Sweet Taffy and Murder: Sweet Taffy Cozy Mysteries Book #1 (5 page)

A thin stream of water trickled from under the sink. She looked in the cupboard. A curved what’s-it-called attached to a straight whatchamacallit seemed to have come loose. Water pooled under the sink and trailed across the kitchen floor until it hit the lowest point, of which there were several because nothing in the house seemed to be level.

Taffy leaned under the sink to tighten the fitting. This had an opposite effect.

A thick stream of water hit her in the face, and she fell backwards onto her rear. Water seeped through her pants as mascara ran down her face. She pushed her wet hair off her forehead and tried her best not to scream bloody murder. She scrambled around looking for a dishcloth to tie around the jet of water, tourniquet-style. She’d seen that in a movie once to stop blood flow. The dishcloth was soaked and limp within seconds. The puddle on the floor was quickly becoming a pond. Taffy panicked. “WhatdoIdo?WhatdoIdo?WhatdoIdo?”

She threw every dry thing she could find onto the puddle to soak it up, including her new chocolate-stained work jacket, but the water just kept coming. In New York, she would have called the building superintendent, and he would have taken care of everything while she went out shopping. Here, there was no super to call. But wait, there was someone.

She dug around in her purse for her phone and punched in Ethan’s number.

When he picked up she yelled, “Help! I’m drowning!”

“How was I supposed to know how to turn the water off?”

It was the first thing Ethan had tried to get her to do.

“The taps are off, the taps are off!” Taffy had screamed back at him after wrenching the hot and cold levers back as far as they could go. She’d gone utterly blank when he said to look for the main tap bringing water into the house. Never in her life had she wondered where the water came from. She just assumed that when you turned a tap on, water came out, and when you turned it off, it stopped.

“I mean, I can’t know what I don’t know, right?” Taffy stood next to the sink talking to Ethan's legs. He was under the sink, fixing the leak. She’d been in the process of trying to mop up the puddle but decided to take a little break.

“True. But you can find out. You can
learn
.”

“Not when water’s shooting up my nose.”

“You’re a homeowner now. You’ll have to deal with stuff like this.”

Taffy banged the mop against the floor in protest. “I never wanted
this
.”

Ethan shimmied out from under the sink and gave Taffy one of those lopsided grins.

He said, “You know, you can’t always get what you want…”

Taffy frowned. She did always get what she wanted. Until her Nana handed her that stupid envelope.

“But if you try … sometimes…” Ethan continued to recite the famous Rolling Stones lyrics. He finished with a little drum riff with the wrench against the toolbox.

When Taffy stared blankly, Ethan’s jaw dropped open.

“You don’t recognize the song? What planet are you from?”

He closed up the toolbox, rose to his full height, and said, “After you finish mopping, you’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Half an hour later they were bouncing down the road in Ethan’s pickup, but he hadn’t told her where they were going.

It’s not that Taffy hadn’t recognized the Rolling Stones. She’d grown up with a rock-star father, after all. But after middle school, after her parents separated, after her mother died, none of that seemed cool anymore. She wanted nothing to do with music or bands or lyrics, unlike a lot of her friends. They all thought her dad was uber-cool, but at a certain point, Taffy couldn’t stand to look at him.

She’d tell Ethan the truth eventually, but for now, her feigned ignorance had inspired him to take her out to cheer her up. She wondered if she could consider it a date? Whatever it was, she appreciated having someone to talk to about her day.

She told him about getting stopped by the police on her way home.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a troublemaker.”

There was that lopsided grin again. Taffy was not going to melt. She held on to her indignation. “I mean, speeding I kind of understand, but who gives tickets for jaywalking?”

Ethan laughed. “I guess you did get on her wrong side.”

“I don’t think she has a right one.”

“You’ve got to give people a chance.”

Taffy crossed her arms and looked out the window. She didn’t like Ethan defending that cop.

He cleared his throat. “So how was your first day of work?”

Taffy went along with the change of subject.

“You happen to be sitting next to a newly minted sugar elf. Though I think I got on the wrong side of the manager, too.”

“Mr. Herbert? He’s got some sort of chip on his shoulder.”

“You know him?”

Ethan shrugged. “Small town.”

“I also met this girl, Ellie. She’s a bit of a pushover but wants to be my friend.”

“Is that the Ellie who works at the gas station on Tuesday and Friday nights?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Does everyone in a small town do at least two things?”

She and her friends did practically nothing back home.

"Or more."

"Like you? You're the park ranger, and fixer-upper guy, and you make killer coffee." Taffy counted off three of her fingers.

"You've barely scratched the surface."

Taffy wasn't sure about scratching, but she wouldn’t mind touching the surface of Ethan, especially around his chest. She looked down at her hands in her lap to avoid looking at his perfect smiling lips and sparkling green eyes. And then she blurted out, “Ellie invited me to a house party this Saturday. She said I could bring a friend. Do you want to come?”

When she glanced up he was holding up four fingers. “That would add something else to my list.” He touched the tip of that fourth finger. “Taffy Belair’s friend.”

“Think you can handle it, Mr. Park Ranger?”

He wrapped his fingers back around the steering wheel. “It would be a privilege.”

Taffy felt all warm and syrupy inside.

“So where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise. We’re almost there.”

They were passing a neon sign of a massive bowling pin sitting atop a low, wide windowless building, but Ethan drove on by, which was a relief. She did not want to go bowling on her first date with him.

“Is that where Janet used to bowl?”

“I suppose so.”

“How many bowling alleys are there in this town?”

“Just the one.”

“Ellie told me Janet owned half the candy factory. Did you know that?”

He nodded. “She was going to sell her shares and her house to finance her move to Arizona.”

“So much for best-laid plans,” Taffy said as Ethan signaled to pull into the parking lot of a small dive-y looking bar, one of those concrete squares with a door, no windows, and a flashing neon Budweiser sign.

There was also an event sign, one with the interchangeable black letters on a lined white background. Some of the letters were wrong or missing, but the meaning was clear.

“Good Lord, please tell me this isn’t happening.”

“Let me guess,” said Ethan, sliding the transmission into park and turning off the engine. “You hate karaoke.”

“Even more than kary-cokey,” she said, pointing to the misspelled sign. She slumped down in her seat wishing Ethan would start laughing his lovely laugh and drive away saying, “Just kidding. We’re going to go poke our eyes out instead.” But no. His car door was open, and he was actually saying, “Come on. You’ll like it. All the good nuts are here.” Taffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. When he saw she wasn’t moving, he added, “Give it a chance. Monday is sixties and seventies only. No teeny-bopper stuff. If you’re having a terrible time, we’ll just stay for one beer.”

Reluctantly, Taffy climbed out of the truck. Across the hood she asked him, “Is this a date?”

There was that lovely laugh of his, just when Taffy least expected it.

“This is one friend trying to cheer up another.” He led the way toward the door. She followed, hot with embarrassment and wanting to regain her cool.

“Sending me to the spa would have cheered me up. Buying me a ticket to Jamaica maybe. Trading in my tin can of a car for a Lexus, now that would have been nice.”

With the door to the bar propped open and rock ’n’ roll belching out, Ethan stopped and turned to her. He was still smiling, but his eyes looked more serious and searching.

“I’m trying very hard not to call you ‘Your Highness.’ Do I need to start?”

Taffy blinked, and when an unbidden thought about checking her calendar to see if it was time to redo her eyelash extensions popped into her brain, she gulped. Is what she’d become? Is this why her grandmother had sent her away?

She cleared her throat and tried to save face. “Sorry. Forget about Jamaica and the Lexus.”

“Whew, weight off my mind.”

“The spa might still be a good idea, though.”

He paused at the door.

“Just kidding, Ranger,” she said, nudging him. “And the first round’s on me.” She could forgo lunch for the next three days. “But I’m
not
singing.”

She walked ahead through the door, and Ethan followed. Behind her, she heard him mutter, “We’ll see.”

The joint was nearly full. Someone was on the small stage singing “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix.

They made their way to the bar. The bartender reached over to shake Ethan’s hand. As the music died down, she heard the bartender say, “Hey man, I’m waiting on that next batch. When will it be ready?”

He pulled up two dark bottles from under the counter, knocked the caps off, and handed them over.

“Soon,” Ethan said. “Another week.”

Taffy pulled out her wallet and fished around for her remaining dollars.

“Put that away, Sweetheart. It’s on the house.”

Taffy looked up at the bartender and then at Ethan, who grinned down at her, as if he’d known that was going to happen. He then led the way to one of the few remaining empty tables.

“You weren’t going to let me buy, were you?”

“Not a chance.” He grinned.

“So what’s that about a ‘batch’?” said Taffy. “Are you the local drug dealer, too?”

He laughed. “Nope. Though I do run a kind of grow op.”

Taffy raised an eyebrow.

“I grow hops. I co-own a very small microbrewery, though we’re not making any profits yet.”

“Seriously? I’m going to run out of fingers keeping track of all that you do.”

He raised his beer to her and winked. “I like the idea of keeping your fingers busy.”

Taffy felt herself blush just as Ethan’s attention was drawn to the stage, where a woman with dark wavy hair was launching into a rendition of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” She had a strong smooth voice and powerful allure.

“Do I know her?” said Taffy.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t recognize your nemesis?”

Taffy looked more closely. “It’s not!”

Out of uniform and with her hair down, she looked like a different person.

As Maria Salinas belted out the chorus, she seemed to be singing directly to Ethan. He whistled encouragingly.

For a split second, Taffy felt like a third wheel. She swilled back her beer. Ethan had said they only had to stay for one. She was determined to cash in on that promise, until, unasked, the bartender delivered two more beers to their table. Taffy finished her first and started sipping her second.

It had been a long time since she’d felt the stinging prick of jealously, made all the more uncomfortable by the fact that she had no claim on Ethan, regardless of his seeming flirtations. To make matters worse, when the song ended, he waved Maria Salinas over to their table.

“You two should get to know each other.”

“Why? She hates me.”

“She doesn’t
hate
you.”

“Just wait,” Taffy muttered.

Ethan stood and gave casual introductions. He waved to the bartender, Ted, who brought over a fresh soda for Maria. Taffy ordered a shot of tequila.

“I hear you’re running Taffy a bit hard,” Ethan said to Maria.

She narrowed her eyes at Taffy but didn’t lose her smile. “I think she can handle it.”

Taffy didn’t like the way Maria looked at her, as if she knew something Taffy didn’t. Her arrogance was annoying.

Ted delivered the shot, and Taffy swallowed it up. Her eyes burned a little as the cool fire slid down.

“Taffy’s moved in to Janet Harken’s place,” said Ethan.

“I’m aware of that.” Maria glanced at Taffy. “Any ghostly sightings? Most people would be too freaked out to live in a house where someone died so recently.”

Taffy blinked and clenched her teeth to retain her composure, because Maria had hit a sore spot, but Ethan stepped in and said, “She’s tougher than she looks.” He patted her hand.

Maria watched his hand touch Taffy’s and then looked away.

“No, she’s right,” Taffy said. “And it’s even freakier to think it might have been
murder
.”

Maria’s fingers tightened around her glass, and then she threw her head back and laughed lightly.

“Two days in town and you think you know more than the police?”

Ethan interjected. “That’s not what she means—”

But Taffy cut off Ethan’s attempt to protect her from this passive-aggressive nut of an off-duty cop who clearly had it in for her.

“What I mean is”—Taffy leaned forward—“I heard one of your coworkers thought it was suspicious to begin with.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “That would be Lieutenant Gravely.” With her glass, she gestured toward the back of the bar where two guys were playing pool, though she didn’t specify whether Gravely was the tall handsome guy with the nice smile or the skinnier fellow with a slight overbite. “He’s seen a few too many
CSI
episodes. Gets overzealous with nonprocedural tasks. The chief and I are trying to work with him on it.”

“Don’t you think it’s just a little bit strange that she died from a bowling ball falling on her head?”

“Of course it’s
strange
, but maybe she shouldn’t have stored her ball on the closet shelf. I can’t go around making sure people don’t do stupid things.” Maria gave Taffy a particularly pointed look.

“Right, you have your hands full with all those jaywalkers and speeders.” Taffy matched Maria’s look.

She smirked. “Actually, there’s only one culprit at the moment.”

Taffy pursed her lips and was working on an insulting comeback when Ethan said, with a charming diplomatic smile, “Ladies, we’re supposed to be having fun. I know I am, because I’m sitting here with one of my oldest friends…”—he indicated Maria with nod of his beer bottle—“and one of my newest friends.” He tipped his bottle toward Taffy. “As far as I’m concerned you’re both good nuts and simply got off on the wrong foot.”

Taffy looked away thinking,
Nuts don’t have feet
, but she told herself to make more of an effort for Ethan’s sake, and she knew it was not in her best interest to alienate too many people in town. She pasted a smile on her lips and tried another tack.

“Ethan said you used to live in New York a long time ago? I’m from there.”

Ethan smiled. Maria leaned back in her chair and nodded as she sipped her soda with lime, but she didn’t contribute anything to the potential conversation.

“So what brought you to Oregon?” Taffy said, trying harder.

Maria glanced at Ethan and then looked pointedly at Taffy. “Death.”

Taffy’s sip of beer seemed to bubble in her throat and made her cough.

“Oh, gosh, sorry to hear that.”