Pages and Premonitions, page 12
When she finished her muffin, Shelby dusted the crumbs from her hands and turned a thoughtful gaze to Travis. “Do you think it's possible the murderer could be someone angry or jealous of Mr. Peacock's successful career or an old courtroom rival, maybe?"
Travis took a sip before responding. "We're certainly looking into any past legal connections that went sour. Jealousy over reputation or lost cases can fester." He rotated the nearly empty mug between his large hands.
Shelby bit her lip, mulling this over. "What if it's someone closer to home - say that blustery Professor Rundle? He seems to crave the limelight. Could it be that he secretly resents Mr. Peacock's success and reputation in this town?"
One dark eyebrow quirked upward. "Interesting theory. I admit the man's overbearing personality rubs me the wrong way, too." Travis sat back with a sigh. "But right now, we have no solid evidence implicating the professor or anyone else. It’s all just conjecture for the moment."
Shelby nodded reluctantly, understanding it would take more than speculation to pin down a suspect. She stirred a dash more milk into her drink, grasping for any scrap that could help the case. Glancing up, she noticed Travis watching her with a strange expression she couldn't quite decipher. Was that ... admiration maybe?
"We'll get there," he said suddenly, firm confidence resonating in his deep voice. "You have good instincts, Shelby. Together, we'll find the clues we need.”
Unexpected emotion squeezed her throat at his faith in her uncertain talents, and his choice of the word "together." Before she did something mortifying, Shelby gathered their empty mugs.
"Refills? It's on me," she managed, blinking hard.
“That would be great.” Travis’s little smile made her pulse skitter all over again. He held her gaze an extra beat. "And Shelby? Don't underestimate yourself. You're one of the sharpest investigators I've had the privilege to work with."
Now she knew a fiery blush colored her whole face so she simply turned and scurried to the counter on jelly legs. Had he really just called her a talented investigator? His unexpected praise threatened to dissolve her strictly professional resolve, especially with the handsome face smiling up at her so warmly.
Shelby sucked in a deep breath and got in line, gripping the empty mugs tightly. So what if they shared an easy rapport and unspoken connection? And sure, the setting felt cozily date-like, but she couldn't lose focus and make things out to be more than they were. They had a job to do. She couldn’t afford a crush on the lead detective who relied on her for impartial insights.
By the time she returned to the table having pep-talked herself out of mooning over Travis, Shelby felt composed and business-like. She set down the fresh coffees and took out her notebook flipping to a blank page. Time to demonstrate her serious investigative skills.
"Okay, maybe we're going about this all wrong with the list of suspects," she mused aloud. Travis raised his eyebrows but gestured for her to continue.
"What if there's some physical location that holds the key?" Shelby tapped her pen as her thoughts raced. "Something connected to Mr. Peacock we haven't explored yet."
Understanding flashed across Travis's face and he sat forward. "You’re right. We've been so focused on the Harris Estate and Peacock’s law career; we haven't dug much into other aspects."
His boyish grin made a brief appearance. "This is why it’s good to have you around. You see things from a different perspective. We need to get out of our heads and re-examine the spaces tied to Mr. Peacock with fresh eyes."
Shelby flushed with pleasure at having sparked a new investigative angle. "Should we sit down with Mr. Peacock and map out everywhere he frequents? Maybe something will trigger a new lead."
"Sounds like a plan." Travis beamed at the young woman. "You're really something else, Shelby Price."
His words sent lightning zipping through Shelby's body. She froze, afraid to even breathe for fear of shattering the fragile moment. Travis seemed equally immobilized, and the air between them fairly crackled with awareness and possibilities.
Abruptly Travis pulled back, looking uncharacteristically flustered. He fumbled for his wallet, nearly upending what remained of his coffee. "We, uh, we should call it a night. Early shift tomorrow and all that."
Shelby sat motionless, her pulse hammering in her ears. Travis avoided her eyes as he stood, tossing cash on the table.
"Can you update me after you've spoken to Mr. Peacock? About important locations?" His professional demeanor had snapped back into place with only the tips of his ears still tinged faintly pink.
Shelby nodded.
Travis gave her a brief, formal smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Great. Well, good work today. I'll be in touch."
And with that, he was striding out the door. Shelby, pondering her confused emotions, collected herself and left the café.
The bracing winter air hit her like a splash of icy water jolting her the rest of the way back to a clear head. She stood uncertainly on the sidewalk for a moment. Had she only imagined a moment of connection with Travis?
With a sigh, Shelby turned toward home and the bookshop. There was an investigation to pursue and a kind man's life was still in jeopardy. Anything more personal would have to wait.
As she walked, Shelby touched tentative fingertips to her traitorous left hand, still tingling faintly from Travis's brief grasp. Her logical mind scolded against indulging in girlish notions, but her heart whispered that maybe when the case was over….
For now, she simply drew her coat tighter against the cold and picked up her pace. The rest would have to bide its time.
Reaching the shop, Shelby unlocked the front door and headed straight for her office.
Leaning back in her office chair, she tapped her pen against the notes spread before her. Frustration simmered in her veins as nothing jumped out at her. She made a few more notes about the meeting with Justin on a fresh page of her notebook, recording what she’d learned. She believed each small puzzle piece would eventually draw her closer to completing the picture.
Glancing at the wall clock, she decided to go up to her apartment and spend the evening brainstorming. Shelby headed upstairs to settle onto the sofa with Harper, a well-worn blanket, and a notepad as thoughts spun around in her head.
She told the cat about her meeting with Travis. “I think I misinterpreted what was going on between us.”
Harper blinked sleepily. “Be patient, Shelby. Some things can’t be rushed.”
17
Warm light spilled from the windows of Shelby’s parents’ cozy farmhouse onto the snowy yard, welcoming her back to her childhood home. She stomped the slush off her boots before entering the warmth of the house where she’d grown up, just a fifteen-minute drive from the center of Hamlet.
Shelby breathed deep, inhaling the mingled scents of fir and cinnamon as she stepped into the kitchen with Harper trotting after her.
"Yoo-hoo, we're back here," her mother called from the direction of the living room.
Grinning, Shelby made her way past the cheery red and green decorations adorning practically every surface and found her family gathered around a massive fir tree that nearly brushed the high ceiling.
"Shelby!" Her father enveloped her in a long hug. The man always greeted his daughter as if she’d just returned from years away. At seventy-two-years-old, John Price remained hale and hardy thanks to a life of physical labor working on their family farm. The man was a retired teacher, but he’d run the farm since he was in his twenties growing sunflowers, vegetables, and pumpkins. His lined face crinkled into a smile beneath the brim of his ever-present cap.
"Let me see this beautiful cat." He bent to scratch Harper behind the ears as she rubbed against his leg, purring. "What a fine cat you are, Harper," he told the feline as his eyes twinkled merrily.
Shelby just laughed as her no-nonsense father petted the soft animal. Like all of the Price clan, once he decided you were family, he loved you unconditionally.
Her mother bustled over a few strands of silver-streaked brown hair escaping from her messy bun. "How are you, hon?" Ginny asked, standing up on tiptoes to kiss Shelby's cheek. "I’m glad to hear your holiday sale party went so well."
At sixty-nine, her mom, also a retired teacher, remained the hub of the family. She delighted in gathering her brood for cherished rituals like trimming the tree while drinking wassail punch and making popcorn garlands. Shelby smiled, taking a deep breath of the wonderful pine scent.
Soon she was cheerfully accepting a mug of hot cider and joining in the festive chaos. Her older brother Adam untangled strings of twinkling lights while his girlfriend Lauren helped to unwrap the cherished ornaments that had been handed down for generations.
On the sofa, Shelby's maternal grandparents, Mary and Tom, who also lived in the farmhouse, sipped from their own steaming mugs. At ninety-three, Tom's hearing wasn't what it used to be, but his leathery face still displayed a mischievous grin as he watched his family's antics. Beside him, Mary smiled and greeted Shelby while patting her husband's knee with her hand.
Shelby's heart swelled just soaking up the familial energy swirling through the cheery living room.
Lauren put on some Christmas carols and soon boisterous off-key singing filled the room. Shelby held the ladder steady as her father clambered up to position the antique angel at the tree top. The way his weathered hands gently straightened the delicate wings, made Shelby smile brightly. They all helped place the white lights, small red bows, and ornaments on the branches, and later with the decorating complete, Ginny shooed them all toward the groaning farm table laden with juicy pot roast, buttery mashed potatoes, sweet glazed carrots, and yeasty rolls. Over steaming cups of wassail, the conversation soon turned to updates on various family members Shelby hadn't seen for a couple of weeks.
She was describing the next holiday bookshop event to everyone when Ginny's expression sharpened with interest. "Oh, that reminds me, I had coffee with Patrice Nelson from your store the other day. We got to discussing poor Mr. Peacock."
Shelby leaned in, intrigued. "Did Patrice mention anything that could help with the investigation? The police keep hitting dead ends trying to find out who’s targeting Mr. Peacock."
Ginny pursed her lips, thinking. "Not really. She said James has been writing and working part-time at the library. He’s researching an unsolved cold case about a murder that happened in town about twenty years ago. He’s trying to keep busy so his thoughts don’t stray too often to the lunatic who is targeting him. You must have heard he had a security system installed. That must give him some peace of mind."
Shelby sat back, digesting the information thoughtfully. She recalled Justin mentioning his father's work writing several articles and a new book. He also mentioned Mr. Peacock’s renewed interest in gardening and that he was designing some yard space for more perennials. “I talked to Mr. Peacock’s son the other day. He told me his dad loves playing cards and chess, collecting rare coins, and playing clarinet in a band. He has a lot of interests.”
“His wide interests bring him in contact with a lot of different people which makes it hard to pin down a suspect,” Ginny pointed out. The woman loved reading mystery novels and had a knack for figuring out the storylines. “The killer must be someone James knows.”
The whole family knew that Shelby was working as a volunteer consultant with the police, but none of them knew about her newly awakening paranormal skills. She planned to tell them, but it never seemed like the right time. Plus, she didn’t want them to think she was losing her mind.
Shelby said, "Thanks, Mom, that's really helpful. I'll talk to Detective Whitely about it."
Ginny hugged her daughter. "Ever since you were little, you've had such a strong sense of justice, and right and wrong. I’m glad you're finding ways to act on it. You’re doing important work, Shelby Lee. I couldn't be prouder."
Blinking back some sentimental tears, Shelby gratefully squeezed her mom's hand. She was determined not to let them down.
After dinner, the party moved to the cozy den for boisterous games of charades, cards, carol singing accompanied by her dad on guitar, and watching nostalgic holiday specials. As the clock struck midnight, Shelby’s grandparents headed off to their bedroom after goodbyes were exchanged with hearty hugs.
Shelby headed out into the star-strewn darkness with Harper curled in her arms and a bag filled with containers of leftovers. The drive home along moonlit deserted country lanes never failed to make Shelby happy.
Back in her snug apartment, she got ready for bed feeling more centered than she had in weeks. The time with her family never failed to steady her when inner turmoil or outside forces unsettled her.
Slipping under the covers with Harper snoozing right beside her, Shelby switched off the bedside lamp and lay gazing up through the skylight. A rare cloudless night revealed what looked like millions of glittering pinpricks in the black canopy above her. Shelby imagined family members who had passed away spinning far out in the cosmos, their voices added to the celestial chorus lulling her to sleep.
But slumber remained elusive as her thoughts circled back to the man who occupied so much space in her mind these days - Travis. A vision of his face as they talked casually over coffee warmed her heart and she sighed.
Could exploring a deeper bond between them be worth the risk? Past experience made her hesitant to open her heart again, yet denying what she felt grew harder by the day.
The next morning, sleepiness still fogged Shelby's brain as she shuffled to the kitchen in fuzzy slippers to start the coffee. She was sitting at the kitchen table reading news on her phone when a knock sounded on the door. Shelby went to answer it and saw her mother standing on the porch.
“Hey, Mom. You’re up early.”
Ginny came in and set a bakery box on the counter. “Your dad has been craving some chocolate croissants from Bread and Roses Bakery, so I came to town to get some for him. I thought you might like some, too.” She bent to pat the cat. “Good morning, Harper.” Ginny got two plates from the cabinet and placed a croissant on each one as Shelby poured two cups of coffee.
The woman’s sharp gaze assessed Shelby over the rim of the cup she sipped from. "You look preoccupied this morning."
Shelby took a gulp of coffee, bracing to tell her mother about the problem occupying her thoughts. "I couldn't turn my brain off last night. I kept mulling over a, well, personal issue." She hesitated before blurting out, "It's about Travis - Detective Whitely."
Ginny regarded her, waiting for her daughter to continue.
Plunging ahead, Shelby described her deepening feelings for Travis and their recent intense chemistry. "But after some bad relationships, especially the last one, I'm wary of being hurt again," she concluded softly.
Setting down her coffee cup, Ginny reached over to squeeze Shelby's hand. "You've always been open-hearted - it's one of your finest qualities, but it can also be your Achilles' heel."
Shelby looked up and saw understanding in her mom's wise eyes.
"I know you're cautious giving your affections after what happened in your last relationship. It’s never easy to be cheated on. It can take a long while to get past that.” Ginny shook her head, scowling briefly at the memory of the man who had callously broken Shelby's heart and trust two years prior.
"But don't sacrifice future happiness because of one cad's misdeeds," she continued gently. "Good men do exist, though they seem rarer than hen's teeth sometimes." She smiled encouragingly. "From all you've told me, Travis strikes me as one of the good ones. If you feel a connection, love is always a chance worth taking."
Shelby's eyes misted over and a lump formed in her throat. Impulsively she circled the table to hug her mother. "I'm still scared of getting hurt again," she whispered shakily, "but being close to Travis makes me feel brave, and he seems to really believe in me."
"Then it seems you have your answer." Ginny rubbed her back consolingly. "Take your time and see where it leads. I just want to see you living a rich and happy life."
Shelby drew back, smiling. "I'll think it over. My heart and head haven't quite agreed yet. Thanks for wanting me to be happy, Mom."
Ginny waved off her thanks. "You'll do what's right for you when the time comes. For now, let’s eat these chocolate croissants while I pour us more coffee."
The rest of their time passed enjoyably discussing other topics, but later on in the bookshop, Shelby replayed her mother's words on repeat.
Love is a chance worth taking.
She couldn't deny the risks of opening herself to someone, but maybe the good of being with someone like Travis might be worth a leap of faith.
She looked out the window at the bracing winter sky. The clouds going by seemed like her scattered thoughts - constantly shifting and reforming.
“Your mother’s right, you know,” Harper said from her sunlit perch on the windowsill. “You can’t let one bad apple keep you from finding happiness. Be patient. All will unfold as it should.”
Shelby reached out and moved her hand over the cat’s soft fur. She would hold her mother’s and Harper’s words in her heart.
18
Shelby pulled up to the small ranch house on Elm Street just outside the village of Hamlet in Forestdale and checked the address against the one Justin Peacock had given her for his father's housekeeper, Polly Sutter. Seeing it matched, she walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
A minute later, the door opened to reveal a petite woman with long auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater.
"Hi, are you Polly Sutter?" Shelby inquired.
"You must be Shelby," the woman said.
Shelby nodded. "I’m Shelby Price. I'm a friend of James Peacock. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about him and the work you do for him."
