Mission to Murder (A Tourist Trap Mystery) Page 3

  I’d expected a chuckle. Or at least a smile. Instead, he shook his head.

  “Honey, not everything is about you.” Greg started up the truck, patting my hand. “One of his back buildings where he stores antiques got broken into last night. They found the lock busted and several items missing.”

  “So no dinner.” Craig Morgan had succeeded in ruining my entire day.

  Greg glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “I’m sure I can get this cleared up before seven. Can you wait until then?”

  “I can, but I can’t promise there will be any of Sadie’s pie left.”

  “Evil woman.” Greg pulled me in for a final quick kiss, then released me, positioning his arm on the back of the seat and backing out of my driveway.

  I pushed away from the truck, holding on to Emma’s collar as I walked her back inside the fenced front yard. When I’d built the front fence, I’d been considering getting a dog and wanted the pooch to have free range of the entire property. I hadn’t considered a large dog. The cute four-foot-high fence had kept Emma in so far, but I feared she hadn’t realized she was big enough to jump now.

  I waved to Greg and walked back into the house, bypassing the book and the comfortable chair on the porch. I needed to call the fence guy and get him to give me some options before Greg started showing up with complaints about my dog, as well.

  I grabbed Emma’s food dish and filled the bowl before I sat at the kitchen table to find the number and schedule an appointment.

  “Face it, girl, we’re public enemy number one in this town.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Unexpected visitors will brighten your day. My online horoscope had been less than forthcoming. Greg stopped into the shop to give me one final lecture on blowing up on the mayor’s favorite business owner. A raccoon turned over my garbage cans during the night, a sight that most definitely hadn’t brightened my day. Especially since I didn’t find the mess until noon after I got home from work when all I wanted to do was relax on the porch and read. Now, being superstitious, I waited for the third shoe to drop.

  The fates didn’t disappoint me.

  A knock sounded on my front door as I rinsed the lunch dishes. Turkey sandwich and a slice of Sadie’s pie eased the frustration I felt every time I remembered my run-in with Mr. Holier Than Thou Morgan. I still wanted to strangle the man. Since my run and the pie had only taken a dent out of my anger, my next step was a long hot bath, yoga, or killing the man.

  Drying my hands on a dishcloth, I made my way to the front door, where Emma already sat at attention, staring through the wooden door like she had X-ray vision. Her tail wagged quietly. Frowning, watching my dog, I realized she never did that, except when one person visited.

  Aunt Jackie had come to call.

  Opening the door, a box was shoved into my chest.

  “Take this, it’s heavy.” Aunt Jackie bristled past me into the living room, ignoring Emma, who followed the woman quietly into the house. Emma loved my aunt. Unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t mutual, although often when Aunt Jackie thought I wasn’t looking, I saw her pat the top of the golden retriever’s head or sneak her a bit of meat off the table.

  “Come on in,” I said. The box she’d handed me wasn’t heavy, but the contents smelled divine. Lifting the lid, the aroma of deep dark chocolate of our best-selling dessert, Brownies to Die For, wafted out. Six perfectly cut brownies, waiting to take the edge off the day. Now, this was a pleasurable unexpected visitor. The brownies, I meant, not my aunt.

  “No coffee made?” Aunt Jackie called from the kitchen, where she and Emma had already landed.

  “It’s three in the afternoon.” I shut the door and headed back to grab some plates to serve the brownies. I would have sat on the couch and eaten them straight out of the box with a glass of milk as a chaser. Add in a romantic movie on the women’s network, I’d be in heaven. I glanced longingly at the couch as I walked by. Today was supposed to be my day off.

  “No excuse not to have a pot brewing. What if company comes?” Aunt Jackie chided me, already running water into the pot.

  “Then they make the coffee.”

  Aunt Jackie didn’t respond until the coffeemaker started its brewing cycle and she’d settled into her favorite spot at the kitchen table. For the work I’d done to make the living room warm and inviting, my visitors seemed to congregate in the kitchen. Although Greg and I did like to cuddle on the couch after dinner. I smiled at the memory of last week’s movie and wine marathon. The man did know how to cuddle.

  My memory dried up with Aunt Jackie’s next question. The one I supposed she’d been dying to ask ever since she’d boxed up the brownies.

  “So, what went on out at The Castle today? I heard you decked Craig Morgan.” She leaned forward, anxious for details.

  “I didn’t hit him. I wanted to hit him, but I restrained myself.” I wasn’t waiting for the coffee; I bit into a brownie, hoping the chocolate would calm my nerves. The moist, chewy cake tasted like sawdust. Another result I could blame on Morgan. I swallowed the brownie and got up to get a glass of water to wash my treat down.

  “Well, at least one part’s not true. Honey, the rumors are flying so fast, they run from you killing the man to you and him running off to Vegas to get married.” Aunt Jackie glanced at the coffeepot. “You run vinegar through the machine routinely? The brewing seems to be kind of slow.”

  “I know how to take care of my appliances.” Of course I wasn’t admitting I’d never run vinegar through my coffeepot. When the drip slowed down to a crawl, I’d buy a new one.

  Unsure which of the two subjects would provide fewer minefields, I chose to find out what the rumors were. “I didn’t kill him. Last time I saw the smug jerk, he drove off in his expensive car. You wouldn’t think he’d make enough off Castle tours to afford a car like that.”

  Aunt Jackie waved the idea away. “I hear he’s a trust-fund baby. No other way he could pay the heat and cooling costs on that monstrosity and keep buying antiques to fill the rooms. Rumor around town is he has a shipping crate from China down at the pier with the items he bought this spring on his trip.”

  The woman sounded wistful. Before she’d lost her apartment and the money she’d carefully invested into a local and not-as-famous Ponzi scheme, my aunt had been spending her retirement traveling from one over-fifty cruise to another. She loved seeing new sights and bringing me home cheap souvenirs from faraway lands. Now she lived in the apartment over the coffee shop, establishing herself as my general manager and freeing me to remodel my house.

  Honestly, I’d been feeling lost without my day-to-day work, so I’d taken on a more active role in the chamber’s business section for the town. I’d been the go-between from the city council to the local businesses since I’d moved here. Even if the council never took my advice on anything. Being new in a town made your every action and motive suspect. I don’t think they would have even hired me if Amy hadn’t insisted. It helped that no one else in town wanted the job.

  Although, after my outburst today, my days as liaison between the business and the city council were probably numbered. Crap, I hadn’t considered that.

  Open mouth, insert entire leg.

  “Honey, are you listening to me?” Aunt Jackie interrupted my pity party. The coffee had finished brewing and a cup sat in front of me, courtesy of my aunt.

  “It’s been a long day.” I glanced at the clock. Greg would be here around seven, hopefully. I could probably sneak in reading a few more chapters and a long, hot bath before my guy arrived. If I could get Aunt Jackie out the door in less than thirty minutes.

  “Did you hear anything I said about the mystery signing? We have twenty people signed up already.”

  “For an author whose name you haven’t even released? That’s crazy.” A drawing from the attendees would have one lucky winner getting a signed copy of the book and a free night at the B&B. Aunt Jackie scored council funding to help subsidize the advertising to the local papers in the
towns surrounding South Cove.

  I had to admit, for a crazy idea, she was going full-force promotion. And, since she’d come to manage the store six months ago, my profits had soared. The woman breathed business. And I breathed books. The council could hire her for the chamber liaison after they fired me.

  “Not knowing is part of the fun. Besides, I’m layering hints into the promotions. If someone e-mails me a correct guess before the unwrapping, they win a fifty-dollar gift certificate.”

  She must have noticed the pained look on my face because then she quickly added, “Believe me; the increase in traffic now has paid for the gift certificates three times or more.”

  “What do you mean, increased traffic?” My morning shifts hadn’t changed in volume or customers. I got the same rushed commuters stopping in before heading off to the city for their daily grind. I loved having them take a taste of home with them. In fact, I’d been thinking about opening an audio library to sell new and used audio books for the harried commuter.

  Aunt Jackie frowned. “You’re not seeing an increase during your shift?”

  I worked the first shift—5 A.M. to noon. Then Toby came in and took over. “Nothing I could measure. I mean, there could be a few more sales since you started promoting, but not much.”

  “I believed the increase was divided between your shift and Toby’s. I sure haven’t seen more traffic in the close.”

  Aunt Jackie’s words were clear, but the implication troubling. “You’re telling me Toby’s afternoon shift has increased traffic? How much, ten percent? Twenty?”

  My aunt shook her head. “Our gross take is up one hundred and fifty percent since last month.”

  I leaned back in my chair and whistled. “What is he doing? Threatening to arrest people if they don’t buy a second or third cup?”

  “Now, Jill, Toby wouldn’t do that.” Aunt Jackie paused. “Would he?”

  I stood and put my plate and cup into the sink. “One way to find out. It’s time for a surprise visit to our newest barista.”

  We took Aunt Jackie’s car, I’d walk back. I couldn’t believe she’d fired up her car for the four-block trip. Miss Emily’s house—my house, I corrected myself—sat at the end of town, an easy walk to everywhere in the small village, except maybe the winery. Everyone in town walked. Aunt Jackie drove.

  I slipped into the passenger seat. Something shiny caught my gaze. A heart-shaped crystal hung from her rearview mirror. “This is new. Where’d you find it?”

  South Cove’s business section was filled with artisan craft houses. Glass-blowing and metal-bending artists loved the quiet community as a great place to work. With the tourist trade on the weekend, they could make a living selling their designs. A really good living, from what I saw of the cars tucked behind several combined shop, apartment, and studio buildings. We didn’t get a lot of the craft house businesses at the chamber meetings, but they usually sent a token representative. I’d always imagined the group getting together and figuring out who drew the short straw. But most of the artists were at least civil when they attended, if not bored out of their mind. On the other hand, they didn’t mind accessing the marketing funding we provided.

  Aunt Jackie frowned at the rock, reflecting prisms of light throughout the car. “I didn’t. The darn thing was hanging in my car this morning. I knew I should be locking my car doors. But no, South Cove’s a safe little town, weren’t those your exact words?”

  I suppressed a grin. “You weren’t vandalized. Someone left you a present.”

  “My car was broken into. That’s a crime.” Aunt Jackie started the car and headed back to Coffee, Books, and More.

  “Maybe you have a secret admirer?” I teased as I spun the heart-shaped crystal. The way the stone spun, mixing the sunlight into a burst of rainbow lights, was beautiful.

  “That’s what I need, a man in my life.” Aunt Jackie shook her head. “I loved your uncle and now he’s gone. This is my time to live without worrying about making someone else happy.”

  I hadn’t known Uncle Ted except for the birthday cards and Christmas gifts they’d sent while I was growing up. My mom, Aunt Jackie’s sister, hadn’t been the social type. In fact, if she’d been alive now, she’d probably be diagnosed with agoraphobia. She couldn’t even bring herself to attend my school functions. She’d come to a Mother’s Day tea once and I thought she would faint before my fifth-grade class finished singing the song we’d practiced for months.

  “You don’t have to marry someone to have fun.” I snuck a look at my aunt, who turned her car into the alley that ran behind the building housing the coffee shop and the apartment. The woman’s face was beet-red.

  “We’re not talking about this.” She parked the car and headed to the back entrance of the shop.

  Grinning, I followed her into the building. When we came into the sales floor, I stopped and laughed. Every table, couch, and stool were filled. With women. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, they ran the gamut of looks and styles. And Toby stood behind the counter, grinning and making drinks.

  “Terri? Your large cinnamon tea is ready.” Toby called over to a woman sitting on the couch and talking animatedly with a couple of others, already with drinks in their hands.

  She popped up, sprinted to the bar, and gave him a cover shoot–worthy smile. “Thanks, Toby, you’re the best.”

  Toby tilted his head and turned to see me and Aunt Jackie standing watching. “Hey, guys, I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

  “Obviously.” I glanced around the room. “Are you always this busy?”

  Toby started on the next drink order while he talked. “I wasn’t at first. Then a couple of the girls from the cosmetology school stopped in for a study date, and before I knew it, I got this.”

  The cosmetology school was a half hour down the road. “They drive all this way for a latte?”

  A woman stepped close to me, waving at Toby. “And the treats. We love Toby’s pastries. Be a doll and get me one of those brownies? I’ve got to head back for my afternoon classes and I need a pick-me-up for the road.”

  “No problem, Misha.” Toby boxed up a brownie while waiting for the espresso to finish for the drink he was making. He handed her the brownie in a Coffee, Books, and More sack. “Three bucks.”

  “Here’s five. The rest is yours.” The blonde waved a perfectly manicured hand at Toby. “See you tomorrow.”

  I glanced at Aunt Jackie. I could see the wheels moving as she tried to figure out a way to capitalize on Toby’s popularity. I could see the advertising copy now, Toby dressed in an apron and a police cap, holding a pot of coffee and a tray of brownies. A romance cover waiting to be made.

  “Well, I guess we’ve got our answer.” I grinned at my aunt. Toby, not her mystery night, was the cause of the increase in business. Sex sells, I thought. My aunt’s hiring of the town’s part-time deputy had been a spot of brilliance, but I don’t think she really considered his draw as one of the few hotties around the area.

  When she didn’t answer, I slid behind the counter and boxed up a mixture of baked goods. “Toby, charge these off to marketing. I’m going to City Hall to mend some fences with the mayor.”

  “Thank God he has a sweet tooth. The mayor and you are like oil and water.” Toby grinned.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” I headed to the front door and waved at my aunt. “I thought everyone liked me.”

  Toby laughed. “Face it, boss, you’re like deep, dark coffee. An acquired taste.”

  I left Toby and my aunt to man the shop and headed out into the warm day. I’d stop by City Hall, deliver my peace offering, and then head back home in time to read a few more chapters, my energy cleansed and my mind free from worry. I hadn’t moved two steps before I heard loud, angry voices.

  Looking through the plate-glass window, I saw Josh and Craig in the antique shop yelling. Even though the shop door was closed, I could hear the vibrating tenor of the voices. I glanced down the street. I needed to pass right
by the shop to get to City Hall. Crossing the street wasn’t an option since the city’s road department was replacing a section of sidewalk. I gritted my teeth and started a dignified strut past the windows, hoping the men would be too involved in their conversation to notice me.

  “Hey, beautiful,” a man called out.

  I turned toward the voice and groaned. Ray Stewart, Lille’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, sat on the hood of his pride and joy, a 1968 Chevrolet pickup, step sides and all. As far as project cars went, Ray’s truck took the prize. The engine roared when he gunned the gas down Main. But Ray hadn’t made any improvements on the outside. The fog that rolled in nightly from the ocean had been busy, rusting out the wheel wells and bed. It was a wonder the body didn’t fall apart on the street the way Ray drove.

  Ray’s trailer outside of town sat on ten acres his grandfather had left him. A man rumored to have been as mean as Ray. Ten acres used as a junkyard, supplementing Ray’s income from towing and auto repair. Greg was pretty sure Ray used the auto shop more for a chop shop from time to time for a gang located in San Francisco, but hadn’t been able to gather enough evidence to land him a warrant.

  “Kind of busy, Ray.” My gaze returned to the shop window, where Craig and Josh were still yelling at each other. Ray followed my glance.

  “They’ve been going at each other for a few minutes now. I saw Craig’s car and thought I’d collect some money he owes me. Instead, I’m watching the festivities.” Ray grinned, a gold tooth shining.

  “It’s not nice to—” I stopped. What was Ray doing? Eavesdropping? Watching? It felt like an intrusion into a private conversation. I changed my tactic. “You should go see Lille instead. I’m sure she’d be glad to see you.”

  “Lille’s ticked at me again. Something about cows and free milk.” Ray leered at me, scanning up and down. “You still dating cop boy?”

  “He’s not a boy, and yes.” Even knowing I dated Greg hadn’t stopped Ray from hitting on me. Often in front of Lille. The man had no class.