Nun of That (A Deadly Habit Cozy Mystery, Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter Three
.

“Excuse me?”

I jumped. The shy, quiet voice spoke up from behind me as I unlocked my store. I looked over my shoulder to see a tall, older woman standing there. Despite the weather, the woman was wearing a cheap, but thankfully imitation, fur jacket that looked as though it were trying to swallow her alive.

“There’s only one coffee shop in town open this early, the Top Town Café; it’s just down the road on the right,” I said. It wasn't the first time a traveler had given me that lost, hopeful expression first thing in the morning. With the town being halfway between two of the three major cities on the east coast of Australia, and several hours from the nearest coffee if one was heading south, a lot of caffeine-deprived travelers arrived in town in a state of desperation.

“Oh, thank you,” the woman said with a nod. “But actually, I’m looking for Dave's Pawn and Brokerage Shop?”

I gave the woman a puzzled look, and pointed to the very large street sign hanging practically in front of her head. The woman looked at the sign quizzically, turned back to me with a blank expression, and then did a fast double take.

“Oh my. There it is!” The woman gave an embarrassed giggle, burying herself to her nose in her oversized coat. “I have the worst sense of direction. It's really calibrated.”

“Calibrated?” I asked the woman.

“Yes, you know, really hard to explain?” The woman frowned at me.

“Do you mean
complicated
?” I asked in as polite a tone as I could muster.

The lady nodded earnestly. “Yes.
Complicated
.” The woman smiled pleasantly and studied the pawn shop window. “Oh my, it's so hard to believe I'm here!”

The woman appeared to be overawed, almost as if she had just reached some sort of historical landmark, such as the Sydney Opera House. I had never seen anyone so happy to see a pawn shop in my life. After a moment of total silence from the woman, I cleared my throat. “Um, I apologize. No one will be here to open the store. Dave passed away the other day.”

“Oh I know that, silly.” The woman rummaged through her bag. “That's why I'm here. I'm Bunny. Bunny Jameson. I'm Dave's wife. I'm moving in today.”

I almost sat on the ground in shock. “Dave’s wife?”

Dave had never mentioned a wife. In fact, he had never mentioned being married. He always referred to marriage as
a ball and chain better left avoided
. I had known Dave for years, and he had never so much as hinted at the fact that he had a wife. Why would his wife only show up now, after Dave’s death?

“Yes.” Bunny sighed and rolled her eyes to the sky. “You could think of me as an ex-wife really, but we never got a divorce. Being married to that man was the longest three weeks of my life. You can't get that time back, you know.”

She gave a cheerful hop as she brandished Dave's old key. “But at least I get to run my own business! Would you like to come in?”

My mind reeled as I tried to process this sudden turn of events. One day Dave is a happy, cheerful bachelor. The next day he is murdered, and then, the very same week, a wife comes out of the woodwork to claim his home and business? A wife from a three week marriage at that. “Umm, I need to start work in a minute. But maybe later? I live on the upper floor above my shop.”

“Really? Me too!” Bunny proclaimed excitedly. “Or I will. I mean, I do now. What a small world, huh?”

Small town was more like it. But at least the woman seemed nice enough. I watched her as she unlocked the pawn shop, looking like a kid trying to get into a candy store.

“May I ask a quick question; what was it that happened between you two?”

“Oh, we were wild and crazy back then,” Bunny explained, as she opened the door and peeked in. “It was a shotgun wedding of course. We were just wanting to settle down and start a family; family really is over rated you know. I couldn't deal with the late nights. The sudden errands. And the messes and drink stains on the carpet, and that was before we even started thinking of kids! Then there was his thing about cats. I am so
hyperallergenetic
to cats.”

“You're what?”

“
Hyperallergenetic
, you know, extra allergic. I get all red and scratchy and, you know,
ick
! I look like a melon with lipstick on.” Bunny looked at me with a wide eyed, worried expression. “He doesn't still keep cats, does he?”

“He has a calico he called Bernard.” I tried not to laugh as the woman slammed the door shut. She seemed to try to hug herself around the door knob with a horrified expression straight out of a really old, really bad, scary movie. I figured that she probably couldn't have gotten a more animated expression of horror if I’d said that Dave kept a tiger in his room. “I hope you don't mind; I didn't want him to starve on the streets, so I brought him to my apartment.”

“Oh no, no, no, you are good. In fact you are welcome to keep Barnie, Benny?”

“Bernard.”

“Right! Him. You can keep him if you want. I have a parakeet. They wouldn't get along and then there are my allergies; it would just be nicer than calling a fireman to take him away. Can you recommend a good cleaning service?”

I didn't have the energy to ask why she would call a fireman to get the cat. There was just too much information to process, way too much, and I was thrown by her unexpected change of topic. Instead, I just smiled and drank half my coffee in one go, then pulled a face as it burned my throat. “Umm, I have a business card for the local lady. She does a really good job. I’ll find it and give it to you later.”

“Has the cat been allowed to roam the shop at will?”

I nodded.

Bunny let out a shriek. “I can’t go in until it’s been cleaned. Can I come into your store and call her?”

“Sure.” What could I do? At least Bunny and Bernard would not come face to face, as Bernard was kept in my apartment during working hours. I didn’t have the heart to tell Bunny that Bernard was allowed in the store at night, but I did watch her carefully for the sudden appearance of boils, sneezing attacks, and suchlike.

While we waited for the cleaning lady to come, I found out quite a lot about Bunny. While she and Dave had been married for years, they had been together only the first three weeks of their marriage, very long weeks according to Bunny, who had sworn off marriage ever after.

“So you and Dave stayed friends all these years?”

Bunny nodded. “We stayed friends, but we only contorted each other by phone and email.”

I was confused. “You
contorted
each other?” It didn’t even sound legal to me.

“Yes, but only by phone and email, as I said.” Bunny looked at me as if I were stupid.

It was a good thing I had a dinner date with my two closest friends, Gemma and Janet, that night. I was going to need some serious girlfriend therapy after a day with my new neighbor.

Chapter Four
.

“So this woman is
hyperallergenetic
to cats? Is that even a word?” Gemma asked as she took a sip of the soda she had smuggled in, hidden in her purse.

Tonight was Janet's turn to host dinner, so the three of us were sitting in her perfectly white living room. It was straight out of a magazine, pristine, and white - so white that I always feared to touch anything in it.

I was also afraid to touch half of anything Janet offered to her guests. I shot a leery look at the glass that Janet had handed me. Janet and her husband owned a gym and constantly spewed out at length the health benefits of an all natural diet. Janet’s latest fad was drinking tea made from pine needles. Something about vitamins, tannins, polyphenols and other words foreign to me. All I knew about pine needles was that, as a child, I’d had to rake up tons of the things for my grand parents every autumn. There was zero appeal in drinking something that I’d dragged by the tarp-load to the burn pile over the years.

“Oh goodness, do you know what that stuff does to your stomach lining, Gemma?” Janet clicked her tongue in disappointment as she spied the other woman's cola. “They did this study where they put a piece of beef into a glass of cola. Do you know what happened? It disintegrated in days!”

“Good thing I don't have a beefy stomach.” Gemma quipped back, taking a big drink from her soda for emphasis, smiling around it at Janet's annoyed expression.

I bit my lip. The two of them were always at odds. In fact they seemed to make it their life's work to aggravate one another. It was a wonder they insisted on doing things together. I had a sneaking suspicion that they didn't want to let the other one be around me unsupervised. There was no telling what each might say when the other wasn't there to hear it.

“So what are everyone's plans for the week?” I asked, in an attempt to draw away their attention.

“I have a big case coming up,” Gemma said happily as she flipped the ends of her huge pile of hair over her shoulder. I could almost hear it crackle from all the hair spray she used to keep it that way. “This might be the big one.”

“Gemma, with you, every case could be the big one, then it ends up being a parking violation.” Janet sighed, and gave Gemma a thin smile. “After my hubby gets home, we'll be starting our fitness boot camp. You two really need to join us, especially you, Gemma. You would do well with a few sessions.”

“Oh no. I have a very strict policy when it comes to fitness centers.” Gemma batted her eyes at Janet. “I never attend them. I find boot camps full of pretentious, pushy types. Seriously, who really believes they can fast forward themselves into a perfect body? That's what plastic surgeons are for, right, Janet?”

Janet forced a smile, and I likewise forced myself not to get sucked into yet another veiled feud between the two. “Well, I guess you two have me beat. I’m just going to a convent with a hot reporter.”

That cut the rivalry short. Both snapped their heads toward me so fast it was a wonder neither of them complained of whiplash.

“Explain yourself,” Janet insisted, and then waved a hand. “Wait, wait, wait! Hold that thought! Not a word until I get dinner out of the oven. I hope you brought your appetites. I know you girls have to have your meat, and Joe had a special on calf's liver. I stuffed it with wheat grass and fennel.”

“How considerate. Why do healthy things have to be so disgusting?” Gemma asked me, as Janet disappeared back into the kitchen. “My treat if you want to fake sick and go out for Chinese.”

I gave her an apologetic smile. “I can't do that to Janet.”

“She's trying to kill us with whacky health cult food. Call it even,” Gemma pleaded, giving me her puppy eyes and a well practiced pout.

I shook my head. Gemma sighed dramatically as Janet hurried in with a foul smelling pan of - was that liver? Oh goodness, that pan would get a restaurant shut down in a heart beat. Friendship was full of many trials.

“I had a snack on the way here,” Gemma said, as she leaned away from the glob, not even bothering to spare Janet's feelings over her zeal to make us something special. “I'll just have something that resembles normal. Corn maybe, or lettuce with some actual salad dressing.”

“Would you like to try my cod liver oil dressing?” Janet asked.

“Normal dressing made for human consumption.” Gemma rolled her eyes and took out her phone. “Bring me real food or so help me, your clients are going to see pictures of a pizza delivery man at your door. And it’s gonna be a meat supreme.”

“Gemma, don't you dare!” Janet's eyes widened.

“Hey you guys! Hot guy? Convent?” I said, as I resisted an urge to hunt down some aspirin. Why couldn't we just have a normal gathering where I wasn't both referee and peace keeper?

“Right! What is this about? And how hot is this guy? Does he work out?” Janet demanded as she started serving out plates.

“Down girl! You're married, remember?” Gemma gave Janet a sugary sweet smile.

“Happily married. Same to you. Rose saw him first.” Janet gave Gemma an annoyed scowl, then turned back to me. “So spill. Who is he? What does he do? Where does he come from? Is he well built?”

“What's his BMI?” Gemma asked, mimicking Janet’s voice. “Does he bench press 500? Does he need a spotter?”

“He’s a freelance journalist, and he’s very cute. He's from out of town, researching a big bank robbery gang for a book,” I said, trying to distract them from a new session of jabs and snipes.

“Someone robbed the convent?” Gemma asked.

I sighed. The night was going downhill rapidly. I proceeded to explain my encounter with the first attractive, young man to show up in town in years, perhaps in living history, for all I knew. According to Gemma, dinosaurs still roamed the earth the last time the town saw a really attractive man. Janet, of course, had to point out that her husband was voted best physical form last year. Gemma pointed out that form and face were separate things altogether. Trying to keep these two on topic was like trying to herd cats. Then again, Bernard would probably be easier to deal with than these two.

“I have this darling dress I would lend you, Rose.” Janet studied me with a worried frown. “But I think it would be a little tight on you. How about you come to the gym for a health-wrap, and then a hard one hourly session? It's guaranteed to take a couple inches off.”

“Oh gee, great pep talk there, coach.” Gemma and Janet glared at each other. Gemma turned her attention back to me. “Be comfortable. But try some heels. Show off those fabulous legs of yours.”

“Come on you two. This is a murder investigation, not a date.” I felt my face color at the D-word. How long had it been since I’d gone out with someone other than my friends, come to think of it?

“Well, it wouldn't be a conventional date, Rose.” Gemma gave me a coy look. “But c'mon. You're an innovative girl. You can find a way to talk him into going from the convent to coffee, at the very least.”

“Not coffee. Caffeine is the leading cause of -” Janet started.

“Back off the coffee and no one gets hurt,” Gemma said in a warning tone.