Guidebook to Murder (18 page)

 

The shop was half-filled with customers when I walked through the door. It seemed like forever since I had been at my own shop. Conversation stopped at most tables as they watched me approach Toby at the counter. The scent of chocolate and coffee wafted through the store.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Toby had been stocking the paper coffee cups I designed for the store.

“Good.” I nodded toward the display of coffee for sale, both whole bean and ground. “This is new.”

“Jackie just started selling the packets. They are going like hotcakes, and we have several new flavors that we only feature in the shop. Then we sell them the next month out on the retail rack. Pretty neat, huh? Jackie says it builds up demand when we limit the supply.” Toby nodded like he was committing Jackie's words of marketing wisdom to memory.

“Where is the marketing maven?” I took inventory of the other changes my aunt had made without my approval. I was relieved to see the bookshelves were still on the south wall. But what was that sign? I leaned closer to read.

“She's upstairs. She takes over at noon. That way I can get some sleep before I head over to the police station at eight.” Toby twisted the dish towel in his hands. “I hope you can figure out a way to keep me on, once you start managing the place again. I've learned so much, and I like working with people who aren't mad at me or drunk.”

The sign my aunt had put up advertising author signings distracted me. Why hadn't I thought of that? Amy's planner burned a hole in my purse—I had to sit down and search it for any clue of her whereabouts. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. I'm sure we can work out something. Can you pour me a cup of carmalotto blend? I'm going to head to the back to check out something.”

Toby threw the dish towel over his shoulder and poured a mug full. “Do you want a slice of pie or cheesecake with that?”

Tempting . . . I shook my head. “Just the coffee. And if my aunt comes down, let her know I'm in the back?” I headed to the supply room, where I stored my boxes, books, and other supplies. As I went through the door, I heard the voices from the dining area start back up. Gossip about me was my bet. Sitting down, I pulled Amy's planner out of my purse along with my purple notebook. There had to be something here. If I could just find it.

An hour later, I'd gone through her entire planner, and except for finding out my friend highlighted her pretty blond hair during the winter, I came up blank on finding a reason for her disappearance. Except for one note two days before she vanished—
Meeting with TA
. Who was TA? She had written in Miss Emily's funeral with a doodle of a crying face, dripping a tear. So she had planned on being there.

I doodled in my own notebook. TA. Texas Authors. Teen Angst. Terrible Angina. This wasn't getting me anywhere. I tried to see TA through her eyes. Trouble Amy? Surfing? A type of wave? An urban planning term? I threw the pen on the notebook. Nothing. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.

“Don't you think if there had been something, I would have followed up on it? Or at least taken the planner for evidence?” Greg stood in the doorway, leaning up against the door frame, watching me.

Jerking up, I tried to cover the planner with my notebook. Then, as Greg's words sank in, I realized hiding it was like shutting the dog pound door after the escape had occurred. Too little and too late.

“Toby told me you were back here.” Greg came and sat down. “I'm sorry about the ambush this morning. I didn't know what he was up to.”

“It's okay. I mean, I knew I could be considered a suspect. I just didn't think it would be because our honorable mayor thought I was the fat girl who sold the paintings.”

“I thought you were going to jump over the desk and throttle him.” Greg chuckled at the image.

“Not funny. You don't know how hard it is to lose weight. And I kind of like the shape I'm in. I know I'm not skinny like most of the girls who hang out on the beach, but sue me, I like food.”

“I think you look fine. More than fine, you look amazing.”

Something in Greg's voice made me look up. His glaze smoldered, and if I didn't know better, I would think there was a hint of what, passion? Desire? Lust? My stomach lurched as my girl parts twisted. My glance moved down to his lips. Full, husky, with a five-o'clock shadow on his chin. I lightly bit my bottom lip, wanting to jump over the table for the second time that day, but for a totally different reason.

Stop. Just stop
.

My reasonable side chimed in.
There's an entire shop full of people just on the other side of the door
.

And they were probably waiting for Greg to bring me out of the room in chains. I sighed and pushed the planner across the table toward him.

“The only thing I can find is this meeting with TA. Did you find out who she was meeting?” My voice came out too husky, and heat flashed on my face.

“The mayor said it was probably one of the office suppliers. After the fiasco today, I'll check that out a little more closely. I'm not sure our mayor is playing with a full deck.”

“That's the understatement of the millennium.”

“Nothing else jumped out at you? I should have asked you to look at this before.” Greg leaned back in his chair. “You have a good eye for seeing missing pieces.”

A compliment? He sets me up for an ambush with the mayor, and then he compliments my investigative techniques? “I thought you said I should let the professionals handle this.”

Greg leaned over the table and sighed. “After the fiasco today, I'd rather have you on my side than the professionals I'm dealing with. Come on, spill. I know you found something in the day planner that just seemed off.”

I slid the book back toward me and glanced at the week of Amy's disappearance. Nothing. Then I turned the pages forward. Maybe there was something else. The page covering this week had a note. Schedule time for Jill at council meeting.

I hadn't been planning on speaking to the council. Did Amy know something about the zoning committee or the threat on the house? I pointed the notation out to Greg.

“Look at this. She planned on me presenting to the next city council meeting.”

“About Miss Emily's house?”

“That's the thing. She never talked to me about presenting anything.” I pulled out the folded letter that Amy and I had found in Miss Emily's desk. “The last thing we discussed was why the council used an out-of-town attorney to send these threatening letters. Amy was going to check out who had hired this guy. But I never heard anything back.”

“Why didn't you ask me about it?” Greg read the letter silently while he waited for my answer.

“I didn't at first because, well, I thought you might be part of the whole thing.” My face flushed, this time not because of the ultra-hunkiness of the man sitting across from me. “And then when Amy disappeared and I started getting those calls, I didn't know who to trust and it just seemed too late.”

“Someday you're going to have to trust someone.” Greg stood and walked toward the door. “I'll go call this guy. What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Home Heaven in Bakerstown. Then I'll be home painting the living room.”

“I'll bring dinner by around six.” Greg walked out into the shop area.

“I guess I'll see you then,” I said to the closed door. I stared at the door for several minutes before I noticed that Amy's planner was gone. Greg must have picked it up on the way out. I stuffed my notebook back into my purse and headed back out to the front of the shop. Time to buy paint and pretend that my life was normal, for just a few hours.

 

Blue, I think I'll paint the ceiling blue.
My mind kept running over that old joke about wives and lovemaking as I rolled sapphire blue paint over the beige living room walls. All the walls in the house had been beige. Miss Emily must have gotten a great deal from a local painter who needed to use up his office remodel leftover paint.

Already planning my bedroom, I'd decided on peach walls, leaving the hardwood floors and adding a thick floral area rug to give it some warmth. The living room would be my television and entertaining room, focusing on the television part of that. I couldn't remember the last time I had invited anyone over for dinner.

Except Greg.

And that didn't count since he was just doing his sworn duty to serve and protect. The logical side of my brain chirped in.
He's just doing his job.
Yep, the living room would focus on a new flat-screen television on this wall to mirror the fireplace on the opposite wall. I could imagine being curled up with a dog at my feet, music playing in the background, a roaring fire in the hearth, a good book in my hand, and Greg watching sports on the television.

Wait—what?

My imagination was getting the best of me. I set the roller down in the pan and surveyed what I'd accomplished that day. Half a wall left and I'd be done. I glanced at my watch. Four-thirty. If I hurried, I'd have time to grab a quick shower and change of clothes before Greg got there with dinner. I ran to the kitchen to grab a soda from the fridge. Looking out on the construction mania in my backyard, I froze.

Greg's brother, Jim, stood in the driveway talking to Todd. Apparently enough of the base work was done and soon the painting crew would replace the siding and roofing crews I'd been living with. Todd saw me through the window and waved at me to come outside.

Dread filled every pore of my body as I walked out the door. One, I wasn't looking forward to seeing Jim King again after he'd caught Greg and me sipping beer together on the porch. And two, the only reason contractors wanted to talk to me lately was to get my approval on cost overruns or show me the termite/water/fairy dust damage in the wood that would run me a few thousand more dollars.

I crossed over the yard and braced myself for the bad news. “Hey, guys, what's up?” I said in a tone that I hoped sounded more cheerful than grumpy.

“Good news,” Todd chirped. “I just told Jim here that I'd be out of the way by Friday and he could start the painting on Monday.”

Hope filled my soul. “So, we could be done by the end of the month?” If everything fell right into place, I could take pictures of the house for next week's council meeting. And maybe they'd get off my back.

“One problem,” Jim barked.

I glanced at him. Great, now he was going to turn down the job on moral grounds? What, he thought I'd corrupt him while his crews painted the house? “What problem?”

“I haven't received the color approval letter from the city. I called last week, and they said the city planner was on an extended leave. Didn't know when I'd get my approval.” Jim seemed almost cheerful about the delay.

Frustrated, tears filled my eyes. “Amy's not on leave, she's disappeared. Did they say if anyone else could approve the color choice?” South Cove was very concerned that the building colors, especially the buildings on Main Street, stayed true to historical color tones. I lucked out with the shop since the facing wall was brick, but I still had only a few choices when I'd painted the back of the building.

“The girl who answered said the mayor was handling all those requests.”

“The mayor, of course.” I spat out the words. I could almost see the finish line, and fate had thrown me another hill to climb.

“Do you want me to call back?” Jim seemed like he was trying to be helpful. “I can't start the job until the city has approved the color choice. I'd be removed from the approved contractor list if I took that kind of risk.”

“You call and I'll call. Between the two of us, maybe we can get that approval by the end of the week.” By the end of the year was more like it, especially after my run-in with the mayor today. I was sure he'd love to help me thwart his plans to condemn the property and sell it to Eric. Jimmy Marcum's face came to the front of my mind. I had a meeting scheduled for next week. Hiring a lawyer just might help my chances of ever getting the clearance.

“I need to make a call. Anything else I can do for you guys?” I glanced back at Todd, hoping he'd say no. So far, this conversation had only cost me time, not more in materials or labor.

“A cold beer would be nice.” Todd grinned. “Other than that, we're fine.”

“I'll check back in on Friday. I can hold the crew off until then, but if we don't have clearance Friday, we'll have to start on another house and I won't be able to get you back on the rotation for a week. Later.” Jim slapped Todd on the back and headed to his truck.

“Mr. Sunshine,” I commented, nodding to Jim's retreating back.

“He's an acquired taste.” Todd watched the painting contractor get into his truck. “I've never seen him act this way around a pretty, single gal. Did the two of you date?”

“Nope.” I spun around and headed to the house, but Todd's voice stopped me and I turned back.

“Hey, that history guy came back this morning taking pictures. I let him go back behind the shed. That's okay, right?” Todd's face looked like he'd been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “I mean, I walked back with him and all, but he didn't seem in too much of a hurry. I've never seen someone take so many pictures of a broken-down wall.”

“Mr. Gleason's working on a project for me.” A project that might just save my butt and this house.

“So, the rumors are true?”

“What rumors?”

Todd kicked at a dirt clod lying on the driveway. “That the wall is part of the old mission? You know there's a story about a chest full of pirates' gold being buried around the mission.”