came together. “Are you messing with me?”
“Of course. Who else would I mess with?” She reached out and tugged him back by the collar of his shirt. “Now kiss me before I leave. I’m going to the café for a chat with Luanne.”
“Heaven help us all,” he said, and then gave her a proper goodbye kiss.
<<>>
Shelby slipped through the front door of the Port café and stopped to arrange her shoulder length bob. The wind had been gusting off Lake Superior and whipping down Silver Street when she’d stepped out of the car. Her hair probably resembled Medusa’s snake-do. The calming scent of cinnamon lingered in the air along with something rich and chocolaty if she wasn’t mistaken. Luanne’s pastries would be the death of her.
The Bailey twins sat at their usual table, sharing a huge cinnamon roll and a carafe of coffee. White curls framed wrinkled cheeks pink with rouge and eyes bright with interest. She smiled and said hello.
In cotton candy pink jumpers over white blouses with huge bows tied beneath sagging chins, a stranger might have thought they were dressed for an early Halloween party. But that was the way the twins dressed, like ten-year-olds stuck in the 1960s. The little old ladies were regularly seen around town but rarely heard from. When they spoke it was to one another. Their whispered conversations reminded Shelby of schoolgirls sharing secrets.
Shelby had no idea how to tell them apart. No one in Port Scuttlebutt used the women’s given names. They were just the twins. Luckily, they were the only twins in town, or that might have become confusing.
Luanne pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door with a plastic dishpan in her arms. She bent over a booth and started clearing dirty dishes before noticing Shelby still standing near the door. Pushing a lock of stray hair behind her ear, she straightened. “If it isn’t the better half of the Gunners. Did you stop by to get some more waitressing experience for that method acting of yours?”
“Not today.” Shelby lifted a brow. “Looks a little sparse around here this morning. What’s going on?”
“If it wasn’t for the twins showing up ahead of schedule I’d be eating a pan of cinnamon rolls all by myself.” She blew a breath through her teeth sounding like a leaky tire. “This keeps up, I may as well close for the winter and migrate south with the birds.”
“We can’t let that happen. Blake wouldn’t survive a week without one of your Roadkill pasties.” She took the rag hanging over Luanne’s shoulder and wiped the tabletop clean. “I know it’s a bad thing when you’re not busy, but maybe you could relax and have a chat.”
Luanne hefted the pan over her shoulder and strode toward the kitchen. “Sit down a spell, kiddo. I’ll be right back. You want coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
The door swished closed and after a bit of banging and clinking, she reemerged with a pot of coffee and a plate of rolls. She set them down and turned to steal two clean cups off the table beside them. “Here we go. Some days all that runs through my veins is caffeine. I’ve already had five cups since I got here this morning and I’m still yawning.”
Shelby poured. “Best coffee in town.”
The doorbell chimed again and they turned to see the twins heading out for their morning constitutional. Luanne called after them, “See you later, ladies! Better put your hoods up. It’s starting to sleet out there.”
The twins marched out single file without responding, but then stopped on the sidewalk to lift the hoods of their matching red coats and tie them under their chins. Arm in arm they moved down the street toward the dock.
Shelby shook her head. “Is it just me or some days do you feel as if you’ve been dropped down Alice’s rabbit hole?”
Luanne burst out laughing. “I’ve never thought of it quite like that, but I can see how an outsider might think we’re a bit quirky.”
“Am I still an outsider? I thought the town was really starting to warm up to me. Other than a few stray cats, that is.”
“Are you talking about that sack of kittens Fanny saved from drowning or that cold-hearted feline Blake dated a couple times back in high school? I see the way she looks at you on Blake’s arm.”
“Green with envy?”
“Like she just spotted a baby bird fallen from the nest,” she said, without a trace of humor.
“I guess I’m not a cat person.” Fanny had tried to give her a kitten for the Bed & Breakfast, said it would keep the mice away, but when placed in her arms the thing shrieked, scraped razor claws down the length of her forearms, and tore off outside toward the woods never to be seen from again. As for Cynthia – the platinum blonde ex-cheerleader who managed to balance on stiletto heels while wearing a skirt so tight it molded to her skinny thighs and butt leaving nothing to the imagination – Shelby was pretty sure friendship with that woman would take a much better actor than herself.
She slathered a pat of butter over the top of a warm cinnamon roll and watched it ooze between the cracks. Might as well stock up on fat grams now. According to Alice, the Farmer’s Almanac predicted a long, cold winter. The way the furnace was acting up at the B&B, a few extra pounds might be the only thing keeping her from freezing to death.
“What’s on your mind?” Luanne asked, wiping drips from the side of her cup with a napkin. “You seem a bit down. Not regretting your move to Port Scuttlebutt, are you?”
“No,” she said so quickly she wondered if it were true. Was she lying to herself? Did she regret the move? She missed her friends, the theatre, restaurants, city life… but no. This was the place she and Blake were meant to be. She put down her fork and sat back, clasping her hands in her lap. “I’m not quite ready for winter I guess. Mr. Booth has been regaling us with horror stories of ten foot drifts and ice so thick it takes a jackhammer to open the door of your car.”
“Clara always said Oliver was a true pessimist. Any facts he tells you should be cut in half and looked at through rose-colored lenses. Then you might be closer to the truth.” She pushed her cup away and sighed. “I miss Clara.”
Only eighteen months earlier, Alice Booth’s mother had been killed in a suspected hit-and-run. When Blake and Shelby showed up in Port Scuttlebutt, the cold case had still been fresh on the minds of those who’d loved her, and the Gunners couldn’t help but get involved in solving Clara’s murder. Blake had thought his detective days were behind him, but now here they were opening their own private investigations office and already working on a second case.
“How well do you kn
ow Pete Dugan?” Shelby asked, getting back to what brought her here. She didn’t bother to ask if Luanne knew Pete because she’d come to the realization months ago that in Port Scuttlebutt everybody knew everybody to some degree, and Luanne knew more than most.
She licked frosting from her lips and took a sip of coffee before responding. “Pete and Sadie moved here from Detroit in the early 80s. Pete had grown up here but moved away after high school, sort of like Blake. He and Fred Thompson were good friends and when he came back they seemed to take up right where they left off. Of course they were both married then so they tried doing the couples thing. Going out together for dinner, movies, dancing. From what I heard, it didn’t work out so well.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugged. “I can’t really say. You know how rumors are around here. I do know they eventually gave up getting together as couples. Fred and Pete managed to maintain their friendship through it all and continued to hunt and fish whenever they got a chance.”
Shelby knew rumors tend to be based on something, even if it’s a complete lie. She wondered who in the foursome caused the rift or if it was a mutual thing. She glanced toward the front window and saw a friendly face staring in. When she smiled at him, Tucker crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. She laughed and gestured for him to join them.
“That boy will never grow up,” Luanne said, shaking her head, but she quickly filled another cup and moved over to make room for him at the table.
Tucker shook sleet from his hair and jacket and stomped his boots on the entrance mat. “It’s getting chilly out there. I might have to pull my winter coat out of storage.”
“Don’t kid a kidder,” Luanne said. “Everyone in the U.P. knows winter coats stay on the hook by the door no matter the season.”
“You got me. I’m trying to get some wear out of this thing, but fall seemed to come and go with me still in my shirtsleeves.” Shelby knew that the topstitched, glove-leather jacket had been a birthday present from Alice. Not at all Tucker’s style, but he wouldn’t tell her that for all the sunshine in Hawaii. He shrugged out of the jacket in question and settled into the booth, cradling his cup of hot coffee to warm his hands. “Saw the twins leaving when I made a run to the Post Office earlier. They must be anxious about the weather to move up the time of their coffee and rolls like that.”
Shelby hid a smile. It was funny and slightly disturbing that he knew the hour-by-hour schedule of two little old ladies, but Tucker owned the Ben Franklin store and probably told time by the comings and goings of his customers.
Luanne pushed the plate with the last roll toward him. “What are you doing out? Business as bad at the five and dime as it is here?”
“Pretty much. Thought it would be a good time to pick up some snacks to get me through the afternoon. You know I eat when I’m bored.”
“Apparently you need to be bored more often. You’re skin and bones. I’ll fill a bag with your favorites.” Luanne hustled off to the kitchen, letting the swinging doors swoosh behind her.
Tucker waggled his eyebrows. “Being skinny doesn’t usually get you the girl, but it always gets you the donut.”
“Well, you’re lucky you have both then,” Shelby said.
He stuffed half the roll into his mouth and chewed, rolling his eyes appreciatively.
Alice had blossomed into a new woman in the past few months. When her mother died Alice had curled up and hidden away at the B&B as though she could sustain Clara’s memory by not changing a thing. She’d thrown herself into taking care of her invalid father and running the bed and breakfast single-handedly. But now that her mother’s murder was solved and Blake and Shelby were co-owners with her in the business, she had slowly unwound and even let Tucker begin to woo her. It was a slow process and sometimes Tucker probably felt like their relationship was in reverse, but he was a patient man when it came to Alice.
Shelby poured a second cup of coffee from the pot Luanne left behind. “Pete is doing a great job on the offices, by the way.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less. Dad said he’s one of the best carpenters around.”
“Did you know his ex-wife very well?”
“I knew who she was. But they moved upstate for a few years when Pete couldn’t find work and when they came back again I was a teenager. Didn’t really hang out with my dad’s friends, you know.” His gaze narrowed, watching her. “What are you really asking?”
“I was wondering if you’d ever seen them together. What kind of a relationship did they have? Passive? Aggressive? Did they argue publicly? That sort of thing.”
“They got divorced, so that should tell you something.” He combed a hand through scraggly blonde hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “You want me to help you pin a murder rap on my dad’s oldest friend? Is that what this is about?”
“No. Pete seems like a very nice man, I just…”
“Think he’s guilty.”
“I think there is more to his story than he’s telling. Whether he’s innocent or not, I have no idea.” She lowered her voice to a conspirator whisper. “Blake will fire me if I say more. He warned me to keep our investigation close to the vest.”
“I get it. Blake’s still a cop at heart. Why would he be any different from the county cops? They convicted Pete as soon as they realized Sadie was his ex-wife, regardless of the fact that if he’d actually murdered her he would have just buried her deeper so the dog couldn’t dig her up. Instead he chose to call the police. Strange behavior for a killer, don’t you think?”
“I have to agree with you. But I don’t agree that Blake has already convicted Pete Dugan. He’s trying to find evidence of his innocence. Sometimes when you turn over rocks you find some slugs.” She turned up her nose and sniffed. “At least that’s what my husband has said on numerous occasions.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have accused Blake of not doing due diligence. He will absolutely get to the truth. I know that. It’s just that my dad’s been hounding me, nearly every hour of the day. He actually called me last night at one in the morning. I think I might want this to be over and solved even more than Pete, if that’s possible.”
Shelby reached out and patted his hand. “Have you thought about turning off your cell phone?”
He laughed. “I’ve thought about it, but I’m terrified if I don’t answer when he calls he’ll hop a redeye and be sitting on my doorstep in the morning.”
“I’d love to meet your father. Blake speaks very highly of him.” Blake’s own father had been abusive and negligent, to say the least. Mr. Thompson had been a bigger influence on his son’s best friend than he probably knew.
Tucker drained the coffee from his cup in one gulp and stood. “I better get going. A customer could be standing outside the store in the cold, desperate for a pack of gum or a pound of bolts.”
“Or a snow shovel.” She stood and gave him a hug.
Luanne pushed through the kitchen doors, sack in one hand and a to-go cup in the other. “Two apple fritters, a chocolate muffin, and a deep fried cherry pie. That ought to hold your interest for the afternoon.”
He kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, Luanne. Put it on my tab.”
The bell jingled over the door as he let himself out. Sleet had turned to huge fluffy flakes and already covered the surface of the sidewalk in a thin sheet of white. Shelby followed him to the door and stood looking out, arms crossed against the chill. There were a few cars parked along the street, but most of them belonged to the owners of nearby businesses.
Luanne joined her. “The first snow is always so full of hope, isn’t it? Reminds me of childhood. I didn’t yet think about the dangers of driving through it, the work of pushing it off streets and sidewalks, or dealing with frosty windshields and freezing feet. I just looked out at that beautiful white powder and couldn’t wait to throw myself into it.” She slanted a glance at Shelby, a soft smile on her lips. “What about you?”
Shelby’s memories of snowstorms were
n’t quite as pristinely white as Luanne’s. New-fallen snow didn’t mean a day off school to play so much as it meant a day of watching her father drink himself into a stupor. He took a job as a high school English teacher in the iron range of Minnesota after her mother died, but drinking was his profession and on his days off he excelled at it.
“It was too cold in Beaver Junction to enjoy the snow. I was more of an inside girl anyway. Read lots of books.”
Luanne gave her a strange look but kept her thoughts to herself. She glanced at her watch and headed for the kitchen. “I better get the pasties in the oven. I’m sure I’ll have a few men straggling in for lunch soon, and they always want something fast and hot. Sort of like me,” she said and laughed at her own joke.
Shelby watched the snowfall for a few more moments before tugging her coat off the hook by the door and sliding it on over her sweater. It might be fifteen years too late to make childhood memories but every first snow was worth experiencing with childlike exuberance. She called goodbye to Luanne and slipped out the door into the late morning flurries, a huge smile meeting the sky as she lifted her face to feel snowflakes kiss her skin with the lightness of fairy dust. Cold fairy dust, but still magical.
“Mornin’, young lady,” a familiar gruff voice greeted her.
“Jack!” She turned to hug the bearded man who approached. “Blake and I were wondering if you were back in town.”
“Probably thought I was back sleeping on the beach, right?” He chuckled. “Tell my grandson not to worry. I had a few things to take care of, but I’m home now and won’t be leaving Port Scuttlebutt again until God reunites me with Clara.”
Blake’s grandfather had lived on the streets for well over twenty years and was adept at invisibility, but after his sister’s murderer was brought to justice by the front end of a semi truck last spring, he seemed to have a new lease on life. They tried to get him to take a room in the Drunken Sailor, but he refused to be a burden. He might not be sleeping on the beach or park benches anymore, but he still preferred solitude. Blake promised when the offices were finished there would be a comfortable room in the back where Jack could stay undisturbed and come and go as he wished. Until then he often slept on a cot in the back storeroom at Luanne’s café.
Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries) Page 3