Thrown Off: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 3) (3 page)

“Will.” What was he doing with someone like me? Sure, I’d aways liked to think of myself as tough. And I was, when pushed. I wouldn’t just take things. I wouldn’t be messed with. And I knew how to push myself. But I tended to just spread that type of toughness like frosting over a not-so-great piece of cake.

Cake that threatened to crumble at the slightest touch. My icing wasn’t just the icing on the cake, it was what was holding it together. You know when the cake’s a little dry and you scrape the top a little too hard as you spread the frosting and it ends up just a mess and full of crumbs? That was what I felt like, looking into Will’s eyes just then. Like no amount of sprinkles could cover it up and I might as well just start over.
But how can you start over? How can you just bake—I mean make—yourself into a different person?

Like I said, I couldn’t bake. So I went for a mountain of frosting. “Thanks for coming. It’s really good to see you.”
Oh, that was smooth. Real smooth, Brenna.
How about,
Sorry I was a pain?
I could do it. I could apologize. People did it all the time. It was no big deal. “No!” I cried.

Will started, then followed my gaze. Amy was tearfully gathering Millie’s scattered paint brushes.

“What?” Amy blinked through her tears. “I’m just cleaning up. I have to do
something
. Besides, Millie’s going to need these…”

“Sorry, Amy,” I said gently, “but we should leave everything so it can be documented. Just in case.”

Amy rose shakily and nodded. “In case it’s a crime scene. Who would do that? Who would do this to Millie?”

“Crime scene?” Will said.

“There’s a woman here who might have seen something suspicious,” I told him.

“Who?”

“She’s right—” I whirled around, arm extended, ready to point her out. Gone! Glenda and Ford Barton were gone.
 

4

“Oh, no. They can’t!” I cried.

“There!” Blythe pointed down the street. Glenda and Ford were hustling away.

“You spooked them,” I told Will. “You secure the crime scene. I’ll go get them.”

“Brenna!” Will protested.

But I ignored him and
sprinted after them like a madwoman. I skidded to a stop right in front of them, cutting off their escape. I grinned, and they looked terrified. I probably looked like a wild-eyed lunatic. I toned down the grin. I knew I should have them talk to the police, but I figured I’d try to get whatever I could out of them first, just in case.

“Hi,” I said. “The ambulance took Millie—the woman who fell. I think it would really help if we knew where to reach you, just in case anyone has questions. The doctors, her family…”

“Look, this is our vacation. I’m sorry somebody got hurt, but there’s nothing we can do about that and we just want to enjoy ourselves.” Ford seemed ready to bolt.

That guy was seriously committed to this whole vacation thing. Sheesh. What a selfish jerk. Millie could be dying. I put a muzzle on my impatience and gave him the most reassuring look I could muster. No way were these guys going to talk to the police. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Ford convinced Glenda to leave Bonney Bay and take their vacation elsewhere. I had to keep them here in town. I didn’t know how long they planned on staying, but Glenda had said they’d just arrived. Without clear evidence of foul play, it was unlikely the police would round them up right now.

And what if they did? Would they clam up, just so they could get out of here and finish their vacation somewhere else?

I said, “Of course you’re here to enjoy yourselves. That’s why I appreciate your concern for Millie so much. Thanks for taking the time to come over and show me your picture, Glenda. I’ll bet you’ll get some real beauties if you hang around here for a while. Are you planning on any whale watching?”

“No, but I am planning on some ghost watching. Have you heard of alternate dimensions? Maybe that man came out of one and—”

“Glenda!” Ford said sharply.

“I know what you two need. A nice, relaxing dessert. Maybe a few drinks. Have you tried Augustine’s?”

“Oh, no,” Glenda said. “We already had dinner and dessert at the inn tonight.”

“Blackberry inn?” I guessed.

“How’d you know?” Ford said.

“It’s the perfect place for ghost-watching.” If you believed their made-up hype.
 

“Did you know that ghosts were tied to a murder here recently?” Glenda whispered conspiratorially. “And they killed some poor writer to shut her up.”

Was that how the ghost-watch-o-sphere had spun it online? It didn’t surprise me. I’d learned a few weeks ago, when a man died in one of Bonney Bay’s most historic—and supposedly haunted—houses, that there was a whole, crazy world of ghost-watchers online. And a lot of them were obsessed with Bonney Bay. The proprietors of Blackberry Inn had used that to great advantage, even though their house had no real history of haunting lore.

“Well, enjoy the Blackberry Inn. It’s a wonderful place to stay.”
Because there are no ghosts.
I shook their hands again. “It was great meeting you!”

“Same here,” Glenda said enthusiastically.

But Ford just grimaced. I ran back to the store, where Will was still waiting for backup and standing guard over the fallen ladder and the surrounding evidence.

“Well?” Will said. “What’s this about a crime scene? Where are my witnesses?”

“Headed that way.” I gestured down the street, toward Blackberry Inn. “Look, I have their names, and they’re staying at Blackberry Inn. I’m afraid they might leave if we harass them.”

“You mean if we go running after them like you just did?”

My face got hot. “You don’t know what they saw. She showed me a picture,” I added in desperation.

“A picture?”

I told him about the picture, about Glenda and what she’d seen.

“She was a little weird,” Takashi put in.

Who asked you?
I wanted to say. She was my only witness, the only one who might have proof that Millie’s fall hadn’t been an accident.

And then Blythe nodded her head in agreement with Takashi. “She thought it might have been a ghost.”

I gave shot her a look of reproach.

“Oh,” Will said. “One of
those
tourists.”

I said, “But still, there was someone there. It was blurry, but you could tell it was a person. Someone knows something about why Millie fell.”

“Could you see the ladder in the picture?” Will asked.

“Well…no…”

Okay, so there really wasn’t any proof that the picture even had anything to do with the ladder. But, “That was with my naked eye, in the little screen. You might be able to see more if it’s blown up, enhanced.”

Will nodded. “Okay. I already called for backup. I’ll get this area secured and then I’ll go over to Blackberry Inn and have a little talk with them.”

“Just don’t scare them off.”

Will gave me a look. Unfortunately, I’d seen that look a few times before.

I said, “Right. You know how to do your job. Of course.”

“Let’s hope this Glenda lady was just a little excited and it was really a terrible accident,” Will said.

I nodded. The last thing we needed in Bonney Bay was another violent crime.

5

The next afternoon, I stood in front of the big floor fan Will had brought over, undid my belt, and flapped my gi open. “Ah, this brings back memories. Italy, Central America. At least there’s only two of us. I don’t have to fight for a spot by the fan.”

“And at least we have decent laundry facilities.”

“True. It’s definitely less stinky.” Blythe knew all about some of the judo camps I’d attended with the top competitors in the world, before I set my hopes of Olympic gold aside and decided to leave our home in Arizona and open up my own judo school for kids.

For some reason, Italians just didn’t do dryers, and they washed most of their clothes by hand. Judo gis are thick and heavy, very hard to wash or dry without equally heavy machinery. Which was not provided for the camp participants. We resorted to hanging sweat-soaked gis in the sun and spritzing them with Febreeze. When the camps were over, we packed our unwashed gis between scented dryer sheets and hauled them home. Woe to the person who first opened that duffel bag!

“Speaking of stinky, you weren’t exactly rosy to Will earlier.”

“You’re just worried he’s going to take the fan back.”

“Brenna!”

“Alright. I know. I’ll call him and apologize. It’s just this heat. It’s really getting to me.” And worrying about Millie, who was on life support at the hospital. I had a feeling Will knew that. That was why he’d brought the fan over after I snapped at him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He’d shrugged and claimed he hardly ever used it. Which was probably true, except during heat waves like the one we were having now. I was pretty sure he’d bought that fan some previous summer, precisely for days like this. Bonney Bay’s stores were all out of fans, and Blythe and I hadn’t been able to leave town to find one. We were busy with little Battlers coming out our ears. Bonney Bay Battler judo campers, that is.
It’s a good problem to have,
I kept repeating to myself.

Except during a heat wave. It had been ninety-five degrees for two days in a row now, and I felt like I was going to die. I was almost ashamed to call myself an Arizonan. But I didn’t remember ninety-five degrees feeling like this in Arizona. And of course, we always had AC to retreat into.

Outside the dojo, Moms sluggishly approached the doors to pick up their kids. They looked pained at leaving their air-conditioned cars.

“Three days ago it was below seventy and pouring down rain. How is this possible?” I moaned.

Blythe just shook her head. “It’s supposed to drop ten degrees tomorrow and rain again, then clear up in time for the Fourth.”

“Thank God.”

“Speaking of the Fourth…”

Oh, no. She had that look in her eye. The same look she had when she told me she’d arranged for me to talk to a few kids at Bonney Bay’s Cherry Orchard Elementary for Fitness Day. “A few kids” turned out to be just about the whole school. And that lovely event—that epic disaster—would forever be known as the C.O.D.C.D. The Cherry Orchard Demon Child Debacle.

“I don’t want to sit in a car and wave at people.”

“Not just a car, Brenna, a float! I was thinking we could rent a flatbed truck. I already looked into it, and—”

“Wait. You want me to stand in the back of a flatbed truck and wave at people?”

“With the kids!”

“No way. I don’t want to be on parade.”

“It’s not going to be you on parade, Brenna! For goodness sake. It’s not always about you.”

“Wow.”

She squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you really don’t like the attention. It’s for the business. And for the kids. It will give them a chance to show Bonney Bay they’re proud to be Battlers. Forgive me?”

I squeezed back. “You don’t have to apologize. Sometimes I just need to get over myself. And my hang-ups.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“This would be a business expense?”

“Yep. Tax-deductible. A tax-deductible party with candy and music—”

“Candy and music?” Okay, so this was starting to sound a little better. My Battlers on a sugar high would definitely draw the attention away from me. And I could console myself with chocolate while I waved and smiled.

“The local businesses either have floats or drive a cool antique car in the parade, something like that. They have banners and signs advertising their businesses and they throw candy to the kids. Some of them hand out treats with flyers or invitation cards.”

“Really?” Maybe this whole parade thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “I think we should go ahead and rent a flatbed.”

“Perfect! I’ll take care of the details. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Why was that reassurance just not reassuring at all?

6

Laughter shook the walls of the old building, and joyful shrieks
 
made my heart leap. I stood clear of the game, watching carefully to make sure none of the little ones got overwhelmed and scared, that no one got hurt.
 

Sammi ran—as much as someone could run on all fours, in keeping with the “no standing” rule of the game—after ten-year-old Alex. “I got him!”

Sammi wove her hand under his armpit in a perfect half-nelson and turned him over.

“One, two, three, bulldog!” little Grace, my fairy princess, said gleefully. “You’re on our side, now, Alex!”
 

Sammi had turned her into a bulldog by pinning her on the first round. The rest of the kids who were still “rabbits” crawled on all fours to the other side, trying to make it to the safety zone I’d taped off before they got caught.

 
Grace pointed out Katie, who was making her way to safety. “Come on, Sammi! Hurry, she’s getting away!”

Grace took off after Katie, but Sammi had another target in mind, Grace’s eight-year-old brother, Anthony.

The temperature was back down in the seventies, and our campers had a good morning on the mat, doing coordination drills, learning a new pin and an escape. We were finishing the session with a game. Kids pretty much universally loved the traditional judo game we called
bulldog
. They scampered up and down the mat on all fours, trying not to get caught, turned over, and pinned by the kids who were designated bulldogs. When they got caught, they became bulldogs too.

The game went on until only Katie was left for the bulldogs to catch.

“Alright!” Blythe called. “
Matte
!”
Stop
, she said in Japanese, the universal language of judo.

“Katie is the champion!” I gave her a pat on the back. “Nice job, Katie.”

Katie’s face turned red, but she smiled.

“Can we play again? Can we?” Ellie begged.

“Maybe this afternoon,” Blythe said. “It’s time for lunch.”

We bowed out and I gave the kids high fives.

“I won,” Katie said to me quietly. Her smile, coupled with the look of absolute astonishment in her eyes, was enough to turn me into a sappy puddle. “I can’t believe it. I never win anything, you know?”