Single Elimination: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 4) (3 page)

Luke said, “We actually just met. I’m new in town. I just got here yesterday.”

“You did? You are? I’m new in town, too. I just moved to Bonney Bay a few months ago. You’re going to love it. This town really grows on you.”

I waited for him to make a smart, flirtatious comment. The kind of predatory banter Blythe often got from men she’d just met. Something like,
This town’s not the only thing that’s growing on me.
Or—with raised eyebrows, perhaps followed by a wink—
I can see there’s a lot to love here.

But he just said, “Really? Where did you move here from?”

As he and Blythe exchanged small-talk, I focused on my dinner. I didn’t want to smother my sister, and this Luke guy didn’t really seem shark-like—yet. Maybe it was just a matter of time. Or maybe he wasn’t really interested. When was the last time Blythe attracted a man who wasn’t a shark? But when had I ever attracted a guy who wasn’t a creep? Until Will.
Lightning doesn’t strike twice
, my cynical side said. Especially not twice in just a few months. Nope, chances were this Luke guy was just a little more clever, a little more cool, than the typical guy.

I discreetly checked my phone for the time, and for a text from Will. He wouldn’t be off work for another fifteen minutes, and then he had to change and meet us here.

“So, Zack, are you new in town, too?” I asked the guy sitting across from me. I didn’t think I’d seen him before either.

“No, I grew up here.”

“He’s at Coastal University now,” a young woman sitting next to him said.

Funny, I didn’t think the two of them were sitting together. Nothing about their body language had given me the impression they knew each other at all.
 

“I’m Zack’s sister, Delaney, and you’re Brenna Battle.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, Delaney.” I’d gotten used to just about everyone in town being able to match my face to my name. Not only was Bonney Bay a small town, but Blythe and I had managed to make the news a few times since our arrival. And Bonney Bay had seldom made the news. Until the arrival of the Battle sisters, that is. The whole town had taken note and followed every story.

Zack said, “My parents wanted me to come. It’s a tradition. I don’t think I’ve ever missed a salmon bake.”

“So, you’re a student at CU? What are you studying?”

“Don’t ask him that.” Delaney made a face and a slashing motion across her throat, and Zack turned red and glared at her. “He’s on his sixth year this fall. Still no major, right, Zack?”

“Lots of people take their time to find their path.” Zack stuck his nose up in the air a bit when he said that.

Really? Getting self-righteous about indecisiveness? Which was worse to endure, I wondered—having a goal and determination, and then having to face everyone with the failure to achieve it, or having no direction or ambition? I knew how it was to feel like I was disappointing everyone who cared one whit about me. Not fun. Not fun at all. Just one of the perks of aiming high, I guess.

“Really? Like who?” Delaney challenged him.

“I know a lot of people,” Zack said.

Delaney smirked. “Maybe that’s the problem. All your friends are slackers, too.”

Zack glared at her, got up, and left the table. I tried to signal to Blythe that it was time to find another group to hang out with, but she was already getting up with Zack, being introduced to some of his friends. One of them, I was pretty sure, was the pastor of the big, white church on Bonney Bay’s main drag.

Delaney turned to me. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just past the ‘understanding’ point with Zack. He isn’t really trying to find a direction anymore, he’s scared to actually get a degree and graduate and have to function in the real world. He’s been in college so long, that’s all he knows.”

I’d never been to college. I’d made the decision to postpone it so I could train and compete while my body was still young. I guess you could say the life of an athlete was all I knew, until a few months ago. Moving away had made it a little easier to start over. But not having any goals or direction—I had a hard time understanding that part of Zack’s dilemma. It seemed to me that would be pretty rough, but it was hard to really imagine. Setting goals was what I did. I’d dreamed a new dream for myself when I knew I’d gone down in flames pursuing Olympic glory.

“He doesn’t work or anything?”

“Nope. And you can bet he wouldn’t have ended up at this point if he were paying those tuition bills himself. He even lives on campus. Can you believe that? Because who wants to have to answer to Mom and Dad and drive half an hour to class? Or get his own apartment off campus, even. That would require some initiative, dealing with a landlord, you know, grown-up stuff!”

Well, weren’t we all just one big, happy family here? How did I end up in the middle of this? At least it reminded me to be thankful for my sister. My sister, who was so busy chatting with a cute new guy and his friends, she didn’t notice me suffering through this drama.

“Don’t worry about Zack,” Delaney said, totally misinterpreting the look on my face.

I wasn’t really worried about Zack. I was feeling sorry for
myself
, dang it.
 

“He probably went off to find Mom and Dad or Grandma and whine about how mean I am. Oh! There’s Grandma now. I’ll introduce you.”

Before I could make my excuses and get out of there, Delaney was on her feet, gesturing for me to follow her toward an elderly woman who was standing in the shade, looking elegant and refined.

“Grandma! Look who I just met. Brenna Battle.”

Grandma hugged Delaney lightly, then smiled at me. Her white hair, still thick and full, was stylishly cut. Her powdery pink blazer was paired with a navy skirt, bringing out the pale rose of her cheeks and giving her a look somewhere between soft and ethereal, and classy, no-nonsense.

“Brenna Battle! I’m Dina Hermiston.” She extended a hand. “How wonderful to finally meet you, dear. My friend Gunter Hatton told me all about what you girls did for him. You ladies are so strong and adventurous these days. Oh, my. It does make me want to be young again.”

I couldn’t help wondering if Gunter Hatton did her hair. In addition to being a successful sculptor, he was the owner of Bonney Bay’s original, historic barber shop.

“Brenna just met Zack,” Delaney told Dina. Then she turned to me. “I’ll bet you could teach him a thing or two about goal-setting.
Someone
has to!”

“That’s enough, Delaney. This is a picnic. A fun time.”

I caught Blythe’s eye and gave her a desperate look.
Please! Rescue me from these people!
She got up from the table and hurried over.
Finally!

But right after her came Jessie Pakowski, with a big, sappy smile. “Hi, Brenna. Hello, Blythe. Looks like you didn’t get a flyer yet. Here!”

She thrust sheets of paper into our hands. They bore an image of a smiling Jessie, encircled by computer-generated flowers and swirls, instead of surrounded by her family. I guess she couldn’t get the boys to stop trying to kill each other and look like a perfect family for her photo.

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Hermiston said to Jessie. But her smile was tight.

I put on a dazed smile and read the bright purple heading aloud. “Feel Better about Bonney Bay!”

All around me, people took her flyers, read her slogan, and smiled. I nudged my sister. “Can you believe that?”

“I guess it doesn’t occur to people to ask what she’s going to do to make Bonney Bay a place to feel better about,” Blythe said quietly.

“Good point!” Gunter Hatton smiled over Blythe’s shoulder.

We both jumped. Where had he come from? I swear, that guy could really be creepy sometimes. He was handsome in an older man sort of way, well-mannered and smooth, but not an obvious flatterer. No, Hatton’s weirdness was pretty subtle. It was the kind of thing you forgot about, until he did something like hover over your shoulder and listen to your conversation.

“You know what gets me?” Gunter turned his volume up.

People lowered their flyers and turned toward us.

“Even with everything that’s happened, people still felt good about Bonney Bay. Bonney-Bay-ans love this town. Every death mattered. We feel bad about each one. But that doesn’t mean we have to start feeling bad about our town. Mrs. Pakowski here,”—he pointed at Jessie, who stood open-mouthed, a few yards away—,“wants you to feel bad about Bonney Bay.”

“No, no.” Jessie shook her head vigorously. “Not bad about Bonney Bay! Better!” She tapped the words on the flyer at the top of the stack in her hand. “Better! Better is good!”

Gunter shook his head. “Better means it’s not good enough now.”

I took Blythe’s elbow and backed away from Gunter. I did
not
want to be in the middle of a small-town political debate. Especially considering I couldn’t, in good conscience, side with either one of these candidates.

“
I
feel bad!,” Pete Feldman, the owner of Blackberry Inn, said. “I want to feel better about Bonney Bay.”

The formerly happy picnickers broke into a cacophony of conflicting shouts. “I feel good about my town!” and, “I don’t. Just look at what’s happened! Three murders!”

Beside me, Herbert Random spoke up. “But, the mayor—the mayor can’t prevent those sorts of crimes from happening again. And the mayor certainly can’t control your feelings.” His voice was a little shaky, maybe with age, maybe from nerves. It was hard to say. “Only you can do that, for yourself.”

Though he was loud enough, he spoke so slowly, he took so long to get it out, it didn’t sink in right away what he’d said.

Blythe and I met eyes, and I knew it had hit her the same moment it hit me.
Not bad, Mr. Random. Way to speak the truth.
His thoughts were pretty good. Too bad he had such a hard time expressing them.

I don’t think more than a handful of people heard him. There were a few affirming nods in his direction, but for the most part, his words were lost in the argument. Maybe Herbert Random would make a decent mayor, but he sure was going to need a lot of help to have any hope of getting there.

I watched some of my judo kids play soccer for a few minutes, then headed back toward the picnic area. I still hadn’t seen Sammi and Katie, two of my best students. As some of the oldest kids I had, they had become leaders, especially among my day campers. They were supposed to be here, and I was starting to get worried about them. Katie was younger, but Sammi was the reckless one. Usually Katie managed to keep her out of trouble. Had Sammi dragged her into something?

As I looked for the girls, I spotted an odd pair, apparently having a heated discussion in the shadows of a couple of big evergreen trees.
 
Not my girls, but Gunter Hatton and Dina Hermiston. Why would those two be arguing? I slipped behind a tree before they could see me and edged closer, until I could make out the words behind the tone of dissent.

 
“I won’t support you, Gunter, and I’ll see to it that no one else does, either. It will be impossible for your campaign to get off the ground without any donations. Take my advice and pull out now.”

“And what sweet, grandmotherly advice that is, Dina.” Gunter’s words dripped with sarcasm and bitterness. “You may think you’re still powerful in this town, but in the end, you’re just a helpless old woman. Perhaps you need reminded of that.”

“Are you threatening me, Gunter Hatton?”

“Me? Would I do that? Threaten a sweet old lady who’s done nothing wrong—except, of course, to threaten to ruin my campaign.”

“It’s not just your campaign I’ll see ruined. I’m not dead yet,
Mister
Hatton.”

Dina Hermiston briskly walked away, and Gunter stormed off in the opposite direction. Wow. Things were really heating up in this election.

I neared the picnic area and saw Katie standing on the edge of the group, alone. She checked her phone, then looked around hesitantly, circling around the tables filled with food. Where was Sammi? Why hadn’t she walked down here with Katie? Maybe she was supposed to meet her here instead for some reason. Man, I hoped those two weren’t fighting. Katie stepped away from the food line, back toward the entrance. Oh, crud. She was going to leave.

I jogged over to her.

“Oh, hi, Sensei Brenna.”

“I was wondering when you’d get here, Katie. You’ve got to try the potato salad. It’s amazing.”

“Really?” Katie perked up.

“It has black olives in it.”

“Ooh.”

I knew she’d be sold on black olives. Katie loved them. Whenever Sammi brought pasta salad to camp for lunch, she gave Katie all her olives.

“Go on, get your plate. You can sit with me over there.” I pointed to an empty spot at a nearby table.

“But…didn’t you already eat?”

“Of course, but it’s time for round two.”

I moved along the opposite side of the table and filled my plate, then went to sit back down. I rose and waved. “Katie!”

Katie found me with her eyes and smiled in relief. She took a big step toward me, just as a stray soccer ball came hurtling through the air, straight for her.

“Look out!” I cried.

Katie looked. Right into the ball. It met her face with an awful thwack of vinyl on skin. Katie’s plate flew into the air as her head snapped back. A great, big, buttery ear of corn on the cob bulleted in an arc behind her and struck Mrs. Morris, the eighty-year-old widow of Bonney Bay’s most beloved mayor, right in the eye.

4

Laughter and chit-chat instantly turned to gasps and shrieks. “My glasses!” Mrs. Morris cried. “Oh! I can’t see! Help!”

Women surrounded her, dabbing melted butter off her face with colored napkins and murmuring assurances.

Oh, Dear God.
That woman was lucky she was wearing glasses, or she might’ve lost an eye.

Katie collapsed on the grass, spattered with starchy peaks of potato salad and surrounded by smashed salmon and tattered biscuits. A black olive slid slowly down her cheek. She made a choking sound, scrambled to her feet, and broke into a run.

Who kicked that stupid ball? Dang it.
Katie!
I wanted to shout after her, but I caught myself. That would just embarrass her even more, wouldn’t it? What should I do? Find the kid who kicked that ball and give him a good scare? Make sure Mrs. Morris was going to make it to ninety? Grab Katie and—and what?