by Shelly West
Abigail looked over at the chalkboard menu hanging above the counter, seeing a huge offering of coffee and pastry choices. “Wow,” she said.
“Your first cup is free, on the house,” Sally offered, then more forcefully presented the two bookmark choices again.
Abigail picked the yellow sloths, then Sally hurried off to get a brew going. “How do you like your coffee? A lot of sugar, of course, but how much cream? An offensive amount, or would you prefer an egregious amount instead?”
Abigail laughed. “I actually take my coffee black.”
Silence. Such a long, uncomfortable silence followed.
Sally finally managed to find her voice. “Black. Does that mean… no sugar? No cream, not even a little bit?”
“That’s right.”
“Is this a city folk thing? Because I can’t remember the last time I served a cup of coffee that wasn’t mostly cream in volume. I just can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
Abigail took a seat at the counter. “I’m dead serious. It’s the only way my mother would make it. Maybe because she was in the Navy, I don’t know. She was also pretty stingy, so maybe she didn’t want to pay extra for cream and sugar.”
“Yeesh. Okay. I’ll break out the French press then.” Sally began rummaging through her cupboards, finally finding the odd device and setting it in front of Abigail. “Since you’re making me skip the sugar and cream, I gotta make sure this coffee is brewed to perfection. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”
Abigail, a long-time drinker of fast food coffee, didn’t quite understand the severity of the situation, but she decided to chalk it up as a cultural difference.
As Sally poured boiling water into the device, the front door opened, ringing a little bell and alerting the both of them to a new customer.
Abigail turned to see a man wearing perhaps the most garish suit she had ever seen. She had to shield her eyes, both from the bright suit and the man’s incredibly white smile.
“Ah!” he said in greeting. “It’s yet another beautiful morning here in Wallace Point!”
Sally laughed. “You’re not on TV right now, Dad. Talk normal!” She then motioned at Abigail. “Dad, this is Abigail. Abigail, this is Bobby.”
Bobby closed the gap between himself and Abigail, giving her a vigorous handshake. “How do you do? New in town? No matter! I’m sure you’ve seen me on my hit cable show, The Big Kahuna!”
Abigail took a moment to recover from this guy’s apparent inability to turn off his TV personality. “Sorry. Not sure I heard of that show.”
The sandy-haired man looked devastated. “Oh. It used to be pretty big.” His eyes lit up again. “But maybe you know me from Big Bobby’s Big Bingo, airing exclusively for Wallace Point residents at 12 p.m. every Sunday!”
“Uh… I’m new in town, and haven’t really had a chance to watch any TV.”
Bobby’s devastation deepened.
Sally butted in, for her father’s sake, “Dad, I think The Big Kahuna was before her time. And she’s had her hands full, so I doubt she’s had a chance to watch your local show either.”
Bobby frowned. “Oh. Well then, what brings you here?”
Abigail explained, “I’m Mrs. Lane’s granddaughter.”
Bobby’s mood improved immediately, and he shot Abigail with two enthusiastic finger guns. “Mrs. Lane’s granddaughter! Had I known you were here, I’d have welcomed you sooner.”
Sally added, “She just arrived in town Saturday. She’s helping run the shop while Granny’s in the hospital. Only Sheriff Wilson, Kirby, and I know.”
Not to mention a certain Lee, but Abigail knew that unfortunate introduction was unknown to Sally.
Bobby slapped his forehead. “And here we all thought Whodunit Antiques was closed for business. I’ll have to tell everyone the good news.”
Before anyone could interject, Bobby grabbed a bagel from the serving tray, slapped down a five dollar bill, then quickly bid them farewell, mentioning something about spreading the word at the local news station.
“Oh dear,” Sally said. “My dad is, err, well-connected, so it’s a safe bet that by the afternoon the entire town will know you’re here.”
Abigail wasn’t sure why anyone would care that she was in town. “Okay. It’s not like me being here is supposed to be a secret.”
“I don’t think you understand. This isn’t like the city. The whole town’s about to come swarming you with attention and curiosity.”
Abigail still didn’t get it. “What, do they have nothing better to do? I’m just some out-of-towner.”
“You’re Granny’s granddaughter! You might as well be a celebrity.” Sally pressed down the coffee grounds in the French press then poured a glass for Abigail. “Drink up, because you’re going to need it.”
Abigail took a sip, and for the first time, instead of inhaling her coffee, she paused a moment to let its taste sit in her mouth. It was roasted to perfection, with hints of… was it cherry and chocolate? She never knew one could get such a taste from beans alone. “Wow, Sally. If you opened up in the city, you’d make a killing.”
“I like the pace here, and the view,” Sally said with a wistful smile. “Now seriously, drink up and get back to the shop. It’s almost the town gossips’ operating hours, and they’re gonna be assaulting you in full force!”
Abigail paid no heed to her warning. “Yeah, right. It’ll probably be just another day of me dusting things and playing on my phone.”
Little did Abigail know a swarm of old biddies were lining up to assault the antique store that very moment.
Chapter 13
That Monday and Tuesday blurred by for Abigail. She didn’t do a whole lot of selling, but she sure met a lot of interesting townsfolk. The first odd encounter arrived in the form of what could only be described as the Granny Gang. A dozen of them came riding into the parking lot in tricked out golf carts, blaring their musical horns.
Abigail dared to peek out the window, seeing the geriatric horde inch their rockers and canes toward the front entrance, each one carrying a baked good or casserole. Abigail held the door open for them as they filed in and one by one set their food offerings on the counter.
Then the interrogations began.
“A granddaughter?”
“Why do you only visit now that she’s in the hospital?”
“If you’re here hoping for an inheritance, you have another thing coming!”
Abigail held her hands up, trying to catch her breath after all the accusations. “Easy, ladies, I didn’t know about my grandmother until a few days ago! I’m only here to help her!”
An elderly woman in hair rollers squinted two bespectacled eyes at Abigail. “Good. Forgive us then, if that really is the case. We just like to watch out for each other.”
“Is… is Grandma in your gang?”
The old women grew silent. One whispered, “She thinks we’re a gang,” and they snorted.
The apparent leader played along, “Yes, dear. We’re known as the O double Gs, and don’t you forget it.”
Abigail paused as she tried to work out the initials. “Original gangster grandmas?”
The old women all burst out laughing and took turns patting Abigail’s shoulders and pinching her cheeks.
“She’s cute,” the leader said. “We’ll let her live. Enjoy the food, dear. With the casseroles, just heat them up in the oven at 350 for about twenty minutes. And save some for when Florence gets out of the hospital, all right?”
Abigail blinked a few times. “Florence?”
“Your grandmother!”
Abigail frowned. Somehow she had never heard her grandmother’s first name until now. Eventually the granny golf cart gang filed back out of the store, speeding away in their carts as quickly as they had arrived.
That didn’t make the food stop coming, though. By the time Abigail decided to close up Tuesday night, the checkout counter was cluttered with homemade pies, gift baskets, pastries, and so fort
h. It had been so festive and welcoming that Abigail had to keep reminding herself it was still a few months before Christmas.
Okay, so maybe small towns were nosy, but the upside of that was the whole community treated each other like family.
The following Wednesday morning, Abigail hovered over the counter full of treats, deciding to make a breakfast out of one of the pastries. She was halfway through her second slice of pumpkin pie when an old-timey phone on the wall rang. She jumped, as did Thor, since neither of them had lived with a landline for quite some time.
Abigail got up and stared at the old hanging phone, discovering an uncomfortable lack of caller ID. “Ugh,” she mumbled to herself, worried it might be another resident wanting to fill her in on their life story. It was too early in the morning for such conversations!
“Grandma,” she then whispered, realizing she would take the risk for any good news. She answered. “Hello. Erm, you’ve reached Whodunit Antiques?”
“Miss Abigail Lane?”
“Yes.”
“Your grandmother can return home now.”
“Oh! I’m coming straight away. Thank you.”
Abigail grabbed her things and rushed out, just barely remembering to lock the door behind her.
*
A nurse assisted them as Abigail checked Grandma out and wheeled her to the car. She wanted to ask a million questions, but had to wait for the nurse to see them off.
Once Grandma was buckled up in the passenger seat, the nurse finally left them. Abigail took this chance to give Grandma a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re doing better,” she said once she stood back up, a hand on Grandma’s shoulder.
“I think hearing that my granddaughter was in town just about woke me out of that coma. There’s so much I want to tell you.”
Abigail felt her eyes getting a bit misty, which she wasn’t used to. “Okay. Let’s get you back home so we can get started with catching each other up.”
“That would be lovely.”
Abigail shut Grandma’s door and headed to her side of the car. She took a deep breath before going in.
The drive commenced in silence for a couple of minutes, until Grandma asked, “How is my little Missy?”
“She seems okay. Is she always so nervous though?”
“Oh, yes. That dog is suspicious of everyone.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a dog of my own.”
“Oh! How do our dogs get along?”
“Well, mine is a Great Dane, Thor. Big guy, so Missy seems a bit intimidated by him.”
“A Great Dane! He must be like a bull in a china shop, trying to navigate my little place.”
“By some miracle, he’s managed not to break anything yet. He mostly likes to hang out on the porch anyhow. If anyone’s a bull in a china shop, it’d be me.”
It wasn’t a long drive, and they soon rolled up into the parking lot. Thankfully, it was early enough that the place wasn’t being hounded by curious customers yet.
The moment Grandma got out of the car, a horrific squealing started from inside the store. Abigail drew in a sharp breath. “My Lord. It sounds like Missy’s being murdered!”
Grandma chuckled. “It’s how she always greets me. She somehow knows when I’m about to arrive home, even if I’m still a couple blocks away.”
Soon a terrible moaning joined in with the screaming, and Abigail realized it was Thor. She hurried to the front door, unlocking it to see if he was okay.
She found him hiding in the corner, his paws over his ears as Missy continued to squeal. Now she understood why he was moaning: He wanted the terrible screaming to stop!
Abigail turned and helped Grandma up the steps of the porch, then held the door open so she could be reunited with Missy.
Grandma quickly took a seat on a rocking chair so Missy could hop up onto her lap. The dog then just stared and stared up at Grandma, whimpering sadly. “I’m fine, Missy,” Grandma assured the poor creature, petting the fur along her back. “It’s going to take more than that to kill me, my dear.”
Thor was still hiding in the corner. Once Missy had settled down, Grandma finally noticed him. “Goodness! That can’t be Thor. He’s trembling like a Chihuahua.”
Yeah, Abigail kind of agreed. Not a great first impression from her supposedly ‘intimidating’ guard dog. “I think Missy must’ve threatened him. Like, ‘Paws off Grandma or I’ll bite your ankles!’”
“That does sound very much like Missy,” Grandma said, rubbing the dog’s ponytail ears. “Now Missy,” she said, her tone stern and commanding. “You better let me greet this Thor fellow without a fuss. You got it?” Missy seemed to understand, and hopped off Grandma’s lap.
Grandma pushed off the chair, her arms a little wobbly, but she was up before Abigail could swoop in to help. She was still quite independent, despite her age.
Once up, she headed over to Thor and extended a hand in greeting. He eyed her, noticed Missy had finally settled down, then stood up. Grandma took a step back, perhaps not having expected him to be nearly as tall as her.
“Goodness!” was all she managed to say before he licked her hand in approval. “I don’t think I’ll be worrying about another break-in with this giant roaming the halls.” She pet him, and he wagged his tail precariously close to some antique glass dolls. Yet somehow, they remained untouched.
“You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you?” Grandma asked him, and he answered with a low, affirmative ruff. Missy let out a jealous whimper, and Grandma sighed at her. “Come now, there’s enough room in here for the two of you. Well, barely, but that’s no matter.” She winked, then wagged her finger. “So you will be nice to our oversized guest, you got it, young lady?”
Missy groaned and went to pout in her bed.
“Oh,” Abigail began, “I should mention… The first day I was here, I was looking for Missy’s food, and I saw some glass under this cabinet.” She pointed at the massive cabinet chock-full of knickknacks. “I couldn’t really figure out what broke, though.”
Grandma let out an inquiring ‘hmmm’ and walked over to examine the cabinet.
It took her but a second to discover what was out of place. “My ship in a bottle!”
Abigail peered over her grandmother’s little shoulder. “Did somebody steal it?”
“No,” Grandma continued, then pointed at what was, indeed, a ship in a bottle… minus the bottle. “As if I wouldn’t notice!” she said in offense.
“What do you mean?”
“This is one of my prized items—one of the few that’s not for sale. It’s out for display purposes only. But somebody broke the bottle and returned the ship back to the shelf, right where I had it.”
Though Abigail didn’t want to start investigating on her first real day with her grandmother, she also didn’t want to ignore a potential clue. “Maybe we should let Sheriff Wilson know, just in case it has any significance. Maybe the killer broke it. Maybe there’s fingerprints…?”
Grandma nodded firmly. “Yes. Let’s not touch it. Willy needs to see this.”
“Willy?”
“Willy Wilson. The sheriff.”
“Oh, right.” Abigail wasn’t sure why she was surprised the two of them were on a first-name basis when that seemed to be the case for the entire town.
Grandma motioned toward the old rotary phone hanging on the wall. “His number is on the notepad right under the phone.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
Grandma blushed. “Oh, because he’ll talk to me forever if I do, and I still have a bit of a headache. He’s sweet on me, which makes him ramble.”
Abigail nodded. “Okay, I know how that is.” She dialed, albeit very, very slowly as the rotary spun. When he answered, he was barely intelligible. “Um, hello, Sheriff? It’s Abigail.”
He didn’t give her much of a chance to elaborate, his voice clipped and urgent. “Would you put Florence on the line, sweetheart?”
Abigail frowned at being c
alled ‘sweetheart,’ then shot Grandma a look. She mouthed, ‘He wants to talk to you.’
Grandma shook her head vigorously, but Abigail insisted.
With a sigh, Grandma relented and took the phone. “What is it, Willy? I’ve got a bit of a headache, so—”
Her face suddenly grew pale. “Oh. Okay. Well, once you get a moment, I wanted to show you something you might have missed. A broken antique.”
After a moment, Grandma stamped her slippered foot and insisted, “Willy, I wouldn’t be wasting your time if I didn’t believe this could be of some significance. Listen, Ernest gave it to me a few years ago before he died.”
Grandma paused for his response, then continued, “Yes, that Ernest. Ernest Lebeau. And the man who was bothering me just last week was eyeing it something fierce.” After a pause, Grandma said, “That’s what I thought. All right, I’ll be seeing you.”
She hung up the phone, looking a bit miffed. “That man. Even after all these years, he still gives me lip!”
Abigail saw where she got her temper from.
Grandma continued, “He’s a bit busy at the moment, but he assured me he’ll be here tomorrow at the latest.”
“What did he tell you at first? He sounded really rattled when he answered.”
“Oh,” Grandma said, remembering. “That’s right, he was just telling me that he found a dead body.”
Abigail about doubled over. “What!”
Grandma shrugged.
“Is this a new dead body, or the one you tripped over?”
Grandma shrugged again.
Abigail wondered if dead bodies were a common occurrence here, the way everyone seemed to blow them off. The city seemed safer than this cozy little town!
“How about some tea?” Grandma offered, as if that’d help.
Now it was Abigail’s turn to take an exhausted seat on the rocking chair.
Chapter 14
According to Grandma, the town was usually a quiet, peaceful place, but Abigail had her doubts. Between the news of Grandma’s release from the hospital and the news of a body, everyone seemed to take the day off just so they could partake in the excitement.