Secrets in a Bottle

by Shelly West

  However, he seemed more relieved than anything, his soft eyes unfocused, lost in thought. “I sure hope so. I’d hate for anything bad to happen to her.”

  Abigail wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “How do you know her, Mr. Lebeau?”

  “You kidding? Who in this town doesn’t know her? Her, and her cookies.” Lee looked a little disappointed. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do for breakfast anymore. I’ve been on the ‘Granny’s Cookies’ diet for years now.” He added in an awkward laugh, seemingly to lighten the mood.

  Abigail maintained her unconvinced glower. “Cookies, huh?”

  “Y-yeah, she bakes these delicious chocolate chip cookies every morning and leaves them out on the counter. She can’t sell them—you know, ‘cause she doesn’t have the proper licenses, but she can legally give them away. She’s a real stickler for the law, as you probably know…”

  Abigail looked away, sweeping her raven hair behind her shoulders as she realized this guy knew her grandmother better than she did.

  Lee continued, “People come in for the free cookies then end up buying antiques. Mrs. Lane is tricky like that. Even I’m not immune to her tactics, despite being onto her game. Got a whole bunch of nautical-themed antiques in my house because of her.”

  Abigail was starting to think maybe Lee wasn’t the intruder after all since he seemed to have a fondness for Grandma. Her muscles loosened up a bit, and she even thought about inviting him in to water the plants.

  But then Lee pointed at Thor and said, “So that beast of yours… You just let him roam around without a leash? Not scared he’ll trample over some old lady?”

  Abigail snapped, “What do you think? After what happened to Grandma, of course I’m going to have my guard dog sit out front.”

  Lee stammered, “N-no, I mean… I’m not trying to start any trouble, just saying there’s a leash law here.”

  Abigail glared at him. Steam would’ve come out of her ears if it were physically possible. “That’s it,” she declared. “You’re banned. Get off the porch.” She pointed to the street, her arm locked tight.

  “What? Banned?”

  “Yeah. Banned!”

  Lee frowned. “From what?”

  “From the store!”

  He laughed. “You can’t ban me—”

  “Oh, really? Should I sic Thor on you?”

  Lee took several steps back as Thor stood up. Still, he managed to resist. “I’ll let Mrs. Lane have the final word on that, whenever she wakes up.” He then added haughtily, “Good day,” before storming off.

  Abigail turned and headed back inside with Thor, slamming the door behind her. Some nerve. Did people around here think they could just waltz into Grandma’s house, even when she was laid up in the hospital? And did Lee really think Abigail would buy that he was ‘just coming in to water the plants’?

  Seemed like a pretty dumb excuse to her, the kind of excuse a guilty person might think up on the fly… Either way, this ‘Lee’ guy had better watch himself, lest Abigail be forced to show him the true power of Thor.

  Her phone rang, and to her embarrassment she let out a startled squeak. Abigail took in a deep breath to compose herself before answering.

  It was a nurse on the other line. Grandma was awake!

  Chapter 7

  Abigail hurried through the hospital halls as if Grandma might slip away at any moment. Sure, the nurse said Grandma woke up in good health, but Abigail had her doubts, considering how old Grandma was.

  She practically skidded to a stop at the door to Grandma’s room. To her disappointment, Grandma seemed to already have a couple of visitors. Sure, it might’ve been selfish, but Abigail wanted Grandma all to herself, at least for their first meeting.

  Then her mind registered that one of Grandma’s visitors was a sheriff, as shown by the man’s uniform and bushy gray mustache, the same kind of mustache that seemed to adorn every sheriff’s upper lip. She noticed his last name stitched on his uniform: Sheriff Wilson. Beside him stood Sally, who seemed to be assisting Grandma in answering the sheriff’s questions.

  Grandma noticed Abigail at the doorway for a brief moment before Sheriff Wilson commanded her complete attention again. “Come on, Mrs. Lane,” he began, his voice gruff. “Do you remember anything? Anything as all?”

  Grandma pouted at him. “Mrs. Lane? Why the formality, Willy?” Her voice was soft and shaky.

  Sheriff Wilson cleared his throat. “It’s a… serious situation, Mrs. Lane. Whoever attacked you is still out there.”

  Grandma eyed him sideways then answered his question. “Well, I’ll have you know that nobody attacked me.”

  “Then what happened that night?”

  “I heard a ruckus and decided to go downstairs to investigate. It was dark, so I tripped and fell.”

  Both Sally and Sheriff Wilson seemed to unwind upon hearing that. “So this was simply an accident?” Sheriff Wilson clarified.

  Grandma nodded gently. “Yes, but it’s the darndest thing. Would you believe it—I tripped over a dead body!”

  The tension that had disappeared from the room came flooding back tenfold. Sheriff Wilson leaned forward. “What dead body, Mrs. Lane?”

  “The one I tripped over, of course.”

  Sally put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “Granny… There was no body in the house.” She looked over at the sheriff. “Right, Willy?”

  Sheriff Wilson became as rigid as a statue. Not noticing a dead body was a pretty big oversight for a sheriff…

  “Are you sure, Mrs. Lane? I thoroughly checked the entire store and residence after I had the ambulance take you away. Aside from a few items looking out of place, there was certainly no body, no sign of blood, or any evidence of forced entry either. So how could you have possibly tripped over a body?”

  Grandma looked like she might’ve doubted herself, but only for a second. “No, I definitely tripped over a body. A big fellow too. It was dark though, so I only got a glimpse of him as I was falling down. I couldn’t tell you who it was.”

  Sheriff Wilson’s frown deepened, and to Abigail’s surprise, he took Grandma at her word. “The front door was wide open, so perhaps, if there really was a body, the killer might’ve removed it from the scene after you tripped over it. You said you heard a ruckus which prompted you to go downstairs, right?”

  Grandma corrected herself, “Well, see, I didn’t hear it so much as Missy heard it. My hearing isn’t quite what it used to be—you know how it is, getting older. But I knew there had to be some commotion going on down there the way Missy was fussing.”

  Sheriff Wilson looked desperate for a clue, as if he were moments away from shaking Grandma by the shoulders to get one out of her. “So you didn’t hear a shuffling, a gunshot, yelling, anything?”

  Grandma shrugged. “You’d have to ask Missy that, though I doubt you’d get a satisfactory answer out of her.”

  Sheriff Wilson sighed and looked down at the notes he had taken. “This isn’t much to work with.” He scratched at his mustache as he thought. “All right, I’ll let you rest for now. The moment you’re discharged from the hospital, I’ll need you to look over the store and tell me if anything seems out of place to you, or if anything was stolen.”

  “Doubt that’ll be the case. I hardly have anything worth stealing. Not after somebody bought up all my rarer items a week ago…”

  Sheriff Wilson perked up. “What do you mean?”

  “Some out-of-towner came in and wiped me clean of my most valuable items. The ones I had for sale, anyhow.”

  “You mean you have antiques that aren’t for sale?”

  “There’s a few knickknacks that are near and dear to me. I keep them on display just to show them off. He wanted to purchase those too, naturally, but I wouldn’t accept any of his offers.”

  “Can you recall this man’s name?”

  Grandma looked up as she pondered it. “He had an odd name. I believe it was Reginald.”

  “Reginald Gr
imes?” the sheriff asked, straightening up. “I ask because some folks in town have had interesting encounters with a man by that name.”

  Grandma mulled over the full name then shrugged again. “I don’t recall him volunteering his last name. But he did seem like a ‘grimy’ fellow, if that helps you.”

  Sheriff Wilson gave a thoughtful nod and made a note—as did Abigail, only mentally. Even to her, it was obvious who the main suspect was.

  This man, if he really was responsible for the body, was clearly dangerous. That, and he had a reason to target Grandma since apparently she had an antique he wanted. And who knew if he got what he was looking for… He very well could come back.

  Abigail doubted she’d be comfortable leaving town until this man was caught. She’d have to do some snooping around if that were the case, because she wasn’t sure just how many resources the sheriff of a small town could put into such an investigation.

  Grandma pointed a shaky delicate finger at Abigail, asking, “Who’s that young woman standing in the doorway? She’s been standing there a while. I can’t quite make her out from here.”

  Sally and Sheriff Wilson finally noticed Abigail, and Sally was happy to break the news: “Mrs. Lane, that’s Abigail, your granddaughter.”

  Grandma’s eyes grew wide. “Abigail?” she asked after a moment. “Is it really you?”

  Abigail shifted on her feet, a little uncertain how she should act. “Hi, Grandma. Yeah, it’s me. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Grandma held out her arms, chuckling at the absurdity of having to say, “It’s nice to meet you too, Abigail. Now come give your grandma a much needed hug!”

  Sheriff Wilson and Sally took that as their cue to leave, finally giving Abigail some alone time with her long-lost family. Abigail’s heart pounded harder than ever before as she made her way over to Grandma’s side.

  Chapter 8

  Abigail wrapped her arms gently around her grandmother, unsure just how fragile the woman was. Grandma pulled her in tight, practically squeezing the air out of her. Not such a fragile old woman after all…

  Abigail pulled away after a moment and laughed. “Wow, Grandma. You have the strength of a bear.”

  Grandma looked Abigail over lovingly, memorizing every inch of her. “You’re a petite little thing, like me and your mother. Just gorgeous.”

  “Th-thank you.” Abigail said, not used to compliments.

  Grandma squeezed Abigail’s shoulder. “We’ll have to make up for lost time now, won’t we?” She winked.

  Abigail smiled. “I’d like that.” She wanted to ask more about why her mom cut Grandma off from her life, but she decided now wasn’t the time. Why ruin a nice moment?

  Grandma continued, “Where are you staying, dear?”

  “At your store. Sally set me up there, and is having me watch Missy. I hope all of that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. I know Missy can be a handful though. I sure hope I haven’t put you out in any way.”

  “No, Grandma. Not at all.”

  “You live in Boston, right? It wasn’t any trouble coming all the way down here?”

  “It wasn’t. I sorta make my own hours anyhow.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m a claims adjuster.”

  Grandma tilted her head.

  Abigail explained further, “You know, I check insurance claims. Make sure no one’s trying to pull a scam.”

  “That must not be a fun job,” Grandma commented after thinking about it.

  “Yeah. I do feel bad about it sometimes. Of course, not when I’m dealing with a legit scammer. I like to give them a what for.”

  Grandma smirked. “That’s my girl. You must be a good judge of character, then.”

  Abigail shrugged, not sure how to take all the praise. “I-I suppose.”

  “You need to have good judgment in my line of work too.”

  Abigail laughed. “I can’t imagine antiques attract a bad crowd.”

  Grandma snickered. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Some antiques are to die for, as you can see…”

  Abigail couldn’t believe Grandma could joke about the intrusion that had put her in a coma.

  Grandma continued, “I hope this isn’t too forward, but I want my store and home to be yours someday.”

  “Oh—don’t talk like that. You’re going to live forever,” Abigail insisted. She didn’t want to think about inheritance of all things.

  “Let’s be realistic, dear: You’re going to outlive me. So this is a great chance for you to get to know the store and how to run it.”

  Abigail shook her head and insisted, “Let’s just focus on getting you back up and running. Okay, Grandma? Besides, I have obligations—my job. I can’t give that up.”

  “Do you enjoy your work?” Grandma asked, her keen eyes demanding the truth.

  “Well… No, not really. To be honest, I kinda hate it. But it’s a job, and it pays the bills. That makes me luckier than a lot of people these days.”

  Grandma nodded with patient understanding, letting that admission sit in the air for a moment. “Help me run this store for a bit and see how you like it. Life’s too short to be hating every minute of it.”

  “If you insist,” Abigail said, but without too much resistance. She couldn’t imagine ever saying no to this woman.

  “Good. You can start right away.”

  Abigail blinked. “Um. When?”

  “Why not tomorrow? Time is money.”

  “But I don’t know anything about running a store. Or antiques.”

  “It’s easy. Open at 10, close at 6. Those are the busier hours. Put up a sign if you go out to lunch. Everything is marked. If people pay the asking price, great. If they want to pay less, use your best judgment.”

  Abigail had a feeling it was a bit more complicated than that. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. And what if someone comes in to sell me something? Does that happen?”

  “Sometimes. Just do your best.”

  “But, I…”

  Grandma dismissed Abigail with a wave. “You’ll do fine.” Her lackadaisical manner was such a sharp contrast to the uptight micromanagement Abigail was used to from her job. But maybe that was a good thing? Maybe this line of work wasn’t so strict and stressful?

  Abigail could get used to that. “All right, Grandma. I’ll do my best.”

  Grandma smiled then adjusted her pillow. “As much as I’d like to keep talking, I can barely keep my eyes open. We’ll have to catch up later, once I’m feeling better.”

  Abigail gently squeezed Grandma’s hand. “Okay. I’ll hold down the fort. Sleep well.”

  She hesitated, then kissed Grandma’s warm forehead. By then the elderly woman was already asleep.

  As Abigail headed out, she couldn’t believe how much trust Grandma had in her to let her run the shop. The last thing Abigail wanted was to disappoint Grandma, though she had a feeling Grandma would forgive any mistakes she might make.

  Still, she would take the responsibility very seriously. She already knew all the things she’d Google once she got home: Small business 101, antique values, haggling, and customer service.

  It was a lot to learn in one day.

  Chapter 9

  Back at the antique store, Abigail looked around, trying to get a feel for the inventory. She tried to imagine making a sale, how she’d attempt to get the asking price by talking up the various antiques. Though now that Abigail thought about it, Grandma didn’t put any emphasis on making as large a profit as possible, did she? She had been so blasé about it that Abigail had to wonder how the woman made any kind of a profit over the years.

  But perhaps Grandma’s easygoing attitude was what kept customers coming back. Antiques weren’t like insurance—something people were legally compelled to have. Antiques must’ve had more of an emotional appeal.

  “Hm,” Abigail hummed to herself as she pulled out her phone to look up a few odd antiques. One was a hand-sewn elephant doll, n
o tags or anything, perhaps one of a kind. When Abigail’s research failed to provide any information, it started to dawn on her that perhaps what Sally had said earlier was right: Not everything could be found online.

  Abigail adjusted the elephant’s floppy ears, mumbling, “I wonder what your story is?” She saw no price sticker and decided the doll wouldn’t be for sale until Grandma could tell her more information about it.

  Not that it seemed like Abigail would have to worry about selling anything today. Though she didn’t plan on officially opening until tomorrow, so far not a single person had come up to the door to see if the store was open. Perhaps everyone knew about what had happened to Grandma and figured the place was closed. Abigail sure hoped that was the case.

  Or maybe it was Thor scaring away customers… Abigail had left him outside to stand guard. She headed to the door and peeked out, seeing Thor dozing off, his floppy lips flapping with every snore. “Some guard dog you are,” she said, eliciting no response from the sleeping giant.

  She had considered leashing him—not that she cared about what Lee thought, but because if there really was a leash law here, she didn’t want to start any trouble. Then again, she could easily imagine Thor bringing the whole house down if she tied his leash up to the banister.

  She decided it’d be better to have him move his sleeping operation back inside. She opened the door wider. “C’mon boy,” she said, snapping her fingers to get his attention.

  Thor eyed her lazily then grunted, pushing himself up on his stilt-like legs before heading inside. He spotted Missy’s tiny dog bed, which had been left unoccupied the entire time Abigail had been here, as Missy was too busy hiding. Thor seemed to shrug as he moseyed over and plopped down on the bed, only his rump fitting on the cushion while the rest of his body lay sprawled on the wooden floor.

  “That can’t be comfortable,” Abigail commented, then she noticed Missy in the doorway, staring longingly at the bed. “Oh, do you want to lie down, Missy?” Abigail asked, hoping maybe the dog would finally give her the time of day.

  Missy stayed still, glaring daggers at Thor. Thor, of course, was blissfully unaware as he snored on her pink bed.