Mission to Murder (6 page)

“You’re not that late, besides I wanted to stop in and see you before I left anyway.”

I swung open the door and flipped on the light switches. Stuffing my purse under the counter, her words sunk in. She stood across from me, a year older, but her eyes were still a brilliant blue. Her eye color was the only thing that hadn’t changed over the year. Instead of mousy brown hair, now she was a shiny blonde. More importantly, the woman had lost at least a hundred pounds. “Brenda?”

“In the flesh. Of course there’s a lot less flesh of me now.” Brenda Morgan spun around, her figure trim in jeans and a cool flowy shirt. “You didn’t recognize me, did you?”

“Not at all. Not being married to Craig agrees with you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I slapped a hand over my offending lips and could feel my face heat. “Oh Brenda, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry for your loss.”

She patted my arm. “No worries. We both know my ex was a miserable son of a biscuit and he probably deserved what he got. I’m sad Fifi got hurt in the process.”

“How is she?” I pulled on an apron and put coffee filters in both the coffee brewers. Turning on the machines, I’d have hot coffee in minutes.

Brenda slipped onto one of the bar stools by the counter. “The vet says I can take her home at the end of the week. Although I’m going to have to get a new place. No way would she be happy living in my tiny apartment.”

“I know Emma would have the walls chewed by the time I returned from my shift. I’m glad I spent the extra money to fence the entire backyard. Although I suspect she spends most of her time on the porch sleeping.” Finished with the must-dos, I stopped in front of Craig’s ex-wife and smiled. “So what can I tempt you with today? A slice of banana bread? Or a slice of one of Sadie’s pies? My treat.”

Brenda laughed. “Neither. I’d have to do a second run on the beach to burn the calories off. How about a cup of that hazelnut coffee I smell brewing?”

“As soon as it’s done. You sure you don’t want some food? I’ve got a fruit cup Aunt Jackie added to the menu. She’s always pushing it to our customers.”

“Sounds good.” Brenda set her phone on the countertop.

As I grabbed the fruit from a fridge behind the bar, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the display, then stood.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back. Work.” She stepped outside the shop and as she talked, I finished the rest of my morning prep. I didn’t want to pour her coffee until she returned, not knowing how long the conversation would last. When I glanced out the window to check on her, she appeared agitated at the person on the other end of the line. What would get her so worked up on a work call? When she lived here, she was working part-time for the English department at a college over in Bakerstown. Maybe a student upset at a grade?

The bell over the door chimed and a couple walked in. They weren’t locals so I put on my best customer service smile and called out a greeting. The two stopped at a carousel near the door where I kept local author books. Local being from the entire California central coast. We did have one author in town. Bill not only ran a bed and breakfast and served as the chair of the business council, he also wrote historical California gold rush romance novels. But the rest of my books ranged from cozy mysteries to real crime, a few craft books, and the ever-popular New Age self-help books. And the damn things sold. I was always refilling that display, probably because the tourists wanted a taste of the local culture.

I was pouring two large coffees and boxing a pie to go from the back when Brenda finally returned to the store, her eyes red like she’d been crying. “Hey, I’ll be done in a second.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got to go. It was nice seeing you.”

I took a step toward her. “Hold on, are you okay?”

“Not really.” She forced a smile, then almost sprinted out of the shop. The couple glanced at her and then back to me.

“Looks like she’s just been told her dog died,” the man joked.

Since I knew that wasn’t true, I wondered who, besides her dead husband, could have Brenda that upset.

C
ounting down the minutes, I was almost at the end of my shift when Esmeralda swept in the door. Thirty more and I would have been on my way home. My luck always ran bad. At least this time she’d left her cat at home.

She sauntered up to the counter, her multicolored skirt swishing due to the honest-to-God petticoat she wore underneath. Chains circled her neck and hung loosely on her white peasant blouse. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair long and loose over her shoulders. And, even I had to admit, the woman rocked the gypsy look. Since her “profession” was the town psychic when she wasn’t answering phones over at the police station, she knew how to stay in character.

And the tourists loved it.

“Double-shot vanilla latte? Or is it a chai tea day?” I asked, trying not to make eye contact. After Amy’s warning, I knew this could be more than a social call.

Esmeralda waved her hand and the diamond rings on all four fingers and her thumb glittered in the bright lights. “Whatever. I’ll play your game. I’m here to talk to you, but you already knew that.”

I made the double shot latte, making sure to use skim milk and sugar-free flavorings. The woman was constantly counting calories even though she probably wore a size six. Maybe her vision showed her what could be if she let herself gain weight?

Handing her the cup, I called over to Toby, who had already arrived for his shift. “I’m taking a break. Yell if you need something.”

Esmeralda held out money for the drink. I poured myself a cup of black and waved her money aside. “On the house.” I pulled off my apron and stepped around the counter, my inside screaming, urging me to run. Instead I nodded to the empty couch over near the mystery section. “Let’s sit.”

She followed me and I cringed with each step but pasted on a happy face by the time we’d settled on the old leather couch. I took a sip of the black gold to steady my nerves, then asked, “What’s up?”

Esmeralda set her untouched drink on a coaster on the coffee table. When she leaned closer, I could see the worry on her face. “The spirits are trying to contact you.”

“I haven’t missed any calls,” I quipped.

“This isn’t a joking matter. I’ve been woken three nights in a row by a woman who says you’re blocking her.” Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed. “Has anything weird happened lately?”

“Besides Craig Morgan being killed?” My mind flashed on Emma and her sudden fascination with the back of the yard the last two nights. And that puff of white. I pushed the questions away. If some spirit was trying to reach me, they needed to be more up front in their communication style. I didn’t have time for guessing games.

Esmeralda frowned. “Maybe it’s about that. Although I don’t think so.” She leaned closer. “You have seen some things recently, I can tell by your denial.”

“If that’s true, you should work full-time at the police station. I’m sure Greg could use a human lie detector.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt bad. “Look, I don’t mean to upset you, but really . . .”

She leaned even closer and took my hand. “Really, you’re scared. There’s no reason not to open yourself up to the other world. They are there to guide us, not harm.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.” I shook my head. “I’m not ready to believe this stuff, sorry.” I glanced back at Toby, who now had a line at the counter. “And I need to get back to work.”

She tightened her grip on my hand. “Go see the place you’ve been watching. The woman will contact you there.”

Great, now I was part of an old spy movie?
Go along with it,
I told myself,
and she’ll leave.
I started to speak, but Esmeralda waved my words away. “Just promise me you’ll try.”

As I stood, she watched, her face focused on mine, pleading for me to listen. “Weirder things have happened. I’ll go to the place after work.”

“You’ll learn to trust me one of these days, Jill.” She picked up her latte and the newest edition of
People
and started reading. Apparently I was dismissed. I grabbed my coffee cup, took a sip, and thought about my morning. Only in South Cove would the local psychic track you down at your job to bring the news of the other world.

I washed my hands when I went back behind the counter. Toby glanced at me. “Something I should know about?”

“You handle the strange and unusual now?” I smiled and shook my head. “Everything’s fine. She’s delivering a message from the other side.”

“Craig Morgan’s not harassing you from the dead now, is he?” Toby kept a straight face but his lip twitched.

I threw a clean towel over my shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Toby’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I was kidding.”

I started the espresso machine. “That’s funny, so was I.”

The lady standing at the counter snickered. “She got you.”

Toby raised his eyebrows and focused back on the customer. “This time. I’ll get her back. Just not when she’s expecting it. What can I get you, sweetheart?”

For an hour, the business kept steady, and before I knew it, the line disappeared. I glanced toward the couch. Esmeralda was gone, as well, having left during the rush. I still felt her presence, pushing on me to follow through with my promise. Aunt Jackie slipped in next to me. “I need to talk to you.”

“You and everyone else today.” I nodded at Toby. “You okay here for a while? I’ve got to step out and visit our new neighbor.”

He glanced at the clock. “You’re done in fifteen minutes anyway. Take off early, isn’t that the perk of being the owner?”

“Yeah, I hear rumors like that.” Nodding to Jackie, I added, “Though maybe I’m just the person who thinks she’s the boss.”

“If you want to say something, spit it out.” Jackie put her hands on her hips.

I put my arm around my aunt and pulled her to the door. “I’m kidding with you.” Kind of. Aunt Jackie was a bulldozer when it came to getting what she wanted. No matter what the cost.

“Well, be that as it may, I need another check signed for the travel costs for our mystery author.” Jackie shrugged off my arm and held the door open for me. “So before you leave, come into the office.”

“Seriously, you need to tell me what’s going on. I can’t be signing blank checks all the time.” I narrowed my eyes at my aunt, trying to gauge her determination.

She didn’t even blink.

“At least, could you tell me how much the check’s going to be? I might have to add funds to the account.” I tried to bargain with her.

“You think I’m an idiot? We have plenty in the operating fund and by the time you do the monthly bookkeeping, the secret will be out.” She put her hand on my arm to still me. “Wait, where are we going?”

“I told you, to visit with Josh Thomas.”

Jackie stopped walked. When I looked back to see what was going on, she shook her head. “No way am I walking into his store. The man looks at me like I’m a daily special down at Lille’s diner.”

“Whatever.” I pulled her arm. “You’re imagining it.”

“The man wants me. I’m not so old I don’t see it when a man lusts for my body.” She shook off my hand. “I am not going over to that old fart’s place.”

“Aunt Jackie . . .” I started but she shook her head.

“I’m not subjecting myself to being objectified. You just come back into the office when you’re done telling him how to act at the business meetings. The guy needs to keep his mouth shut. The meetings will go a lot faster that way. You tell him to stay quiet.” Jackie turned, then called after me, “And come sign my check when you’re done.”

“As if I could have forgotten in the last three minutes.” I watched my aunt power-walk back to the shop. She made a zipper motion on her mouth when she saw me watching, then pointed in the general direction of Josh Thomas’s shop.

The woman was a nut. When I turned back around, Josh stood in the open doorway to his shop. I waved and he stepped back into the shop, apparently trying to avoid me. After almost sitting on me to make me listen this morning, now he plays vanishing games with me? I lengthened my strides and pushed open the heavy wood and glass door into the antique shop.

A bell rang over my head, and I blinked my eyes, trying to focus in the dim light. The man kept the shop dark. I’d heard serious antique sellers were concerned about the damage electric light caused to the merchandise. Personally, I thought it was a way of keeping down the utility costs. A musty and dusty smell engulfed me and I sneezed. Pulling a tissue out of my purse, I called out, “Josh? Can I talk to you?”

No answer. My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting so I gingerly stepped around the displays, heading deep into the building. Boxes lined the walkway, more as I walked farther into to store. The man needed to unpack his merchandise and get it displayed. No one ever bought something out of a box.

He had an antique cash register sat up on a high bar. I took a peek behind the bar to see if he was asleep in his chair. No Josh, but it looked like he’d been working on some paperwork. I stepped closer and a receipt caught my eye. The Castle’s logo was on the top. On the receipt, Craig had written “appraisal and estimating service, $1000.” I flipped through the file; there must have been twenty more, with the amounts all in four digits. What had Craig needed appraised that often that he would pay these kind of fees for? I remembered Aunt Jackie mentioning the crate at the dock. Would there have been this much stuff to appraise?

I slipped one of the receipts in my pocket as I heard footsteps coming from the back. Stepping away from the counter, I scanned the darkness farther into the store.

“Josh Thomas, show yourself or you’re not invited to the next meeting.” I called, my voice shaky.

A breath on my shoulder made me spin and there he stood. “No need to be controlling, Miss Gardner. I’ve been pulling some boxes for a private client who’s coming in this week.”

I shuddered, hoping the action wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “Sorry. I’m here to talk about the Business to Business meeting. To answer your questions about our process?”

Josh started digging in the box he’d set on the counter, his voice muffled. “I don’t have . . . questions.”

“Then maybe you can answer one for me. Why were you and Craig trying to stop the certification on the mission wall?” Anger flared through me. Trying to tamp it down, I waited for him to answer.

“Who said I was part of that?” Josh poked his head up over the edge of the box. “I’ve been staying home, keeping an eye out for those ruffians. Day in, day out. I’ve been watching those boys.”

Yeah, and that’s not creepy at all
, I thought. “My consultant on the commission. He says you have some kind of proof.” I watched his face for a response.

“The man talks too much.” Josh took some statues out of the box and set them on a shelf next to him. “I don’t have anything to tell you.”

Frustrated, I ran my hand through my hair, trying to think of the right combination of words to make him talk. Imagining a duck with a ruler, I went into my “we have ways . . .” mentality. “I need to know what’s going on. It’s only fair.”

Josh took the last few statues out of the box and moved them next to the other items he’d lined up on the counter. He started folding the box and his cold green eyes appraised me. He set the folded cardboard on the top of the boxes already unpacked.

“I’ll tell you what Craig had on the wall under one condition.” He stepped around the bar and sat in the chair, pulling a rag off the table and polishing one of the figurines, not meeting my eyes.

Why did I have the feeling this deal would be one with the devil? “Which is?”

The room quieted while we waited. Finally Josh spoke. “I want a date with your aunt.”