Lyssa pulled up in front of House of Melody, and they hugged before Callie climbed out. She headed down the side path to her cottage, feeling as though it had been months since she’d left it. Jagger apparently felt the same, as he greeted her with an agitated mix of joy and scolding. Delia had, of course, taken over his care and feeding as soon as she’d learned Callie was in the hospital. But to hear Jagger, he’d been starved and abandoned for ages.
Her neighbor had also apparently been watching for her and soon appeared at her door, full of many of the same emotions as Jagger, which included an affectionate scolding. Duane took a well-deserved hit as Delia expressed her horror and anger over everything he’d done, seeming to feel much better once she got it all out. She then moved on, saying, “I have some good news. Jill got a job.”
“Wonderful! Is it something she’ll be happy with?”
Delia smiled knowingly. “We’ll see. But it’ll allow her to be independent again, a major concern. She’ll be working with a school photographer, one of those guys who takes yearbook photos.”
“At least it’s in her field. I’m very glad for her.” Callie hesitated. “You know, I was suspicious of Jill concerning the murder. But I’m more than happy to be proven wrong.”
“I knew you had your doubts about her, and though I didn’t agree, I could understand why. Jill’s been so angry and defensive. But a lot of that, I’m sure, was due to unhappiness with her own life.” Delia smiled again, this time with a little sparkle in her eyes. “But that might be changing.”
“You mean with the job?”
“I mean with a little romance. Jill and Gavin have been talking. She’s starting to realize how much she’s meant to him all these years. So much so that he actually relocated a few times just to be near her and make sure she was okay. She told me she’s had difficulty for years believing that she was worth anyone’s love. But she’s starting to come around.”
Callie thought that Jill’s time with Delia probably played a big role in helping her turn things around. She remembered Brian’s comment some days earlier about Delia being protective of her friend. At the time, she’d worried that Delia might be overly protective and naively shielding a criminal. But it was likely that Delia was just what Jill needed at a particularly low time in her life.
So it appeared things were getting back on track for the photographer; now Callie needed to do the same for herself. With that thought, she promised to check with Delia later, and bustled up the stairs to cover her scrapes and bruises and generally make herself presentable for that day’s music box shoppers.
Thirty-Nine
Callie had barely opened her still-dim shop when a woman walked in who looked vaguely familiar, though Callie couldn’t place her. That was explained when she introduced herself as Jamie Brooks, daughter of Rhonda Furman, who she resembled strongly.
“I came down yesterday for a little visit with Mom and Dad,” she said.
Callie welcomed her, and they chatted a bit about the clock shop and the new baby in the family—Jamie’s nephew—who Callie remembered Rhonda mentioning. Then Jamie turned serious.
“I heard about the arrest of that glass shop owner for the murders.”
Callie nodded.
“You know, when Mom told me about Bobby Linville’s murder, I hate to say it, but I was almost glad.”
“Oh?”
“Terrible of me, I suppose, but he was an awful person. And he hurt someone I cared about very much.” Jamie’s expression was a mixture of anger and sadness. “Tiffany Cobb.”
“Krystal’s daughter.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sorry about my mother misleading you.”
Callie’s eyebrows went up, questioning.
“Mom told me about that crazy story she made up.”
“You mean about buying a car from Bobby?”
“She was trying to protect Krystal from unnecessary and hurtful questions,” Jamie said. “Krystal still struggles with Tiffany’s death, which wouldn’t have happened if Tiffany never met Bobby. While Krystal despised the man, as we all did, she never would have acted violently against him. Mom knew that.”
“What happened to Tiffany?” Callie asked softly.
Jamie sighed. She picked up a musical snow globe and rocked it back and forth, watching the gentle snowfall before putting it down. “They met at Clayton Daniel during our first year there. Bobby was a year older and seemed very man-of-the-world. He was also a big drinker, a party guy, and I blame him for drawing Tiffany into that too. Once she started drinking, she couldn’t seem to stop. She got pregnant and dropped out of school. Bobby, of course, disappeared. The baby was born with major problems and didn’t survive, which Tiffany blamed herself for, and she fell into a deep depression. Her folks tried their best to get her help, but nothing worked. She died a few years later in a horrible accident while driving under the influence.”
“How sad.”
Jamie nodded. “It was. I don’t know how Krystal got through it all. But she’s pretty amazing. I just wanted you to know that, and to understand why my Mom spun that tale, in case it happens to come out. That kind of thing isn’t like her at all. But it came from good intentions.”
Jamie picked up the snow globe again and turned the key under its base. “Let It Snow” began to play as the figures of two children skated in circles inside the glass ball. She smiled.
“This reminds me of when Tiffany and I were kids. We had such fun together, growing up. Happier memories.”
She reached into her purse for a credit card, saying she wanted to buy it, but Callie stopped her. “Please. I’d like you to have it. It was good of you to come and tell me this.”
Callie’s heart ached for Krystal, who had endured some of the worst pain a mother could have and continued to suffer, never letting on to her new friends in Keepsake Cove. The small room in Krystal’s home with the collection of what were probably Tiffany’s dolls, and its single chair facing them, must have given her some comfort. But running into Bobby Linville so unexpectedly had surely brought back all the pain. And the revelations about Duane Fletcher, a man Krystal had worked with and trusted, could only have increased it.
Thankfully, Krystal had her good friend Rhonda nearby to help. Callie intended to do what she could while also respecting the older woman’s privacy. If, in time, Krystal felt inclined to talk about her daughter, Callie vowed to be there to listen. And if anyone raised the slightest criticism against Krystal as association president or anything else, she would be her staunchest defender.
Callie and Brian walked through the airport after she’d checked in. Brian toted her carry-on, which she appreciated since she’d stuffed far too much in it, as she always seemed to do. She was glad he’d come in with her, despite her urging him to simply drop her off. He’d seemed to read her mind and suggested they stop for a meal before she went through security, since all she’d likely receive on the plane was crackers or peanuts. No nonstop flight to Oregon for her, unfortunately.
“Pizza? Soup and sandwich? Tacos?” he asked as they strolled.
Most of those places looked super crowded. Callie pointed out a cocktail lounge that offered food and, for the moment, at least was quieter.
“Excellent choice.”
They grabbed a table and got their food, which included a glass of wine for each, which Brian added without asking, making the dinner much less of a hurry-up-and-eat event and more sit back, catch your breath, and enjoy.
Callie started to do so, and as they ate she told Brian about her siding having been unexpectedly repaired that afternoon. “Bob Hawkins managed to scrounge up enough pieces of siding in my particular color. The power company promised to come out now that it’s fixed. That’ll make things so much better for Tabitha while I’m gone.” She started to reach for her wine glass, then stopped. Somebody had called her name.
“Callie! Hey, Callie! W
ow, I can’t believe this. What luck!”
She looked toward the outer walkway to see a tall man in denims, cowboy hat, and boots. Snakeskin boots. She sighed.
“Wow, who’d a’ guessed we’d run into each other here.” Hank swung his duffle over one shoulder and bumped his way toward their table.
She had thought they’d made their final goodbyes over the phone. “Hey, sorry to do it like this,” Hank had said the day before. “But I got tied up a lot more than I expected, and now I have to grab a flight to catch up with the band.” Callie had been perfectly fine with that and told him so, happily wishing him all the best. And now he was here.
“My flight got canceled,” Hank explained, scraping a chair over to sit with them and nodding cheerfully to Brian. “Thunderstorms or something. Spent the whole night here trying to get rescheduled. Pain in the you-know-what! But, hey! It must have been meant to be ’cause now I get to see you before I go.”
“What flight did you get?” Callie asked. On hearing it wasn’t hers, she relaxed.
Hank sobered. “Babe, I heard about what you went through. You never said a word about it! If it wasn’t for Allard, I never woulda known.”
Callie shrugged. “It turned out okay. No lasting effects.”
He covered her hand, ready to say more, at which point Brian popped up. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” Before Callie could say a word, he was gone.
Hank leaned in closer. “If I ever thought anything like that would happen …” He choked, clearing his throat. “Believe me, I never wanted you to be hurt in any way.”
“I know, Hank. The important thing is, I’m fine, Ben is fine, and you’ve been cleared. This horrible mess is over, and we can get back to our own lives again.”
Hank brightened at that. “Yes, we can! The band kept up with the gigs that were already scheduled, they held my spot open for me, and …” He paused dramatically. “I came up with a new song while I was in detention!”
Callie grinned. All was right with Hank’s world. “I’m glad for you, Hank.”
They heard a final-call flight announcement. “Hey, that’s me! I gotta run!”
As he pushed his chair back, Callie stood to give him a farewell hug. “I’ll be looking to hear that new song on the radio someday.”
“This might be the big one!” Hank dashed off, his duffle coming close to sweeping a table or two, and Callie resumed her seat. She’d finished her wine when Brian returned and slipped back into his chair.
“Want another?” He indicated the empty glass.
“I’m good. Sorry if you felt run off.”
“Not at all.” Brian picked up his fork.
“You’ve been wonderfully understanding and helpful during this whole ordeal, Brian. I want you to know how much that means to me.” Callie reached out her hand.
Brian took it with both of his, saying, “Just so we’re clear, I did it because of what you mean to me.”
It was Callie’s turn to get emotional. When she had her voice back, she said, “Right now, I wish that woman with the big hat who’s sitting behind you wasn’t watching us like a hawk.”
Brian smiled. “We could give her something to really watch.”
“Or give her a heart attack. I also wish I didn’t have to fly off for several days.”
“You’ll be back. And we can get back to our lives again,” Brian said, unwittingly echoing what Callie had just said to Hank, which made her grin.
“And will you write a song for me while I’m gone?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Just be you.” Callie pushed back her chair. It was time to leave. “That’s all I want.”
While other passengers loaded carry-ons into overheads and settled into place, Callie gazed out at the tarmac from her window seat. Her phone rang and she smiled, instantly recognizing the ringtone.
“Hi, Delia. What’s up?”
“Good news! Your new electric meter has been installed. You have power!”
“Fantastic! Thanks for letting me know.” They chatted briefly, Delia wishing her a safe trip, and then said their goodbyes.
As Callie put her phone away, she thought of how it had rung when she’d been bound so helplessly in Duane’s storage shed. The idea that she had a way to call for help had urged her on. And then she’d found the phone useless.
She’d forgotten this part of her ordeal, what with everything that had followed, but now she had to wonder. If she hadn’t had cell phone access in that shed, why did her phone ring, and who had called? Her phone hadn’t shown any missed calls.
Just now, she’d recognized the personalized ringtone she’d set for Delia. And she had ones for Brian, Tabitha, and Lyssa. It hadn’t been any of those. Callie pulled up her contacts list and scrolled down, thinking. Then it came to her.
Over a year earlier, when she and Aunt Mel had chatted before Callie’s visit to Keepsake Cove, she’d chosen a special ringtone for her aunt. It was the first few notes of a song that fit with what those conversations with her aunt meant to her. With her aunt’s death, of course, the calls had ended.
Or had they?
It was shortly after Aunt Mel died that Grandpa Reed’s music box, treasured by Mel and Callie alike, had begun to play unexpectedly, often at crucial moments. Coincidence? Callie never knew for sure.
There was no music box in that storage shed. But her phone had rung unexpectedly, and at a crucial time—when she was about to give up. Hearing the phone had spurred her on.
She pressed the ringtone she’d set up long ago for her aunt, and which she now knew was what she’d heard in the shed. The familiar notes of “You Raise Me Up” played.
The man who’d just buckled himself into the seat next to her looked over. “Nice song.” He smiled a grandfatherly smile. “Must be for someone special.”
Callie smiled back and nodded, then looked out of her window.
Yes, it was.
The End
Acknowledgments
I’m very grateful to my husband, Terry Hughes, who has been endlessly supportive and patient, especially when a deadline looms and there’s no food in the house. The long-running Annapolis Critique Group has, as always, been invaluable in the development of this book. Thank you Becky Hutchison, Bonnie Settle, Debbi Mack, Penny Clover Petersen, Marcia Talley, and particularly Sherriel Mattingly, who saved me from wasting a major plot point.
I’m also grateful to the Midnight Ink team, especially my excellent editor Sandy Sullivan, amazing cover illustrator Mary Ann Lasher-Dodge, and the person who oversaw and kept it all together so well, Terri Bischoff.
Many thanks, once again, to agent extraordinaire Kim Lionetti, and to all the wonderful readers who let me know, one way or another, that it’s all really worth it.
About the Author
Mary Ellen Hughes is the bestselling author of the Pickled and Preserved Mysteries (Penguin), the Craft Corner Mysteries (Penguin), and the Maggie Olenski Mysteries (Avalon), along with several short stories. A Curio Killing continues her Keepsake Cove mystery series with Midnight Ink, which also includes A Fatal Collection and A Vintage Death. A Wisconsin native, Hughes has lived most of her adult life in Maryland, where she’s set many of her stories. Visit her online at www.MaryEllenHughes.com.
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