Advance Notice (4 page)

Chapter Six

“Yes, I’d like to find out how to put an
obituary into the paper.” My hand sweated around the phone receiver. Silly,
really, since the conversation was over the phone.

“My condolences.” A nasally voice on the
other end sounded anything but compassionate. More like bored. “Our obits are
done online and pulled from there before the paper is printed. Would you like
the link?”

“No one verifies that the person really
died?”

The woman paused. “Why? It isn’t like
people go around pulling pranks by putting someone’s name in the obits while
that person is still alive.”

“Excuse me, but don’t you read the paper
you work for? That’s exactly what is happening.”

“Did someone put your name in the obits?”

“Well, no, but...”

A heavy sigh vibrated against my ear. “Is
there anything else I can help you with? We’re understaffed, and I have a lot of
work to do. So, unless you want a job, I must let you go.”

“No, thank you. That’s all.” I hung up
and stared out the kitchen window, pleased that I’d discovered something about
the case, but discouraged that I had no suspects. Online obituaries? Anyone
could list anyone that way. I chewed the inside of my lip. How in the world
were we supposed to find out who was behind the deaths of the three elderly
ladies?

“Good morning.” Mom bustled into the
kitchen and headed straight for the coffeepot. “Lindsey gone already?”

“Yes, about fifteen minutes ago.” My
A-personality type daughter couldn’t stand being late for anything, even
school. “Mom, did you know all you have to do to get an obit in the paper is to
fill out a form online?”

She turned from the coffeepot. “That
makes everything a bit too easy, doesn’t it?”

“Too easy.” I got up and fetched my
notebook from the drawer beside the refrigerator. Written in red ink across the
top page was “Be Careful”. That Duane. He was something else. With a smile on
my face, I grabbed an ink pen and sat back down. “Okay. What do the three
victims have in common other than being members of the quilting club?”

“They were all elderly. At least sixty.”
Mom poured us both a cup of coffee and brought them to the table. “And, they
lived alone.”

Who in the world would have a grudge
against a bunch of elderly quilters? “How much longer until we can start
hosting that group in our shop?”

“Immediately, if we give up the back room
until Leroy’s done building the addition. Why?”

“Because those silver-haired ladies are
our only suspects.” I supposed we could give up the room. We laughingly called
it the break room, but when you owned your own business, breaks were few and
far between. When I did have the pleasure of a down moment, I usually headed
across the street to the coffee shop.

“Right.” Mom nodded, her lips set in a
thin line. “I’ll call the leader, Betty Larson, the minute we get to work.
She’ll be pleased.”

“I think I’ll visit the newspaper. See
what’s really going on down there. Have you heard the paper is in trouble?”

She shook her head. “No, but it doesn’t
surprise me. That Frank Powell is a sour-faced man with a personality to match.”

While Mom headed to Country Gifts from
Heaven, I perused my scanty wardrobe. Since I’d chosen to stop wearing my
overalls, except for yard work, I badly needed to go shopping. Nothing in my
closet seemed fit to wear to the newspaper office. I pulled out an ankle-length
dress from two decades ago and tossed it on the bed, then knelt to dig through
my collection of flip-flops, finally choosing an orange pair that matched the
flowers in the dress’s fabric. Oh, who was I kidding? That dress would age me
by thirty years.

I fell onto the bed alongside the
outdated clothes. Capris and blouse it would have to be, no matter how chilly
the autumn day. If I wore them to church, they should be all right for a small
town newspaper. Maybe if I put a cardigan over the blouse, it would look more
businesslike. Wasn’t layering in style?

By the time I was dressed and slapped on
a touch of makeup, Mom had already had the store open for an hour. She’d have
my hide when I finally showed up. Grabbing my car keys off a small table by the
front door, I dashed outside and tried to ignore all the dings in my car’s
hood. Maybe I could get Duane to call the insurance company for me. I tended to
cave when faced with conflict. What if they didn’t want to cover damage by
murder?

Fifteen minutes later, I parked in front
of the small red brick building that housed the River Valley News. Only two
other cars sat out front, telling me that business was indeed slow for the
local paper.

I took a deep breath and entered the
building. A frazzled woman, pencil stuck behind her ear, answered the phone
with the same nasally tone I’d heard earlier. She rolled her office chair back
and forth between the phone and her computer. Somebody ought to bottle the
woman’s energy. I never would have known from the flighty way she moved around,
that this woman was the same one with so little emotion in her voice.

“Excuse me.” I stepped up to the Formica
counter.

“Hold on.” She twirled in my direction.
“Yeah?”

“I’d like to see Frank Powell, please.” I
shoved my hands into my pockets,
then
realizing the
action probably strained the fabric of my pants across my plump rear end,
removed them.

“Do you have an appointment?” She typed
something on her keyboard.

“No, but I—”

“Doesn’t matter.” She waved a red-
taloned
hand in the air. “He
ain’t
busy anyway. Nobody works around here but me.”

I wandered in the general direction of
her hand, down a hall, stopping in front of a door with clouded glass and a
nameplate stating Frank Powell. I knocked, and entered when commanded to.
A thick
smog of cigarette smoke explained the clouded glass.

Frank Powell, a short man whose stomach
strained the buttons of his faded yellow shirt, tried in vain to wave the smoke
out an open window. “Right with you.”

I held my breath and waited.

“Here for a job? Which one?” Mr. Powell
rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. “I’ve five.”

“But, I—”

“You look perfect for our woman’s advice
column. No? How about local gossip? Advertising? Well, speak up! I haven’t all
day.”

“I, well…” What in the world? Since when
was I ever at a loss for words? “Local gossip?” Oh, Mom was going to kill me!
“Is it an anonymous post?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Of course. What
bozo wants to write about other people’s dirty laundry and then have them know
who they are? That’s suicide. You can work from home. Pay is five hundred a
month, take it or leave it, and you have to come in for two hours once a week.
You submit your column to me online, then come in on Friday mornings for me to
tell you whether I like it or not.

“And while you’re out gallivanting
around, see if you can scare up any advertising. Here’s the price list. You get
fifteen percent of every ad you sell.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed
his arms. “There. I managed to palm off two jobs.” He grinned, revealing
tobacco-stained teeth, and rubbed his hands together.

Guess I now had another job. Oh, well. I
could use the money for wedding expenses. First ad I’d sell would be from
Country Gifts. I thrust my hand out for a shake. “It’s a deal.”

“Give the woman at the front desk your
information. She’ll take it from there.”

Dismissed, I headed back out to Miss
Personality. “I’ve just been hired.”

“Oh, goody for you.” She pulled several
sheets of paper from a drawer. “Fill these out and return them to me ASAP. If
you want to get paid, that is.”

“I’m Marsha Steele.” I held out my hand
again.

She stared at it for a moment before
returning my handshake. “Darla Quincy, Jill of all trades.”

“Have you been here long?” I thought I
knew everyone in River Valley, but I’d never seen her before.

“About a month. Frank hired me on the
spot, much to my demise, but a gal’s got to work.” She narrowed her eyes into a
piercing stare.

I could take a hint. I moved to a round
table and got to work filling out the employment forms. When was I going to
have time to write a gossip column? I’d barely passed high school English.
Maybe Lindsey could help.

By the time I finished filling out the
forms, my stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten breakfast. With a bounce
in my step, I handed the papers to Darla.

She raised penciled on eyebrows. “Let’s
see how chipper you are after a few weeks.”

“I’ve never had a job before, other than
working for my mother. This is exciting.” I still didn’t know how I would
accomplish everything, but somehow, with God’s help, I’d manage.

“Frank must be desperate.” She tossed the
papers in a wire basket on her desk. “See you Friday morning.”

I refused to let her bad nature spoil my
good mood. Mom would do that once I got to work. Instead, I drove to the alley
behind the shop, parked, then snuck around the corner so Mom wouldn’t see me
going into the coffee shop.

Focused on the barista, who smiled a
greeting, I almost missed Duane and Stacy cozied up in the corner. “The usual,”
I called to the barista before making my way over to my fiancé and the woman
out to snatch him with her ruby red claws.

“More interviews?” I bent and gave Duane
a lingering kiss. One glance out the side of my eye at Stacy’s peacock blue
suit, and I vowed to go shopping for clothes after work.

“Should be our last one,” Duane reassured
me. “Join us? I have another ten minutes before I head back to the school.”

“I’m not sure if it will be the last
interview.” Stacy gave me a simpering smile. “I want this article on the
football team to be front page. I’m sure I’ll have more questions.”

“I’m sure you will.” I waved for my drink
and pulled out a seat. Being a regular customer, the barista wouldn’t mind too
much that I asked her to deliver my drink. I also didn’t intend for Stacy to
have any time alone with Duane than was absolutely necessary.

“Seems we’ll be working together off and
on.” I chose not to tell her I was the new gossip columnist. That was supposed
to be a secret, right? “I’m gathering advertising for the newspaper.”

“Really?” Stacy shrugged one thin shoulder.
“Well, not exactly the same as reporting news, but it’s a start.”

“Just some pocket money to help pay for
the wedding.” There. Top that, you man-stealer.

“But, I thought—”

I kicked Duane under the table, keeping a
smile on my face, to stop him from blurting out that we’d agreed to stay
inexpensive and split the costs. Regardless of what we’d discussed, I now
discovered I wanted a wedding dress that would wow the guests. I grabbed my
coffee with my ring hand, making sure the diamonds faced Stacy. “We’re going to
have a wedding like no one has ever seen in River Valley.”
 
Which considering it was
me
getting married was most likely very true. I was known to
stray off the beaten path.

Now, all I needed to do was set a date.

Chapter Seven

“You’re late.” Mom slammed the cash register
drawer. “The shop has been extremely busy, and the customer with the placemats
called to see how long until they’re finished. Her wedding is less than a month
away.”

“I got a job.” I slurped my coffee. “The
placemats should be finished by the end of the day.”

“Yes, that’s my point. You have a job.
Every time you get involved in a mystery, your work suffers.” Mom shook her
head and tossed me one of the ruffled aprons we’d chosen as our uniform.
“What’s wrong with you?”

I set my drink on the counter and donned
the apron. What had her knickers in a wad? Mom was always just as thrilled to
have a new puzzle to solve as I was. “I mean, I have a real job. I now get
advertising for the paper, and,” I leaned closer to her. “Gather local gossip
for a column.”

“When on God’s green earth are you
supposed to find time to do all that? Sometimes, I wonder if God gave you the
sense He gave a goose. And that
ain’t
saying much.”
She shoved the basket of placemats into my hands.

“The quilting circle will give me plenty
of fodder for my column.” Seriously, couldn’t she give me a little credit? “I
went in there to see if I could find out something about the obit column and
ended up having a job thrown at me.”

“Learn to say no.”

“I found I didn’t want to.” Concentrating
on threading the needle spared me from seeing my mother’s irritated gaze. But I
caught the vibe out of the corner of my eye. “This is the first job I’ve ever
had, other than working here. Before Robert died, I stayed home and cared for Lindsey.”

“But how will you have time?” The hurt in
Mom’s voice caused me to lift my head.

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you? Mom, I’m
getting married again.” Someday. “No one knows whether I’ll stay in River
Valley forever.”
Very true, since Duane saw fit to leave town
once before.
Except this time, should he choose to leave, I’d be able to
go with him.

“This is our business, Marsha.” Mom
sniffed and wiped her eyes on the hem of her apron. “Someday, it’ll be yours
and Lindsey’s.”

“It’s a part-time job taken on the spur
of the moment to help prevent Dottie from becoming another victim.” I set the
mats in their basket and went to put my arms around Mom. “It’s something that
will only take a couple of hours a week. Besides, who’s better at gathering
gossip than you?” I grinned. “You can tell me what to write.”

“You made Cs in English.” Mom gave me a
wobbly smile. “I might as well write the column, too.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” After giving
her another squeeze, I returned to work. “Did you contact Betty Larson?”

“Yes, they want to start on Thursday.”

Day after tomorrow?
That didn’t give us
much time. “How are we supposed to get the room ready?”

“Leroy hired some young man to help him.
They’ll clear the old room for us before starting on the new one.”

Hammering outside the back door alerted
me to the fact the men had already started. Mom was very convincing, when she
wanted something done. It didn’t hurt that Leroy was still in the throes of
honeymoon bliss and retired. He had all the time in the world to succumb to
Mom’s wishes. I opened the back door and almost ran over Danny Vera.

The young man frowned and whipped his
head, slinging his long hair out of his eyes. “You like running over people,
don’t you?”

“You two know each other?” Leroy glanced
up from where he hammered a two-by-four onto another slab of wood.

“Briefly.” I smiled at Danny, trying
unsuccessfully to melt the scowl on his face. “I almost hit him with my car a
couple of days ago.”

Leroy shook his head and mumbled
something about women drivers. That elicited a flicker of a smile from Danny.
“This young man is skilled with a hammer and has some knowledge of electrical
wiring. You leave him be.”

“Yes, sir.” I stepped back into the shop
and closed the door. Men. They sure had their boundaries as to where women
belonged when heavy work was going on.

Picking back up the embroidery, I settled
into the rocking chair and let my mind wander. Three elderly ladies, two dead,
one threatened.
Obits in the paper before their death, which
turned out to be a relatively easy thing to accomplish.
The two deceased
women died from a gas explosion. I sighed. I had nothing. No other clues and no
suspects. I let the placemat fall to my lap.

Time was ticking, and Dottie Baker’s days
were numbered. I knew it in my gut, and I had no idea how to save her. The
thought that the next name listed might be Mom’s, chilled my blood. But the
other women had lived alone, with no family. Was that the key to the mystery?

The bell over the door jingled. I pulled
my mind from my musing to watch Duane stroll in. One look at the clock showed
he was on his short lunch break. I set my work in the basket at my feet and
stood to greet him with a kiss.

“Hey, good looking.” He returned my kiss
and added a hug. “Now, tell me about this job of yours, and why I shouldn’t be
as nervous as a raccoon surrounded by hunting dogs.”

“It’s just part-time. I’m selling
advertising space for the paper and collecting gossip for the gossip column,
but that part is a secret.” I motioned for him to sit in one of the rockers we
had for sale. “I went in to snoop about the obituaries and walked out with the
job. It was a total surprise.”

“And?”

“There’s no reason to worry. Both jobs
are perfectly safe.”

“Not snooping into other people’s
business.” A frown line appeared between his eyes, and I clenched my hands to
keep from smoothing it away.

“Don’t be silly. The quilting club starts
on Thursday. All I have to do is eavesdrop, or ask Mom for details. I won’t
have to leave the shop to gather enough gossip for ten papers.”

“I hope not. I agreed to let you
snoop…safely.” He leaned over and kissed me again before standing. “I love you,
Nancy Drew. Now, I’ve got to get back to work. Dinner?”

“In or out?”

“How about I take you out for steak? I’ll
pick you up at five thirty.”

“Perfect.” I picked up the embroidery and
set to work on the last one as my handsome hunk of a man strolled back out the
door, leaving me happy and peaceful.

“Maybe I’ll get Leroy to take me out to
dinner, too,” Mom said, coming from the back room with an armful of quilts.

“I was kind of hoping you’d watch
Lindsey.” I cut the last stitch of thread. “Done. You can call the happy bride
now.”

“Your daughter is almost sixteen.
Perfectly old enough to stay home alone for a couple of hours.” Mom placed the
folded quilts on a rack. “Since we need to clean out the back room for now, we
might as well set out everything we have for sale.” She planted her fists on
her hips and surveyed the room. “Sure will make it crowded in here, though.”

“How about placing an ad in the paper for
an overstock sale?” I hefted the basket and slid it behind the counter.

“That’s a thought. We’ve never done much
advertising.”

“What kind of stipulations did you put on
the quilting club? Are you charging them for the room?” I grabbed a broom and
started sweeping up bits of silver thread I’d dropped.

“They had to promise to buy all of their
supplies from us.” Mom dragged a big box from the store room. “Good thing I
bought all these scraps of fabric at the discount store. Once we get them
rolled and priced, we can set them out next to the quilting books.”

A slow selling day, but by the time we
finished cleaning out the “club” room, my feet and back ached. Mom was right.
The front of the store looked crowded. Hopefully, Leroy and Danny wouldn’t take
too long to get the extra room built on. After that, there was no more room for
expansion. Not unless we wanted part of the shop to be in the alley. Maybe Mom
should look into moving to a larger property.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Grandma.” Lindsey waltzed
through the door and tossed her backpack on the floor. “Who’s the guy out back?
He’s kind of cute.”

Danny? Never in my wildest dreams would I
have classified that sullen young man as someone Lindsey might be interested in.
“He’s too old for you.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to marry him. Good
gravy!” Lindsey stomped through the back room, returning a moment later with a
soda from the refrigerator we kept there. “Maybe I should take him a drink,”
she said, as if she’d never left the room. “It’s kind of a hot day.”

“I’m sure Leroy is taking care of him.” I
speared her with my mom look. “How’s your photo shop class in school coming?”

“Good, why?” She narrowed her eyes at me
over her Mountain Dew.

“We need a half-page ad for the paper
saying we’re having an overstock sale. Can you handle it?”
Anything
to keep her from making
googlie
eyes at a sullen
young man.

“Easy.” She cast another glance over her
shoulder toward the alley. “Something simple or folksy?”

“Somewhere in the middle?” I suggested.

“With our logo.” Mom waved a couple of
knitting needles at her. “Don’t forget that. We want folks to know who’s having
the sale.”

Lindsey and I exchanged exasperated
glances. “Of course, Grandma. I’m not stupid.”

“Watch your mouth.” I wiped the back of
my hand across my sweating forehead. “Duane’s taking me out to dinner tonight.
Will you be all right on your own?”

She nodded. “I have homework and can work
on the ad. How much are y’all going to pay me?”

I didn’t raise a fool. “Fifty dollars?”

“Done.” She finished her soda and
retrieved her backpack. “I’ll meet that guy some other time. Him and Leroy look
all dirty and sweaty anyway. They probably stink.” With those words, she
sashayed out the door.

Maybe I needed to make sure Danny always
looked stinky. Since Lindsey broke up with her previous boyfriend, Bobby, star
of the football team, she’d been on the prowl for a newer model. I shook my
head. Teenagers.

“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “She’s a good
kid.”

“I know. I thank God for that every day.”
And I did. Not being exactly un-devious as a teen, I was thankful Lindsey
seemed to have her head on straighter than I did. I’d drooled after Duane like
a puppy after a bowl of water. Then, the moment he ran off after graduation,
I’d upped and married his brother within six months. Nope. Not exactly level headed.

Dottie Baker barged through the front
door. “Well, I’m still alive!” She made her way to the front counter.

“You have thirty days from when I warned
you.” Mom glared. “Are you here to buy something or to harass me?”

“I want to look at the jewelry your
granddaughter makes. I’ve got another hot date tonight, and I want to look as young
as possible.”

I turned to hide my grin. With her pink
hair, heavy makeup and deep wrinkles, Dottie would never look young again.

“Might as well live it up while you can.”
Mom waved toward the jewelry display. “Who’s the unlucky man?”

“Dwight
Linney
.”
Dottie patted her hair. “He owns the feed store and is quite a catch.”

“I know who he is.” Mom shook her head.
“The man’s as old as medusa.”

“And loaded.” Dottie winked and pulled a
butterfly bobby pin heavily studded with crystals from the display and slid it
across the counter. “Twenty dollars is a bit steep, isn’t it?”

“Nope, not for Swarovski.” Mom rang her
up and held out her hand. “Cash or credit?”

“Check.” Dottie opened a purse the size
of a satchel and dug around in its purple confines. “I don’t want anyone
knowing anything about me by stealing my identity.”

“People won’t need to steal your identity
if you wind up dead.” Mom’s voice rose.

“If you don’t stop threatening me,
Gertie
Bohan
, I’ll go straight to
Officer Barnett! Then, if I do end up dead, you’ll be the prime suspect.” She
grabbed her purchase. “Wouldn’t that just suit you fine?”