Sweet Obsession

by J A Whiting

  “I’d love to do it. Of course, if you want to hire a professional, I understand.”

  “You’ve had kids of your own. You and Mel are our dear friends. We’d be thrilled if you wanted to share the load with Mr. Finch,” Angie said.

  Orla turned her hazel eyes to Finch. “I think we’d make a good team.”

  “I agree, Ms. Orla.”

  “We can watch for and encourage any skills the children demonstrate, too,” Orla said.

  “You think they’ll have skills?” Jenna questioned.

  “If they’re both girls, I’d bet money on it.” Orla nodded. “Your grandmother’s line of women with paranormal powers runs long and deep. I don’t believe the skills have ever skipped a generation, as far back as we know.” Orla had powers of her own and had spent decades traveling the world working with those who had abilities. She never discussed much about her talents or her duties, but the Roselands and Mr. Finch knew she was a powerful force for good within the paranormal community. “I believe Victor and I would be very helpful to the children.”

  Mr. Finch had skills as well. He could pick up on feelings and sensations floating on the air, and sometimes, by shaking someone’s hand or touching them, he was able to read their intentions.

  Orla said, “Mel and I will have to find a house close by so it will be easy for me to get to the Victorian. I’ll have to speak to Betty about what might be available in the neighborhood.”

  “You know,” Mr. Finch said, “I’ve been thinking of selling my house.”

  Everyone turned to the man with wide eyes.

  “What? Why? Where would you go?” Angie’s voice held a slight tone of panic.

  “Are you moving in with Betty?” Jenna asked.

  “Oh, my, no, Miss Jenna. We’re not married, and as much as we love each other, we’ve both been living alone for so long I’m not sure it would be wise to share a home together.” Finch’s eyes sparkled as he gave the women a wink. “And besides, for us, I think time apart makes our spark glow stronger.”

  Jenna, Angie, and Orla chuckled.

  “Whatever works for you,” Jenna told the man.

  “But why do you want to leave your house?” Angie asked.

  “It’s too big for me. I’m one person. I don’t need so many rooms. I’d prefer something smaller and cozier.”

  “Have you started looking around?” Angie didn’t like the idea of Mr. Finch being further away from them and told him so.

  Finch smoothed his mustache. “Well, I have an idea, but I’ve not yet brought it up with any of you.”

  “What is it?” Angie felt slightly worried.

  “Would it be possible for me to rent one of the carriage house apartments? On a long term basis?”

  Angie’s heart skipped a beat. “The carriage house … you want to move into the carriage house?”

  “If it wouldn’t inconvenience anyone.” Finch looked from Jenna to Angie. “As long as there aren’t future plans for the apartments.”

  “Of course you can live in one of the apartments.” Angie smiled with relief that Finch would still be living close to them. “That would be perfect.”

  “You’d only be steps from the Victorian,” Jenna said. “It would be wonderful.”

  “I’ll speak to Miss Ellie about it to be sure it wouldn’t interfere with her bed and breakfast business. Some of the guests like having an apartment when they stay here.”

  Angie waved her hand in the air. “There are two apartments available. A guest can have the other one if they want an apartment. Tom says there’s plenty of room to build another apartment off the back of the carriage house. Would you rather a first floor living space? We can talk about building you a new place.”

  “I never thought of that,” Finch said with interest in the idea.

  Jenna smiled. “I’ll talk to Tom about it later tonight.”

  Orla said, “If you’re going to sell your house, Victor, maybe Mel and I would be interested in purchasing it from you. Do you have a bedroom on the first floor?”

  “There is a good-sized den on the first floor that would be perfect for a bedroom. There’s also a full bathroom.”

  Orla clasped her hands together. “I’d be so close to the Victorian.”

  Finch beamed. “There’s a brick walkway from my house through the small grove of trees to the rear of the Victorian. I had it put in to make it easier for me to pass from my home to this one.”

  “Everything’s falling into place.” Jenna’s face was bright. “You’ll each have homes that are more suited to your needs, and our babies now have their nannies.”

  Ellie stepped into the bake shop through the door that led into the mansion’s kitchen to see the four people hugging one another. “What have I missed?”

  Each of them took turns explaining the reasons why they were happy.

  “That’s great news,” Ellie said. “It will be wonderful to have you even closer to us, Mr. Finch, and it will be so convenient for Orla and Mel to be nearby. The babies are very lucky to have so many loving people in their lives.”

  Jenna said, “And Orla and Mr. Finch will help the kids develop their skills.”

  “Oh.” Ellie’s face dropped. “I didn’t think about that. I didn’t realize the babies would be born with their own abilities.”

  “We’re guessing they will,” Angie pointed out. “We don’t know for sure.”

  “Paranormal skills run deep in your genes,” Orla told Ellie. “It’s very likely these new members of the family will have them as well.”

  Ellie looked uneasy. “How early do things like that show up?”

  Orla slipped the washed and dried pastry racks into place in the glass cases. “It can happen around the time they begin to walk, or the skills can take their time and show up later in life, but most skills make an appearance by adolescence.” The older woman picked up on Ellie’s discomfort. “Not to worry. Things develop slowly. Children show signs of their abilities, but they need guidance to understand what they can do and it takes years for them to come into their own.”

  “They won’t do anything unusual in front of strangers?” Ellie questioned.

  “Not at all. They’ll learn to control themselves before their skills strengthen.”

  “That’s a relief.” Ellie’s posture became more relaxed, and then she looked over at Angie. “Oh. I forgot. Chief Martin is trying to get in touch with you. He said you’re not answering his texts or calls.”

  “I forgot to turn my phone back on. I wonder what he wants.” Hurrying to get her phone, a cold shiver of worry washed over Angie’s skin.

  7

  Chief Martin wanted Angie and one of her sisters or Mr. Finch to accompany him to see Agnes Shield’s neighbor. The woman called him and ranted about safety and the bomb and what were the police going to do about it. The chief tried to calm her over the phone by explaining how law enforcement would proceed with the case, until she told him she saw something on the day Agnes was injured.

  Emily Lancer was in her late seventies, was short and round, had light blue eyes and white hair cut in short layers around her face. She was waiting on the porch for the chief, Angie, and Jenna and stood when she saw them pull into the driveway. A few minutes later, Chief Martin’s friend, Chief Benny Peterson of Solana, pulled up to the house. Peterson was in his late fifties, slim, medium height, and graying.

  After introductions, they all went inside to Mrs. Lancer’s air-conditioned sitting room. The home was neat and lovingly decorated with velvet sofas, cherry side tables, a coffee table, and a heavy Persian rug of soft, muted colors.

  “Please sit down,” Mrs. Lancer gestured to the chairs and sofas. “We have carafes of iced tea and lemonade, and there are cookies on the table. Please help yourselves.”

  Chief Martin had his notebook on his knee as he balanced a small plate with two cookies on his lap. “Thank you for seeing us. Have you spoken with Mrs. Shield since the accident?”

  “It wasn’t an accident,�
�� Mrs. Lancer corrected. “It was a deliberate act to kill or maim someone. And no, I haven’t spoken with Agnes. We sent her flowers and I have plans to go visit her tomorrow.”

  “We saw her today. She’s doing well. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you,” the chief said.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Mrs. Lancer shuddered. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened. It could have been me or my husband. For some reason, the attacker chose Agnes’s house to leave the bomb. It could have been our front porch. Who knows why? Luck or not, that’s what it adds up to.”

  “You were at home when the bomb went off?” Chief Peterson asked.

  “I was.” Mrs. Lancer wrapped her arms around herself. “What a sound, like the whole town was going up in a blast.”

  “Can you tell us where you were?” Chief Martin asked.

  “I was in my kitchen. I was making a late lunch. The windows shook when the bomb blasted. I was afraid a plane had crashed nearby or we were having an earthquake or some such thing. I ran to the front porch to see what was going on. I didn’t notice at first, but part of Agnes’s porch had been destroyed. Part of the railings and the slats of the porch were gone. I couldn’t fathom what had happened.”

  The woman appeared visibly shaken from reliving the event.

  “What did you do next?” Jenna asked.

  “When I saw the porch rails blown apart, I called to Agnes.”

  “Did you stay on your porch when you called to her?” Jenna asked the next question.

  “Yes, I did. I must have been in shock or something because I didn’t think to move,” Mrs. Lancer said. “I heard a moan coming from Agnes’s porch. I managed to get moving and hurried over to see what happened. There she was, lying on the floor. I saw the blood. I looked all around trying to see if anyone was outside. I didn’t know if she’d been shot or what. I felt panicky. Was someone outside with a rifle picking people off? I ran into my house and called the police.”

  “Did you stay inside?” Angie questioned.

  “I did. I was afraid to go back out.” Mrs. Lancer pushed at the side of her hair with shaking fingers. “I’m a coward, I guess. I left Agnes alone out there.”

  “You did the right thing,” Angie told the woman. “There could have been a gunman. You were right to stay indoors.”

  “What happened when the police arrived?” Chief Peterson asked.

  “I looked out of the front door. I stepped onto the porch. I told them I was the one who called. I told them Agnes was hurt.” Mrs. Lancer put her hand on her stomach. “It makes me ill to talk about it.”

  “Would you like to take a break?” Chief Martin asked.

  “I’m okay.” The woman’s cheeks were bright pink.

  “Was your husband at home when the incident happened?” Angie questioned.

  Mrs. Lancer shook her head. “He was out shopping for a new car. He didn’t get home until dinner time. He doesn’t listen to the radio when he’s driving so he had no idea there was a bomb or that Agnes had been hurt.”

  “Did the police tell you a bomb had gone off?”

  “Not in so many words. They asked me what I heard. They asked me if I heard Agnes speaking to anyone. They told me to keep the doors locked and not to handle any suspicious or unexpected packages. If I saw one, I should go inside and immediately call the police. From their questions, and from what I heard and what I saw, I was certain a bomb package must have blown up on Agnes’s porch.”

  “When we spoke on the phone,” Chief Martin said, “you told me you saw something.”

  Mrs. Lancer squeezed her lips together for a moment and then said, “I saw a delivery man. I saw him walking down Agnes’s walkway to the street.”

  Angie’s heart pounded. “What time was this?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t bother to check the time. I was in the kitchen and when I turned around, I caught sight of the man walking away.” Mrs. Lancer gestured towards the window and then to the back of the house. “The kitchen is open to the family room and the windows look out over the side yard. I saw the man walking away from Agnes’s porch.”

  “What did he look like?” Jenna leaned forward. “Can you describe him for us?”

  “Like a normal man. He had on sunglasses. He had on dark slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt. It was like a Polo shirt. I thought it looked like a uniform.”

  “Was he tall? Short?”

  “Medium,” Mrs. Lancer said.

  “What color was his hair?” Chief Peterson asked.

  “He had on a cap, you know, like a baseball hat.”

  “Did he have any facial hair? A mustache? A beard?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How old did the man seem?” Angie asked the woman.

  Mrs. Lancer tapped her cheek with her index finger as she thought over the question. “Not an older man. He moved quick like he was younger, but not a teenager.”

  Chief Peterson asked, “Did you see his delivery truck?”

  “I would have had to come in here to see the street so, no, I didn’t see a truck. There wasn’t anything unusual about a delivery man being in the neighborhood. I didn’t see any need to look out at him.”

  “Did you recognize what he was wearing? Did it make you think of a certain delivery service or company?” Angie asked.

  “I thought about that and I don’t know the answer.” Mrs. Lancer clutched her hands together. “It wasn’t a uniform used by the usual delivery companies. He didn’t look like them. He didn’t look like a postal worker either. I guess I assumed he was a delivery person for a national company, but the more I think about it, the more I realize he could have been pretending to be affiliated with a known business.”

  Jenna tried to jog the woman’s memory. “Was there a name or a logo or anything like that on the man’s shirt?”

  Mrs. Lancer lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t notice.”

  “After you saw the delivery man leaving, did the bomb go off right away?” Chief Martin asked the woman.

  “No. Maybe thirty minutes after I saw the man. Agnes must have come out to get the mail and spotted the package.”

  “Would you recognize this man if you saw him again?”

  Mrs. Lancer shook her head sadly. “I don’t see how I could. He wore sunglasses, had on the hat. I didn’t see much of his face. He walked by briskly. I only had my eyes on him for a couple of seconds. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Chief Martin encouraged the woman. “It gives us information we didn’t have before. Every little bit helps. It will all add up. We need every piece of information to put it all together.”

  Mrs. Lancer seemed to brighten a little after the chief spoke.

  “Were you and Agnes friends?” Chief Peterson asked.

  “We were friendly. Agnes and I, and our husbands would have dinner together on occasion. Maybe once every two months. Agnes is still working, her husband, too. She’s a smart woman.”

  “Did Agnes tell you anything about an argument or a run-in with anyone?” Chief Peterson asked.

  Mrs. Lancer sat up straight with wide eyes. “She had a run-in with someone?”

  “We don’t know. We’re trying to find out if she’d run into someone who might have argued with her or caused trouble of some kind. A patient, a colleague, an acquaintance?”

  “I don’t know. Agnes didn’t mention anything like that to me.” Mrs. Lancer wrung her hands absent-mindedly. “Did the delivery man leave the package on Agnes’s porch because some killer sent it to her or was he a fake delivery man who targeted Agnes himself? Did he want to hurt Agnes or did he just look for a house where it was easy to drop off a package?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Chief Peterson said.

  “Was he looking for any random house to drop the bomb at? He couldn’t have been out to get Agnes specifically. There’s no possible reason he would want to hurt her … she’s a very nice person who gets along with everyone. It had to be random.”

  8
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br />   It was late afternoon when Angie, Courtney, and Jenna took a stroll to Main Street to browse in the stores and take a break from their busy lives. Sweet Cove’s main street extended from the north end of town near the large common and park down to the southern tip where another popular tourist area known as Coveside was located. Coveside bordered the picturesque harbor and consisted of restaurants, small shops, and brick sidewalks. The central street near the Victorian also had popular shops, quaint pubs, cafes and restaurants, and flowers spilling over from window boxes and pots set near the entrances to the establishments.

  The temperature was milder than it had been and the air carried very little humidity making it a perfect afternoon to stroll through town.

  “I’m caught up on my jewelry shipping thanks to you and Courtney and Ellie helping out,” Jenna said. “There might be another huge shipment day coming up so I might press you all into service again soon.”

  Courtney chuckled. “That’s fine. As usual, we’ll send you a bill for our services.”

  Jenna smiled. “And I’ll throw it in the trash as usual.”

  As they passed a new shop, Courtney stopped to look in the window. “Hey, look at this. They carry baby clothes and supplies. Let’s go in.”

  The three young women stepped inside to the cozy, beautifully decorated, softly-lit store brimming with racks of baby and children’s clothes, cribs and hand-painted furniture, strollers, and toys.

  “This stuff is beautiful.” Courtney admired a small, white dresser with animals and balloons painted on it.

  Jenna held up a few onesies for Angie to see. “Look how tiny these are.”

  Angie ran her hand over a soft, light pink blanket. “We’ll have to start thinking about preparing our nurseries pretty soon.”

  With a beaming smile, Jenna looked at her twin sister. “It will be like our kids are twins, they’ll be born so close together.”

  “I’m glad they’re going to have each other to play with and go to school together.” Angie gave her sister’s arm an affectionate squeeze.