Invitation to Murder (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) Read online

  Okay, I could stand there all evening in shock, or I could do something to help that poor woman on the other end of the line.

  I dialed Bradford’s private cell phone number, one of the perks of having the sheriff for a brother.

  “Bradford, you’ve got to come to the shop.”

  “Jen, I can’t. I’m going to be late as it is. Besides, I’m not buying anything else, no matter how nice your cards and stuff are.”

  “This isn’t some errant whim, you nitwit,” I said, much shriller than I’d meant to. At least it got his attention.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I just heard someone get murdered.”

  “Are you in trouble? Jen, bolt your doors and hide in back. I’ll be right there.”

  Before I could explain what had happened, my brother hung up on me. These abrupt disconnections were getting to be too much.

  Four minutes later I saw his patrol car rip up Oakmont, lights flashing and siren blaring. He slammed the cruiser into a parking spot in front of my shop, his gun drawn and a look of intensity on his face that I hadn’t seen since we were kids.

  When I opened the door, I swear, he almost shot me.

  “Get back inside,” he commanded in a gruff voice.

  “The murder wasn’t here, Bradford. It happened over the telephone.”

  He stared at me a second, then frowned as he holstered his gun. “If this is some kind of gag, I’m going to lock you up.”

  “If you had given me the chance to explain before you came rushing over here, you wouldn’t have made such a fool of yourself.” Sure, it was a little harsh, but I couldn’t help it. Hearing someone murdered kind of put a damper on my social skills.

  “Okay, let’s just both settle down,” he said as he reached into his patrol car and shut his lights off. At least the siren had died when he’d stopped the cruiser, though we were getting enough attention along Oakmont as it was, thank you very much. An older couple had been walking toward my store’s front door, but the second they spotted Bradford’s car, they quickly veered off and went into Greg Langston’s pottery shop. Greg and I had a history together longer than the Holy Roman Empire’s, but I didn’t care one whit about it at the moment. I had to get my brother off the street, and fast.

  “Would you at least come inside so the tourists won’t think I’m about to be arrested?”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  Once we were in the store, he asked, “So what’s this all about?”

  I explained to him about the telephone call, the errant search for a Donna who wasn’t there, and the bone-chilling scream I’d heard as the line had been cut off.

  He took it all in, then asked, “And you’re sure it wasn’t some kind of gag? No, forget I said that. I believe you think it was real, Jen. I’m just not sure what I can do about it.”

  “Somebody’s in trouble, Bradford. You’ve got to help them, it’s what you do.”

  He held out his hands. “I’d love to, Sis, but how?

  That call could have come from anywhere in the country, or the world, for that matter, even if it was on the level. It’s not much to go on.”

  “That woman had a Southern accent, and unless I’m way off, she grew up somewhere around here.”

  "A lot of folks think one accent from the South is pretty much like another, but I’d spent part of my life traveling in my region, and I’d gotten pretty good at telling Tennessee from North Carolina from Mississippi. I’d worked in corporate sales for several years for a pet food manufacturer, and while there were parts of the job I loved, the absolute worst was constantly being on the road away from home. It had seemed like a good idea to take the job right after college, especially since it was the only offer I’d received. I found it ironic that I couldn’t have cats of my own until I quit my job selling pet food.

  Bradford said, “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but it’s too much to ask for what was most likely a prank.”

  “So you’re not even going to try?” A part of me I knew I was being unreasonable, but I couldn’t help myself. Bradford was my big brother. It was his job to take care of things like this.

  “Here’s what I can do. I’ll go back to the office and let Jody and Jim and Wayne know what’s going on. They can keep their eyes open tonight, and if anything remotely comes in about this, I’ll let you know. I’m sorry, Jennifer, but it’s the best I can do.”

  I reached up and patted my brother’s cheek. “I guess I’m the one who should be apologizing. I know I’m acting kind of flaky, but it really shook me up.” “I understand completely,” he said. “There’s really nothing we can do, is there? I just feel so helpless.”

  “That’s the story of my life, kiddo. I help when I can, and hope it’s enough to make a difference.”

  After he was gone, I toyed with the idea of keeping the shop open past my posted business hours, but I’d learned from Sara Lynn that it would be a mistake. I was going to be at the Three Cs enough as it was without adding more time to my work schedule. I decided to straighten up and then leave for home. When the telephone rang again, I nearly dropped an expensive pair of specialty scissors I’d just gotten in. My hand hesitated before I picked it up, but I couldn’t allow myself to cringe every time the telephone rang. Taking a deep breath, I answered, hoping it was someone ready to place a huge order for specialty card stock.

  “Custom Card Creations, this is Jennifer speaking. How may I help you?”

  The caller hung up before I could get the word “you” out of my mouth. I swear, people have gotten so rude lately. No one ever says “excuse me” after a wrong number anymore, clerks and cashiers say “no problem” instead of “thank you,” and driving is getting riskier every day. I realized I was tired, and when I’m tired, I’m cranky. Throw in the fact that I was hungry, too, and I decided the only place I needed to be was home in my apartment. I had my key in the dead bolt outside when a familiar husky voice spoke my name behind me.

  I’d been hoping to avoid dealing with Greg Langston, but that was one wish that wasn’t going to come true.

  Chapter 2

  “What just happened, Jennifer?”

  I ignored him while I finished securing my door, locking both dead bolts Bradford had insisted I install before I opened for business. I thought they made their place look like a prison, but I knew he was right. My brother saw a lot of break-ins in his job, and I couldn’t afford to lose any of my stock, not if I was going to make my monthly payments on time.

  “Bradford was just testing the equipment on his patrol car,” I said as I tried to hurry past my ex-fiancé.

  He wasn’t buying it, though. “Was he testing his pistol out, too? I saw Bradford with his gun in his hand.”

  “Greg, I really don’t want to go into this with you right now. I’ve had a long day.”

  He looked sheepish. “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t come over to wish you well. Did you get the flowers I sent?”

  I had indeed, a lovely bouquet of yellow roses, which he knew were my favorite. “Thanks, but you really shouldn’t be sending me flowers. I’ve been engaged to you twice. It’s not going to happen again, I can promise you that.”

  Greg touched my arm lightly, and I felt a brush of static electricity from it. At least I hoped that was all it was. “Don’t write me off yet,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please, save it for someone who hasn’t heard it before.” I had a weakness for Greg like some women had for chocolate and others had for Ben & Jerry’s, but it hadn’t worked out the first two times we’d tried, and I would be dipped in honey and fire ants if I was going to give him a third chance at my heart. Maybe it was because all of my sense of reason seemed to vanish when it came to Greg Langston. A part of me was afraid that if I didn’t hold him at arm’s length, it would be too hard to say no to him again. The first time we’d been engaged I was fresh out of college, scared and on my own. Greg had offered me security and stability; at least I’d thought so at the time. The second time I’d s
aid yes to his proposal had been right after my parents had died. By the time I’d come to grips with losing them in a car accident, I ended it again. I didn’t need anybody to take care of me, and that seemed to be what Greg wanted most in the world. No, it would be better for both of us if I continued to keep some distance between us, if not physically, then certainly emotionally.

  Now if I could only get Greg to agree to it. “At least let me buy you dinner. You have to eat, don’t you?”

  He really did mean well. I could see it in his eyes. “Greg, I’m fine, honest. It was all a misunderstanding. Listen, I do appreciate the flowers and the invitation, but I just want to go home, feed Oggie and Nash, then crawl into bed.” My cats—a couple of strays I’d rescued from the animal shelter—were named in honor of my favorite poet. There was something about the way Ogden Nash wrote that appealed to my skewed sense of humor, so I’d named my two roommates for him, not that they cared what I called them. Neither cat would come if I spoke his name; the only thing that usually attracted their attention was the sound of an electric can opener.

  “How are the two marauders doing?”

  “They’re both fine. I’ll tell them you asked about them.”

  He grinned. “You do that.” Greg’s smile faded as he added, “Listen, you know I’m just a phone call away if you need me, right? No matter what’s happened between us in the past, I still care about you, Jennifer.”

  This was getting way too serious for my tastes, especially out in the middle of Oakmont Avenue where all the world could see us “

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

  I got into my ancient Gremlin and headed home. After the day I’d had, it would be good to take a long, hot bath, eat some comfort food and hang out with t my cats.

  Unfortunately, life didn’t always work out the way I planned it.

  Sara Lynn—my big sister with an even bigger chip on her shoulder—was waiting by my apartment’s front door when I got home.

  Before she could say a thing, I decided to fire a preemptive strike. “Sis, I’ve had a really long day, and I’m not in the mood to deal with this feud right now.”

  My sister stood and, without a word, wrapped her arms around me. Suddenly the arguments, the conflict, the anger—all of it faded away as she held me close and stroked my hair. “Jen, I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

  And then I remembered why I loved her so much.

  In ten minutes, we were having coffee and watching Oggie and Nash eat their dinner. “Bradford called me, you know,” Sara Lynn said.

  “Of course he did. Can you imagine our dear sweet brother going a single minute without trying to fix something wrong between us?”

  Sara Lynn laughed. “Well, that’s what he’s good at, isn’t it?” While Bradford and I were both tall and dark like our mother, Sara Lynn resembled our father, right down to the wiry platinum blonde hair and petite stature. It had been hard for her to watch her little brother and sister shoot up past her, but Sara Lynn had made up for her height with an iron backbone and a will that was nearly impossible to bend. “Tell me about the phone call,” she said.

  I put my cup down. “Of course the sheriff felt the need to tell you about that, too.”

  “He cares about you, and he’s worried. So am I. Listen, why don’t you and your two comrades over there come stay at my place for a few days?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure Bailey would just love that. He’s still allergic to cats, isn’t he?”

  “My husband can take a pill if it bothers him.” Bailey was known throughout the family for his myriad litany of mysterious pains and ailments, and we often wondered how Sara Lynn put up with him. She continued. “You’re always welcome in our home. You know that.”

  “Thanks, but I’m happy right where I am.” The only place I needed to be was exactly where I was: in my apartment. So what if the bathroom door stuck sometimes? It didn’t even matter that there was a water spot growing on the ceiling that I hadn’t been able to get the super to fix or that the kitchen floor sloped down in one corner. Regardless of its flaws, or maybe even because of them, it was home.

  Sara Lynn frowned, then asked, “What if the person on the other end of the telephone tracks you down?”

  “It’s not going to happen,” I said. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to believe it was just a prank after all. Now can we please talk about something else?” I didn’t believe it for one second, but I was willing to say just about anything to get my brother and sister off my back.

  Sara Lynn took a sip of coffee, then said, “If that’s what you want, we’ll talk about something else. So how’s business?”

  I took a deep breath, then said, “Is there any chance we can go back to the telephone call?”

  “Jennifer, you were still in college when I opened Forever Memories. The first three weeks I had a total of seven customers.”

  “At this point I’d gladly take that.” Sara Lynn patted my hand. “You’ll do fine. Why don’t I refer some of my regulars your way?”

  “I can do this on my own. I don’t need anybody’s help. Are we clear on that?”

  “That’s my little sister, ready to tackle the world bare-handed.”

  I stifled a yawn, then said, “What I’m ready for right now is a bite to eat and my bed. Listen, I’m glad everything’s good between us again, but truly and honestly, I’m beat.”

  She glanced at her watch. “And I’m late for dinner. Bailey’s making his famous three-alarm chili tonight. I’m beginning to regret letting him take over my kitchen two nights a week. I’d rather cook myself than eat chili and eggs all the time on his dinner nights.”

  “So teach him to cook something else,” I said as I followed her to the door.

  “I’d have better luck teaching your cats to sing.”

  For some odd reason, Oggie decided to yowl at that exact moment. Sara Lynn said, “Sometimes those cats of yours are spooky.”

  “Didn’t you know? All felines have ESP.”

  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment. She knew better than to say anything about either one of my roommates. “I’d like to come by your shop tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

  “That depends on why you’re interested. Do you want to check up on me, or are you sizing me up as your competition?”

  “What if it’s a little bit of both?”

  I laughed. “Then I’d have to say you’re welcome to visit. Make it early, though, could you? I’d hate to see you get trampled in the rush of customers.”

  “I’ll be there bright and early,” Sara Lynn said, and then she was gone.

  Normally I would have called my best friend, Gail Lowry, before I ate, especially with what had happened earlier. But she was out of town for two weeks at a sales conference on the West Coast. Gail had been gone just two days, but I missed her already. We were two single ladies barely into our thirties, and while most of the other women we knew our age were either married or working on it, neither one of us was in any hurry to walk down the aisle.

  I found myself humming softly to myself as I heated up some leftover lasagna from the night before. Even with everything that had happened, I still felt better than I had in weeks. Fighting with my sister had taken more out of me than I’d realized. I caught myself singing out loud when I noticed that Oggie and Nash were both staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “Come on, I put up with a lot of odd behavior from you two,” I said. “You can just deal with it.”

  They were unimpressed with my argument and went back to their normal interests. Nash was playing with his catnip mouse, barely recognizable from wear and tear, while Oggie was staring out the window in earnest. I didn’t realize why until a few minutes later when it started to rain. Blast it all, it was almost as if that crazy cat knew the storm was coming and was waiting for the first drops. I stuck my tongue out at him and went to bed. I had enough on my mind without worrying about a psychic cat.

  The telephone rang at 2:47 a.m. “Hello? Hello.�
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  “Fm drunk, Annie,” the woman’s voice said in a near whisper.

  “I'm not Annie.”

  There was a pause, then she said, “Would you come get me anyway?”

  “I think you need to call a taxi.”

  “Cabs cost money. Come on, be a sport.”

  “Good luck, and good night.” I turned the ringer off before I cradled the telephone back in its base.

  With the kind of calls I’d gotten in the past twelve hours, I was ready to throw every telephone I owned out into the street and go without.

  Bradford was standing by my apartment door when I walked out to get my newspaper the next morning. It had taken half a dozen telephone calls and a monthly I chocolate-chip-cookie bribe to convince the paperboy to deliver my edition upstairs on the second-floor landing outside my door every morning, but it was worth it not to have to trudge any farther than I had I to before I was fully awake.

  “Have you been out here all night?” I asked him. “Relax. I just got here. So how did you sleep?”

  “Fine.” Then I remembered the drunken caller, and felt guilty about hanging up on her. “Were there any car accidents last night, by any chance?”

  “Why, were you out joyriding in that rust bucket of yours?”

  “Come on, Bradford, I need to know.” He scratched his chin a minute, then said, “No, it I was a quiet night. As far as I’ve heard, there were no accidents, no break-ins, nothing out of the ordinary. Do you think your telephone call had anything to do with, a car wreck?”

  “What? How did you know about that? What did you do, tap my phone line?”

  “Take it easy, Jen. You told me about the call yourself yesterday afternoon, remember?”

  “Oh, you’re talking about the call at the store.” He looked taken aback. “You mean there have been others?”

  I told him about the drunk woman calling me in the middle of the night. He said, “It was probably just someone from one of the taverns.”