Midlife in Glimmerspell Page 6

  His lips twitch as his eyes ride up and down my features. “You would be right about the corpse, but I wasn’t looking at her. I was looking at you.”

  Me?

  My cheeks heat a notch.

  Of course, he was looking at me. I had the nerve to practically tell the girl off. Suddenly, I’m moved to tell off all of the girls at Dexter University—starting with Charlene and ending with Jenny.

  And Professor, really?

  I’m about to contest his questionable scholastic status—for all I know, Professor is a pet name she’s called him many times before in the bedroom—when a deputy pops up next to him.

  The man has dark hair, chiseled cheeks, and eyes the color of a clear blue lake. He’s dressed in a tan uniform, black boots, big belt, and has an even bigger gun strapped to his waist. He’s about my age, give or take half a decade, and I’m willing to bet he’s older—just the way I like ’em.

  I give a quick blink.

  What am I saying? I don’t even know what I like. I had Harold mouth-breathing next to me in bed for the last nineteen years, so I suppose I prefer anything north of that.

  “What do you think, Detective? A murder right here in Glimmerspell?” The deputy glowers at Elliot, and if I’m not mistaken, there was a distinct edge of sarcasm to his voice when he said the word detective. He glances my way and I get the full frontal view of his face.

  Holy hotness, Batman. As if the tall, dark, and brooding professor slash homicide detective wasn’t enough to put a hitch in my man-hating giddy up, along comes his partner in crime busting.

  “Sheriff Cash Archer at your service.” He thrusts a hand my way, and I give it a quick shake.

  “Sheriff?’ I take a moment to marvel at his shiny star-shaped prowess. “Billie Buttonwood. Did you say murder?” I pull him in close without meaning to and note Elliot glaring at our conjoined hands. “Sorry,” I say, giving the hot sheriff a quick pat before letting go. “You don’t think that man was killed, do you? I mean, I fed him a cookie. He could have had a reaction to the almonds. A nut allergy can explain everything. You know what they say, don’t go chasing zebras when you’re in the middle of run-of-the-mill horses—or in this case almonds.”

  Elliot tips his head to the side. “You’re right—with the exception he was sweating profusely and foaming at the mouth. That’s an indicator of a severe toxin.” He nods to his professional counterpart. “We’ll see what the coroner says. In the meantime, I’ll see if Morgan had any cameras pointed at the crowd.”

  “Good thinking.” Sheriff Archer nods my way as his eyes do that broken elevator thing. “We’ll meet again soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Elliot glowers at the man as he takes off, and for some reason, this offends me. Come to think about it, just about everything he does offends me.

  “Meet again soon? Ha,” I balk. “That must be code for I’m married. It seems I’m irresistible to those of the matrimonially bound variety.”

  Elliot inches back and eyes me. “I’ll make a note of that.”

  “Why would you make a note of that?”

  “Because I’m making a note of all the suspects in the room,” he has the cookies to say while he scans the crowd. “Starting with you. Full name and number.” He poises his phone my way, ready to tap the information into it, and I quickly give him the intel he’s looking for. A part of me is hoping he’ll use that number for far more nefarious circumstances. Then the reality hits, and I’m right back to being offended.

  “Did you really just call me a suspect?” My voice hikes a notch. “Listen, buddy, I’m a lot of things, but a killer I am not. Even if I have suddenly garnered the ability to twist time to my advantage, which I haven’t, I wouldn’t evict a single soul from its body—as evidenced by the fact my ex is still walking around on the right side of the soil.”

  His brows furrow as he studies me a moment. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You already have a good defense working in your favor. Temporary insanity by way of a thump to the head.”

  “One I wouldn’t have gotten if you would’ve watched where you were going.”

  “Fair enough. If I’m called to the witness stand at your trial, I’ll be sure to bring it up.”

  “I don’t think you’re funny.” I narrow my eyes over his drop-dead gorgeous peepers, and I’m annoyed by his presence all the more. “I’ve got a kid I’d like to spare from living with her father and his trophy tramp. I don’t have time for three government-issued hots and a cot. Besides, I’ve already done your homework for you, Detective. There are four bona fide suspects right here in this room who could have done away with my potential coffee date.” Married as he were.

  “Okay, I’ll bite.” His chest expands to unreasonable widths. “Don’t withhold your thoughts from me now. If there are four viable suspects in this room, please, by all means, point them out.”

  “Fine.” I nod to the buxom blonde. “There’s Ready-to-Jump-Your-Bones Jenny. I saw her whisper sweet nothings into the deceased’s ear while we were taping, and whatever he whispered back didn’t make her all that happy. Let’s just say there were heated words exchanged before she stalked off. She wasn’t thrilled. In fact, she looked darn right murderous.”

  His lids hood a notch as if he took umbrage with my words.

  “Don’t worry, Detective. Don’t let the fact you’re playing second fiddle to a dead guy prick your ego. She’s still pretty hot to trot for you, too.”

  “I don’t have an ego.” A smile curves on his lips as if maybe he does. “Next suspect, please. I have an investigation to tend to.”

  “Okay.” I crane my neck into the crowd and spot my mark. “Her”—I point toward the café—“the girl who miked me up.”

  “Vera?” He frowns her way, and I’m betting he’s struck out with her a time or two.

  “Vera Henley,” I say with a nod. “I saw her walk right up to the victim with an angry look, and she was saying something that looked equally as angry right before she poked him in the chest just like this.” I butt my forefinger into his upper torso, and it’s like hitting sheetrock. “Geez. What do you have going on under there? A Kevlar vest?” I give a few more pokes as he encapsulates my finger with his hand and removes me from his person. His hand warms mine and our eyes lock for a moment too long as another one of those jolts of electrocution runs through me once again.

  I pull my hand back to my side. “She was angry,” I say a touch more tempered than I already was. “Angry people are capable of anything.”

  “Number three,” he growls as if my presence were irritating him on an extraordinary level—and believe me, right about now the feeling is mutual.

  “A redhead.” I shrug as I look to the crowd. “I don’t see her, but she was the first thing I did see when I stepped into this place. The two of them were having a private conversation—or more to the point, a private argument. She was tugging at his tie as if she were going to strangle him with it and that’s all I saw.”

  “Redhead,” he grunts my way. “I’ll make a note of it. And the last suspect on your list, Detective Buttonwood?” His lips flex into a short-lived smile as if he were entertaining a child, and wow, how I hate being patronized like that.

  I take a moment to glower at him. “The fourth suspect on my list would be you, Detective.” I give his chest a final poke as if to prove my point. “Don’t think that little rough ’em up session you took it upon yourself to give him went unnoticed. I saw the whole thing.” I flash a short-lived grin right back at him. “And there you have it, Detective Greenly. Four suspects, one of which whose shoes you’re standing in. I wonder which one you’ll investigate first? Which one will end up between your sheets for further analysis, and which one you’ll disregard altogether?”

  His chest thumps with a silent laugh. “Why ask the questions? You seem to have all the answers.”

  “Finally a man who sees things my way.”

  He starts to walk away, and I pull him back by the sleeve.

&nbs
p; “I do have a question you can answer,” I tell him.

  He tips his head back a notch, the look of irritation still rife on his face.

  “Shoot.” He’s right back to glowering at me.

  “Sheriff Archer—is he married? I’m still open to having coffee with someone as a way to initiate my stay here in Glimmerspell.”

  “No. He’s not.” Detective Elliot Greenly’s face hardens to stone as he takes a moment to examine me. “But I wouldn’t go asking to share a cup of coffee with him anytime soon.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll be having it with me.”

  He stalks off and my mouth falls open in his wake.

  Tall, dark, brooding, and obnoxious.

  And the cherry on top?

  He just might be a killer.

  Chapter 4

  “And then what did he say?” Teddy asks as we stand in front of a two-story home with white siding and rows of colorful Christmas lights strung up over the roofline despite the fact we’re firmly embedded in March. It’s dark as pitch out, just a little after six in the evening—but after the day we’ve had, it feels more like midnight. Teddy is holding Grizzy in one hand as the two of them look up at me with anticipation.

  The house is lit up with all the enthusiasm of a high school football game on a Friday night, but with the snow blanketing it from every angle it adds a softness to its frame, and I’m getting the warm fuzzies just looking at it. There’s a wraparound porch with snow piled over the railings, and everything about this oversized, slightly crooked house looks as if it’s giving me a hug.

  Right about now I’ll take some action from just about anyone who wants to give it to me.

  “He didn’t say anything.” I shrug as Harper and I follow Teddy up the porch, each with two suitcases in hand. “I guess our coffee klatch is yet to be determined.”

  Teddy threads her arm through mine. “Well, let’s get inside and continue this conversation once you meet Sunshine, Sadie Jean, and, of course, you’ve already met Grizzy.”

  A pickup truck comes careening down the street, stopping abruptly in front of the house. Morgan races out of it, and Acorn bounds his way over by her side.

  “Wait for me!” Morgan shouts, and soon she’s right there with us on the porch.

  The entire lot of us spent the last four hours at the Haunted Book Barn, helping the patrons check out at the register, then cleaning up once the sheriff’s department and the coroner left. Morgan said she wanted every square inch of that place scrubbed down with disinfectant, and I couldn’t blame her for that. We scrubbed, mopped, and scoured that old barn from floor to ceiling until you could eat off the exact spot that corpse was lying on this afternoon. Not that you would want to. But seeing that my ex is prone to bad decision-making, he might be one to consider it if there was a juicy steak or an even juicier coed involved.

  “Come on.” Morgan threads her arm through Harper’s as Teddy unlocks the bright red door with a glowing wreath twinkling over it.

  Harper nudges me with her elbow as she leans in close. “Someone forget to take down their Christmas decorations?”

  “Nope,” Teddy is quick to correct her. “The Christmas spirit is alive and well around here. I’ve got the tree up, too,” she announces as she opens the door wide and we quickly stream inside where it’s perfectly toasty and the scent of vanilla permeates our senses.

  “I don’t believe in putting an end to something so beautiful and festive,” Teddy says, taking off her coat. “That’s what’s wrong with this world today. It’s too eager to kill a good time.”

  True to her word, a tall Christmas tree strung with white lights and ornaments sits in the corner. I quickly take in the rest of the place with just as much wonder. The wooden floors are dull, there’s a large fluffy white rug in the middle of the living room, and a flat screen TV sits just above the tall stone fireplace. A couple of maroon velvet sofas that look comfy enough to swallow you whole take up the living room, along with a couple of matching wingback chairs. And next to that the dining room and the kitchen all amble into one another. Every bit of furniture in here holds a charming and rustic appeal.

  Grizzy stretches and gives a lethargic yawn before hopping out of Teddy’s arms and swatting the air playfully in front of Acorn. The curly-haired dog dances in a circle around the finicky feline and Harper coos as she quickly scoops up Grizzy.

  “I can’t believe I finally get to have a cat and a dog in my life,” Harper says while burying a kiss into the sweet kitty’s forehead. Grizzy’s fur is jet-black with smoky gray tips and her eyes are a searing shade of amber.

  Harold said he was allergic to animals and I always suspected he was lying. He never sneezed once when he was around a furry critter and that alone should have tipped me off.

  Teddy gives Grizzy a pat. “Harper, meet Grizabella.”

  “Grizabella?” I marvel. “Are you a T.S. Eliot fan, Teddy?” I ask as I give the sweet cat a scratch myself.

  “That I am, and that’s my baby,” Teddy announces as she heads for the fireplace. “Grizabella and Acorn are best of furry friends, so you don’t have to worry about the spunky pooch gobbling up Grizzy for breakfast.”

  “Ha!” Morgan laughs, stripping off her coat as well. “If anything, Grizzy would gobble up Acorn. That cat knows how to hold her own.”

  Acorn gives a friendly bark as if to agree with her.

  Harper and I set down our suitcases at the foot of the stairs and peel our coats off as the house embraces us with its warmth. Just behind the cozy living room, the kitchen opens up and it looks spacious with its creamy white cabinets and pale stone slab over the island. The appliances are stainless and look restaurant-grade, which makes me anxious to whip something up.

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to upgrade our appliances back in Mulberry Lake, but Harold always found more pressing places to park our money, such as his endless collection of toys—think boats, jet skis, metal detectors, fishing reels, weaponry of every kind, and let’s not forget the endless parade of new tires for the fleet of trucks he owns. He always made my desires seem foolish and frivolous, while his were practical and provisionary. I’m sure he thought Charlene was practical and provisionary, too—for that little head of his, and I do mean little.

  “It’s Christmas all year round at my house,” Teddy says as she waves us over to the sofas. “If the rest of the town can embrace the vamps, the werewolves, and the fairies every day of the year, I can embrace a fat man in a red suit who likes to point out I’m on the naughty list after he breaks into my house.”

  Harper snorts and I shoot her the side-eye as we step deeper inside. It’s light and bright, and come to think of it, that heavenly scent taking over our senses smells exactly like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.

  “Hey Morgan?” Harper leans her way while giving Acorn a quick scratch between his ears. “Why aren’t we staying at your place again?”

  “Because you’ll cramp my style.” She stretches her cranberry-stained lips my way as she says it. “Besides, as soon as Teddy heard you were sticking around, she insisted.”

  “And I’ve got the room,” Teddy says while starting a fire. “And have I mentioned the enchiladas?” She sticks both of her pinkies into her mouth and lets out an obnoxious whistle. “Sunny and Sadie Jean, come on down. Our new roomies are here, and I want you to meet ’em!”

  The sound of wild horses trampling over the ceiling ignites just as two blondes trot down the stairs, whooping and hollering, until they’re standing right in front of us with breathless smiles.

  “Sunshine Kelly, nice to meet you! You can call me Sunny,” the older of the two chimes.

  She looks about my age, platinum hair amidst a smattering of gray, and she has that twinkle of mischief in her navy blue eyes. Blue eye shadow sparkles over her lids, and if I’m not mistaken, there seems to be a dusting of it over her features as well giving her an iridescent glow with a rather alien-like appeal. It might have be
en an accident, or it might be the latest cosmetics craze I have no idea about. Either way, her makeup is impeccable as if she were ready for a night on the town, and judging by that leather number she’s squeezed herself into, I just may be right.

  She grabs ahold of the younger girl next to her. “And this is my daughter, Sadie Jean Kelly. Sixteen, knocked up, and due on the Fourth of July like the all-American princess she is.” She points to the younger version of herself, and it takes everything in me not to gasp once I spot her bourgeoning belly. Granted, she’s not that big, but she’s big enough to notice.

  “You don’t have to call me Sadie Jean.” The girl shrugs our way as her arms remain firmly wrapped around her body. “Just Sadie is fine. Nice to meet you,” she says as she looks from me to Harper. Her hair is in a whippet of a ponytail. She looks cozy in a pair of purple sweats, she’s got a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in her hand, and her skin shimmers with a glint of iridescence to it just like her mama’s. I bet the lack of sunshine in this part of the world has something to do with their great skin—and unnerving blue undertones. “I’m a junior at GHS.”

  Harper’s mouth falls open. “So am I! I’ll be there on Monday.”

  “No way!” Sadie grabs Harper by the hand. “I have to tell you everything. The guys are going to go nuts when they see you.”

  Before we know it, the two of them have disappeared upstairs as Teddy navigates us all to the sofas before she takes off for the kitchen.

  “So what’s the lowdown?” Sunny asks as she plops down next to me with her eyes set wide over mine. “I heard all about the body. You’re not the killer, are you?”

  “No,” I’m quick to tell her just as Acorn hops on one side of me on the sofa and Grizabella on the other. “But I’m not saying homicide isn’t in my wheelhouse either,” I say, pulling the furry cute cat onto my lap.

  “I’ll do the honors,” Morgan says. “Her husband dumped her for some bimbo he knocked up. She gave him the finger, sold her house, and hightailed it to Glimmerspell. She’ll be working for me at the bookstore, and staying here at the house until she gets on her feet.”