by Maisy Marple
“What happened?” I asked, trying to sit up.
My mother was there to push me back down. “Honey, you need to relax and take slow, deep breaths.”
I wasn’t home. It was still dark, but I could see little beams of light coming from flashlights. They were walking by me in both directions.
Reba was on the other side of me. “You passed out,” she informed me. “The paramedics were still here, so they got you onto a gurney. We’re still at the shop, waiting for the police to tell us we’re free to go.”
“How did I pass out?” I asked.
“Don’t know?” Reba shrugged. “Officer Billings handed you a sheet of paper and after you read it, you just dropped. Honestly, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
This brought memories swirling back. Instantly, I saw James Popper’s limp head hanging at rest on his dead body; I saw the setting sun going down over the creek, perhaps, signaling the end of my dream of running the cafe before it even really began; and I saw a piece of paper that said James died because he helped a murderer.
“We have to find out who killed him,” I said, sitting up.
My mother and Reba both put their hands on my shoulders, pressing me back down.
“You need to rest, honey,” my mother said. “The police are working on it. They’ll figure this out.”
I shook my head. “It has to be me.”
“I can’t go through all this again,” my mother pleaded. “Last time you were threatened at gunpoint and driven through town in the trunk of car. Enough is enough.”
There was a desperation in her eyes. I knew what was behind it. I knew that she was thinking about life without both her daughter and her husband, and what that would be like. It would devastate her.
I understood what she was feeling, and I knew that her intentions were well meaning. However, there was no way I could sit back and just let the police try to figure out who killed James Popper.
Because the murderer, whoever that may have been, was coming for me next.
5
We were finally allowed to go home around midnight. Officer Billings walked us to my mother’s car, which was still parked at the Surf & Turf.
That late at night, there were only a few cars left in the lot, most of them belonging to employees working the closing shift. A few of them were patrons of the Pub & Grub, which at that time of night would have been in full swing.
“Are you ladies going to be okay to make it home?” Billings asked with genuine concern.
“We’ll be just fine, Teddy,” my mother smiled and rubbed my back. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m sure you have a wife and kids to go home to.”
“Actually,” he said, as he began rocking nervously on his heels. “It’s just me.”
“A handsome, honorable man like you is not married?” My mother looked at me for a moment before turning back toward him. “My, my, my. What is wrong with the young women in this town?”
Billings chuckled uncomfortably. “Thanks Mrs. Cafe. That’s really too kind.”
I gave my mother a rather unsubtle shove toward her car and said, “Thanks, mom. I’m sure you can find time on a different day to call Officer Billings and have this conversation. Right now, we need to get going.”
“Oh, alright,” my mother said, opening the driver’s side door and stepping into the car.
Reba got into the back of the car behind my mother. As I was walking around the front of the car to get into the passenger’s seat, Officer Billings called to me.
“Connie?”
I stopped and looked at him.
“This is going to be different than the last time. I promise. We know you didn’t do it, and we’ve already made a call to Detective Tolbert to come in and help. I don’t know if that’s going to help you rest easy, what with everything you’ve been through. But if it helps a little, then I’m happy for that.”
“Thank you,” I nodded. “I appreciate it very much.”
He turned to walk away, but I had one last question for him before we called it a night.
“What do you think that piece of paper meant?”
He turned back around slowly. “Connie, I really wish I knew. It’s obviously an important piece of evidence and we’ll be looking at it thoroughly.”
“Do you think I’m in danger? Or do you think the threat that was made was more about my soul and the afterlife?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to tell, to be honest with you. I will tell you that if you’re starting to feel uneasy or unsafe about anything, you give me a call and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that nothing happens to you.”
“Thanks again,” I said.
When I finally sat down in my seat and buckled up, my mother was staring at me.
“Did you hear that?” She asked.
“Oh, give it a rest mom. Do you remember how we just spent our evening?”
“I’m just saying, there’s never a bad time to find Mr. Right. Who knows, Connie, his name might just be Teddy. And he might just live right here in Coffee Creek.”
Dear God,
I don’t even really know what to say right now. I guess I could start by telling you how I’m feeling.
But I don’t even really know for sure what that is. I guess, scared would be first.
And I know that you say in the Good Book all the time to ‘Fear Not’ because you’re going to take care of everything for us. I’m not going to lie to you right now, though. It wouldn’t do any good anyway.
The truth is, I am scared. And I’m worried about a lot of things. I’m worried mostly about my mother if anything were to happen to me. But I’m also worried that there’s someone out there who wants me dead, too.
I’m confused, oh Lord, about so much right now. Was I the only reason that James Popper was killed? And if I was the reason that he was killed, does that make it my fault somehow? Or does the blame fall solely on the murderer?
Lord, I’m also wondering how many people in Coffee Creek still think I murdered that golfer, David Gardner? Because what I saw tonight didn’t look like it was possible for a few old ladies who hang with Mable the antique lady to pull off. There’s no way they could have overpowered James and tied him up like that. And how would they have gotten into my shop? Or did they drag him there and set him up for me, specifically to find? Did they set him up there so it would look like I did it?
The police said they weren’t viewing me suspiciously, but that doesn’t mean others around town won’t.
I just have so much whipping around up in my head. If you could give me some guidance or point me in the right direction, I would be most grateful.
And, I know this prayer has been kind of serious, God. But what in the world was my mother doing flirting with Ted Billings on my behalf? Was that all her idea? Was she exercising her good old free will in an annoying way? Or was that you speaking to me through her, trying to tell me that I’m supposed to get to know him better?
Is thirty-five too old to not have a real relationship with a man?
I just feel like so much is coming at me right now and it’s all I can do to digest it. I’m afraid I’m not doing very well with it right now. But you already know that.
This much I know is true. I know, dear God, that this is all your plan. And whatever your plan is for me, I will accept it and be a force for good in this world, wherever and however I can.
Thank you for always being there. These next few days are probably going to be rough, and I might need to lean on you a lot, Lord. But I know you can handle every bit of it.
In your holy name I pray,
AMEN
6
The next morning, Reba stumbled down to the breakfast table, looking like she’d just woken up after a night of wild partying. Her purple hair was all over the place, sticking out in all directions, some of which I didn’t even think were possible.
My mother was her usual chipper self. She stood at the coffee maker in the corner of the kitchen, dressed
in a form fitting, lime green dress, and matching shoes. She had a beautiful gold chain draped nicely across her chest, and her red hair was brighter than I think I’d ever seen it.
“Coffee ladies?” She asked cheerfully, holding up the coffee pot.
“Yes,” Reba said before my mother had even finished.
“Connie?”
“Yes, please,” I nodded. “I’ll take some too.”
“How are you doing it, Mrs. Cafe?” Reba asked, her head resting on the top of her arm, which she’d slung across the table like a kid in school trying to fall asleep during a lesson.
“I don’t know,” my mother said, bringing three mugs of coffee over to the table and placing them down in front of us. I think it was the only thing capable of getting Reba to sit up. “I guess I’ve just seen more in my life that you two, perhaps. I am very sad for that man and his family. But I’ve seen enough people pass away, that I know he is with the Lord, and I know that he is not suffering.”
“I just can’t believe it,” I said, sipping the coffee my mother’d made. I sat back a little after I got that first jolt. My mother was smiling at me when I sent a surprised glance her way. “I knew you two would need a little high octane this morning,” she winked.
“Boy, you’re not kidding,” Reba chimed in. “I didn’t even know my name a minute ago, and now I’m ready to go climb Mount Everest.”
My mother laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”
We chewed our way through the coffee, devouring every drop in our mugs, and refilling them once or twice just to make sure we had enough to get through the day.
“Connie, can you drive me to work after I shower?” Reba asked.
“Sure,” I said. “But make it snappy, I’ve got things to do today.”
“Like what?” My mother asked.
“Things,” I said. “You know…lots of them.”
She gave me a sideways glance that was definitely not approving.
Reba sensed the tension in the room and stood up. She slid along the wall slowly until she reached the doorway, at which point she ran down the hallway and up the stairs to the shower.
“Connie,” my mother asked again. “What are you planning on doing today?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” I said, looking down and off to the side, not wanting to meet my mother’s gaze.
“It’s out of your hands,” she warned. “Somebody else is going to have to do this work, honey. Sometimes you just need to know when to stop. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I understand what you’re saying.” I brought my eyes up to meet hers. Tears had started to well up and I was on the verge of crying. “I just don’t agree with it. I have to do this mother. For me.”
“How is chasing down clues in the hopes of finding a killer going to benefit you in any way?”
“They murdered James on purpose. They put him on the deck of my building on purpose. He was killed because he helped me buy that place.” I walked over to the sink and started to rinse out the empty mugs. “And I’m not totally convinced they’re going to stop with James.”
My mother came over and stood next to me. She was uncomfortably close, but the conversation was uncomfortable enough anyway that I didn’t mention it.
“That sounds like the best reason to let the police do their jobs and find out who did this. If you really think that someone’s trying to kill you, then you’d be wise to avoid snooping around.”
“Mom!” I snapped. I knew I was wrong when I did it, but I couldn’t help myself. I lost control for a moment.
She backed away, a defeated look on her face.
“You’re right,” she said, turning away, hiding her tears from me. “You’re an adult and I need to stop treating you like a child. You know how I feel. Now, it’s up to you to make your own decision.”
She left me alone in the kitchen and walked out the front door. I heard her car start and she was gone.
Great going, Connie.
I leaned over the sink after the mugs were clean and in the strainer to dry. Sobs came hard and heavy as I tried to piece together the last twelve hours and all that had happened.
It’s one thing to find yourself in this position once, but twice in a matter of a few months. The first time was completely on accident. A very unfunny twist of fate.
This time, though, it was completely intentional and he was targeted because of me.
It was almost too much to handle.
Reba showed up at the door, dressed and quasi ready to go. Her hair was still soaking wet and dripping.
“Are you ready?” She asked.
When I stood up and she saw my face was wet and ruddy, she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need a few minutes? You know what? I can call Dillon. He’ll come get me.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll be fine.” I wiped my eyes with a tissue from a box on the counter. “Why don’t you dry your hair and I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes.”
“It is dry,” she said.
I watched the water dripping off her long hair and down one of my mother’s shirts.
“I’m watching it drip all over the place.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, looking down at the water rolling. “I like it like that.”
I smiled. “Alright, suit yourself. Go get in the car and I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Sure thing, boss,” she said, giving me a quick wink and then she left to get into the car.
I sure didn’t feel like a boss in that moment, but I had to get her to work, or her current boss would be fuming at her, and her soon to be boss, for being late.
The last thing I did before I left the house was take a deep breath and ask God for guidance. I had to put my trust in Him if this was going to go anywhere at all.
I just wished He would send me a message and tell me where I was supposed to start.
7
After I dropped Reba off at work, I decided to take a drive over to Main Street.
I drove past building after building, all of them in various stages of opening up their doors for another day of doing business.
Then there was my building, which still had police tape around it, denoting it as a crime scene.
I pulled my car over and parked it on the side of the road outside the future home of Connie’s Cafe and got out.
Rebecca Fairmack was just getting Reads & Teas operational for the day. She came out with a folding whiteboard and positioned it in front of her store.
She crouched down in front of it and started to write the day’s specials in bright red dry erase marker.
I walked over to her, noticing her lavender dress and robin’s egg blue flats. She was one stylish woman for sure.
“Good morning,” I said, softly as I approached her from behind.
She stopped writing and turned to see who was talking to her.
“Oh, hey there, Connie,” she smiled and stood up, capping the marker and setting it on top of the white board. “How’re you holding up? I heard about what happened last night.”
“I’m doing okay,” I lied.
We stood in silence for a few moments, neither one of us knowing where to go after the topic of James Popper’s murder was brought up.
“Would you be okay if I went in and looked at some books?” I asked.
“Of course,” she smiled. “I’m just going to finish the board, here, and I’ll be right in. I can make you some tea if you’d like.”
I crinkled my nose a little. “I appreciate it, but I’m more of a coffee girl, myself.”
“That’s right,” she wagged a finger in the air. “I forgot. Well, there are loads of books on the shelves. If you like books, this place is your jam.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I went in.
Rebecca Fairmack had set up quite a wonderful place here in Coffee Creek. She had a narrow little shop, but she made the most of it.
The entire left hand side was lined with bookshelves that looked as though the
y were built right into the building. They started at the floor and didn’t stop until the ceiling, which had to have been at least twelve or fourteen feet high. Every shelf was stocked full and labeled by genre for fiction books, and topic for the non-fiction books. There was a big black, metal bar that stretched from the front of the store all the way to the back, and four sliding ladders were attached to it, making it easy for customers to read books on the top no matter where they were located along the shelves.
On the right hand side of the shop was a small cluster of tables and chairs, that would seat six or eight people comfortably. Just past these, was a little tea bar where you could walk up and order tea and scones, all of which were hand made my Ms. Fairmack, herself. Past the tea bar was another set of shelves, though, these were about half the height of the shelves on the left hand side of the store. Rebecca had hand selected some art work that hung above these shelves, highlighting both the art itself, but also the masonry and craftsmanship of the brick walls.
Along the back wall of the shop were two large windows, which allowed ample light to enter. Rebecca had taken full advantage of the light and had set up a quaint little reading nook with comfortable high backed chairs and a few small tables for people to use if they wanted to look at more than one book at a time.
This place was glorious and had much of the same charm I was hoping to pull off with my place once I could get into the building and start working on it.
“Are you looking for anything specific?” Rebecca asked as she entered the shop. She walked behind the tea bar and put the marker in a drawer next to the cash register.
“Not really, Rebecca,” I said. “I’m just in awe of how beautifully you’ve set this up.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, giving a little curtsy. “And please, call me Becky. My mother calls me Rebecca. I love her to death, but it’s such an old timey sounding name, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” I shrugged. “When you put it that way, maybe? I’m sorry, I’ve just never given it much thought.”