Invitation to Murder (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (2 page)

Before I could even say hello, he snapped,
“When are you going to get over your pigheaded stubbornness and
start talking to Sara Lynn again?”

“
Hello, brother dear, it’s
nice to see you, too. Did you come in to buy a card?”

He snorted. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.
Seriously, Jen, what’s going on between the two of you?” Bradford
was the middle child of our family, the consummate peacemaker when
it came to his sisters’ squabbles. I liked to think that all those
years of maintaining harmony in our house had carried over into his
career choice. Bradford was the sheriff for our resort community,
keeping the peace now on an entirely different level. I just hoped
he had more luck with the residents of Rebel Forge than he had with
me and Sara Lynn.

“
Talk to her if you don’t
like what’s going on between us,” I said. “I offered her a truce,
and she blew me off.”

“
You did kind of step on
her turf,” Bradford said.

“
You’ve got to be kidding
me. Listen, if you’re not going to buy anything, why don’t you just
go?” Then I realized that I was letting him off way too easy,
especially since he’d just taken Sara Lynn’s side instead of mine.
“Hey Bradford, since you’re here, you should buy something nice for
your wife.”

“
If I walk in my door at
home with a card for Cindy, she’s going to think I’m up to
something.”

“
If you don’t, she’s going
to be even more suspicious, especially after I call and tell her
you were in here shopping today and bought something romantic from
my store.” I scanned the room. “Let’s see, what did you buy again?
Oh, yes, that stationery and envelope set. You have excellent
taste, Bradford. It’s the very best I carry.”

He knew when he was beaten—I had to give him
that. “Give me a break, Jennifer. I’ve got two kids who will eat
anything that’s not nailed down. I’m having a tough time making it
on a cop’s salary, even with Cindy’s income from the library.”

I relented, as I almost always did when my
big brother pleaded his case. “Okay, how about one of these, then?
I just made them.” I handed him one of my newest creations, a
soft-violet-shaded card that sported pressed wildflowers embossed
in the paper and the envelope. On the front of the card, it said in
my best calligraphy, “Just Because . . . ,” and inside, simply, “I
Care.”

“
How much is this going to
set me back?”

“
You know,” I said,
snatching the card from his hand, “suddenly I’m not sure it’s going
to be enough. You didn’t say a word about how pretty my new design
is.”

“
It’s gorgeous, an
absolute work of art. Whatever it costs, I’m sure it’s worth a lot
more than you’re charging me.” He gave me his brightest grin, the
same one I’m sure had won Cindy’s heart. My brother, despite his
Neanderthal leanings, could be quite charming when he put his mind
to it.

“
Okay, don’t show too much
enthusiasm. It’s out of character.” I rang the sale up, slid his
card and envelope into a bag, then gave Bradford his
change.

As he took the money, he said, “Now are you
going to talk to Sara Lynn?”

“
Hey, she knows where I
am. It’s completely up to her.”

He shook his head. “You two are more alike
than either one of you will ever admit.”

I smiled at him. “That was smart of
you.”

“
What, my powers of
observation?”

“
No, saving that crack
until after I rang up your sale.”

He tapped his temple. “Hey, nine years of
police work pays off from time to time. Be good, Jen.”

“
You, too. Watch your
back.”

“
Always.”

After Bradford was gone, I realized I hadn’t
told him about the Albright wedding. But then again, he’d probably
known about it before the bride. Our dear sheriff prided himself on
being up-to-the-minute on the happenings and events in our town
before they occurred.

I was feeling pretty good about my day,
happy about the invitation order and my first actual sale, despite
my general lack of customers. Then the telephone rang and I heard
that desperate cry for help.

I stood there staring at the telephone in my
hand long after the woman on the other end had been cut off. I was
pretty convinced that the call was no prank. Nobody could scream
like that unless her life was in serious jeopardy.

Okay, I could stand there all evening in
shock, or I could do something to help that poor woman on the other
end of the line.

I dialed Bradford’s private cell phone
number, one of the perks of having the sheriff for a brother.

“
Bradford, you’ve got to
come to the shop.”

“
Jen, I can’t. I’m going
to be late as it is. Besides, I’m not buying anything else, no
matter how nice your cards and stuff are.”

“
This isn’t some errant
whim, you nitwit,” I said, much shriller than I’d meant to. At
least it got his attention.

“
What’s wrong?”

“
I think I just heard
someone get murdered.”

“
Are you in trouble? Jen,
bolt your doors and hide in back. I’ll be right there.”

Before I could explain what had happened, my
brother hung up on me. These abrupt disconnections were getting to
be too much.

Four minutes later I saw his patrol car rip
up Oakmont, lights flashing and siren blaring. He slammed the
cruiser into a parking spot in front of my shop, his gun drawn and
a look of intensity on his face that I hadn’t seen since we were
kids.

When I opened the door, I swear, he almost
shot me.

“
Get back inside,” he
commanded in a gruff voice.

“
The murder wasn’t here,
Bradford. It happened over the telephone.”

He stared at me a second, then frowned as he
holstered his gun. “If this is some kind of gag, I’m going to lock
you up.”

“
If you had given me the
chance to explain before you came rushing over here, you wouldn’t
have made such a fool of yourself.” Sure, it was a little harsh,
but I couldn’t help it. Hearing someone murdered kind of put a
damper on my social skills.

“
Okay, let’s just both
settle down,” he said as he reached into his patrol car and shut
his lights off. At least the siren had died when he’d stopped the
cruiser, though we were getting enough attention along Oakmont as
it was, thank you very much. An older couple had been walking
toward my store’s front door, but the second they spotted
Bradford’s car, they quickly veered off and went into Greg
Langston’s pottery shop. Greg and I had a history together longer
than the Holy Roman Empire’s, but I didn’t care one whit about it
at the moment. I had to get my brother off the street, and
fast.

“
Would you at least come
inside so the tourists won’t think I’m about to be
arrested?”

“
Sure, I can do
that.”

Once we were in the store, he asked, “So
what’s this all about?”

I explained to him about the telephone call,
the errant search for a Donna who wasn’t there, and the
bone-chilling scream I’d heard as the line had been cut off.

He took it all in, then asked, “And you’re
sure it wasn’t some kind of gag? No, forget I said that. I believe
you think it was real, Jen. I’m just not sure what I can do about
it.”

“
Somebody’s in trouble,
Bradford. You’ve got to help them, it’s what you do.”

He held out his hands. “I’d love to, Sis,
but how?

That call could have come
from anywhere in the country, or the world, for that matter, even
if it was on
the level. It’s not much to
go on.”

“
That woman had a Southern
accent, and unless I’m way off, she grew up somewhere around
here.”

"A lot of folks think one
accent from the South is pretty much like another, but I’d spent
part of my life traveling in my region, and I’d gotten pretty good
at telling Tennessee from North Carolina from Mississippi. I’d
worked in corporate sales for several years
for a pet food manufacturer, and while there were parts of
the job I loved, the absolute worst was constantly being on the
road away from home. It had seemed like a good idea to take the job
right after college, especially since it was the only offer I’d
received. I found it ironic that I couldn’t have cats of my own
until I quit my job selling pet food.

Bradford said, “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but
it’s too much to ask for what was most likely a prank.”

“
So you’re not even going
to try?” A part of me I knew I was being unreasonable, but I
couldn’t help myself. Bradford was my big brother. It was his job
to take care of things like this.

“
Here’s what I can do.
I’ll go back to the office and let Jody and Jim and Wayne know
what’s going on. They can keep their eyes open tonight, and if
anything remotely comes in about this, I’ll let you know. I’m
sorry, Jennifer, but it’s the best I can do.”

I reached up and patted my brother’s cheek.
“I guess I’m the one who should be apologizing. I know I’m acting
kind of flaky, but it really shook me up.” “I understand
completely,” he said. “There’s really nothing we can do, is there?
I just feel so helpless.”

“
That’s the story of my
life, kiddo. I help when I can, and hope it’s enough to make a
difference.”

After he was gone, I toyed with the idea of
keeping the shop open past my posted business hours, but I’d
learned from Sara Lynn that it would be a mistake. I was going to
be at the Three Cs enough as it was without adding more time to my
work schedule. I decided to straighten up and then leave for home.
When the telephone rang again, I nearly dropped an expensive pair
of specialty scissors I’d just gotten in. My hand hesitated before
I picked it up, but I couldn’t allow myself to cringe every time
the telephone rang. Taking a deep breath, I answered, hoping it was
someone ready to place a huge order for specialty card stock.

“
Custom Card Creations,
this is Jennifer speaking. How may I help you?”

The caller hung up before I could get the
word “you” out of my mouth. I swear, people have gotten so rude
lately. No one ever says “excuse me” after a wrong number anymore,
clerks and cashiers say “no problem” instead of “thank you,” and
driving is getting riskier every day. I realized I was tired, and
when I’m tired, I’m cranky. Throw in the fact that I was hungry,
too, and I decided the only place I needed to be was home in my
apartment. I had my key in the dead bolt outside when a familiar
husky voice spoke my name behind me.

I’d been hoping to avoid dealing with Greg
Langston, but that was one wish that wasn’t going to come true.

Chapter 2

“
What just happened,
Jennifer?”

I ignored him while I
finished securing my door, locking both dead bolts Bradford had
insisted I install before I opened for business. I thought they
made their place look like a prison, but I knew he was right. My
brother saw a lot of break-ins in his job, and I couldn’t afford to
lose any of my stock, not if I was going to make my monthly
payments on time.

“
Bradford was just testing
the equipment on his patrol car,” I said as I tried to hurry past
my ex-fiancé.

He wasn’t buying it, though. “Was he testing
his pistol out, too? I saw Bradford with his gun in his hand.”

“
Greg, I really don’t want
to go into this with you right now. I’ve had a long
day.”

He looked sheepish. “Yeah, I’m sorry I
didn’t come over to wish you well. Did you get the flowers I
sent?”

I had indeed, a lovely bouquet of yellow
roses, which he knew were my favorite. “Thanks, but you really
shouldn’t be sending me flowers. I’ve been engaged to you twice.
It’s not going to happen again, I can promise you that.”

Greg touched my arm lightly, and I felt a
brush of static electricity from it. At least I hoped that was all
it was. “Don’t write me off yet,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please, save it for
someone who hasn’t heard it before.” I had a weakness for Greg like
some women had for chocolate and others had for Ben & Jerry’s,
but it hadn’t worked out the first two times we’d tried, and I
would be dipped in honey and fire ants if I was going to give him a
third chance at my heart. Maybe it was because all of my sense of
reason seemed to vanish when it came to Greg Langston. A part of me
was afraid that if I didn’t hold him at arm’s length, it would be
too hard to say no to him again. The first time we’d been engaged I
was fresh out of college, scared and on my own. Greg had offered me
security and stability; at least I’d thought so at the time. The
second time I’d said yes to his proposal had been right after my
parents had died. By the time I’d come to grips with losing them in
a car accident, I ended it again. I didn’t need anybody to take
care of me, and that seemed to be what Greg wanted most in the
world. No, it would be better for both of us if I continued to keep
some distance between us, if not physically, then certainly
emotionally.

Now if I could only get Greg to agree to it.
“At least let me buy you dinner. You have to eat, don’t you?”

He really did mean well. I could see it in
his eyes. “Greg, I’m fine, honest. It was all a misunderstanding.
Listen, I do appreciate the flowers and the invitation, but I just
want to go home, feed Oggie and Nash, then crawl into bed.” My
cats—a couple of strays I’d rescued from the animal shelter—were
named in honor of my favorite poet. There was something about the
way Ogden Nash wrote that appealed to my skewed sense of humor, so
I’d named my two roommates for him, not that they cared what I
called them. Neither cat would come if I spoke his name; the only
thing that usually attracted their attention was the sound of an
electric can opener.