Halloween Hiccups: A Mercy Mares Cozy Mystery Novella (3 page)

              “How did that happen?” Diana asked.

I sighed.
Didn't I just tell her that I didn't know?

“Sweetheart, leave the boy alone for a moment and listen. I told you exactly what happened. Someone killed him sometime after Ruby closed the doors or at least that's what she thinks. Can you imagine if he was murdered during her event? She really knows how to knock 'em dead.” I joked.

“Why are you joking at a time like this? The poor guy is dead. And, by the way, he's not a boy and he has a name.” Diana didn't approve of my attitude when it came to what's his face, but it didn't matter. I didn't want nor need her approval. He needed mine and until he had it, he would remain nameless.

“I don't need to know his name because he never formally introduced himself. When he does that, it would be my pleasure to call him something other than 'what's his name', 'the boy', 'the man child', 'your hot one', 'the fireman who stole my beautiful daughter', and-”

Diana groaned, “Alright, I get it. When are you going to let this one go? I'm almost twenty-three-years-old. I don't live anywhere near Lake Villa any more. I make my own way, have a good job, go to grad school and-”

“And, you failed to introduce me to 'hot Italian beefcake' before agreeing to marry him.” I reminded her.

“You're impossible, Mother.”

She said that just to get under my skin. I detested the word 'Mother' more than any other moniker that people sometimes felt it necessary to address me as. 'Mother' made me sound evil and vicious. I preferred 'Mommy', but Diana hadn't called me that since she was ten, no matter how often I tried to get her to say it.

“No, he is. All I'm asking is that he at least attempt to beg for your hand in marriage. Is that so difficult to understand?” I asked.

Diana had heard this same argument at least a dozen times over the last several months. I was persistent or is the word relentless? Either way, in my oh so humble opinion, I wanted to look this young man – the daughter thief – in the eye and make him swear that he will never – I mean, never – hurt my daughter. I'm not talking in the physical sense. If that were to happen, I'd kiss my lovely home and my relatively simple life goodbye and accept my life sentence or the chair if necessary.

I meant it more in the sense that if the Italian weasel so much as got on her nerves or forgot their anniversary or anything vitally important like that, I'd hop on the next flight to New York City and make him apologize, while simultaneously singing show tunes at the top of my lungs, because I've been told that is the equivalent of cruel and unusual punishment.

“I'm hanging up, Mom. I love you more than sunshine and rain, but I can't keep listening to this. Just so you know – Dad is fine with it.” Diana knew that would irritate me to my core.

James, my ex-husband and longtime friend, had a knack for doing the polar opposite of what I'd do in any given situation. He simply didn't care about things as passionately as I did. Having spent the better part of my adult life with the lives of countless patients in my hands (
Okay, I can admit, that's a tad bit dramatic, but you get the point.
), I thrived on strict protocol and a sense of order.

My handsome, yet annoyingly free-spirited ex-husband, loved change. Hence, the reason Halloween is my least favorite holiday. James, the only man I've ever loved, decided on Halloween night twenty years ago that our marriage wasn't what he really wanted in life anymore.

Five minutes after making that life changing speech, we changed our toddler daughter into her purple dinosaur costume (
You know the one!
) and proceeded to take her trick or treating with James's nieces and nephews. It was the day I vowed to never, ever partake in another Halloween event again. Well, sort of. I had taken my daughter to buy a costume every year, but I didn't like it.

“I am not your father. He can do whatever he wants. Who cares that a man thousands of miles away has stolen our little girl? Right? I mean, we are the ones who brought her into the world and nurtured her. Why should we have a say in any of it? ” I asked sarcastically.

“Love you, Mom. Call me when you grow up.” Diana disconnected the line.

I wasn't hurt by that gesture. She's a good kid. I mean, woman, but I was disappointed that I'd had to repeat the same mantra over and over again and 'The Daughter-napper' still hadn't figured out that if he'd just pick up the phone and call me or come crawling on his hands and knees, all would be well. No guarantees, but wasn't my daughter worth the risk?

After that fine conversation, I needed a break. In light of the upcoming nuptials, I promised myself that I'd refrain from sugar as much as humanly possible. I also didn't want to ruin the progress I'd made since joining a women's fitness center with my spry, elderly neighbor and friend, Margie.

A few months back, in the middle of a very stressful time in my life (
What? Did you think this was the only stress I'd ever endured? Of course not! Trouble had a habit of following me or I had a habit of following it.
), I'd made an offhand remark about needing exercise. My flippant comment ended in me signing up for group exercise classes, and, when I couldn't come up with the perfect excuse to get out of that commitment, it quickly became something much, much bigger.

The week before my daughter's wedding, my octogenarian neighbor and I will be competing in a 10K and I can't tell you how thrilled I am to be taking part in that torture fest. Yep, I let her convince me that it was a good idea to sweat profusely in front of a legion of race enthusiasts and possibly keel over from a heart attack. Sounds like a fun time will be had by all, I'm sure.

“Barney,” I nudged my sleeping dog. “Let's go for a jog.”

He looked at me with one eye and quickly closed it, just as enthused as I was about continuing on with this running gig I fought to pretend I was succeeding at.

“I know, you're tired, but if I don't get out there, Margie will kill me, so let's go. She's probably standing out on the porch waiting for us already.” I glanced out the kitchen window.

Barney didn't budge.

“Don't make me do this alone. Your doctor says you need more exercise too, so let's get to it.” I begged.

The familiar rat-a-tat-tat of Margie's knock on my front screen door made me take a leap, narrowly missing Barney's chubby little body as I landed.

“You ready? Let's do this!” Margie was hopping up and down, getting her heart rate up.

Why do you have so much energy? That's just not fair.

“I'm ready,” I lied. “Barney isn't feeling up to it though.”

Margie shrugged. “So, leave him behind on this one. He's not the one that needs to increase his pace, you are.”

Don't remind me.

“Anyway, Mercy, you have to get yourself ready before that handsome sheriff of yours rolls into town.” Margie winked as my face flushed. I'd almost forgotten.

“Charlie won't be in town for another day or two. Besides, I doubt that I'll see him for a while because I haven't heard from him in almost two weeks, so I don't have much faith that I'm a priority at this point.” I said as I tried to calculate when exactly it was when I'd heard from him last.

“Now, I know you've lost your mind. You can't tell me that he's moving all the way from Nebraska just to ignore you. Yeah, he may have gotten that great job offer, but we both know that he only accepted it because of you. Mark my words, this time next year, we'll be planning your wedding.” Margie said to my surprise.

I scoffed. There was no way that I'd ever consider getting married again. One marriage was enough for me. It may have ended, but James and I maintained our friendship and made sure that our daughter never felt like she had missed out on something in her life. And, let's not forget, Charlie and I aren't dating. Most of the time, we're not even on speaking terms, so that alone spoke to whether marriage was in the cards for us.

“I'm too old and too... well, too me to get married now, next year, or ever. Charlie and I are friends. That's it.” I said, guiding her out the door so we could get our run over with. “Ready to run?”

That did the trick. She went into stealth mode, ready to run miles.

As I warmed up with stretches, she asked, “How is Ruby doing?”

I didn't know how much she knew about the incident at the manor. Lake Villa was a small town. With all of about ten thousand people, most of us knew each other well. Nothing happened here without the whole town knowing about it instantly. The only problem was that the story changed depending on who was telling it. I'd learned a long time ago to tread lightly when it came to the Lake Villa rumor mill, especially when that mill involved anyone living in my section of town, meaning me.

“I heard someone was butchered at her Halloween party.” Margie said it so casually, I had to let her words sink in before I realized what she'd said.

“Butchered? Who said that?” I asked.

Margie took off her sun visor, revealing her shimmering silver locks. “Look around. We live in a modular home community, not the Oval Office. Everyone told me, even the mailman had something to say about it.”

That was true.
“Well, he definitely wasn't butchered. That's for sure.” I quipped.

“He? Who are you talking about? They said that the nosy little blonde that's in love with Hank went belly up in the pool and that they had to pick her up limb by limb and put her back together again like Humpty Dumpty.” Margie said.

Wow, that story sure grew!

              “Both of us?” I asked Detective Myron Thomas.

He nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. “You were the only witnesses, so yes, both of you should come with me.”

Ruby turned her back toward the crowd of onlookers gathered around our table at our favorite Italian restaurant, Luigi's.

“Why didn't you just call us? Is this scene necessary?” Ruby asked, her face reddening.

Hank stood up. He was several inches taller than Myron with an entirely different build. Myron's frame was square and stout where as Hank was muscular and athletic. I swear, he always looked like he stepped out of the pages of a magazine.

Myron took in all six foot two inches of Hank and straightened his back to appear taller.

“For crying out loud, you're not in trouble. We're just trying to figure out what happened.” Myron assured us.

“They didn't do anything wrong.” Hank said.

Myron looked back at the curious patrons and said firmly, “We can discuss this at the station.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Hank already had his hand up, warning both Ruby and I to keep quiet. Apparently, he believed we'd say something incriminating and end up in trouble.

“May I go with them?” Hank asked.

“Sure, follow behind me. I can't allow you in the interrogation room, but you can sit in the lobby. By the way, they aren't under arrest.” Myron said.

Luigi, the restaurant owner, walked over, asking, “Is everything okay over here? Did you not like the mostaccioli?” He was kidding, but none of us felt much like laughing at the moment.

The cross looks on our faces straightened him right up. He cleared his throat and said, “I'll get your check.”

“Yes, do that.” Ruby fanned her face with her hands.

All eyes were on us. It was all I could do to not say something to the other customers, most of them familiar to me. They acted like they'd never seen the police speak to witnesses before. We'd all seen the detective shows. I knew they had. They could have at least pretended like this little exchange was business as usual.

“Girls, this is just part of the process; don't let your emotions take over.” Hank said, looking directly at me as he spoke.

“Why are you looking at me? He was already dead when I got there.” I didn't mean to imply that Ruby had anything to do with what happened to Stanley, but that was kind of the way it sounded. Ruby's furrowed eyebrows confirmed my suspicion.

We followed Myron out of the restaurant, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, like this was par for the course and absolutely nothing to worry about.

“Thanks, Luigi, for another fabulous meal. I'll probably see you tomorrow night for dinner. It's not like we're being arrested or anything.” I said loud enough for everyone, including the cooks in the kitchen to hear.

Ruby scowled in my direction. “What are you doing? Why are you screaming?”

I shrugged. “What? I'm just trying to make sure that no one starts spreading a rumor that you and I got arrested for murder.” I said.

There was an audible gasp behind us.

Ruby rolled her eyes.

“I probably shouldn't have said the “M” word.” I said.

Hank muttered under his breath. “You're probably right.”

We filed into Hank's car in silence. It was better that way. I needed a few minutes to calm down. I'd been in this position before, and let's just say, it didn't go particularly well for me.

As we drove through Lake Villa, I took in the quaint downtown. There wasn't much to offer, but enough to keep our little town sustainable and welcoming to the few tourists that ventured our way in search of mom and pop shops and restaurants.

I loved it here. Everything about it appealed to me. From the antiques shops to the art studio to the locally owned and operated bakery.

Lake Villa residents took holidays quite seriously; Christmas and Thanksgiving among their favorites.

As we drove through downtown, I couldn't help but notice the Halloween decorations. Every storefront, restaurant and office space had some form of fall decoration or other on display. I wondered if it would all change now that we've had a murder take place on Halloween.

“Mercy?”

I blinked to clear my thoughts when I heard Hank calling me.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.” I offered.

“Well, if you want my advice, you just need to stick to what you know and avoid mentioning your personal feelings about Stanley.” Hank offered.

“Are you insinuating that I'll say something incriminating?” I joked, knowing full well what he meant. While I didn't entirely agree with his statement, I understood where he was coming from.

Over the years, Ruby and I may have gotten into a little bit of trouble now and then. None of it really anything to worry about as far as I was concerned.

“All I'm saying is that it wouldn't be a good idea to give them more information than what is absolutely necessary. It will be better if you didn't. Trust me.” Hank offered me a smile.

Ruby bit her lip, staring at him curiously.

I already knew what she was thinking. She thought we were in a world of trouble. I couldn't blame her. I thought the same thing. My experience, what little of it there was, told me that when the police wanted to speak to you, it wasn't to chat about the weather, unless the weather was the reason a, b, or c happened. In this case, it wasn't.

“Call me crazy, but I have the sinking feeling that something bad is going to happen.” Ruby said.

“What? Like you find a man neck deep in a tub of fruit?” I asked, trying to make a heavy situation lighter.

Ruby groaned. “Did you have to say that? Did you think I forgot about poor Stanley? He's all I see. I can't help but think if I'd just made another sweep of the fields and the house, I could have prevented his death. You have no idea how guilty I feel about all this.” Ruby's voice shook as she spoke. She was right. I hadn't stopped to consider how horrific this must have been for her.

I reached forward to put my hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was so busy worrying about myself and how inconvenienced I'm going to be that I completely forgot that you were the one that found him like that. It must have been so scary for you. I'm sorry.”

Ruby reached up to grab my hand and squeeze it gently. “You're fine. I shouldn't be so sensitive. It's not like he was the first dead body I've seen. I mean, I've been a nurse for half my life.”

“We're here.” Hank announced, interrupting our conversation.

I felt nauseous all of a sudden. Ruby may have decided that a brave front was the way to go, but I was beginning to think that a different approach would probably work better. If what Margie said was true, and I had no reason to believe that it wasn't, then there were already crazy scenarios rolling around in Myron's silly head.

He wasn't a bad police officer. Over the years, I'd heard that he'd done good things, like stopping the occasional thief and coming down hard on the drag racers who popped up every summer in town, but murder? No, he wasn't qualified to investigate a murder, because we simply didn't have murders here – at least not often enough for anyone to have any real experience with them.

“I have a plan.” I announced.

Hank and Ruby shot each other panicked glances.

“What? I'm serious.” I said.

“Why do we need a plan?” Ruby asked. “We didn't do anything wrong.”

I nodded. “I know, but I think there's something else going on here.” I said.

Hank patted Ruby's leg. “I'll handle this. Mercy, what are you talking about?”

“Margie said something to me about Charlene being chopped up to smithereens. No one else was there, right?” I asked Ruby.

“No one that I know of. I checked the property after the last family left. I didn't see anyone, but obviously I was wrong because Stanley was still there.” Ruby explained.

“You didn't notice Stanley's car in front?” I asked.

Ruby pursed her lips as she tried to remember. “No, I didn't see it. Now that I think about it, he left a little while after you did. I watched him get into his car and drive down the block. I remember because I was nervous that he'd shut the whole thing down because you upset him so much. I never saw him return and I don't remember seeing his car at all after he stormed off.”

“See, that's what I thought. What if whoever started that rumor about Charlene being mutilated and put back together again knows what happened to Stanley and is trying to drive the scent off or is the real killer?” I had all sorts of theories running through my mind now. I didn't disclose everything, but I was convinced that someone knew something and somehow it was all going to fall back on Ruby and me.

Ruby looked at me like I'd lost my mind. “What are you planning, Mercy? We can't get involved. Let's just go in and say what we have to say and leave. Do you understand? I have no intention of investigating this at all, and you better not either. We are nurses, not detectives.”

I  heard her, but it was too late. I'd already convinced myself that there was a conspiracy brewing. It didn't help that I'd made such a big scene in front of at least a dozen people, one of them being Charlene, the loudest mouth in town. I wondered why she hadn't been pulled in for questioning yet? Why had she gone back to the haunted house that night?