Dressed To Kill (2 page)

He passed out pages of blown-up pictures of trash, flyers, and mostly cups, including a few with Coffee, Books, and More’s logo, on the streets of South Cove. Unfortunately for me, the amount of trash also showed my customer base compared to Lille’s. Her cups outnumbered mine at least two to one. More drinks equaled more revenue, and the hope to make my store profitable on the long term.

“That’s my car,” an artist who ran his own minigallery sat up straighter. Conner McBride was his name, but his Irish ancestry was in doubt, as his accent only came out for the paying customers. “You took a picture of the inside of my car.”

Josh shrugged. “It was disgustingly dirty. You are leaking this trash all over South Cove every time you drive that rattrap.”

“Uncool, man. Way uncool.” The artist shook his head sadly then leaned back, his large sunglasses covering his eyes. If the meeting had been back at the shop, I would have bet money that the guy was asleep behind the sunglasses. Power-napping through the day. It’s a good model. And there’s plenty of mentors in our little town.

Bill’s shoulders were coming close to squeezing his ears off his head. The meeting wasn’t going well, even with the relaxing massage and wine. “Look, Josh. Let’s not start a fight over a little thing like trash. We’re all in the same lifeboat and we can’t be having people punching holes in the bottom of it.”

“He started it.” Josh pointed at Conner.

The young man popped up out of his chair. “I can finish it.”

A hand gently pushed him back in his seat. “So can I.”

Greg King, South Cove police detective and my hunky boy toy, stood behind Conner. He caught my eye and winked. Then he went back to saving Josh’s life.

“Man, I wasn’t going to hurt the dude. I’m not that type of guy.” Conner glowered at Josh. “He needs to stop putting his nose into things where it doesn’t belong.”

“If you can’t calm down, you’ll have to leave.” Greg’s voice was calm, but his words hard.

Conner’s hands flew up in mock surrender. “Like I wanted to be at this stupid meeting in the first place. I just came for the paycheck, man.”

Greg stood back and let the tall, skinny artist stand up and step away from the table. Conner glanced at Sherry, who nodded some answer to an unspoken question.

This was curious. I didn’t think Conner even knew Sherry. And what did he mean by a paycheck? Maybe Conner didn’t own the gallery and his silent partner sent him to the Business-to-Business meeting this month.

Greg watched him leave the store, then slipped into Conner’s chair. He picked up the photocopied picture of the inside of the artist’s car, frowned, then folded the paper and slipped it in his front shirt pocket.

Leaning over the table, I whispered, “What are you doing here?”

Confusion clouded his face, but he leaned toward me and tapped my hand with his. “I’m on the agenda, remember?”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not.” I’d typed up the agenda last weekend. Bill, as chair of the business group, ran the meetings, but I set up the agenda and did the paperwork for the council. Nowhere on the agenda did it list Greg King to speak on anything.

“If we could continue?” Bill visibly shook off the stress the altercation had caused. “Maybe we should table the trash discussion to next month and let our invited guest talk about the viability of a city position for dog catcher.”

I narrowed my eyes at Bill, but he turned his head away. This subject had definitely
not
been on the agenda I’d sent him. The lack of a central number for pet control was one of Josh’s pet peeves about South Cove. He wanted to round up the homeless cat or two that hung around the shops. Aunt Jackie, on the other hand, couldn’t help feeding the strays.

Sherry stood and took over the meeting. My eyes were almost slits now. What was going on?

“I know Josh has been trying to shine light on the problem of stray cats and dogs roaming the streets of South Cove for months. With Bill’s approval”—now she paused to shoot a look at me, making sure the table knew I’d been pushing off Josh’s request for meeting time—“I invited Greg to come and talk to us.”

Wait, what?
It was then I realized my aunt had been wrong. There was no way I was going to survive two hours without killing someone.

As Greg stood, Josh folded his arms and fake-whispered to everyone within earshot. “Finally, someone who can get things done around here. Maybe we need a new business liaison?”

It took all my willpower not to stand up and resign on the spot. I consulted my watch. Less than an hour left then I’d be home free. As long as I didn’t open my mouth.

I
threw Emma’s ball into the backyard, not looking at Greg. “I can’t believe you let Sherry bamboozle you that way.”

Greg closed the grill. Dinner consisted of steak, corn on the cob, and a cheesecake I’d brought home from the shop. He sat next to me. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought you knew about my visit to the meeting. Sherry said . . .”

I held up my hand. “I’m so tired of hearing what Sherry said. Look, do me one favor?”

He leaned back in the swing, kicking back his feet in his cowboy boots. He sighed and took a sip of his beer. “You know I’d promise you almost anything.”

I curled into him, smelling his cologne and man scents. I was starting to calm down after the meeting from hell. Now I knew what the more artistic members felt every time they drew the short straw to represent. “Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

I felt his chuckle under me. “Speak your piece, woman, the meat’s almost done.”

“If you get an invitation to speak at the Business-to-Business meeting from anyone but me, tell me about it. I looked like an idiot.” I hated the way Sherry had preened around him after the meeting. Yes, I knew she was dating someone. It still ruffled my feathers even if Greg swore her attention annoyed him.

“You’re not good at holding in your feelings, that’s for sure. Anyone who saw your face knew you were ready to blow a gasket.” He tilted my head toward him so I could see his. “You know that feeds into her ego, right? Sherry always has to be the one in the spotlight, for good or bad reasons.”

“Like the over-the-top meeting that was more like a party?” I sank my head back into his chest and ran my fingers up and down his tan arm. “She hired massage technicians, for God’s sake.”

“And the group loves her for it—for a day or two. Then she’s going to expect an outrageous favor and when they say no, she’s going to blow up on them. Believe me, Sherry can’t be nice for long. Not anymore.” Greg kissed the top of my head and stood. “Those steaks are done. Ready to eat?”

As we carried the food into the kitchen and sat down to eat, a thought occurred to me. “If this is out of line, say so, but why in the world did you marry her?”

Greg shrugged, cutting a bite off his steak. “I thought the package was worth the cost. I learned real early I was wrong, but I didn’t know how to get out. I took vows. And until she broke them, I felt obligated.”

“You’re lucky you got out. You’re too nice to put up with that kind of person.” I pointed at him with my fork. “Hell, you’re lucky you got me. I’m a gem. You should treasure me.”

He laughed. “You’re a pistol, that’s for sure. I’m not sure I’d call myself lucky, though.”

My lips pursed. “What would you call it then?”

“I’m determined and hardheaded. Two characteristics that work in my favor in our relationship.” He took a sip off his longneck, watching me closely. “You sure you want to talk about us?”

Fear of the unknown stopped me. We’ve been a couple for less than a year now. Maybe
this
conversation was too early. “Not really. You ready for dress rehearsal tomorrow?”

Greg groaned. “Seriously? I thought you recast my character?”

“Not a chance. If I have to act like a twenties flapper, you can be my mob protection.” Aunt Jackie had started this whole production with Darla. Now we were having a mystery dinner theatre at South Cove Winery next weekend. The Friday Mystery Reader’s group had written the mini play, cast the characters, and were selling tickets. Proceeds supported a local woman’s shelter.

Tomorrow was our first run through. Then we’d have a few days before showtime.

“I might have to work tomorrow evening.” Greg bent his head down over his plate. “And next Saturday, too.”

“Wrong answer, buddy. You’ll be next to me on that stage and you’re going to act like you are enjoying it.” I stood and retrieved the huckleberry cheesecake from the fridge. “Besides, I’ve already picked up our outfits from the high school. Did you know they did a production of
Chicago
last year?”

“Maybe we should ask the drama club to take over mystery theater?” Greg brightened. “Did you talk to their coach?”

“No, Darla’s determined to play the speakeasy madam. I don’t think she’d let someone step in now.” I held up a piece of the dessert. “You want a slice?”

“It’s going to take more than some decadent treat to make me happy.” But he took the plate from me.

“Now you know how I felt.” I sat back and relaxed. We had a good thing going here, Greg and I. Better than most of my other relationships had been, including my short-lived marriage. I knew more about Greg now than I’d known about my ex-husband in six years. I heard Greg’s phone buzz, signaling the arrival of a text. He pulled it out, read the message, then took the last bite of the dessert.

“Sorry, I’ve got to run.” He kissed me quickly. “I’ll come by tomorrow about six?”

“That will work.” I raised my eyebrows. “Is there a problem in town?”

Greg shrugged. “The bank’s alarm keeps going off and the security company has called us down there five times this month. Paine’s looking into the problem, but we can’t be too safe. Toby was called out to an accident on the highway as backup, so I’ve got to run.”

“Anything to get out of dishes,” I joked. I walked him to the front door, where he leaned in for a proper kiss.

“See you tomorrow.” He stepped out the door. “And lock up.”

I did as he instructed. He meant well. Something you have to accept when you date a person in law enforcement. They tend to be alphas.

I cleaned up the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, and curled up on the couch. Emma, my golden retriever, lay on the floor next to me. I bypassed the remote and grabbed the women’s fiction novel I’d started on Sunday.

The best thing about owning a bookstore? The research.

 

The next morning I’d finished my morning commuters’ coffee run by eight. The shop grew quiet. I’d done most of the prep work yesterday during the later shift that had been as dead as this morning was shaping up to be. So I continued my research. I’d finished the book and was sitting in one of the armchairs, thinking about the characters and the world I’d left behind, when the bell rang over the door. A group of women from the small bank branch down the street burst inside, excited chatter filling the shop.

I jumped up and went over to the counter. “Welcome, ladies. I don’t typically see you out on a workday.”

“The bank’s closed until noon. They’re working on the security system, and we can’t be there.” Leslie Talman, a woman I’d met over at The Glass Slipper at my one and only stained-glass class, led the group toward the counter. “So we decided to come here.”

“I wanted to go to Diamond Lille’s for an early lunch,” the tall woman near the back grumbled. Anne, I remembered, her name was Anne.

I threw a clean towel over my shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you decided to stop here first. What can I make you?”

One by one, the women called out their orders, and I started to ring out the group of six. “These will all be separate, I suppose.”

Anne pushed toward the front. “I’ll get it.” She handed me a credit card. When her friends protested, she smiled. “I came into some money, and I’d like to do this. Humor me. It’s not like I’m buying you jewelry or a car.”

The women settled around a table and I handed Anne a slip and a pen to sign. “That was nice of you.” I heated the milk for the lattes as she signed.

“Money’s no good sitting in a bank. It needs to be spread around to make a difference in this world.” Anne turned away to join her friends.

By the time I’d finished the drinks and cut the last cheesecake to serve, the women were laughing and talking all over themselves. Kent should be the one paying for this little impromptu team-building activity. They’d all go back to work happy and motivated for the rest of the day.

I glanced at the receipt and nearly gasped at the tip. She’d left me almost 50 percent. I took the slip and pen to the table and tapped Anne’s shoulder. “I think you made a mistake.” I kept my voice quiet, not wanting to embarrass the woman.

Anne glanced down at the paper. “Nope, looks right to me.”

“But the tip . . .”

She pushed my hand with the slip away. “I told you, money needs to be spread around.” Then she turned back to the table and leaned over. “Did you guys see the boss’s girlfriend come in with her panties in a bunch this morning?”

As much as I wanted to hear the gossip about Sherry, I left the table and slipped the charge receipt into the cash register. It was her money. I grabbed the store’s handheld and dialed Sadie’s number. When I got her answering machine, I left a terse message about bringing in whatever she had done today. Then added “please” and “thank you.” I didn’t have the strength to be mad at a friend. Not today.

By the time Toby Killian, my midday barista and South Cove’s part-time cop, showed up at noon to take his shift, all the tables at the coffee shop were filled and there were people wandering through the bookstore, waiting for places to sit. Toby’s eyes widened as he slipped on an apron and started a new pot of the hazelnut coffee I’d just drained. “Tour bus?”

I shook my head. “The alarm company cut a line and everyone’s security systems went crazy. So we got the displaced employees.” I sighed in relief when Sadie pulled up and parked her PT Cruiser in front of the shop. When her son, Nick, followed her into the store, their arms were filled with Pies on the Fly boxes. “You got my message.”

I took a box and unpacked the still warm apple pie, set it in the display case, and went back for another.

“I got all five of your messages. Nick, run out and get the rest.” She scanned the crowded shop. “What happened, tour bus break down?”

I filled her in on the cut line. Then added, “Sorry about leaving so many messages, but I was freaking. I was down to my last box of brownies.”

“Don’t be silly. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have taken on Sherry’s business without taking care of your order first. I’m still learning how to juggle this small business thing you do so efficiently.” Sadie nodded toward the coffeepots. “I’d love a cup to go.”

Toby poured her coffee and returned to the cash register, finishing the last customers in the line. Sadie and I packed as many pies and cakes into the front case and then took the overflow to the freezer in the back room.

Nick set the last box on the table and then looked at his phone, quickly reading a text. “Lille’s calling me in for an extra shift. I guess she got swamped, too.” He gave his mom a kiss on the cheek. “I brought my skateboard. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Sadie watched him walk through the back door. “He’s growing up so fast. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on the job.”

“Nothing wrong with a little elbow grease for the kid. Besides, from the gossip around town, he got into quite a few of those fancy Ivy League schools back East. You’re going to need the money.”

“His father took care of that. The man loved his life insurance. I’m pretty sure I griped about the premiums early in our marriage.” Sadie’s eyes had that distant look she always got when she talked about her deceased husband. He’d been killed in an oil rig accident when Nick was a kid. From what I could see, ten years later, my friend still missed him.

“So once Nick’s out of the house, are you finally going to think about dating again?” We’d had this conversation several times, but Sadie had always changed the subject. This time, her eyes twinkled.

“Maybe I’m not waiting until fall.” She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

I pulled her down into one of the chairs around the table. “Okay, you have my attention. Who are you seeing?”

Sadie shook her head. “It’s not like that. We’ve had coffee after Wednesday night services at the church a couple of times, and he’s asked me to go with him to the mystery thing over at the winery.”

“Do I have to wait until I’m on stage and see you in the audience to know his name?” I leaned closer. I was so happy for Sadie. She deserved every happiness.

“You’re going to laugh.” Sadie ducked her head, her checks flaming. “I can’t believe we have so much in common, it’s freaky.”

I held up my hand in some sort of scout symbol. I could never remember if it was two fingers up or three. “I swear I won’t laugh.”

She glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening. “Dustin Austin.”

I stared at her.

“See, I knew you would laugh.” She started to stand, but I put my hand on her arm and she settled back into her chair.

“I’m not laughing, I’m shocked. He’s so . . .” I reached for a word that wouldn’t offend her.

“Granola? I know. He’s knows so much about gluten-free baking, it’s not even funny. He came to talk to me at church one day wondering if I’d considered adding a gluten-free line to the Pies on the Fly shop.”

“Gluten-free pies?” I almost choked. From what I’d seen, Dustin Austin didn’t have a shirt that wasn’t tie-dyed, and he sported a fine set of dreadlocks for a white dude from Montana. He ran the bike rental shop in town and the annex at the beach in summer.

“He says there’s a big market for gluten-free products. Especially if I sell on line. He’s working on setting me up a website.”

 

By the time I’d reached home, I was still thinking about Sadie and Austin. People are funny when it comes to love. You never know who Cupid is going to pick as your total soul mate. Sadie seemed happy. Unlocking the door, I heard Emma’s bark out the back. She’d been waiting for me. Instead of letting her in, I ran upstairs to change into my running clothes. When I returned to the kitchen, I opened the door. My golden retriever went ballistic when she saw me putting on my shoes. She sat in front of me and made a whining, chuffing noise.

There was no doubting Emma’s love for me. Or at least her love of running. We headed down Main Street as it wound out of town and toward Highway One and on the other side, the beach. Our favorite run. The waves crashed against the shore. Soon, my mind cleared and the rhythm of my feet against the sand and the caws of the seagulls were all I knew.