“Delia said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Hi!” Callie put her phone away and looked out the window for any approaching customers. “Yes, thanks for coming over.”
“Cute shop,” Jill said, glancing around. She picked up one of Callie’s novelty musical globes from the children’s table and smiled at the Tinker Bell figure inside.
“Thanks. I love Delia’s shop, too, with that amazing variety of salt and pepper shakers.”
“Isn’t it something? She wants me to pick out a set for myself, but I think I should get her a nice gift for what she’s doing for me. As soon as I can afford it, that is.” Jill’s general air of tension that Callie had noticed at their first meeting was still there, and then some. Understandable, of course, from what Delia had shared about Jill’s job situation. The photographer’s gray-streaked dark hair was tied into the messy bun style that could look chic when done right; Jill’s bun looked more “I don’t really care,” which Callie guessed was likely the case.
“Did Delia tell you about the band member who was arrested for the murder at the festival?” she asked.
“Yeah! She said you know him. That must have been a shock, huh?”
“Definitely, and I believe the police have it all wrong. So I’m trying to help him out. You were at the festival Saturday night pretty late, right?”
“Um, yeah, I guess.”
She guessed? Delia had said Jill didn’t come home before eleven thirty and likely much past that, but Callie didn’t press the point.
“What I want to know,” she went on, “is if you saw anything that might help my friend.”
“Like what? I mean, I wasn’t near the stage where the band was, and I was busy with my photography.”
Except when she wasn’t. Callie remembered Jill sitting morosely by herself when she and Brian had walked up. This was starting to feel like pulling teeth.
“What I’m most interested in are the activities of Bobby Linville, the man who was murdered. He was the band’s manager, but he didn’t stay only in the stage area. He moved around during the festival. You would have recognized him from seeing him at Dino’s Diner the night you were there with Delia. He came in with Hank and went around passing out flyers about the band from table to table. I noticed that you seemed disturbed by it.”
“Yeah. I remember. I thought that was really gross. I mean, bothering people like that when they’re trying to eat? He was lucky he didn’t come to our table.” Jill’s color had risen, evidence of the temper Delia had mentioned. What would she have done if Bobby had approached her?
“So, did you see him around at the festival?”
Jill frowned and fiddled with another one of Callie’s smaller music boxes. “You know, I did see him one time, maybe around ten-ish? I was taking a break, getting something to drink, and as I headed back
I heard some kind of argument going on. I looked over—I think they were between the Christmas ornaments booth and another one. Not too many people around that area then, with the band pulling most everyone to the stage. It surprised me, ’cause, you know, everyone else was having such a good time and all, and I stopped. They looked over at me and dropped their voices in a hurry, but they were still hissing-like. I moved on.”
“They? Bobby and who else? A man?” Please, let it not be Hank.
“No, a woman. Short dark hair, and a kind of sparkly T-shirt on.”
Krystal Cobb? “Designer jeans?”
“I guess. Nice ones, anyway.”
“You didn’t hear what the argument was about?”
“Nope, sorry. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Well, that’s good. Thanks! If you remember anything else, please let me know, okay?” When Jill nodded rather gloomily, Callie said, “I’m so sorry the festival didn’t work out for you. Delia told me you’re looking for a new job. I guess you want to stick to something in photography, huh?”
“That’s what I’m best at and what I love. If nothing comes up, though …” Jill shrugged. “I can’t impose on Delia forever. I’ve done waitressing before. I suppose I can do it again if I have to. Funny how that goes, isn’t it?” She smiled grimly. “On TV they said Bobby Linville dropped out of the music business a while back for ‘personal problems.’” Her fingers made air quotes. “That’s usually code, you know, for ‘he ticked off a lot of people.’ But there he was, back in and all was forgiven. But me? I stand up for myself once or twice and what do I get?” She shook her head.
Callie was sure Jill wouldn’t want to end up how Bobby had ended up, but doubted she’d care to hear that at the moment. And she did sympathize. Everyone certainly had the right to stand up for themselves, though how they handled it made a big difference. She genuinely wished Jill the best of luck and hoped that she would find work in her beloved profession, which could go a long way to brightening her attitude. Otherwise, she hoped any future diners who might be waited on by Delia’s friend would be extremely careful about voicing any complaints.
Twelve
“Thanks for coming with me.” Callie smiled at Brian as they got out of his car at the library. She knew meetings were not Brian’s favorite way to spend an evening, not by a long shot. But when she’d explained what she hoped to glean from it, he’d been agreeable.
“No problem.” Brian smiled back and took her hand. “Might as well find out what our association’s up to.”
Their walk through the parking lot was pleasant, with a few thin clouds softening the otherwise bright sunset, and the temperature was mild. But Callie could feel a change in the air as they drew closer to the library’s meeting room. Keepsake Cove shopkeepers heading there walked briskly, and though they greeted one another, the smiles struck her as a bit tight. In the room, people didn’t actually huddle, whispering in small groups, but circulated, which Callie took as a good sign, though the chatter was quieter than usual.
Brian pitched in to set up chairs, and once that was done, Krystal tapped the microphone and asked everyone to take a seat. She’d returned to a more formal style of dress for her role as association president, with a navy cotton blazer over a striped skirt. But something was missing. After a moment, Callie realized that nothing sparkled—either on the jacket, the cami underneath, or even Krystal’s jewelry, which were simple turquoise beads. Highly unusual for the woman, and Callie couldn’t help wondering if it signaled anything, especially after what Jill had told her about Krystal and Bobby’s apparent fight. She intended to ask Krystal about that as soon as she could manage.
She and Brian settled into two end seats in the third row, and the other chairs soon filled up. She saw Delia near the back and finger-waved to her. Jill must have decided watching TV would be more her cup of tea, and Callie couldn’t blame her.
“All right, folks,” Krystal said. “Let’s get started. Thank you all for coming out on such short notice. A lot of you have been emailing me about the losses we took from the festival, so I thought we might as well lay it all out at once.” She turned to Duane and said, “For that, I’ll turn it over to our treasurer.” She handed Duane the microphone and stepped aside.
“Thank you, Krystal,” Duane said. He looked his usual genial self, smiling as he glanced around at the group. But Callie couldn’t bring herself to smile back. His bald claim, in front of the others, that he’d only hired the Badlanders because of her still rankled. She’d remained cordial with him for months despite becoming aware of his self-serving ways, and she supposed she’d have to continue to do so. But that wouldn’t start tonight.
He went through the figures, listing the expenses of the festival and the proceeds from its single day of operation, which left the association with a loss. Everything seemed to add up, and he promised that the figures would soon be uploaded to the association website for all to study. “So you see, though I’m totally sympathetic with those of you who lost the cost of your booth rental for the secon
d day because of the festival being closed, there’s no way to refund those fees. It’s simply not doable.”
“And keep in mind,” Krystal stood up to say, “the Keepsake Cove shops that didn’t set up booths on the festival grounds also lost out on the sales they’d hoped for when the crowds we expected stayed away.”
“They’re still staying away,” a plaintive voice called out. It was Emily Frazier, whose shop carried collectible cookie jars. The petite, ponytailed woman’s head could barely be seen, surrounded as she was with much larger people. “My business was terrible today.”
“Mine, too!” a male voice seconded. Soon half the room had joined in with the same complaint.
Delia rose, calling out over the others, “It’s natural after what happened, but it’s just temporary, folks. We can get through it. What we should be thinking of is what to do next to bring the crowds back. Memorial Day isn’t that far away. How about planning something for then?”
“That’s three weeks away!” Howard Graham cried.
“Yes, but surely your shop can hang in there,” Delia answered.
“I wouldn’t have to hang in if the festival hadn’t turned into such a disaster. And who’s going to want to come to anything we have on Memorial Day? They’ll be afraid for their lives!”
“Come, now,” Duane soothed. “They will be no such thing. The murder wasn’t some kind of mugging gone wrong that would make people afraid it could happen again. They’ve already arrested the person who did it. So it’s over and done with.”
No it’s not! Callie squirmed in her seat but kept her mouth shut.
“It still ruined things for all of us,” Howard fussed. “You never should have brought that country-western band here.”
“Well, as I explained, it wasn’t—”
Brian jumped up and interrupted. “I think Delia’s idea of a Memorial Day celebration is great. I’ll volunteer to head a committee for that. Suggestions, anyone, for something a little different that will catch people’s attention?”
The group was silent for several moments. Then Lyle Moody rose slowly. “I’m new to the Cove, as you all know,” he drawled, automatically reminding everyone of the type of memorabilia he sold. “But from what I understand, Memorial Day is practically a stampede to the beaches around here. No use trying to detour those folks when they smell water. Would Mother’s Day be better?”
“Too soon!” someone called out. “It’ll have to be in June.”
“June!” Howard eyes popped, as he obviously feared bankruptcy by that time.
“Um, people?” Duane said into his microphone. “May I remind you we don’t have money for another event right now.”
The group went silent.
After a few moments, Brian said, “Then how about the entire Cove having a fantastic sale? The day before Mother’s Day. All we’d have to do is advertise.”
Heads nodded and murmurs of agreement ran around the room. Even Howard looked okay with the idea.
“Great,” Brian said. “We have a consensus.”
“Terrific,” Duane said. “I knew we could work this all out.” He babbled some more about deadlines for the ads and other details while Callie locked onto his use of we. He’d quickly taken credit for the solution Brian had thought of.
Krystal took back the microphone to bring up a couple of more mundane topics, then officially adjourned the meeting. Chairs scraped as a general chatter and gradual scatter began.
“Thanks for jumping in when you did,” Callie said to Brian. “But you almost got yourself stuck with a huge committee job.”
“You’re welcome. I’d say it would have been worth it, but I’m actually feeling lucky that things went the other way.”
Callie saw Krystal wrapping up the microphone cord at the front of the room, several feet away from anyone. “Excuse me, Brian. I’d like to talk to Krystal for a minute.”
But before she could act, a voice called out from the meeting room’s doorway. “Krystal! One of the library ladies wants to talk to you.”
Krystal set down the microphone and hurried over.
Shoot. Callie glanced around and saw shopkeepers scuttling for the exit, none apparently in the mood to extend the evening.
“Looks like I’m not going to be able to pick any brains here tonight.”
“Not unless you tackle them first. I think I hear engines revving already.”
Callie smiled ruefully. “Well, it’s not my only chance. I can still track them down. It’ll just take longer.”
She grabbed her purse and left the room with Brian—a little less rapidly than the others—then waited until they were on the road to bring up her other concern.
“You’ve been very supportive, and I really appreciate it. But I don’t want this to be a problem between us.”
“This, being … ?”
“My getting actively involved with Hank’s situation. I’m doing it only because I’m so sure the police are mistaken. And because he’s alone here. The rest of the band has taken off.”
Brian was silent, so Callie went on. “I haven’t forgotten what a total jerk he can be, so I don’t want you to think in the least that I might be doing this because of some old feelings being stirred. It’s not that at all. I might do the same if one of his band members had been wrongly charged, someone I didn’t know but who needed help.”
Brian smiled. “I wish it was one of the other band members. And that it was Hank who’d taken off. But I understand your reasons, and I’m okay with it.”
“Really?”
“Really. Just be careful, okay?’
Callie promised, and she was happy with Brian’s reassurance. After savoring it for a few moments, her thoughts moved ahead to her next concern. “I’ll be talking to Krystal soon about an argument Jill saw her having with Bobby, but I don’t know that much about her. It’d be good to have a clearer picture. Is Krystal single? I’ve never heard of a Mr. Cobb.”
“Divorced. I think I heard she moved here from western Pennsylvania.”
“Children?”
“Don’t know. With our level of interaction, that topic never came up.”
“She was president when I came to the Cove last year. Has she done it for long?”
Brian considered that. “This must be her third year. It’s a thankless job, if you ask me, but she’s good at it. And she must like it, or she wouldn’t keep doing it.”
“She obviously knows everybody in the Cove. But is she particularly close to anyone?”
Brian shook his head, laughing lightly. “You’re asking the wrong …wait! Now that you mention it. She’s probably good friends with Rhonda Furman. Rhonda runs Timely Treasures.”
Callie thought for a minute. “Collectible clocks?”
Brian did a thumbs-up. “I’ve seen them with their heads together at the end of meetings. Looked like friend-type talk instead of business.”
“Okay. That’s good to know. Gosh, it’s amazing the shops I still don’t know about in this place.”
“And just when you think you know them all, more pop up. Like mushrooms.”
Callie grinned at the image. Whack-a-Mole came to mind next, but then her smile faded. That sounded too close to what had happened to Bobby Linville. Somebody had certainly whacked him. But why? His popping up in Keepsake Cove must have been a big problem for someone. What that problem was, exactly, and for whom, was going to be Callie’s job to find out.
Thirteen
The next day, Callie took off within minutes of Tabitha’s arrival at the shop and headed to the other end of Keepsake Cove where Krystal Cobb’s collectible dolls shop was located. She remembered assuming, at her very first association meeting, that the group’s president must own a glass-related shop, until Delia set her straight. Callie had always thought it was a regrettable loss of a good name for a shop. Krystal’s Gob
lets? But Krystal’s interests lay in a different direction, as evidenced by Forever Dolls.
Lyssa had called that morning, and she and Callie agreed to team up, so Callie wasn’t surprised to spot her standing outside the shop’s window studying the display. She easily recognized the author from a distance by her spiked red hair, which the sun had turned into tiny flames. In addition, Lyssa had thrown a brightly colored scarf around her neck, adding to the glow. Callie thought it was a good thing they weren’t doing anything undercover that day, since they’d never get away with it.
“I had a doll like that once,” Lyssa said as Callie drew near. She pointed to a rosy-cheeked, gingham-dressed doll with a white bonnet tied under its chin. “An older relative gave it to me, but my mother never let me play with it. It was too special.”
“Now’s your chance,” Callie said. “You could start a collection.”
“Nah. Not my thing.” Lyssa dismissed the thought with a head shake, but Callie thought she saw a wistful look in the author’s eyes. “Ready to go in?”
“Ready.”
Krystal was dealing with a single customer when they entered the shop, so Callie and Lyssa browsed. “Had a few of those,” Lyssa said, gesturing at a table of Barbie dolls. Unopened packages of sequined dresses surrounded the dolls, along with sets of tiny high-heeled shoes and accessories.
“Who didn’t?” Callie asked. “I used to think she was how we’d all look when we grew up.”
“Good thing we didn’t. We’d be struggling just to stay upright. Way too top-heavy for those little feet. Pretty hair, though.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. Cobb,” Krystal’s customer said as she gathered up her package. “I’ve been looking for Caroline for years.” She gently patted her box, which apparently contained a named doll.
Krystal beamed and assured the woman it was totally her pleasure, then shifted her gaze to Callie and Lyssa as her customer turned to leave.
“Hello there! How nice to see you both again. Ms. Hammond, did you come for our spring festival? If so, I’m sorry for the disappointment.”
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