Without Any Warning (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 2) (15 page)

Chapter 47

Two For Show

Hazel and Betty slowly nudged box number two in my direction. They were as antsy as two kids in a candy store, their eyes reflecting excitement.

I grabbed the knife, and was about to make my first slit, when Betty’s next words threw a wrench into the mix of emotions that were already churning around inside of me.

“We hope you like it,” she said. “We just can’t wait to see what it is!”

I started and then stopped mid slit. “What do you mean? You don’t know what is in yours either?”

“It’s not from us,” replied Hazel, eyeing Betty, and then smiling and winking at her in approval.

I got the
‘I didn’t like what I was feeling,’
warning sign. “Who is this from then?”

“Why, your former neighbor, and our boss at The Book Worm, Clay, asked us to give it to you.”

 
I dropped the knife.
Was this some kind of joke?
“You’re kidding me! Right?” Even I knew when something wasn’t in the cards, you moved on.
First Stephen, and then Clay.

“No. Go ahead and pick up the knife and get to it, young lady! I can feel myself aging right here on the spot,” chastised Hazel. “Now, come on, Sam. You’re driving us all crazy.”

A slight tremor started in my right hand and quickly spread to my other. The lure of opening these boxes abruptly lost its’ appeal. I began slicing the tape slowly, postponing the inevitable, suddenly reluctant to face the unknown.

Why?

Because death made me doubt everything. Ignorance was not bliss. What I thought was permanent, wasn’t. Like before, my trust factor was of two minds. Long-term commitments were history and currently not on my radar. I was only avoiding a lot of hurt that I didn’t want anymore.

I lifted one flap, and then the other, peering in. Everyone else held their collective breath. “Oh,” I exclaimed, as I got a good look at what it contained.

“What?” Martha asked. “Come on. Tell us, Sam.”

Mona eagerly peered over my shoulder. “Well, I’ll be!”

Martha got up and came over right behind her. “You can say that again!”

The others started to talk all at once.

“Come on!”

“What is it?”

“Can we see too?”

I sat back relieved, but still perplexed. I leaned in, taking it out. It was a framed painting under glass of a woman alone on a beach wearing a long dress and holding a parasol. Long ago, I had mentioned how I always wanted to be alone at the beach to work and think things through. It was tied with yellow ribbon with a note tucked underneath the knot.

“Tell us what is says, Sam!” prodded Barbara.

Mona laughed. “We’re all friends. Come on!”

I felt nervous vibes from both Hazel and Betty, who sat patiently waiting across the table. I tore it open and read the computer printed note out loud.

“Life, like a puzzle, eventually with the passing of time, reveals the whole picture, its significance and its worth, but only to the one interpreting its importance. Your caveat? Forget the big picture and examine the grains of sand; the small pieces.”

His note fascinated me, but gave me a chill at the same time. “How odd!”

“How mysterious!” said Hazel and Betty simultaneously.

“Well, if that isn’t the strangest note I have ever heard in my life,” exclaimed Mona, shaking her head. “Sounds like something from a Chinese fortune cookie, only longer.”

Hazel leaned in after casting a quick glance at a nodding Betty. “All we know is that Clay said, considering the timing and the circumstances, Stephen would have thought it a fitting gift to give you now.”

“It sounds like he might be speaking between the lines,” offered Barbara. “You know, like in a riddle? It was sort of cryptic, don’t you think? I wonder what he actually meant?”

Me?
I had no idea what it meant. I only knew that I was unsettled by his words. Like Stephen, he knew me well, but not as well as he thought he did. I felt like ants were crawling all over me. I was itching to change where I was sitting at this table called my life. What was I missing? What exactly did he mean by those words in his note? I found them disturbing.

So far, Martha observed everything silently, but finally voiced her opinion. “That man always intrigued me from the moment I laid eyes on him when he was just a child. One thing I have learned about Clay, he never offers personal observations lightly.” She looked directly at me. “This only goes to show, Sam, he’s suggesting you two aren’t finished yet.”

That, I found even more disturbing.

Chapter 48

Three, Are You Ready?

“No!” said Mona unexpectedly, as I was about to reach for the third box. “Don’t open that yet!”

I pulled my hand back sharply, startled by her sudden outburst. I was as jumpy as a cat in a dark alley.

“…What?” I asked, somewhat tentatively. “Don’t you want me to open the last one?”
Was I still reading too much into everyone’s behavior, my own included?

“I do,” Mona replied, “It’s just that I need a refill. I’m out of wine. See? My glass is empty!”

I looked her in the eye, but she conveniently shifted her gaze toward the third box.

Hmmm. Was she stalling for time? Why?

I wondered if she knew what was in box number three. But then again, how could she? It was postmarked from Highlands. She had been living with me.

My brain instantly started jumping all over. Didn’t she say she gave Stephen the disc? But then, she said he told her he had hidden it in my book. How could that be? He was dead before I wrote and finished my last book, The Puzzle.

How did he hide something in my book before he even knew it existed?

“Thank you,” Mona said, after Martha refilled her glass.

Martha, impatient as always, shoved the third box in front of me. “This makes number three, Samantha. Are you ready?”

You could have heard a pin drop. Everyone’s eyes were riveted on the third box. Even I felt the tension as I gradually slit the last of the tape on the box. I took a deep breath and slowly lifted the two flaps. “What the…?”

Mona quickly shoved her chair back and stood to get a better view of what I was stuttering about. The others quickly followed suit. We all stood there silently staring down. The only thing in that box was a single disc in its plastic case, all by itself at the bottom.

Chapter 49

Getting Under My Skin

“Well, I’ll be!” said Barbara, laughing. “This whole thing was starting to get under my skin with everyone so jumpy and all! Now, who would have guessed such a little thing was inside that oversized box?”

Hazel shook her head in amusement. “Someone sure has a strange sense of humor!”

“You can say that again!” exclaimed Betty.

“He’s a hunk!” laughed Martha. “’No age barriers in that department!”

“I don’t get it,” added a confused Mona. “Why such a big box for such a small item?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, mystified.

We were all staring down at a Michael Buble disc. His picture was inside the cover of the plastic case. I checked the outside of the box again. The package was sent anonymously, having had no return sender’s name.

“Who would send me such a gift?” I asked. Then goose bumps rose on my arms.

Could this possibly be what I thought it was?

“Why, he’s one of my favorite singers,” said Martha, quickly reaching into the box, and extracting the plastic case. “Well, let’s play this baby! He’s sure got a sexy voice.”

Mona pushed back from her seat at exactly the same time as I did. Apparently, our minds were suddenly on the same wavelength.

Was it the disc Mona had mailed to Stephen? If so, who had mailed it?

If it was what we thought it was, than nothing would be playing on that thing because it was only a computer disc with numbers on it. I couldn’t believe this was happening to us. We both scrambled after Martha, who was heading straight for my disc player.

“We’re supposed to be having a good time here.” Martha said, laughing as she darted into the family room. “Why not add a little atmosphere?”

For a senior citizen, she sure moved in a flash. By the time Mona and I came to a screeching halt behind her, she had already deposited it into the machine and pushed play.

Mona and I just stared, holding our breath, open-mouthed, as music unexpectedly started playing and Michael began to sing his heart out with a classic Sinatra song.

Chapter 50

Chain Reaction

“Well, last night’s events were a complete nerve-racking bust,” said Mona grumpily.

It was the next morning, and other than singing along with Michael Buble and his music, the prior evening ended on a restrained note with everyone finally heading off to bed, looking forward to an early stroll on the boardwalk the next day.

Just in case one of the others returned, Mona and I were sitting out on the deck, sipping coffee by ourselves where no one would hear us discussing the prior evening. We were tossing opinions back and forth and getting nowhere.

“By the third box,” I said, still frustrated, “you and I had the same thoughts. For a minute there, I thought we might have been lucky enough to hit pay dirt. My biggest fear was the others getting involved and putting them at risk.”

“Me too,” replied Mona. “But it felt sort of exciting when we both thought we may have located the missing disc.”

 
“But what I don’t understand is why Stephen didn’t say something to me?” I asked, mystified.

“Maybe, to keep you safe on the off chance someone made a connection down the line? I don’t know. But from what you’ve explained about his workaholic attitude, I can also see why it wasn’t his main concern at that particular time.

“Besides, Stephen was an accountant and had tons of discs lying around too. I guess he figured, what were the odds of anyone tying me to him? And on top of that, where would they even start looking if they did find out? It would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack, one disc among all the others.”

“You might be right,” I said.

 
“Plus,” Mona added. “Our only contact was by email and then I sent him the disc. So, he let it go and forgot about it. Everything was going like clockwork until Joey discovered Stephen’s email and address on my computer for the mailed disc.”

I nodded. “And Stephen had no way of knowing that.”

“Exactly! That’s probably why Stephen never gave it a second thought.” replied Mona. “He felt all was safe.

I sighed. “Who could’ve predicted Stephen’s totally unexpected death would have ultimately changed both of our futures so drastically? It’s like a chain reaction gone terribly wrong with me unfortunately now ending up on their radar.”

Why did Stephen tell her he put it in my book?
Where was it?

Chapter 51

Stop! In The Name Of Who?

I hopped on my bicycle and pedaled down to the Ocean City library to pick up a book Martha had reserved on line. After previously proving her abilities as a senior hi-tech wizard in the past, she now had her own laptop that she traveled with. Dying from curiosity about Martha’s requested book, I volunteered to pick it up. I was keeping an eye on all of them. It was also a perfect excuse to get my fix.

I still had to get up close and personal, wandering among the stacks and scanning the volumes of authors, both present and past, always drawn like a magnet to their names. I’ve collected some great ones over the years, snatching them up from various book sales that libraries usually held once a year, depending on where I was at the time. Markets were another great source too. You’d be surprised what I’ve found and seen at some markets.

Well, you already have, haven’t you?

To tell you the truth, I was also in awe of the ‘me’ department. I got a kick out of walking up to my own titles on the library shelves, still in disbelief over the fact that people read my books. I always marveled at my name in print, remembering back when I was younger, daydreaming about being one of those authors people couldn’t wait to snatch up and read when their next book came out. But times had definitely changed. Digital books on readers were everywhere, even on the beach.

 
I was running my finger along a few of the spines when I heard whispers of conversation from behind the next stack across from where I was standing. I couldn’t see their faces, but I knew those voices. My finger froze. The infamous
book worms
!

“Listen Betty,” whispered Hazel, excitedly. “This could get dangerous, but we don’t have a choice, do we?”

“No, we don’t!” replied Betty. “I just don’t know if Sam buys our excuse for coming here in the first place. She’s a smart cookie and very perceptive. After all she’s been through in the last year. This might be a hard… What’s that word they use in those detective novels? Oh yes! …
case
to crack and figure out, especially after Martha’s phone call.”

“Something’s up!” replied Hazel. “Did you watch Sam the night we were all around the table with those boxes? Her eyes were a dead giveaway. She’s afraid of something. I’m sure of it. She’s being close to the vest on this one, but I’m sure we’ll figure out something. Only this time, I’m not certain we should fill her in yet.”

“Heck,” chuckled Betty. “We’ve pulled off working undercover before. No one ever suspects two sweet old ladies of being a sneaky lot. Eavesdropping has become our specialty. I truly believe it’s a gift that not too many people can get away with today because of our public image. Why, we look as innocent as saints!”

“Yes!” said, Hazel, stifling a laugh. “People talk right in front of us, like we’re deaf, too old, or too stupid to understand their shifty ways.”

“What are we supposed to do about this David fellow?” asked Betty, suddenly.

“I’m not sure. Antiquities my foot!” huffed Hazel. “Only thing old about him is his age.”

 
“Might be a tad too mature for Samantha, though,” charged Betty. “What do you think?”

“He is one good-looking man, though” sighed Hazel. “If only we were a little younger!”

“Now, Martha on the other hand,” Betty countered, “is dating that Roland fellow. He sounds like a geriatric case if you ask me.”

“What is with her?” asked Hazel. “She’s proving to be absolutely no competition at all.”

“Forget her for now. We’d better stay focused on this David fellow,” ordered Betty. “I’ve seen the way he keeps eyeing Samantha. Why, it downright gives me the willies!”

“By the way, said Hazel. “I checked out his license plate like you suggested. And you know what? You will never guess in a million years. That 1965 Mustang convertible of his, he’s been driving all over town, is registered in the name of Pat Sterling, that real estate agent who works for that fellow Bill, who owns that agency, and…”

Betty held up her hand. “Whoa! Stop! Back up a minute. It’s registered in the name of who…?”