“You’re just parroting back what your chief told you.”
A shadow of true annoyance passes over Chris’s face. That one got to him.
He speaks. “I am not. The chief and I both looked at the note you handed me, and we came to a mutual decision. Neither of us think that it warrants an investigation. It was probably just a child trying to stir up some excitement, or a bored citizen...” He eyes me pointedly, “...with a wild imagination.”
“Chris, it’s a tip! It doesn’t matter if it was anonymous. You have to follow it.”
“Penny, it wasn’t anonymous. It came from you... ”
“It did not! Yes, I brought it to your attention, but I didn’t write the damn thing.”
“Okay then, if you didn’t write that note, who did?” Chris now looks serious. His eyes burn into me with intensity that wasn’t there earlier.
I hate lying to him like this. But I promised Gunther I wouldn’t bring him into this, and I already cashed in on that promise. Three crisp hundred dollar bills currently burn a hole in my purse pocket, waiting to be handed over to my landlord, Sherry. I need that money, and I basically received it exchange for keeping Gunther’s name out of this.
Chris is waiting for me to answer. I bite my lip.
He raises an eyebrow. “Penny...?” He draws out my name out in a low, serious, scolding tone. “Tell the truth,” he warns. “If you don’t tell us who gave you the note, then it just looks like it came from you. And I have to tell you, that doesn’t look good. You’re a naive and inexperienced PI who might just want to drum up business.”
I can’t tell the whole truth.
I straighten my glasses and then I quickly, nimbly change the direction of the conversation.
“Chris, the note doesn’t matter. Let’s move on from the note. There’s other evidence to be considered. There’s the fact that Claudine was going to meet with Ken Wilbur later that day to restructure her will.”
Chris looks surprised by this. I’ve caught him off guard.
I want to keep the momentum going. “That’s right. Claudine’s will named Lucy as the main beneficiary, but all that might have changed, if she’d had a chance to go through with the meeting. You know who probably wouldn’t have liked that? Lucy, that’s who. Lucy, who happens to have real issues with her aunt. They even had a very public fight on main street ten years ago.”
Chris is staring at me in shock, a blank expression on his face. He didn’t know any of this, and he’s having trouble keeping up.
“And what else is there?” I say, drawing my tirade out a little by tapping on my lip theatrically.
I stick my finger into the air and continue. “Oh, that’s right. The fact that just this morning—two days after Claudine’s so called ‘natural death’—a mysterious woman with blue hair comes speeding into town, arriving over Hillcrest Pass, which hasn’t been open for ages! No one drives on that road! Then suddenly, just after Claudine dies, a stranger arrives on it. Claudine’s house is the farthest house up that road, Chris. It’s pretty much her driveway! Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Just then, a purple BMW flies down the street. It’s like a colorful lightning bolt, traveling much faster than the road’s speed limit.
Chris’s head cranks sideways as he watches the car, and then boomerangs back to me.
“What the—?” He says.
“See?” I say. “Why don’t you do something about that... all of that...” I wave my hand in a big dramatic circle which includes the settling dust from the BMW’s recent drive by, “Instead of selling your little dance tickets.”
“Life Savers Ball,” Chris corrects me. His swagger is gone. His voice is troubled. He’s already reaching for his radio. He presses a button. “Four-eighteen to four-sixteen, I have eyes on a speeder heading towards the corner of Aspen and Columbia.”
A voice floats through the radio. “Four-sixteen responding.”
“Copy.” Chris lowers his radio. He’s backing away from me.
As he retreats, I call, “Try to expedite that autopsy! Four weeks is way too long.”
He doesn’t laugh at me, or shake his head no.
He doesn’t nod in agreement, either, but as we’ve seen before, I’m not too selective when it comes to my victories. I’ll count this one as a win, too.
He turns his back to me and starts jogging a little bit, hustling back to his patrol car which is parked just down the block.
I walk up to my bike, giving a little lunge while jerking my elbow and fist in towards my hip and scrunching up my face as I whisper “yes!” to no one in particular.
Turkey is watching me from his cat carrier. He looks a little bit better today. His eyes are bright and his ears are perked. I still want to take him to the vet, though.
I want to be a responsible pet owner. If Turkey needs medicine, I don’t want him to go another day without it. And okay, I’ll admit it: I also wouldn’t mind the chance to pepper looney Buttercup with a few questions. If she dated Gunther, maybe she had reason to dislike Claudine, his new snuggle-buddy.
I mean, I’ve certainly had less-than-kind thoughts about Chris’s new snuggle-buddy, Nathalie.
It’s not like I ever wanted to murder her, I’m just saying that I know what it feels like to feel a bit jealous.
Just a little, itsy bit. Once in a while.
I hop on my bike, and see Chris’s patrol car pull screeching away from the curb. I can just see the back of his blonde head.
I can’t help but think about him as I ride towards the Death Cafe.
I guess I don’t have to be jealous of Nathalie any more. She’s moving to Alaska—and Chris is staying here. Besides, last night he said that while they were together, he often thought of me.
Me!
Why does that make me feel so good? Thinking about what Chris said to me last night makes me feel like I’m floating across clouds instead of thumping over a pothole ridden road on a bike with below-average shocks.
My head is such a mess over Chris. He makes my blood boil and buzz. But is it running hot and electric with animosity, or... lust? Or worse... love?
I manage to pedal my boiling blood to Annie’s without incident, and soon I’m walking inside.
There are a few patrons in the shop, all of which I recognize. All except one, that is. It seems that the blue hair speeder isn’t the only newcomer to town today.
There’s a man standing at the counter, perusing the menu. My ‘hunk’ radar, which was forged in the fires of high school with Chris as a test-subject, is now going crazy. It’s beeping off the charts, alerting me to this guy’s presence.
He is hunk-orific.
Truly a specimen to behold.
He towers over the counter, his broad, tanned shoulders rippling as he points up to items on the menu. I join him in line, waiting patiently for him to place his order. In truth, I’m just enjoying the show.
“What about that one?” He asks. “The blueberry streusel... that has fruit in it... blueberries are chock full of antioxidants .... that has to be healthy. Is there sugar in that one?”
Annie, standing behind the counter, is looking at the man with the gaze of a love-struck school girl. Well, I suppose a woman’s hunk-o-meter never stops working, even with age.
She nods.
“A lot?” He asks. “I mean, how much sugar are we talking... a few grams? A dozen?”
“A lot,” she says.
He shakes his head. “Sugar is like crack. It’s addictive, and it leads to tragic health consequences. Don’t you people know this?”
He looks around the cafe, as if searching for a choir to preach to. As he swivels his head, I catch sight of his face. He’s an Adonis: strong, chiseled jaw and cheekbones, lustrous tousled black hair, two smoldering dark eyes that glint as if lit from within.
He meets my eye. I find myself nodding. “Like crack,” I repeat numbly.
He holds a hand out to me. “See? She gets it!”
I smile weakly. He extend
s a hand. “I’m Max. Doctor Max Shire. You are...?”
“Uhhh...” Suddenly, I can’t remember my own name. All I can think about is how smokin’ hot this stranger is. I feel like I just won the lottery.
Let me explain.
Here in Hillcrest, we never get visitors. We live in a box canyon, far removed from the rest of civilization. The people who live here, live here year round. Most of the locals are third or fourth generation. There’s really no reason to come to Hillcrest. People are born here, and they stay. There’s only one way in and one way out—besides Hillcrest Pass, that is—so we just don’t get through traffic. It’s rare to see a strange face.
Very, very rare.
When strangers do make their way into this little community, the chances that they are heart-stoppingly gorgeous are slim to none—just like the odds of actually winning the lottery.
My jaw is hanging open. Max smiles at me. This doesn’t help me think. He has two perfect dimples on each cheek. I want to reach out and touch them.
That would be inappropriate.
I clasp my hands behind my back to help me resist the temptation. “I’m Penny,” I say.
“Penny!” His smile broadens. Now he looks like he just won the jackpot. “Let me guess... your last name is Banks?”
Handsome, and a mind-reader, too? “How did you know that?” I ask.
“Just a hunch,” he says with a wink.
He turns back to Annie. “The streusel’s out. I absolutely cannot eat that. You’re telling me you have nothing with zero sugar on your entire menu?”
Annie doesn’t hesitate before shaking her head. “Except for the drinks,” she says. “How about a nice hot cup of coffee?”
“Coffee? It’s past noon! That would entirely ruin my circadian rhythm.” He shakes his head distastefully. “You humans have so much to learn.”
“Decaf?” Annie suggests.
“Fine. Yes. But you really should consider adding some healthier items to your menu. A nice green smoothie or two would benefit all of your patrons. Throw some avocado in there, chia seeds, and a good tablespoon of spirulina.” He makes an ‘O’ with his fingers. “Perfection.”
Annie nods solemnly. “I’ll consider it, Dr. Shire. Let me get you that coffee.” As she pours the cup, she asks, “What brings you to town?”
I’m curious about his answer myself. I listen intently.
“I just ran over Hillcrest Pass,” he says.
“You did?” Annie asks incredulously. “Why, that’s twenty plus miles of road! What could have possibly compelled you to...?”
“Good for the heart, the lungs, the mind, the spirit,” Max says. His voice booms through the small cafe.
“Well, then you deserve to sit down and relax with a nice hot drink,” Annie says. “Will that be all?”
“And whatever this beautiful young woman would like,” Max says, stepping to the side and extending his hand behind him.
I spin around, looking for Max’s beautiful girlfriend or wife. She must be a distance runner too. They probably ran over the pass together. I must be standing right in her way, in my usual awkward-self kind of way. I try scooting to the side as I look behind me.
No one is there, and I end up scooting right into a chair. The chair knocks into a table, and as the table jostles, the flower vase in the center teeters, topples, and starts to fall.
With lightning quick reflexes, Max juts a hand out and catches the vase. He rights it.
I’m swooning, literally, so I have to grip the chair to prop myself up. I look back again, and this time the chair helps me with my stability.
There’s no one behind me.
I turn back to Max and place a hand on my chest. “Me?” I say. “You mean... me?”
“Of course,” Max says. “Will you join me for a cup of coffee? I’m new to town.”
“Oh—well, uh...” I stammer.
“Yes,” Annie interjects. “Yes, she will. Penny, honey, would you like the usual?”
I’m stunned. I’m speechless. It’s all I can do to move my head a quarter of an inch downwards in a stiff nod.
Annie whips up my drink—an iced Americano with an inch of soy—and places it on the counter next to Max’s.
After Max pays, I hover around the counter for a moment. When he’s out of earshot, off looking for an empty table, I lean across the counter.
“Who is this guy?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Annie says, “But he sure is handsome. And he seems quite interested in you.”
I frown. “Strange that he came over the pass. That makes two of them. You said that the woman with the blue hair was here earlier?”
“Yes!” Annie said. “Asking all kinds of questions about Claudine Terra. She wanted to know who her next of kin was. I pointed her towards Lucy. She also seemed to be very excited when I told her about the teapot that you gave me.” Annie motions towards a shelf behind the counter, where the antique china tea pot was displayed prominently.
“You told her that I gave it to you?” I ask.
“Yes. ‘My friend Penny, the Private Investigator,’ I told her. She was very impressed that such a little town could support a private investigator. I said that ‘support’ was a stretch. I told her that Hillcrest tends to be a quiet town without much drama, and that mostly you spend your time knitting and waiting for the next case.” Annie laughs a little.
I’d laugh too, except this is my life she’s talking about. For me, being a failure of a PI isn’t really a laughing matter.
“I don’t spend all my time knitting,” I say.
“Of course not, dear.” Annie reaches out and pats my arm. “And there are worse ways to pass the time. You’re doing just fine.”
“What else did she say?” I ask.
“Well, then we talked about knitting a bit. She’s never had the pleasure, so I told her she should start somewhere simple, like with a nice confetti scarf in a stockinette stitch.”
Annie leans forward. “Anyways, it was very odd. You know, when I mentioned that your business was slow. She seemed to think that was soon to change.”
“Why?” I ask.
Annie shrugs.
I glance over at Max. “He came over the pass too,” I say. “Why isn’t it closed anymore? Does it have something to do with Claudine’s death?”
Annie shrugs again. She tilts her head towards Max, who is now standing near an empty two-top, stretching his quads. “Why don’t you go find out?” She whispers.
I square my shoulders. “Okay,” I say. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it,” Annie says, reaching across the countertop and giving my forearm a second little reassuring pat.
I reach up and squeeze her hand. Before leaving the counter, I tell her that I’ll be back later in the afternoon with a photocopy of the book.
“I can’t wait!” She says.
Max seems to be done stretching his quads. Now he’s working his hamstrings. He’s folded at the waist, gripping the toes of his bright red running shoes.
He sure is flexible.
He’s wearing a flashy red running tee that hugs his muscular body, and silvery running shorts that travel very high up on his legs as he stretches. It’s quite the outfit. On someone else it might look a bit ridiculous, but this guy totally pulls it off.
When he stands, his thick, wavy black hair flops back into place. He grins at me. “Gotta stretch, after a long hilly run like that,” he says.
I feel breathless, like I’ve just run twenty miles myself. Not that I’ve run that far—ever — but I did used to have to run a mile in gym class once a year back when I was in high school, and I remember how it felt.
He pulls out a wooden chair on one side of the table. He’s chivalrous, too! Chris never pulled a chair out for me, when we were dating.
“What brings you to town?” I ask as I smooth my short dress over my rear and the back of my thighs and then slip into my seat.
I’m happy that I wore this black dre
ss today. I’m also pleased with the pearls. Perhaps it’s my classy outfit that attracted this man’s attention.
“Actually, it was a post that you wrote, on rarebooks.com,” he says.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my classy appearance that’s caught his interest. But he did call me beautiful.
I suck up some iced Americano through my straw, buying time as I process this new bit of information.
“Are you Dr. S.?” I guess.
He grins again, flashing those freaking perfect dimples. I feel myself melt a little.
“Indeed, that is me!” He says. “Doctor Maxwell Shire at your service. How fortuitous that I’ve bumped into you like this. Frankly, I had no idea how I would find you.”
“It’s a small town,” I say. “This is the only coffee shop.” I lower my lips to my straw and take in another gulp. The straw makes a sucking sound against the bottom of the cup.
“You humans and your caffeine,” Max says, shaking his head. “Do you happen to have the book with you? I’d love to take a peak.”
His eyes glimmer with desire. He flashes me another grin, this one wider.
That’s when I catch sight of his teeth.
It’s his eye teeth, in particular, that draw my attention. They’re extremely pointed on the ends. They’re long, too, extending well beyond his other pearly whites.
Oh, okay. I’ll stop beating around the bush. The man has fangs!
I feel myself recoil, and he closes his mouth abruptly.
I place my hand on my bag in a protective gesture. At the same time, I shake my head. “Nope!” I say. “I don’t have the book with me.”
His coal black eyes simmer and he narrows his lids, as if he suspects I’m lying.
Did it just get cold in here? A chill runs over my entire body.
“You’re sure you don’t have it with you, Penny?” He asks, in a very demanding tone. He’s looking right at my bag, which I’m now hugging protectively.
I frown. “Oh! Look at the time. You know what, Max?” I feel my whole body shaking as I stand. The chair scrapes on the hardwood floor as I get clumsily to my feet. “I’ve got to get going. I just remembered an important appointment that I have this afternoon. So sorry to run out on you like this. Thank you for the coffee!”
The Case of the Love Spell Page 6