by Maisy Marple
“Trust me,” she nodded. “It makes me sound like I’m old.” She moved her hands from the top of her head and down to her knees and back up again. “Be honest, do I look old?”
“No,” I laughed. “You look quite young and hip.”
“Exactly.” She gave me a thumbs up and came back over to where I was standing. “So, call me Becky.”
“Okay…Becky.”
We both shared a giggle for a moment before we were interrupted by the sound of a person coughing behind us.
I turned to see a small girl who was wearing a black, punk rock t-shirt with chains dangling from her ripped and faded black pants. She was wearing a winter hat over her bright green hair. Her ears were lined from bottom to top with studded earrings and small hoops alike, and she had a small green gem stud in her left nostril.
“Oh, hey Piper,” Becky greeted her. She turned and pointed to me. “Do you know Connie Cafe? She’s going to be our neighbor next door.” Then Becky turned to me and said, “Connie, this is Piper. Piper’s in high school. She works here in the summer, stocking books and helping customers when we get busy.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. I stepped forward and offered my hand.
Piper looked at it for minute, seemingly not sure what to do. Then she put her finger tips in my palm and moved them up and down before pulling them back quickly.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, looking down at the ground.
“Piper, there’s a new shipment of books that came this morning. Please check them in, mark them and shelve them where they’ll fit. Work any extras into displays that have gaps. If there are any books left after that, come get me and I’ll help you place them in the store room.”
Piper nodded and then slinked past Becky and through a little door that was just past the tea bar.
“She’s come a long way, believe it or not,” Becky said once Piper was out of earshot. “I would have never hired her if it was entirely my decision, but she’s my brother’s kid and he asked if she could have a job for the summer. That was two months ago.” Becky looked over her shoulder to make sure Piper was out of earshot. “Between you and me, I’ll be glad when school’s back in session.”
I made a motion like I was zipping my lips shut. “My lips are sealed. Your secret is safe with me.”
“So, do you know when you’ll be able to get in next door and open things up?” Becky asked as I made my way through the store, browsing her selection of books.
“I have no idea. I’m hoping sooner than later. As it is, I feel like I’m getting a pretty late jump on things. I’d really wanted to be opened by now, but now I’m thinking I might be able to open some time in the early fall. Just in time for pumpkin spice season.” I gave a thumbs up that was less than genuine.
“I know what you mean,” Becky nodded. “I’m the same way with tea. It’s a shame more people don’t appreciate it for what it is on its own. I’m not a big coffee drinker, but I have to believe that there’s probably enough subtlety and nuance with the beans and roasting methods, that covering it with all that sugar defeats all of the work that went into getting the bean to the point where it could become coffee.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “My father always drank his coffee black. He would sit with me on the porch and talk to me over and over again about appreciating the simple things in life, because the beauty is in the simplicity.”
“Yes,” Becky nodded. “One hundred percent, yes! I won’t bore you, but it’s the same way with tea leaves. It is an absolute miracle that something so wonderful and simple and pleasureful exists, that we are doing it a disservice to dump sugar and milk, and goodness knows what other kind of chemicals, into it.”
“Aunt Becky,” Piper called, emerging from the back room. “I can’t find the check in sheet.”
I saw Becky turn slightly away from Piper and roll her eyes and take a deep breath before she answered. “Okay, Piper, I’ll be right there. Why don’t you work on taking all of the books out of the box while you wait.”
“I did already,” Piper said.
“I’ll let you go,” I smiled at Becky. “We’ll chat again soon,” I said. “After all, in a few days, once all that police tape is removed, we’ll officially be neighbors.”
“Very true,” Becky nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Becky turned and followed Piper into the back room. I took my leave and walked back out onto Main Street, feeling a little more hopeful than I had twenty minutes earlier.
8
Walking back up Main Street, I felt a slightly renewed sense of purpose and determination. I was going to find out who killed James Popper, and nothing was going to stand in my way.
I thought, the best place to start might be Coffee Creek Realty, which was located at the North end of Main Street, on the same side as Reads & Teas.
Unfortunately, it was also on the same side of the street as Mable’s Antiques & Valuables.
The thought of walking by that shop gave me an uneasy feeling and a lump in my throat. There was something about that woman, even though she was old and hunched over and physically feeble, that just made me feel weak in comparison.
As I approached her store, I felt my heart starting to pound harder and faster in my chest. I picked up the pace of my walk, hoping that, maybe, I could walk past her place undetected.
“Murderer!” Mable’s voice broke through the sound of my beating heart.
Just keep going, I told myself. Ignore her, for she knows not what she does.
“That’s right!” Mable shouted. I was already past her shop, but she was out on the sidewalk, yelling at me from behind. “Keep on walking, just like the cowardly killer you are!”
My face was flush from embarrassment, plus the extra energy I’d put into walking as fast as I could.
By the time I reached the realty offices, a number of people had come out of their shops to catch a glimpse of who Mable was yelling at.
“Pipe down, you old bat!” I heard a voice that made me smile. It came from the Post Office. Martin Welker was heading out for his usual route. He was just getting into his truck when he uttered those words in my defense.
I would never call anyone an old bat, but I couldn’t stop myself from silently cheering him on as he let Mable have what was coming her way.
“Go back inside and sell some old stuff,” he continued. “And leave that poor girl alone or I’m going to call the cops and have them cite you for noise pollution.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Mable said. “Remember, you’ve got skeletons in your closet, too!”
Martin just shook his head and started the engine of his postal truck. “You’re a real beauty,” he called out over the rumble of his vehicle. “I’m sure the Devil’s making a nice warm spot for you as we speak!”
“Why, I never….” Mable, for once was rendered speechless.
Martin pulled out of the Post Office parking lot, squealing his tires as he set off on his route, whipped up into some kind of frenzy.
Before I opened the door to the realty offices, I took one last look at Mable, who was now directing every ounce of her anger through her eyes in my direction. “You’re still a murderer! And nobody will ever get me to shut up about that!”
I waited for a moment, hoping that she would go back into the antique store. But she wasn’t going to allow me to have that satisfaction. Rather, she stood in the center of the sidewalk, her eyes unwavering.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and turned the door knob to go into the offices and talk to someone who knew more than I did about James Popper.
Coffee Creek Realty was a small office, no bigger than someone’s living room.
There were three desks inside. Fluorescent lighting in the ceiling gave it a bright feeling.
I thought it a bit odd that one of the three realtors had been murdered the night before, yet the two who were remaining were going about their days as though it was business as usual.
“May I h
elp you?” A youngish looking woman, perhaps in her late twenties, looked up from her desk. She was dressed in a navy suit with a white blouse. The name plate in front of her said her name was Tiffany Elizabeth.
“Hi,” I said, stepping into the building a little further. “I’m Connie Cafe. I was just…well….I’m…” What exactly was I there to do?
I stumbled over my words for a minute until the man, whose name plate said was Matthew Grant, stood up and walked over to me.
“You were working with James weren’t you?” He asked. His voice was soft and conciliatory.
“Yes,” I nodded, solemnly. “I very much enjoyed the process of working with him. I’m shocked that he’s gone.”
“We are too,” said Tiffany. “I mean, just yesterday we were joking around about what a crank Mable was, and how much commission he was getting off your place. And the next thing you know…”
Her voice trailed off and her face went blank.
“I know,” I said, nodding. “It’s quite shocking, and sad. I really liked him. He seemed like a really great guy.”
“He was excellent,” Matthew agreed. “By far the best realtor for miles around. He could sell anything. I wish I was able to close deals the way he did.”
“Well, he certainly made it easy for me to buy,” I said.
“So, is there anything we can help you with?” Tiffany asked again.
“Oh,” I stammered. “I guess not. I was just stopping in to see how everyone here was doing, I guess.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” Tiffany stood up and walked me to the door. “I really don’t want to be rude, but it’s definitely a little more stressful around here without James to help with some of the load. Plus, we have to redo a bunch of paperwork to make sure his commissions get taken care of properly.”
I nodded. “That must be incredibly difficult having to focus on your job after someone you were close to was…” I couldn’t bring myself to say murdered.
Tiffany’s eyes met mine and she conveyed her understanding through a subtle tip of her head. I was thankful that she understood what I was saying without having to actually say it.
“If you need anything else,” Matthew called out, “don’t hesitate to stop by, or give us a call.”
“Thank you,” I said, stepping back out onto the sidewalk, but I doubt very much that they heard me because the door shut quickly behind me.
“Murderer!”
Mable had not gone inside yet.
She’d waited for me the entire time.
It was going to be a great pleasure having a business down the street from her.
She’s a real peach.
9
Just after four, I picked Reba up from her shift and drove her home.
Dillon was just pulling in the driveway.
Up until this point, I had still not met him. He seemed to be a very busy fella. Every time that Reba and I had gotten together at her place, he was either out of town on a business trip, or visiting his parents a few towns over.
Now that I was finally able to lay eyes on the man, it was shocking just how different the two were from one another.
Reba had purple hair that she put in many different styles. Dillon had blond hair that was cut short into a crew cut. Reba wore bright, colorful outfits that matched her hair and eyes. Dillon wore a black suit with a navy blue tie that also matched his hair and eyes.
These things, aside from what Reba’d already told me made it clear that the expression Opposites Attract was more than just a catchy phrase.
He walked from his car to mine. I rolled down the window.
“You must be Connie,” he said, flashing me a bright white grin. “Reba’s told me so much about you.”
“You must be Dillon. I have to admit, you’re still a bit of a mystery to me, but Reba says that you are a very good cleaner.”
He blushed a little, nodding his head and laughing. “That’s me,” he admitted. “I’ve always been a little more feminine than my father thought I should be. But it’s paying off. I found a great woman like Reba because of it.”
“Awww, thanks hon!” Reba called across my body and out the driver’s side window. “Listen, Connie and I gotta have a little bit of a pow wow. Could you do me a favor and go inside and get the kitchen clean so I can make you dinner?”
“Whatever you say,” he winked. He then must’ve realized that I was still there and watching them because he said, “Oh, I’m sorry. That wink was for Reba.”
“I know.”
“It was nice to meet you, Connie,” he waved and then turned and walked up the deck and into the top level apartment.
“You have no idea how lucky you are, do you?” I asked, turning to Reba.
“Yeah,” Reba nodded. “He’s alright. I’ll probably hang onto him for a while.”
“So listen” I changed the subject. “I wanna solve this murder. Do you think that we can meet up and write some stuff down on the elephant poop paper?”
“Well, after what you did the last time, there’s no way I’m helping you out at all. I’m not ready to die, or be held at gunpoint, or go for a joyride in someone else’s trunk, but…hold on a minute!” Reba smiled a devilish grin.
She got out of the car and walked up into the apartment. As she opened the door, I heard her yell to Dillon, “If you don’t get it clean, you don’t eat! It’s that simple buster!”
I laughed and thought, she’d better be careful.
A few minutes later she emerged, holding something behind her back and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“I’ve been saving these for you. I was going to wait until Christmas, but seeing as how we’re still like six months away, I’m just going to give them to you now.”
She brought her hands in front of her and displayed two brand new poop paper notebooks.
“You shouldn’t have,” I smiled. “You know, I do have yellow legal pad at home. I would have just used those.”
“Oh,” she said, making a face like she’d just lost her best friend. “But you said you wanted poop paper. Look, this one’s elephant…but this other one’s sloth. Very rare.”
I held out my hand and took the notebooks from her.
“Thank you. I’ll cherish them for the rest of my life.”
That was enough to get Reba to smile.
“You’d better go inside and give that man of yours some love for all the work he’s doing.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “I’m pretty tired. I’ll probably just put on some sweat pants and watch TV while he cleans up the kitchen.”
“Alright,” I said. “So what are you cooking for dinner?”
“I dunno,” she shrugged. “It’s feeling like a frozen pizza kinda night.”
I laughed. She was such a go getter, that one.
She turned to head back inside and I stared at the poop paper notebooks on the front seat. I was honored to have this new found paper supply, but what I really wanted was Reba’s help.
But at this point, that seemed like a step too far.
When I arrived home, the house smelled of peanut butter cookies.
My mother had been in the kitchen for the better part of two hours baking like a mad woman. When I walked into the kitchen, she was wearing her famous cookie making apron. It had the picture of a gingerbread man on it. Surrounding him was the phrase, Let’s Get Baked.
Someone had given it to my mother a while back for her birthday. She thought it was super funny, and the gingerbread man had the most adorable little face. But I still don’t think she knows exactly what it means.
Then again, maybe a part of me just didn’t want her to be so worldly.
“Hey mom,” I said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a peanut butter cookie off a plate. Before I could get it up to my mouth, she slapped my hand with a nearby spatula.
“Those aren’t for you!”
I dropped the cookie back onto the plate and looked around, noticing that there were three different types of cookies on
about ten different plates, all around the counter.
“Who are they for then?” I asked, my mouth agape.
“Let’s just say, we’re going to go pursue a lead,” she winked.
An hour later we were pulling up to the Coffee Creek Police Station, with a backseat full of cookies on plates wrapped in cellophane.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, hiding my head in my hands.
“I most certainly am not kidding you,” my mother glared at me. “I spent all afternoon making cookies to thank Officer Billings and his crew for their help last night. The least you could do is get out of this car and put a smile on your face while we deliver them.”
I sighed deeply.
“Oh, come on, Connie. What are you waiting for? You heard him the other night. He’s not married. Plus, he’s a very honorable man, and handsome too.”
“I know, mom. He’s handsome and sweet and single. I get it.”
“I bet you he treats his mother with respect. That’s important in a man, you know. If he treats his mother well, he’ll treat his wife well, too.”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?” I asked, in complete disbelief that I was having this conversation with my mother.
“You have to look ahead a little Connie. You can’t just keep flying by the seat of your pants. That’s how you end up old and alone. And let’s face it, that’s not what the Lord wants for us.”
I nodded. I knew she was right. I hated that she was right.
I threw open the car door and stepped outside, looking more like a seventeen year old than the grown woman I purported to be.
“Watch and learn,” she smiled. “You grab those macarons and I’ll get these peanut butter guys.”
“But that’s only two plates?”
“Just watch and learn,” she repeated.
I followed her into the police station. I didn’t know how often she did this, but it was clear by everyone’s reaction that it had happened more than a few times before.