4
I stirred my peppermint cappuccino with a rapidly dissolving candy cane. I watched the swirls, a faint frown on my face. Around me, Death by Coffee was hopping, yet Dad and Laura had yet to arrive for our planned breakfast. I was trying hard not to be worried, but after what I’d seen last night, it was difficult not to be. About Laura and Dad. About Rita.
About the body.
So far, all I really had was speculation. Someone had died. I assumed it was the shop owner, Andrew, but it could have been an employee. It could have been a thief. Or someone the cops were chasing, someone who’d tried to hide within the store and . . . what? Had a heart attack?
While Buchannan’s expression might have made me think “murder,” it could very well have been a natural death and he’d only looked at me like that because the detective was thinking of murdering me.
“Krissy?”
I looked up to find a large redhead with a wide, gracious smile, half-leaning over me. Behind her, looking all the world as if she wanted to be anywhere but there, was a wiry teen.
“Yolanda? Avery? It’s good to see you both.”
I’d met both Yolanda Barton and Avery Mills at a party for women seeking help for their troubles. Some just needed support, like my friends, Shannon and Trisha, who’d been very pregnant at the time. Others were dealing with more personal issues. Abuse, addiction, loneliness, and so on.
“You too,” Yolanda said. “I thought it was you when we came in, but I wasn’t sure.”
“It’s me.” I managed a smile that quickly morphed into a yawn. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Is it because of the . . .” She glanced around the dining area and then lowered her voice as she finished with, “murder?”
I nodded, wondering if she knew something concrete, or if she, like me, was merely guessing. “I saw the police outside the scene last night.”
Yolanda slid into the chair across from me. Avery hesitated, and then sat next to her. I noted that there were no visible bruises on her and hoped that meant that whoever had given her the last one was out of her life. It also made me think of Lena and her bruise. I almost turned in my seat to check behind the counter, where Lena was working with Jeff.
“I know!” Yolanda said. “I didn’t see them or anything, but I heard all about it from a friend who was driving by. Said they saw the body even. I was told that they had to carry him out bit by bit.” She shuddered.
“It wasn’t that bad.” Not that I’d actually seen anything. “I saw the stretcher.” I paused. “Did your friend say who it was?”
“Yeah!” Her eyes got big. “It was the guy who owned the place, Andrew Carver. I talked to him like two days ago.”
“You knew him?”
Yolanda nodded solemnly, then shrugged. “I suppose not all that well. I went in to check out his board games, but they were priced way too high. I asked him about it, casually mentioning that I’d just bought one of the games somewhere else a few weeks back for half the cost. Let me tell you, the guy got angry with me for bringing it up. He told me that if I didn’t like his prices, I could shop elsewhere.”
“So, she did.” Avery almost smiled when she said it.
“I could order the same games and have them shipped to my house for less than he was asking. It was crazy.” Yolanda’s eyes widened again. “Do you think that’s why he was killed?”
“Someone didn’t like his prices?”
“Yeah? I mean, it was pretty bad. And it’s Christmas and everything. People are already short on cash and when they go out to buy stuff, to find everything marked up so high? It sucks.”
It did. It made me wish I’d paid more attention to the prices when I was in the store, just so I could have seen it for myself.
Then again, I’d been distracted by an argument. An argument that very well could have been a prequel to murder.
I was about to ask Yolanda if she knew anything about a long-haired, black-clad guy causing trouble when the door jangled and Dad walked in. Alone.
“Hey, Buttercup,” he said, using my nickname without considering how embarrassing it was to have him call me that in public. I suppose I was mostly used to it by now, but when someone smirks, just like Avery did then, it’s hard not to want to crawl beneath the table and hide.
“Oh! You’re expecting someone.” Yolanda popped up from her chair and offered it to Dad. “We’ll get out of your hair.”
Dad held up his hands. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
“You’re not,” Yolanda assured him, urging Avery to her feet. “We’ve got to run anyway. Right, Avery?”
Avery shrugged, refused to meet anyone’s eyes, and then slunk off toward the counter. Yolanda gave us a thousand-watt grin and then followed her.
Dad watched them go before he sat down, eyebrows raised in question.
“They’re friends,” I said. “New ones.” And then, because I was curious. And worried. “Where’s Laura?”
Dad rubbed at his face. He looked tired. “Still at Ted and Bettfast. She wasn’t feeling too great this morning and didn’t want to drag us down.”
“Oh no, is she sick?”
He paused, shook his head. “I wouldn’t say sick, but I think she’s run herself a bit too hard lately and just needs a day where she doesn’t do anything. I know we planned on breakfast but . . .”
“No, if she’s not feeling good, she should rest. And if you want to spend the day with her, I’m not going to be mad. We have all week.”
Dad dropped his hands heavily onto the tabletop. “I feel like I’m abandoning you.”
“You’re not. Besides, like I told you last night, I have morning exercise plans with Cassie.” Plans I was beginning to dread. It was far too cold to go running, but that was what she wanted to do.
“I know, but still . . .” He sighed. “Maybe we can meet up later? I’ll monitor Laura and see how she’s feeling and then decide if she should come with me. Right now, she just feels tired and has a headache and the sniffles, so it’s not like she’s hacking up a lung or anything.”
“Later would be great. I’m going for my run in . . .” I glanced at my watch, “forty minutes. After that, I’ll be free.”
Silence fell. Dad sat across from me, visibly torn.
“Go,” I said, shooing him with my hands. “Be with Laura. I’ll check in with you later.”
He made a pained face.
“Go!” I stood and helped him to his feet. “I’ll be fine.”
The door opened as a new guest entered, making Dad’s exit a thousand times more difficult.
“Oh, my Lordy Lou!” Rita made a beeline straight for us. “Can you believe what happened? And to happen right across the street from us! I can’t believe I missed it!” She paused. “Well, I don’t mean that I wanted to see a man murdered, but I wish I would have been there. Maybe I would have seen something that would help the police figure out who did it.”
Dad looked to me. “Someone was murdered?”
“Yes!” Rita cut in before I could speak. “In that shop across the street from the church. From what I heard, there’s no question that someone killed him. Surprised him in his very own place of business!”
I tugged gently on Dad’s arm, hoping to get him moving, but he didn’t budge.
“And you knew about this?” Dad sounded hurt.
“Kind of, not really?” It came out like a question. “I mean, I knew someone had died, but I don’t know the details.” I glared at Rita, hoping she’d get the hint to drop it until Dad left. “I’m sure the police have it covered.”
Rita snorted. “Like they always do.” She rolled her eyes. “But now with the both of you in town, I can’t imagine this not getting solved. Maybe you could find inspiration for your next book, James!”
That made Dad smile. “Maybe.”
“Laura,” I reminded him. “Tired and feeling grungy. She’s in need of comfort. We can talk later.” Though I hoped the police had the murder—if that was really what it was—solved by then and we could resume a normal Christmas holiday together without talk of death.
Who was I kidding? At this point, not having someone get murdered would be abnormal.
Dad looked like he was considering sitting right back down, but thought better of it. “You’re right,” he said. “I should check in with her. Maybe hearing about a little town drama will perk her up.”
I didn’t see how, but I was happy to go along with it if it meant he was going to go. “Can’t hurt to try.” I escorted him to the door. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“You do that, Buttercup. And if you hear anything. . .”
“I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Dad left and I turned to find Rita standing behind me, hand on one hip, foot tapping on the floor.
“Now, why’d you go and do that?”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Send him away like that? You know your father loves mysteries and what do we have here? A mysterious murder right here in Pine Hills.”
“Yes, but I also want my dad to be safe.” He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and a murderer is a murderer. I’d met quite a few of them in my time, and they didn’t much care for people poking around in their lives.
“Well, I suppose that’s understandable.” Rita didn’t sound as if she understood, so I decided to change the subject, albeit subtly.
“You didn’t happen to see anything last night, did you?” I asked her. “When you left the party, I mean?”
Rita started to answer, stopped. “Now that you mention it, I do think I saw something odd. When I left, I admittedly wasn’t entirely in my right mind, what with Doris and all. She gets right under my skin and, well, I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say to her and wasn’t paying attention to what was right in front of me.”
I nodded, silently urging her to go on.
“When I left, I do recall thinking it strange that a light was on in Andrew’s Gifts. When I’d arrived at the church earlier that night, I remember the light being off because I’d considered stopping in to see if he had wrapping paper because I’m out and thought it would be a nice touch to have a few wrapped presents under the tree. You know, get into the spirit of things, even if the boxes were empty?”
I thought back. I was pretty sure that when I’d arrived at the church, the light had been off then too. Did that mean Andrew had left and then, for some reason, returned to the shop well into the night?
“Do you think an alarm went off?” I asked. “Someone broke into the store and he went to check it out?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Rita said. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they had. From what I’ve heard, the prices there were outrageous.”
Just as Yolanda had said.
Still, this was all speculation. We knew Andrew Carver was murdered, likely in his own store, but it was possible someone had dumped his body there. If the light was on when Rita had left the church, all that really told us was that someone was there then, be it Andrew himself, or his killer, or both. Then again, it could have been whoever had discovered the body, meaning Andrew could have been there since he’d closed; dead or alive.
Could the black clad guy have come back to continue his argument with Andrew after I’d left and it escalated to murder?
It was something to consider.
“Did you see anyone in Andrew’s Gifts when you left?” I asked. “Or lurking around outside it, maybe?”
Rita shook her head. “Like I said, I wasn’t really paying that much attention. I noticed the light, thought it strange, and then went on my way.”
I started to press her, just in case she had seen something, but wasn’t able to remember it offhand because she had been distracted, but stopped myself.
What was I doing? Dad was in town with Laura. The plan was to spend the week together, and then have a great Christmas, sharing gifts and laughs, before they headed back home to California where it might be months before I saw them in person again. I couldn’t let myself get dragged into yet another murder investigation.
Yes, Dad would love to be involved. Murder was in his blood, at least the literary kind. And yes, he and I could poke around like a father/daughter team, as we had done before. It would be a bonding experience.
It would also be dangerous.
“I should get going,” I said. “I need to pick up some candy canes for our cappuccinos before I go on my run with Cassie.”
Rita looked me up and down, but kept whatever thought zipped through her head to herself. “You do that, dear.” She frowned, clearly not happy that I wasn’t as interested in the murder as she was, before she turned. “Lena Allison! It’s so nice to have you back. You won’t believe everything that’s happened since you’ve been gone!”
Lena looked panicked as Rita headed for the counter, talking a mile a minute. I mouthed a “Sorry” to her before polishing off my peppermint cappuccino. I tossed the cup into the trash, bundled myself up nice and tight, and then headed for the door, pushing murder out of my mind as I went.