Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 4

  Considering how swollen her eyes were—even before her bout of crying—Willow didn’t like to think of what might constitute ‘really bad.’

  “If I knew how to control Mavis, she’d be locked away in there already. Given the fun she seemed to have making a mess this morning, I’m surprised she hasn’t settled right back in.”

  “Have you fed her?”

  “I’ve put food out in a bowl if that’s what you mean. I got a whole range of stuff from the market because I didn’t know what she’d like. Whether or not Mavis has eaten any, I don’t really know.” Willow frowned. “When I was watching her, it seemed more like she just stuck her face in there and licked all the lumps into a different position, then sat back to stare at them.”

  “Ah,” Harmony said, nodding sagely, “an artist.”

  Willow stared at her, head tilted to one side until she saw the ghost of a smile dancing at the edge of her friend’s lips.

  “Oh, you,” Willow said, flapping her hand at Harmony. “You had me going for a minute there.” She sighed heavily and placed her hands on her hips. “Can you tell I’m out of my depth?”

  Harmony laughed. “Did you remember to prepare her a litter box?” she asked, then when Willow nodded, she continued, “In that case, how about you come at Mavis from your side, and I’ll stand guard over here. If you drive her toward me, I’ll try to catch her, then we can lock her into the conservatory. As a plus, I’ll be the bad guy.”

  “The bad guy?”

  “If we’re trapping your kitten in a room she doesn’t want to stay in, it’ll be better if she associates her jailer as being me rather than you.”

  “Fair enough. One. Two. Three.”

  Willow had almost counted herself out of numbers by the time they finally managed to lock little Mavis up.

  Chapter Six

  “You know what?” Harmony said, sitting down at the kitchen table and encouraging Willow to ignore the plaintive mewling coming from the next room over. “We both need a good meal to face the day on. I bet you haven’t had a chance to eat yet, and I’m starving. I’ll buy you lunch at the new café in town.”

  “Really?” Willow wiped away her tears, depositing a few cat hairs near her eyes that started a different type of weeping. She removed herself to the bathroom to get cleaned up properly.

  Harmony was on the same fixed income as Willow. Being a retired woman didn’t leave much left over each week for splurging on something special. To suggest a meal out rather than cobbling one together meant Harmony was serious about cheering them both up.

  For a second, Willow stared at her puffy eyes and red cheeks and almost let her dead mother’s stern warnings about only looking your best in public sway her. Then she fought those old lectures away. Let people see her in distress. It might help flush out the real murderer.

  “We should go Dutch,” Willow said, grabbing her handbag off the counter and tapping lightly on the door of the conservatory. Mavis stopped trying to eat the corner of a broken earthenware pot long enough to stare at her with melting eyes.

  “That one’s a heartbreaker for sure,” Harmony said, steering Willow away from the small window. “And it’s my treat. I worked out a new system for bingo, and I’ve been taking the retirement home women for everything they’ve got!”

  Willow laughed as they got into Harmony’s car for the short drive. “I can imagine they’ll ban you if you win too often. They’re very strict.”

  “As they should be. Those poor old dears, cooped up all day without access to the underhanded wheelings and dealings of an ex-con. They need protection.”

  Willow looked over at her friend with interest. The only ex-con she knew in town was Gruff Billy. So-called because of his surname Goat. And so far as she could remember, his incarceration had a lot more to do with petty theft than casinos.

  “What’s this new system, then? Are you allowed to share?”

  Harmony mimicked a zipper closing on her lips, then nosed her vehicle around the corner into the center of town. There was nowhere handy to park—many of the interior roads sported double yellow lines—so Willow pulled out a parking lot ticket from her purse and slapped it on the dashboard.

  “Roger gave me that in case I was ever in need.”

  “Sweet.” Harmony maneuvered the vehicle into the underground parking lot and pushed the ticket into the machine. A whirr, a buzz, and a spat-out stub later, they were inside and parking right by the door.

  “These are meant to be for disabled people, aren’t they?” Willow looked around her for the signs she vaguely recalled being there.

  “Honey, we are part of the disabled now. Look.” Harmony pointed at a black and white sign. “Mothers with children, disabled, old people.”

  “That says over sixty-five,” Willow scolded. “Find another park at once.”

  “Don’t you want people finding out your true age?” Harmony said with a teasing lilt.

  “I’ve got a good eleven years until I qualify, even if you’re a bit closer.” Willow pulled the passenger door closed and refused to move until Harmony got back into the driver’s seat and moved them one row back. “That’s more like it.”

  “There’s the brand-new café right in the central square if you want to take a chance on it.”

  “Let’s give it a shot,” Willow said. “If they’ve got too long of a waiting list, we can always scoot around the corner to Bellini’s. I’m sure they’ll have a spot for us.”

  “I think these days they have as many spots as are needed.” Harmony had an edge in her voice. Once, over a year ago now, she’d lost half her tooth to an item baked into a Bellini muffin that shouldn’t have been there. No surprise she’d never expressed an interest in eating there since.

  “Or if they don’t want our business, we can go right back home, and I’ll make you a nice salad.” Willow didn’t keep much stored in her fridge, but her garden meant she always had an excellent selection of greens, no matter the time of year.

  As they walked out of the parking lot, turning onto Main Street, their path took them straight past Roger’s business. As a wealthy real estate agent, he’d not been backward in coming forward. The most prominent shop on the most significant block, right in the center of their town.

  Jimmy Niko was parading up and down in front of the entrance as usual. The man felt he’d been cheated by Roger Randall in a house deal gone bad nearly two years before. In the months afterward, the man had taken to dressing in a sandwich board decrying the services of a ‘cheat’ and a ‘scoundrel’ who would ‘take your money and leave you homeless’ just to ‘skim profit from the bones of our town.’

  “Morning, Jimmy,” Willow called out to the man.

  Despite Jimmy Niko’s mission in life being to oppose Roger’s business, Willow held a soft spot for the man. To have such dogged determination despite years of not having an effect made him a comic figure to most of the town. That he bore this low-level ridicule with mild dignity made her fond of him in some odd way.

  “Heya.”

  Jimmy waved to her, then turned his back and started the march back down the other side of the pavement. The weight of the sign had an effect on him. While Willow felt mildly cool, Jimmy kept pulling out his green silk handkerchief to mop the beads of sweat from his brow.

  When Roger had protested Jimmy very-public protest at the local council a year before, they’d voted against him, leaving Jimmy free to march outside as long as he didn’t interfere with anyone directly. Willow did think that decision had more to do with the council’s opinion of Roger than it did with the issue of Jimmy and his sandwich board.

  “Haven’t you heard the news?” Willow called out again. Her throat caught on the last word, but she swallowed quickly to disguise it. “There’s no use in your protesting outside any longer.”

  When Jimmy turned, his eyebrows raised in an expression of pure puzzlement, Willow couldn’t make herself say anything further.

  With a squeeze of her friend’s arm, Harmony
stepped forward. “Roger Randall was found dead this morning. There’s no one left to protest, hon.”

  Jimmy looked from one woman to the other, a worried frown on his face. “What’s that, now?”

  “Roger’s dead,” Willow said, stepping forward to rest her hand on Jimmy’s arm. “He was murdered last night.”

  “Murdered?”

  The question came from a middle-aged woman behind them who’d been sheltering in the overhang of the entrance. She took a tentative step forward now, one hand shielding her against the intense sunlight, the other clutching tightly to an expensive-looking red handbag.

  “Could you repeat that?”

  There was a sob hidden in behind the woman’s second query that indicated she knew Roger on a personal level. While Harmony answered, Willow swept her gaze from the tips of the woman’s high-heeled red shoes to the highlights in her curly chestnut hair, gleaming copper in the sun.

  “And who are you?” Willow asked, letting her shock manifest as rudeness. As soon as the phrase was out of her mouth, she knew it would be one of those things that returned, late at night when she was trying to sleep, haunting her for a long time to come.

  Too late now to bite back the sharp words. Willow instead tried to soften the edge in her voice with a smile.

  “I’m Roger’s secretary,” the woman said with a measure of hesitation. “Or at least I was until a few days ago.”

  “He fired you?” Jimmy sounded incredulous. “Oh, that rat! One day he’s going to get what’s coming to him…”

  Jimmy’s fury trailed off into confusion as he appeared to realize the day had already been and gone.

  “Did you work for Roger long?” Willow asked before she could stop herself. Another phrase to add to the insomnia list for future reference.

  Instead of answering, the woman shook her head, nodded, then tipped her head forward to hide her face as tears dripped onto the pavement. “I’m so sorry,” the woman spluttered, pulling a tissue from her bag that wasn’t anywhere near enough to deal with her waterworks. “I-I need to g-go.”

  She hurried away while Willow stared after her, still unsure why she’d been so rude to the poor thing. It wasn’t as though she had any reason to—until today she hadn’t even met her. At least not in any way that triggered her memory.

  “That poor lady,” Jimmy said, gazing after her. “How on Earth could Roger fire her after she worked for him for so many years?”

  “I’m sure he had a good reason.” This time Harmony noticed the edge and shook her head at Willow, so she bit her lip.

  “Trisha has been working for Roger Randall for over twenty years.” Jimmy leaned his head closer to the two women, lowering her voice and checking no one was walking close by. “She ‘worked late’ a lot more nights than she probably needed to, if you get my drift.”

  Willow got his drift and felt as though a cold hand had reached into her chest, squeezing her heart until it skipped a few beats.

  He wasn’t your husband. You didn’t even have a proper relationship. So what if he slept with his secretary? All you did was share a couple of cups of tea.

  But that mean voice would have her crying soon, and Willow didn’t want her emotions on display in the high street. Bad enough she looked like a puffer fish thanks to Mavis. She should have stayed at home.

  “I hope you’re not interfering with a witness, Mrs. Foxglove.”

  Willow was pleased to see Sheriff Wender walk up to their group. A distraction was just what she needed.

  “We’re not doing anything of the sort,” Harmony said, her voice brimming with indignation. “And if you wanted to talk to Jimmy before anybody beat you to it, you should have got here a bit sooner. It’s just gone twelve, for goodness sake.”

  Willow hid a smile as her friend’s words forced the sheriff back a step. Then she grabbed hold of Harmony’s arm and pulled her away. “Let the sheriff get on with his business,” she stated, “and we’ll get on with ours. Let’s go get that lunch.”

  * * *

  The new café was crowded, but the waiter still managed to find the two women a table. The seating was outside, in the direct sunshine, but Willow didn’t mind. In the tag end of fall, a nice day was a thing to be treasured. Soon enough, the sun would be playing hide and seek until mid-morning, only to scurry out of sight by late afternoon.

  “What are you two ladies doing here?”

  Willow turned with a smile to see Reg leaning on the café’s ropes. She was about to warn him not to put too much weight on them when one of the supports tilted over, nearly spilling her friend into the midst of their table. Reg recovered quickly, tipping his hat at the few patrons who’d expressed dismay.

  “You may as well slip under that and take a seat with us,” Harmony said, still smiling at the display. “It seems safer somehow.”

  Reg nodded and smiled in agreement, taking a seat just before the waiter brought out their menus—now one short.

  “You don’t mind if our friend joins us,” Harmony said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question.

  As the waiter bustled off to find another menu and place setting, Reg took his hat off and placed it on his knee. Willow couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t worn one—a leftover from the good old days she missed, even though she’d been born in the same year JFK made it unpopular to wear hats.

  “Did you see anything good last night?” Willow asked. “The night was clear for viewing, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Reg agreed, leaning back as the waiter set a hurried place for him. “I did see a lot, as it happens, though very little in the region I was aiming for.”

  “What region was that?” Harmony asked, an expression on her face saying she was humoring him. With her mind full of facts and figures, she didn’t pay much heed to Reg’s flights of fancy. Of course, Reg had a brain full of facts and figures too; they just disagreed as to which ones were the truth.

  “I was trying to find something to reassure Mrs. Matthewson. She caught a glimpse of something in the center of town that has her worried. I just wanted to stake out the area to set the poor woman’s mind at ease.”

  “Take her sherry off her for a few nights,” Harmony suggested. “That might calm down her imagination, so she can rest.”

  “Not everything is a hallucination brought on by alcohol,” Reg scolded her.

  “No,” Harmony agreed. “There’re many things bring on hallucinations. Belief in strange flying creatures from other planets, for instance.”

  “Stop bickering, you two.” Willow waggled her finger at both of them. “We’re meant to be having a nice lunch out to cheer me up, not staging a public fight.”

  At once, both her friend’s faces fell in dismay, and Willow felt a nip of regret.

  “How did the glasses work out?” she asked, covering in the silence that threatened. “I haven’t gotten them out in the years since Molly died, so I hope they were still okay.”

  “They were grand,” Reg said with a smile. “I trust you don’t mind me holding onto them for a few nights more?”

  “You can hold onto them forever if you like. I’ve no use for binoculars.” As Willow said the words, Reg was already shaking his head.

  “I know you don’t like people to touch Molly’s stuff. It won’t be for long anyhow. I talked to Gordon down at the pawn shop, and there’s a pair out back where the owners haven’t paid their ticket. Another day or two, they’ll forfeit, and he promised to let me know before they go up in the window display.”

  Talk of the pawn shop made Willow feel uncomfortable. She hated to think of people in town being so hard up that they had to cash in their prized possessions. Although Willow had scraped along sometimes, choosing lesser cuts of meat and pinching pennies by shopping for specials, she’d never been brought that low. When she was growing up, Willow didn’t remember that same level of poverty she sometimes saw about her now.

  That’s because you never looked hard enough, her mother’s voice remonstrated ins
ide her head until Willow shook her away. “What did you see that was so interesting anyhow?”

  “I’ll show you,” Reg said, pulling out his camera and flicking through the pictures until he reached the ones he sought.

  Willow took the camera from him, cradling its weight as she peered at the small screen. She had reading glasses in her bag, but they were for sitting at home on the sofa, not for use in public.

  “What is that?” Willow was genuinely astonished to see what looked like a flying saucer taking up half the screen.

  When Harmony rolled her eyes, Willow handed the camera along to her. “Well? What’s your explanation, then?”

  “My explanation is, the two of you need to invest in spectacles if your eyesight is genuinely this bad.” Harmony placed the camera in the center of the table, pointing to the object. “That is not a UFO in case you were wondering. It’s a garden variety egg.”

  “Why would an egg be flying across the town square?” Reg said, scoffing. “Now who's the one thinking crazy thoughts?”

  “I presume someone threw it,” Harmony said, an edge creeping into her voice. “Let me see.” She began to flick through the images taken before and after. After a minute, she gasped and pulled the camera closer to her, minutely examining the frame.

  “What is it?” Willow asked, feeling her heart pounding quicker with renewed excitement. If she didn’t have a peaceful day soon, she’d need to get into her doctor’s office to have a checkup.

  “Reg.” Harmony shoved the camera back into his hands, tapping her fingernail on the screen. “You’ve caught a crime on camera. You need to take this to the sheriff’s office at once!”

  Chapter Seven