Something Wicked, page 5
As I looked around the room, however, I realized something wasn’t adding up. There was a lovely brown leather sectional in the open living room space and a wall-mounted television. Several pairs of boots and shoes were lined up neatly near the door, and down the hall I could see a tidily made bed in the bedroom, with navy blue slacks laid out on it, just waiting for him to get dressed.
If he was a squatter, he’d made himself very comfortable.
“My apartment,” he corrected, pointing to himself like maybe I was a bit stupid. If he believed me to be a burglar, he was being very patient in trying to convince me to leave peacefully.
“Who are you?” I spit out. “This is my aunt’s apartment. She owned the shop downstairs, and no one told me anything about a renter. So, who the heck are you?”
Realization slowly dawned across his features and he nodded. “Phoebe.”
“Yes. But I already knew that.”
“Can you give me a minute to—you know?” He gestured to the towel he had around his waist. Whatever was happening here, this guy probably wasn’t breaking and entering, so it seemed like a pretty reasonable request to let him put some clothes on.
“Yes, oh goodness, sorry. Please make yourself less naked.” My cheeks flushed furiously as the stupid words left my mouth.
He smiled, and it was one of those crooked grins that made him look briefly like a teenager up to no good. It also tugged at a corner of my memory I couldn’t quite reach. My heart fluttered, but I wasn’t sure why.
The man went down the hall to his bedroom and closed the door. A moment later he emerged wearing the nicely tailored navy pants and a crisp, white, button-down shirt. He was still doing up the buttons on his cuffs when he returned.
“Let’s have a seat in the kitchen?” Without waiting for me to agree, he passed through the living room and into a small, bright white kitchen with new appliances and a few postcards on the fridge, but not much else in the way of personal decoration. There were two stools tucked in under the peninsula counter, so I pulled one out, and he went around the other side, leaning causally against the counter, running his fingers through his damp hair until it held its shape.
He was so handsome it made me mad.
I was supposed to be grilling him on why he was in the apartment, but instead I was just eagerly waiting for him to tell me who he was. I looked at him expectantly, as if I might be able to psychically hurry along his answer.
“We actually know each other. It’s been about twenty years since we got too cool to spend summers together, but when we were ten or eleven, we were pretty inseparable. I didn’t recognize you right away—guess you grew up.”
While this wasn’t exactly giving me his name, suddenly the foggy memory that had been roused earlier by his smile came back into sharp focus. I remembered him, that same curly hair an absolute mess in dire need of a cut or a comb, skinned knees, and a smile missing more than one tooth.
“Ricky?” I stared at him, open-mouthed in surprise.
Just like he’d said, Ricky Lofting and I had been absolutely joined at the hip when we’d been kids and I’d visited during summers, but by the time we were teenagers, we couldn’t be bothered with each other. I wanted to sit on the porch and read, and he wanted to do—well, whatever Ricky wanted to do, I suppose. We had parted on good terms but hadn’t stayed in touch over the years. When you’re a teenager and move to a different state, you tend to forget summertime friends pretty quickly.
“It’s Rich now.” He smiled.
“I can’t call you Rich.”
He laughed, and it was a grown-up version of a sound I used to know so well. Wow, this was too surreal for words. “You can call me whatever you want.”
Why did that make butterflies come to life in my stomach?
“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, though. I can’t believe Eudora wouldn’t tell me you had moved in over the shop. She actually hadn’t mentioned anyone living up here. I thought I might be able to rent it out.”
“Well, then you’re in luck—you already have a tenant.”
That hadn’t even occurred to me in all of this. I’d considered making it a vacation rental property, but having the guaranteed income of a monthly renter was just as good, if not better. “You didn’t answer my question, though.”
“I’ve been here just a little over three months. It wasn’t meant to be more than a few weeks at most, and Eudora wouldn’t even let me pay her at first, but just before she died, we both realized I wasn’t leaving any time soon, and she finally let me start giving her rent. She might not have told you because it wasn’t ever supposed to be long term.”
“Why so temporary?”
He gave a small shrug and sighed. “I was hoping that it wouldn’t really be a divorce, ya know, but it looks like the other guy has already moved in, and the house was a gift from her parents.”
“Oh.” I could relate. My ex had a live-in girlfriend less than six months after we split. “Sorry. Me too, I guess. Who would have thought we’d both be divorced and back at the shop together now?” I laughed but then realized he might not find it so funny.
“Does that mean you’re going to be sticking around?”
“Yeah. Was the town convinced I’d show up, sell the shop, sell the house, and disappear?”
“To hear Dierdre Miller tell it, you were going to sell her the house, for sure.”
“Dierdre Miller might be out of her mind.”
He snickered. “You wouldn’t be the first one to say so. You might even be right.”
“She won’t stop insisting I sell. I’m not selling.”
“Good, I’m sure she’d just tear it down to build condos or something equally terrible. Dierdre always claims to want what’s best for the town, but for some reason that always ends up being something that’s really just good for her.”
We sat in silence for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. A few minutes ago I’d thought I was walking into an empty apartment. About a minute ago I thought I had found a potentially violent squatter, and now here I was in a nicely outfitted kitchen with the boy who used to be one of my closest friends as a child.
All grown up.
“Ricky Lofting.”
He smiled. “Phoebe Black. Or I guess it’s Winchester now, isn’t it? Eudora told me you’d gotten married. Anyway, Phoebe, I’d offer you a coffee, but I actually need to head out to work. How would you feel about a proper catch-up soon, though?”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll call you at your aunt’s later this week, or pop into the store, and we’ll work out a plan.”
He ushered me out with much more grace than I’d entered, and it wasn’t until I reached the sidewalk downstairs and he was walking off in the opposite direction that it occurred to me that aside from news of his divorce, he hadn’t told me a single thing about who he was now.
Chapter Ten
I called Imogen and asked her to come into the shop for her usual ten-to-six shift the next day. I’d do the early bird shift that Eudora had favored, which would mean showing up a bit before seven to pick up the pastries at the Sugarplum Fairy and opening up the store at eight.
Since we hadn’t advertised reopening, I assumed the first few days would be quiet until word spread, which sounded ideal to me. Once we got into the swing of things as a team, I’d take a better look at what Eudora’s marketing platform had been. A shop like The Earl’s Study would thrive on Instagram, so if she didn’t already have a social media presence, it was time to get the ball rolling on that.
My work done for the day, I made the short drive home. Before I could get lazy and distracted, I walked my borrowed shopping cart back to the store, waving at Chandra through the window so she’d know I’d made good on my promise. As I gestured enthusiastically at the returned cart like it was a prized object, she gave me a big thumbs-up from inside.
I could get used to this whole small-town thing.
I managed to make it all the way back to the house without another run in with Dierdre, and as soon as I got through the door was greeted by Bob, who sat primly on the grand staircase, his green eyes fixated on me as he let out one loud, long howl.
“Oh my goodness,” I said. “Are you dying? How terrible of me to starve you. What a monster I am.” I draped my bag over the banister and hung my coat up on a hook near the door. The house was warm, having spent the whole day being lovingly heated by a functional furnace, and the power appeared to have held steady as well.
Small favors.
“Dinner?” I said to Bob.
He didn’t have to be asked twice and bolted for the kitchen. It’s funny, but it had only taken me a couple days to become completely adjusted to having the big furry lump in my life. I could see why Eudora had liked him, and why she’d left him for me to take care of.
Having him around made me feel like I wasn’t entirely alone, and that was definitely a gift I appreciated, considering how alone I really was here. Sure, Eudora’s friends would be kind to me, and I could already see connections I might be able to foster into friendships—Amy, Imogen, and maybe even Ricky … no it was Rich now—but it was still just me and this big old house at the end of every day, and having Bob here made it that much easier to handle.
If I was being honest, he made the old place a lot less spooky too.
Visiting when it had been Eudora’s home was different because she’d loaned her light and energy to the place. There was still a lot of her within the walls, but at the same time, with her gone, it felt like different kinds of ghosts were working their way to the surface, and I didn’t just mean the lingering memory of my divorce.
In the kitchen I emptied a tin of wet food into a dish with Bob’s name on it as he wove his body in between my feet, purring loudly. Once his dinner was served, it was time to think of my own. I was halfway tempted to just eat what was left in the box of pastries Amy had given me, but I knew too much sugar at night would just make me wake up with heartburn, and I had no interest in dealing with that.
Thankfully, yesterday-Phoebe had had the good sense to go grocery shopping, so I grabbed one of the premade salad kits I’d bought out of the crisper and began to assemble it, hoping some of the vegetables might offset all the sweets I’d eaten that day. That was how healthy eating worked, right? Lettuce counteracted chocolate?
I’d just keep telling myself that.
I was just about to take my big bowl of Santa Fe salad mix into the living room, to unwind with Netflix, when the house phone started to ring, nearly scaring me out of my socks.
It had been ages since I could remember hearing anything other than a cell phone ring, and mine was always set to vibrate anyway. The sound, so unexpected and late in the evening, immediately set my nerves on edge.
“Hello?” I answered warily.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Winchester?”
“Ms.,” I corrected, still not sure if this was a real call or a very, very quick telemarketer to have updated the number with my name.
“Ms. Winchester, this is Officer Crane. I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I’m afraid we’re going to need you to come on down to your aunt’s store.”
I glanced at the clock, which read slightly after eight.
“Is everything all right, Officer?” My mind, racing with possibilities, wondered if something might have happened to the store. A break-in?
“Well. No, ma’am. You see there appears to have been a murder, and we’d really like to have a chat with you.”
“I’m sorry, did you say a murder?”
Chapter Eleven
When I arrived at The Earl’s Study, the wind was blisteringly cold, and in spite of my heavy wool coat, I had a chill, right down to my bones, that I couldn’t quite shake.
But once I spotted the flashing red and blue lights and the men in blue uniforms standing outside the shop, I was pretty sure my chill had nothing to do with the weather.
I pulled my car into the back lane and didn’t get too far before I was stopped by a uniformed police officer who shone a flashlight in my car window. I rolled the window down, blinking into the sudden blindness of his light, and before he could ask anything, I announced, “I’m Phoebe Winchester. This is my store.”
He switched off his flashlight, which was somehow even worse, because all I could see were the cruiser lights and little dots of red, blue, and white in front of my eyes. “A’yup. Crane ’n’ the detective are expecting ya.” He pointed me toward my own parking space, where a police cruiser and an unmarked car that positively screamed “I belong to a cop” were already taking up space.
I parked next to a dumpster across the back lane and got out, the wind clawing at my hair and clothes. The air smelled the way it did when the seasons shifted and the clouds remembered the taste of snow.
There was a tall, balding man in a uniform, standing next to a petite black woman in a nice-looking pantsuit. Given what the other officer had said, I figured the man must be Officer Crane, and the woman was the detective.
Clearing my throat so not to take anyone by surprise as I crossed toward them, I noticed the lights were all on upstairs in Rich’s apartment, and my stomach suddenly dropped to my shoes. While I’d been imagining break-ins and dead strangers, I had completely forgotten about my new-slash-old friend who just happened to live at the crime scene.
“It wasn’t Rich, was it?” I asked breathlessly, forgetting all my manners as the fear stoked higher. “Please tell me it wasn’t Rich.”
The pair exchanged befuddled glances before the detective spoke. “No, Ms. Winchester. Mr. Lofting is fine. He’s upstairs speaking to a few other officers.” Again, she looked over to Officer Crane, whose expression gave away nothing. Inscrutable if ever there was a human representation of the word.
“I’m Detective Martin, and this is Officer Crane. I think he’s the one who called you down here.”
I nodded. It was then I noticed the white sheet lying across the area just behind my back door. The sheet covered an absolutely massive lump, much too big to be Rich.
“Is that—”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I don’t want to upset you, but the victim was found at the back of your store, and based on what he had with him, we have reason to believe his intentions in being here were to break in.”
“To … break in? To my store?” I must have sounded so stupid, but nothing Detective Martin was saying really made any sense to me. There was a body only fifty feet away from me, and he had died trying to break in?
Martin and Crane waited a moment or two for my brain to catch up with their words, and finally Martin spoke again, her voice low and calm. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you to see him, maybe tell me if you recognize him.”
My head whipped around at her words; I had been so busy staring at the lump that I almost missed what she said. “Oh.”
“Only if you’re feeling up to it. We can always show you photos later if you think it would be too much.”
I swallowed hard. Before this, I had only ever seen dead bodies in funeral homes. I had a hard time believing this man would look quite so peaceful as my great-uncle Dell.
“No, it’s fine—we can do it,” I answered. While I hated to admit it, my initial fear and revulsion had been replaced by something that felt an awful lot like my old, familiar friend curiosity. I really did want to see who the man was, especially if I knew it wasn’t Rich.
Detective Martin guided me over to the body and, allowing me a pause to change my mind, pulled back the white sheet to reveal the dead man underneath. “We don’t think he saw his attacker coming. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” she explained to me. “He was probably unconscious by the time he hit the ground.”
He actually did look surprisingly peaceful. I wasn’t sure if I’d expected something more bloody and violent, but there wasn’t a speck of blood on him that I could see, and he just looked a little surprised.
That made two of us because as soon as his face was revealed, I recognized him immediately.
It was the beefy man Diedre had been dragging around with her earlier when she had stopped by the store to pester me about selling my house. I don’t recall if she’d ever said his name, but now, seeing him dead, I was starting to wonder if Dierdre might not be a lot more dangerous than I’d given her credit for.
Chapter Twelve
After I identified the man—or at least was able to point Martin and Crane in the right direction with Dierdre—I invited them to come inside. While they looked around inside the shop, I turned on the kettle and prepared a nice chamomile.
I doubted any of us would be sleeping soon, but the illusion offered by a bedtime tea gave me comfort.
Eudora’s signature chamomile had a little bit of valerian root mixed in, as well as dried blueberry, which gave the blend a faintly fruity vibe while the valerian helped with sleep. As I prepared cups for myself and the police, I listened intently to the faint footsteps upstairs.
I hadn’t seen any sign of Rich and had to wonder what was keeping the officers up there so long. Surely they didn’t think he had something to do with the murder, did they?
My hand went still, with the teabag hovering over one of the cups.
I didn’t actually know adult Rich well enough to immediately assume his innocence, did I? While it had been lovely reconnecting with him this afternoon, I didn’t know anything about who he was now. Maybe he really was the kind of man who was capable of violence, or even murder.
He was here and would have had easy access. Perhaps he had come upon the man breaking in and just reacted in a panic.
Placing a teabag in each cup, I poured some nearly boiling water over them and let the delicate floral aroma soothe me.
I might not know Rich well, but I’d known Ricky, and I couldn’t imagine that sweet boy with missing front teeth ever being capable of something like murder. Plus, I had watched enough detective shows to think if Rich was a suspect in anything, they would be questioning him at the police station, not in the comfort and safety of his own apartment.
