Mission to Murder (5 page)

“And no sleuthing. I can handle this investigation on my own,” Greg called after me.

I waved back, trying to look innocent.

Both Greg and Toby laughed. I guess innocent wasn’t one of my best looks.

When I got home, the red light was blinking on my answering machine. Filling up Emma’s water dish, I pulled the pitcher of filtered water out of my fridge and poured a glass before I pushed the button.

“Miss Gardner, this is Frank Gleason from the Historical Society. When you get a chance, will you give me a call? There’s been some developments on the mission site certification.”

The line went dead and my heart sank. Even dead, Craig Morgan was making my life miserable. If that jerk messed up the certification, I’d kill him again. Visions of my breaking into Flannigan’s Funeral Home and beating up Craig’s lifeless body filled my mind. I definitely was going off the deep end. I didn’t even know if Frank had good or bad news. I should have trusted my hunch.

Frank hemmed and hawed over the problem when I finally reached him after being placed on hold twice, then having the line disconnected. Frustrated, I finally interrupted his lecture about needing community support and verifying historical accuracy for certified sites.

“Just tell me, Frank, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a second and I worried I’d been disconnected once again. Either the historical society had a crappy phone service, or Frank didn’t want to talk to me.

As I was about to hang up and drive down to San Luis Obispo to camp outside Frank’s office, he answered.

“There’s been a challenge to the location of the mission site.”

“We knew there might be, but doesn’t the physical proof we found bolster our claim? It’s not like there’s a map showing the location.” I shouldn’t have worried. Challenges happened all the time.

“Actually, that’s exactly what they said they have. A map showing the mission was actually located on the other side of town.”

Now I was speechless. The wall and the gold coins matched the local legends perfectly. Heck, Bambi, the murderous history teacher, had tried to kill me and my aunt because she believed the mission wall was on my property. Had we been wrong?

“Miss Gardner? Are you there?”

“Sorry, just surprised. Who filed the challenge?”

“Hold on, I have the paper right here. It was a Josh Thomas and a Craig Morgan.”

Craig, I’d expected, but Josh?
“Et tu, Brute?”

“Excuse me?” Frank Gleason sounded concerned. “Do you know these men?”

Sighing, I knew Craig’s challenge would be one more strike against me in trying to prove I didn’t kill the weasel. “Actually, yes. And the one who’s still alive owns the antique shop next to my coffee shop. Maybe I’ll have a talk with him.”

“Miss Gardner, I find it’s better if you let the professionals handle these discussions. Sometimes emotions are involved.” The man stopped talking for a second, then added, “Wait, you said the man who was still alive? Is one of these men dead?”

“Craig Morgan was killed last night at his home.”

“Oh my. That complicates the challenge, then.”

You don’t know the half of it, buddy
. I said my good-byes, then pulled out my notebook with the list of suspects. Next to Josh’s name I wrote down the wall challenge. Looking at the list, I realized I’d forgotten to tell Greg about Ray again. Tonight. Before the pizza arrived, I’d show him my list and tell him about the challenge to the wall and the run-in with Ray. Before someone else did.

I was too late.

E
ven a large meat lover’s pizza and a two-hour karate movie had no effect on Greg’s bad mood. Every attempt I made at conversation got either ignored or answered with one word. Finally, he grabbed the remote and turned off the television. Sighing, he leaned back against the couch and focused on me.

“What?” I knew I didn’t want to hear the answer, but even being yelled at would be better than his silent recriminations. Emma sat up from her place under the coffee table, reacting to my tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the run-in with Ray?” Greg shook his head. “Do you think this is some kind of game? You’re seen hanging out with the town bad boy and all of a sudden the guy whom you want out of your hair winds up dead. Do you know how many people called the station with the news, claiming you hired Ray to kill Craig?”

I frowned, not wanting to believe his words. “Seriously? People think I’d hire out the deed? With Ray? The man can’t finish a job, any job, to save his life. Ask Lille. She’ll tell you he hasn’t worked a full day in years.”

“Because he’s part of the California Mafia. He’s connected. What, you think he lives off Lille?” Greg’s voice raised.

“Yeah, I kind of did.” I leaned back on the couch. “Wow. I didn’t even know California had a Mafia.”

Greg shook his head. “You’re missing the point. Ray’s bad news. Always has been. And now, the mayor wants to know why you aren’t sitting in my jail cell calling for a lawyer.”

“That’s not fair. Mayor Baylor hates me.” My back tightened. “You know that.”

Greg ran his hand through his hair. “Jill, it may not matter. You have to stop getting involved in things like this. How come every time there’s a murder, you’re the main suspect?”

“Maybe because I’m the new kid in town? Hell, I don’t know. Ask your friendly townsperson who ratted me out today. I didn’t want to talk to Ray. Besides, I thought I did tell you. Honestly, I was trying to listen in and hear what Craig and Josh were fighting about.” I felt the heat run to my face. “There, are you happy? I’m a nosy neighbor.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell me about Craig and Josh fighting. When was this?” Greg leaned forward, his cop face on.

I went through the encounter from the time I left the coffee shop with the box of cookies to the time Craig knocked them out of my hand. At least that one action would be the last time Craig messed with me and my store. Unless my boyfriend arrested me for Craig’s murder, then the jerk would be laughing from whatever place in the afterlife he’d landed in.

Greg seemed thoughtful when I stopped. “You don’t know what they were fighting about?”

“I’ve got a good guess.” I outlined my conversation with Frank Gleason today, as well. “So you see, if they faked the evidence against the wall, maybe Josh wanted out of the arrangement, but Craig wouldn’t let him?”

“Kind of a long shot. You think Josh could get the drop on Craig? He can’t walk five feet without wheezing. Craig would have heard him coming a mile away. Besides, no way could the man drag Fifi away from The Castle and chain her up as sea lion bait. He’s half-dead himself.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Of course, blaming Josh was the same thing as everyone else was doing to me, pointing their finger at the newcomer. Only one way to find out. “I’ll go talk to Josh tomorrow.”

Greg shook his finger at me like I was Emma. “No. You’ll stay out of the investigation. If I catch you snooping around, this time, I swear, Jill, I’ll lock you up for impeding an investigation.”

“With handcuffs?” I tilted my head, trying to put on a sexy smile.

“Not joking here.”

“Look, I’m not going to sit here while people talk about me. What if they stop coming to the coffee shop because they think I’m a murderer?” I raised my hands. “What do I do then?”

A smile teased the ends of Greg’s mouth. “Most of the town would rather give you a medal. And a little notoriety will probably help business, not hurt it.” Greg shook his head. “Everyone loves a car crash.”

I swatted his arm. “Now I’m a car crash?”

He chuckled. “Honey, you’re an accident waiting to happen. I’ve never seen anyone with the bad luck you have.” He pulled me over to him, leaning my back against his chest, and put his arms around me. “Except for when you met me.”

He couldn’t see my smile so I let it stay on my face. “You think you’re all that, mister.”

His breath ran the length of my neck. “I know it.” And then his attention dropped from whispering to lower, and he nibbled on the curve of my neck, making me want to ignore everything and everyone outside my house. Want to take him upstairs and do bad things to him in my sleigh bed. Or maybe here on the couch? I hadn’t made up my mind when his phone buzzed.

Sighing, he lifted his arm away from me and pulled his phone up to read the text. He keyed in a reply, then kissed me quickly on the head, pushing me off of his lap. “Gotta go, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Or you could come back after you take care of that.” I pointed to his phone.

Greg shook his head. “I’m heading out to The Castle, again. This time the night watchman has a couple of teenagers locked in his office.” He stood and patted Emma on the head as she stretched. “I think the kids went a bit too far tonight.”

I walked him to the front door and watched the truck pull away from my house, lights flashing. The man loved using his lights. I hummed a bit as I went about cleaning up the living room after our date night. Being in a relationship with a local detective had its advantages at times, like when I needed gossip. But I paid for the ready gossip on nights like this when he could be pulled away at a moment’s notice. Greg’s first wife hadn’t been able to deal with the long hours and since the divorce had been dating a banker. Who, incidentally, also made a lot more money than a small town detective.

Me, I liked my time alone, even if it did get me in trouble at times. Like when I didn’t have an alibi for Craig’s murder. After tossing the pizza box and letting Emma out for one last time, I sat on the back porch in a swing Greg hung last weekend. I’d lit the citronella candles to keep away the mosquitoes and other flying nasties. Using the porch light, I opened my notebook and reviewed my list of suspects. A list Greg would be none too happy to find, but I’d needed to write it anyway. On the page titled “Craig’s Murder” I added the unanswered questions from the day.

When I finished, I realized I’d written the names of most of the townspeople due to one or more conflicts with Craig. The man did know how to create enemies. Sighing, I closed the notebook and gently pushed the swing back and forth with my foot. Emma tired of chasing rabbits out of the yard and lay at my feet, ready to call it a night.

My thoughts were on Craig and Josh when I heard Emma’s low-throated growl. I focused on the backyard, but didn’t see anything, not even a wayward deer or one of the coyotes who ran the foothills. Emma stood, her nose pointed to the back of the property, back where the wall sat. I couldn’t see the wall from the house.

I reached for Emma, her body shaking under my touch. “What’s going on, girl?” I whispered, not wanting to bring more attention to my location. Even though I sat in the middle of the porch, candles and the porch light were making me the perfect target, if someone was aiming at me.

Slowly I reached into the doorway and turned off the porch light. In the dim candlelight, I made my way down the porch and extinguished each one. Once it was totally dark, I sat back on the porch swing and focused on the yard.

Nothing. Even though Emma still stood at attention. I trained my gaze on the spot where she stared. Still nothing.

Feeling foolish, I stood and opened the screen. I called for my dog. “Come on, time for bed.”

Emma turned her head, made sure I was watching, then turned back and barked into the night. Satisfied she’d made her point, she trotted into the kitchen.

As I locked the door, I glanced out the window in my door. Was that a glimmer of light? Leaning forward and squinting, I focused, but no, it must have been a reflection from the moon or something. Turning away from the door, I headed up to bed. Tomorrow I needed to go visit with my favorite business owner, neighbor, and the one guy alive who stood in the way of certifying the Spanish mission wall site: Josh Thomas.

A smile curved on my lips. Greg couldn’t even complain about my visit since Bill at the Business to Business meeting had asked me to bring Josh up to speed on our organization. I was doing my job. Sometimes being council liaison was a good thing.

Saturday morning came bright and early. Glancing at the clock, I had a couple hours before I needed to open the shop. People apparently didn’t want their caramel lattes quite as early on the weekends. I pulled on my running clothes, and as I tied my shoes, Emma sat patiently. Well, as patient as a dog could be when she can read my actions and know we were heading outside for a run. Her body quivered as she waited, reminding me of the weird incident last night. Before I took off for the shop this a.m., I’d walk back to the wall and make sure no kids were using the place as Friday night make-out central. I lived at the edge of town, so the mission site had been the perfect place for kids to meet up before I moved into Miss Emily’s house. My friend had been a firm believer in the early-to-bed-early-to-rise theory of life, so the local teens took advantage of the one place their parents wouldn’t look for them.

When I’d gone to fence the property after Miss Emily passed on, we’d found the remnants of the old Spanish mission where South Cove’s existence had begun. Now I was fighting for the historical commission to certify the site so I could ensure future generations would know the sordid history of this part of the California coastline.

And have the funding for a decent fence to protect the site. I stood on the porch, watching the birds circle over the road, and stretched. Emma, already on her running leash, sat and watched me. I loved my dog.

Remembering our run from yesterday, I wondered if Brenda had come for Fifi yet. I’d meant to ask Greg last night, but with him in such a bad mood, I thought better of bringing up anything about the case, even the homeless dog. If he didn’t show up at the coffee shop, I’d give him a call once I got off. A car slowed and my paper flew onto the sidewalk in front of my house. Just inside the fence. Emma barked a greeting and I waved at Henry, my paper boy and the owner of one of the local art galleries. Everyone did whatever they could to make ends meet in the small tourist town.

A run down to the local beach, a hot shower, a glass of orange juice, and I was ready for my day. When I put Emma out in the fenced backyard, I glanced out at the area where the wall sat. Nothing looked different or out of place in the light of day. After work, I’d head out there anyway, just to make sure. Emma curled up on her bed on the porch and laid her head down. The run had tired her out. Exactly my evil plan. I locked up the back door and, grabbing my purse and a travel mug filled with strong, black coffee, I headed out the door to open my shop.

I owned the building where my coffee shop sat and my aunt lived in the apartment. Well, I and the bank owned the building. I liked having my aunt close. Since my mom died, Aunt Jackie was the only relative I had or at least I’d known about. For years, it had been me and Mom against the world. Then one day when I was off at law school, the world won and Mom had a heart attack in Albertson’s produce section.

I shook back tears, no need to get emotional now. The ocean fog covering the town late last night while I slept had burned off in the bright sunshine only a California morning could bring. When I was interning in Boston, I’d experienced all four seasons. Here, the world stayed bright and color-blocked the entire year. Flowers bloomed in the city-maintained planters down Main Street. And the small town seemed like a village straight out of a fairy tale. The Disney version, not Grimm.

A kid on a skateboard flew toward me. He slowed and grinned when he recognized me, stepping off the board when he got close. It was Nick Michaels. “Miss Gardner.”

“Nick, I thought you gave up your skateboarding once you got your license.” I wondered if Sadie’d stripped the kid of his beat-up truck or if he’d loaned it out this morning.

“A guy’s gotta get to work.” He shrugged, his black hair falling into his eyes. “Mom had a cow when she heard I was late to my job so I kind of got grounded.”

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. “Sucks.”

“Totally. To work, and back.” He shook his finger in the air. “Otherwise, you need to come straight home.”

“Your mom thinks she’s doing the right thing.” This parenting gig was hard. I wanted to sympathize with the kid, but I knew Sadie would kill me.

“Yeah, I know.” His eyes brightened. “Although I’m going to break the rules on my way home tonight. You got the latest Robert Jordan I ordered yet? I can spend my prison time reading.”

“I’ll have it waiting so you don’t have to stay long,” I promised. Sadie might not even know the kid stopped if we were quick about it. Although I don’t think stopping at my shop for a book would get him into much trouble, even if his mom found out.

“Cool.” He stepped back on the skateboard. “Catch you later.”

I watched as he flew the next few blocks down to Lille’s. Curving around the flower planters, the kid appeared more like a downhill skier more than a skateboarder. I turned back. One more block and I’d be at the shop. As I crossed the road, a man stepped out of a doorway and stopped my forward movement.

I looked up into the off-white button-down shirt, buttons straining that could only belong to one person. Josh Thomas.

“Miss Gardner,” he started.

I held up a hand. “Look, I’ve got to get my shop opened.” I glanced around the large man and noticed a woman standing in front of the door, peering in. “I’ve got customers waiting.”

“We need to talk,” Josh called after me as I scurried away.

Pulling my keys out of my purse, I called back, “I’ll stop in this afternoon, after my shift.”

The woman stood as I approached.

“Sorry, I’m late. Busy morning already. No one ever talks to me on the walk in to work and today, I see three people. Must be some kind of record.” I realized I was chattering. But the woman didn’t seem to mind.