Killer Run (3 page)

“No, I like your sweet and selfless demeanor more.” He followed me into the kitchen. “You have stuff to make a salad?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. I've been eating out a lot.” My statement made me think of my lunch with Amy. I paused in the doorway. “Did you know Diamond Lille's is in some sort of best diner contest?”

Greg was already bent down, looking through the produce drawer. “If they taste her meat loaf, she should win, hands down. But this is the first I've heard of it.”

I headed upstairs to my room and a quick shower. Greg usually knew all the gossip, since his dispatcher was also the town fortune-teller. I guess Esmeralda's nose for news didn't include the more mundane events of South Cove.

When I got back downstairs, a cucumber and onion salad sat marinating on the counter and Greg was outside with Emma, playing tug-of-war. Emma was winning. At just under a year old, my golden retriever was strong. She could outrun me when I let her loose on the beach. And, as I watched, she let Greg win one, because she was as much in love with the guy as I was. The dog had a big heart.

I slipped outside into the summer air. The day had cooled after the sunset, but still, the temperature felt warm and comforting on my bare arms. I'd thrown on a sundress and even a little lipstick before I came down. A girl had to try once in a while.

Releasing the chew toy to Emma, Greg answered his phone and went to the grill to flip the fish. As he listened to the other side of the conversation, the final question he asked made me take notice. “You sure everything's okay?”

I curled up on the porch swing, my feet tucked under me. I rated the possibility of Greg going out on a call fifty-fifty from that one question. He closed the grill lid and lifted his head. When he saw me, he used the slow, sexy smile reserved for when he wanted something.

I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. “I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow then. Your other boss just gave me the evil eye.”

“I did not,” I protested, making Greg laugh again. “Whatever. Tell Toby I'll see him tomorrow.”

After concluding his conversation, Greg took the other end of the swing. “You look amazing.”

I stretched my legs out and rested my feet on his thighs. “Thanks for noticing. What's going on with Toby?”

Greg ran a finger down the bottom of my sole, and I about jumped off the swing.

“Stop tickling.”

He ran the finger down my foot. “Then move your feet, woman.”

I sat up and swung my feet toward the deck floor. “Better?”

“Not really, but at least I'm not tempted.” Greg took another swig of beer. “Toby's over at The Train Station. Someone thought it would be funny to splash red paint on Harrold's window.”

“Who would do that?” I thought about how old Harrold had looked when I'd visited earlier.

“Kids. At least that's Toby's take on the situation.” He nodded to the grill. “I think the tuna's done.”

I reached out and held his arm back. “I don't think this was a prank. I need to tell you what Carrie said this afternoon.”

G
reg had listened to my recounting of the story, then had called Toby back and relayed the same information to him. Of course, the story didn't change anything. Whoever had thrown the paint was long gone, so determining if it was a local teenager or Lille's new boyfriend wasn't something that could be handled before morning.

We ate dinner, then Greg kissed me and left to visit Toby at the station. In the past, I might have ignored my niggle of worry and chosen not to pass on the gossip. Greg and I had argued enough times about me playing investigator—his words, not mine—so I decided that oversharing would be my new go-to process.

I'd already run and was walking into work when my cell rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw the name flash on my display. How in the heck had she already heard about the vandalism? “Darla, what's going on?”

“I'm calling to ask you the same thing. You didn't call me to say whether Amy and Justin were on board for Friday's trial run. And will Greg be there?” I could tell Darla had me on speakerphone.

“You already at the office? I didn't think the winery opened until eleven on weekdays.” I slowed down my walk, taking in the red paint splattered on The Train Station's window. Luckily it blended in with the brick surrounding the window and nothing had hit the large wooden door. Harrold could scrape the damage off with a putty knife mostly. I sighed in relief. After Toby's call last night, all I could think of was how I'd feel if someone had attacked Coffee, Books, and More.

“It doesn't. I just like to get my contacts and to-do list done early before I open. You never know what your day will bring.” Darla paused a beat. “So, did you talk to Amy?”

I put The Train Station and its newly decorated window behind me before I answered. “I did and they'll be there at five. Justin has a late Friday afternoon class. And Greg cleared his schedule.”

“Perfect.” I could almost hear Darla checking our attendance off on her list. “Now, one more thing. Tell me everything you know about the vandalism.”

It took me the rest of the walk to convince her that I had no inside knowledge, even though I was dating the local police detective and had hired another one of South Cove's finest to work part-time at the coffee shop. By the time I got to the store, Sasha Smith, our intern-turned-real-employee was waiting at the door. During the summer months, Sasha worked with me and Toby two days a week, then switched to a later shift starting on Friday. I'd worried that we wouldn't have the business to hire her on full-time when she first started, but besides the normal seasonal increase in traffic, I'd had a huge uptick in locals on the book side of the shop, mostly, I thought, because of the new book clubs that we ran out of the store. Thursday afternoon was Sasha's after-school bunch, then Friday nights was Aunt Jackie's mystery group. Sasha was leading the Friday group this week, too, so my aunt and Josh could help with the walk.

Sasha tucked a paperback mystery into her purse. “If you'd been a few minutes later, I might have figured out the killer.”

I grinned. My staff always knew how to fill a few extra minutes. And their referrals were gold to my hard-core book customers. “I'm sure you'll have time to finish today. I don't have a lot of prep to do.”

“I'm not so sure. Last night, Jackie texted me a list of things that needed to be taken care of before this weekend. I guess she couldn't reach you.” Sasha flipped on the lights and marched to the back of the shop, disappearing into the back room. She came back a few seconds later without her purse, brandishing a sheet of yellow paper in her hand. “Here it is.”

I should have been happy my aunt had taken the time to make a list of the work needed to be done before the walk on Saturday, but honestly, I wanted some reading time myself. Diving in to a good book was my way to escape from the stress of the world. And even though my own shop had been ignored by the vandals and their non-helpful painting style, The Train Station's attack had bothered me more than I let show. At least to Greg.

“You start on that list, I'll handle the daily prep and any customers who arrive.” I washed my hands in the sink and then put on my apron, pausing for a second to breathe and feel my gratitude for Coffee, Books, and More's escape from the random damage to Harrold's place.

By ten, the prep work had been completed and both Sasha and I were sitting on the couch, deep in our books with cups of coffee within reach. We both looked up when the bell over the door rang. Josh Thomas lumbered into the shop. The book dropped out of my hand, and I scrambled to pick it up and shove a bookmark to mark my place.

He scowled at me. “Where's Jackie?”

I paused, taking in the new Josh. Instead of his usual funeral director look of suit and white dress shirt, he had on a navy blue tracksuit, complete with a company logo announcing to the world that he'd paid knock-off prices for the outfit. “
Neke
” didn't make running clothes, but that worked for this outfit because Josh didn't run.

When I didn't answer, I got a more determined glower, and I heard Sasha's tiny giggle behind me. I stammered, “Upstairs in her apartment?”

My aunt lived in the small apartment that took up the second floor of the building I'd bought six years ago to open Coffee, Books, and More. Before Miss Emily had died and left me her house down by the end of Main Street, I'd lived there, too.

“I tried her door, no answer.” Josh glanced around the empty shop like maybe we were hiding my aunt from him in some kind of weird practical joke.

I shook my head. “I swear, I haven't seen her today.”

And just then, mostly to prove my words a lie, my aunt sauntered out of the back office, her own tracksuit a bright pink with a designer label on the lapel. “Stop growling at everyone, Josh. I just came down to grab my backpack and fill it with bottled water.”

Instantly, Josh's demeanor went from annoyed to welcoming. The boy had it bad for my aunt. Which probably explained the tracksuit. I couldn't help myself, I asked the obvious. “You two going running?”

I got a second glower from Josh, but Aunt Jackie ignored my pointed jab. “Walking, actually. We're going down to the beach for a few laps.”

“I don't know why you needed to go so early,” Josh mumbled. I guessed the activity hadn't been his idea.

Aunt Jackie came around the coffee bar and handed him the backpack. “Because I work at night and your shop opens at one. If not now, we'd never get time to do this.”

Which I thought was Josh's plan in the first place.

Aunt Jackie stared at the book in Sasha's hand. “Did you get my text?”

Sasha flew up out of the couch, tucking the book behind her. “Yes, ma'am. I finished the entire list a few minutes ago. The boxes are all packed and ready to go near the back door.”

Aunt Jackie's glance went toward the office door she'd just exited. Like she could see through the wall to assure herself that Sasha wasn't fibbing. “I'm sure I'll think of a few more things tonight, I'll leave another list for you on the desk.”

“What, no ‘thank you' or ‘good job'?” I prodded. Sometimes my aunt could be a little pushy, especially with people who let her get away with it. Like Sasha and apparently, Josh.

“Sasha knows she's a valued member of the team. Saying thank-you would be an insult to her work ethic.” Aunt Jackie strolled to the exit, and Josh hurried to beat her there so he could open the door for her. “See you tomorrow.”

Both Sasha and I stood, watching until the couple disappeared down the street toward the beach entrance. Finally we sank back into our respective seats, but neither of us opened our books. “That was . . .” I searched for a word.

“Interesting?” Sasha prompted.

I shook my head. “No, I was thinking more like frightening. I hope Josh paid his medical insurance premium this month. I'd lay money on him not making it to the highway before he strokes out.”

Sasha reopened her book and didn't meet my eyes. “I bet he makes the beach parking lot.”

Walking home that afternoon, I didn't see Josh passed out under a bush or sprawled on one of the many park benches the city council had sprinkled through town for seating during our many parades. I'd stayed late to work on the books so that Aunt Jackie could take the mess to our accountant the next week. After playing with numbers all afternoon, I needed a diversion. I considered stopping in to Antiques by Thomas to see if he'd returned to work, but I couldn't think of a good excuse to do so. Saying “I wanted to see if you were still alive” seemed a little callous. And I didn't need more furniture, especially of the type Josh sold: old and expensive.

My phone chirped, and I saw I had a text from Greg. I paused on a bench to read the message before I got too far away. Sometimes we met for a quick dinner at Diamond Lille's, and tonight was pasta night. My hopeful thoughts were dashed with the first line. I read it aloud just to get the full depressing effect: “Stuck at work. Will see you tomorrow at the fake race.”

I looked into the restaurant's windows. If Greg wasn't coming by, I might as well eat dinner early. I put the phone in my tote and jaywalked across the street. Let him arrest me, at least we'd be together for the booking. I giggled at the thought and went into the diner, beelining toward my favorite booth before anyone else could claim it. I hadn't needed to worry; the diner was dead. A few locals sat around one table, talking, but other than that, I had the place to myself.

Carrie appeared from the back and grabbed a coffeepot, then walked up to my table. “Greg meeting you?” She poured a cup and held out a second.

“Just me tonight.” I tapped the menu. “Too early for the baked manicotti?”

She checked her watch. “I'll check in with the cook. We just finished our weekly staff meeting, so he's knee-deep in prep. But I'm sure John can do it. You might have a bit of a wait.”

I pulled out a biography of Jacqueline Kennedy and laid it on the table. “I'm fine, I came prepared. Can I get a glass of water, too?”

“Coming right up. You want a salad with the pasta?” Carrie finished taking my order and before she disappeared into the kitchen, stopped at the other table and topped off their coffee. I leaned into the booth and tucked a foot up under me, preparing to lose myself in the early years when Jackie and Jack were dating.

Feeling a bit guilty about my dinner plans, I decided to call Greg and see if he wanted me to deliver something to the station before I went home. I dialed his cell, but it went straight to voice mail. Must be in a meeting, I mused. So I called the station, as Esmeralda would still be on duty until five.

“South Cove Police Station, what can I do for you?” Her voice sounded upbeat, like she'd been bored to death at her desk and hoped there was a major issue somewhere in town so that she could call in the troops.

“It's Jill. I was wondering if Greg called in a to-go order for tonight's dinner. I'm at Lille's now, so I could drop something off for when he's out of the meeting.” Carrie brought my water as I waited for Esmeralda's response.

“He's not here, honey. He took off about three, saying he had some errands to run.” She paused. “I thought he'd told you.”

I thought about the message. I'd assumed he was at the station working late. “My bad. He did text me, I just assumed he'd be there.” Now I sounded like I was checking up on him. Time to change the subject. “You running in the five-K on Saturday?”

The sound of her laughter soothed my nerves. “Me? Run? Jill, I haven't run in years. Besides, I've got a full day of readings on Saturday. People want to check in before taking off for vacation. Summer is my busiest time of year.”

I thought about Esmeralda and her fortune-telling business. She'd done some readings on me that had totally creeped me out. Mostly because she didn't seem to remember what she'd said afterward. Either she was the real thing, or she was really good at playing me. I wished her a good weekend and put my cell away, returning to the book.

This time, I did get lost in the story. When Carrie brought over my salad, I didn't want to pull myself back to reality. I kept reading, absently eating, until I finished the first section and closed the book, and noticed my food was all gone. I paid my tab and tucked the book into my tote. Walking home, I kept thinking about Jackie's early years, and the hopes she'd had for her life. Some people might think being a First Wife was all about the glamour, but the woman was smart.

Harrold waved at me from inside The Train Station as I passed by. The paint had already been cleared from his window, and now I saw he was changing up the train sets displayed. The man loved his toys. And I loved my books. I hurried home, knowing that if I wanted to finish the book soon, I needed to do it tonight. This weekend would be filled with Mission Walk events and duties.