Death is Long Overdue (Phee Jefferson Book 1) (5 page)

"It's not a date," I said quietly under my breath. "I guess I just met your new love interest though."

"I'm sorry," Grant said. "I couldn't hear you. The music is a little loud."

I smiled at him. "I said that I think a little bit of Mimi's famous coconut cake for dessert might be just the thing."

CHAPTER TEN

It seemed to her that she wanted more than anything in the whole wide world to see him for a moment—to hear the quick voice—to meet the sparkle of his glance. - Temple Bailey, The Trumpeter Swan

The next morning was Sunday, and I was a hot mess.  I had spent the previous evening silently fuming over Clint and his new lady love.  Grant sensed something was wrong and tried to draw it out of me, but I told him that it had just been a long week and I was tired.  Trying to make up for my foul mood, I suggested that he come with his mother to the birthday dinner at my parent's house. He readily agreed.  At the end of the evening when he leant in a little too close in expectation of a goodnight kiss, I gave him a brief hug and hurried into my house without inviting him in.

I pulled on my baby blue chenille robe and knotted it tightly around my waist.  Choosing my pink elephant slippers from the closet, I slid my feet into them and scuffed my way to the front porch to grab the Sunday edition of the
Miller's Cove Courier
.  After feeding Ferdie his Sunday treat of grilled tuna, I poured myself a cup of coffee and settled at the kitchen table to read the newspaper.  The headlines blared out in large font, "Local Business Woman Found Dead!"  Below the headlines was a photograph of Carla Karsen winning one of her awards as top local real estate agent.  Holy cow! I didn't like her, but I certainly didn't want her dead.  I read further.

"Local real estate agent, aerobics instructor and town council member, Carla Karsen, died in her home late last night.  At approximately nine o'clock, an ambulance was dispatched after a call was received from Chris Karsen, the victim's husband, stating that the victim was delirious and violently ill.  The ambulance arrived within moments and lifesaving treatment was attempted. Mrs. Karsen died before she could be transported to the hospital.  An autopsy will be performed to determine the cause of death."

Leaning back against my chair, I tried to process what I just read.  Poor Carla.  What a horrible way to die and at such a young age. I felt guilty that I had made up a song about her a few weeks ago. Taking Paul Simon's
Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover
, I called my tune
Fifty Ways to Kill Old Carla
.  Juliet and I had chuckled over it.  Neither one of us had cared for Carla. Now, I actually felt a little ill that I had mentally plotted her death since high school. With a guilty sigh, I continued to read the paper.  Below the headline news was a quarter-page article on the Huey Long murder investigation.

"Police have released further details regarding the death of local resident, Huey Long.  According to Sheriff Dawes, Long was strangled in his home shortly after five p.m. on Thursday.  Mr. Long had an online appointment at the time. According to the individual with whom he was video chatting, the suspect was wearing dark gloves and had on a dark blue or black hooded sweatshirt.  The witness was unable to see the suspect's face due to the angle of the computer's camera; however, she did catch a glimpse of the perpetrator as they exited the room. She stated that the suspect had on white sneakers with a red Nike logo on the side.  The funeral for Mr. Long will be held on Monday at 2:00 p.m. at Shaw's House of Eternal Rest. The family has requested donations to the local library in lieu of flowers."

I blew out a deep breath in surprise.  I did not know Huey Long's family, but they must have known that he liked to frequent the library.  The family probably didn't know how much we had to fight to get our stuff back from him every month or what a jerk he was when he did come in.  I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.    

I got up to fix myself breakfast.  I gathered eggs, mushrooms, peppers and cheese from my refrigerator and began to prepare an omelet.  I pulled out two slices of cinnamon bread and placed them in the chrome and turquoise 1950's toaster that I had recently discovered in my favorite antique store.  I placed it all on a vintage milk glass plate with turquoise trim and sat down at the table to enjoy it.  I was determined to have a good day despite the news of Huey and Carla.

After breakfast, I quickly washed up my few dishes and got dressed so I could go into town to buy Dad's birthday present.  I drove to Grimsley's Fine and Rare Books.   I loved the bookstore. The owner, Mr. Grimsley, had called me Saturday to let me know that he had located a first edition of Ernest Hemingway's
For Whom the Bell Tolls
.  I knew that Dad would be thrilled to add it to his growing collection of first editions by his favorite authors.  My father was a professor of literature at the local college specializing in Shakespeare which is how my brother Richard, although we called him Rick, Juliet and I ended up with our names.  I think I got the short end of the naming stick in the family.   Nobody I knew was named Ophelia.  I definitely did not want to be a tragic character like my namesake.

The bell jingled as I opened the door and entered another world.  Mr. Grimsley's shop looked as I imagined a 19th-century bookstore in London would appear.  The shelving was all dark cherry and large library-style tables were scattered across the hardwood floors. The floors were covered by beautiful Persian carpets to help muffle the sounds of footfalls.

"Hello?" I called out. I surveyed the shelves longingly.  I wished my budget was as large as my wish list was long.

"Is that you, Ophelia?  Give me just a minute. I’ll be right out," Mr. Grimsley gave an answering shout from the back room.  He offered book repair service, so his work room was in the back of the shop.  I had used him on several occasions to repair our rare genealogy books at the library.   A few minutes later, he appeared with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with a string.

"I have your father's book ready for you." He handed me the package.  "And for you, I have something quite special!"  Although Mr. Grimsley immigrated to the States when he was in his late twenties, he still retained his Scottish burr.

"Thank you for finding this for me.  Dad's going to love it," I declared.  I followed him to the cabinet next to the register and watched as he unlocked it. He reached up and selected a book.  He handed it to me with silent reverence.

"
The Trumpeter Swan
by Temple Bailey.  Oh my!" I gently opened the cover. "A first edition from 1920," I gasped with pleasure as I carefully looked through the pages. The illustrations were breathtaking.

"It's a gift for you, lass.  It’s a thank you for being kind to my daughter when she was going through a bad spell.  If not for you delivering books to her and sitting and visiting with her when she was ill...." His voice trailed off as he wiped at his eyes.

"This is too much," I replied.  "I was happy to visit with Catherine."  I closed the book and tried to hand it back to him.

"I won't take it back. It's a small gift for the kindness you did for me and my girl. I won't hear anything more about it."  He wrapped the book up for me in brown paper. He tied it with a string and handed it to me.

"Thank you very much.  I will treasure it forever."  I reached out and grasped his hand briefly in thanks.  "Now let me pay you for Dad's present, and then I have to go so I can run a few errands for Mom for next week’s big event."

Leaving the bookstore, I walked up the sidewalk to For Goodness Cake.  Mom had ordered a white chocolate cake with raspberry filling for the party. I promised her that I would go pay for it and make sure it was going to be delivered on time next week.  The heavenly scent of chocolate and butter cream frosting enveloped me as I opened the door of the shop.  As I entered, I saw someone else was standing at the glass cases.  Grace Winchester, Clint's date from the night before, was selecting a muffin. The girl behind the counter wrapped a blueberry cream cheese muffin in paper and handed it to Grace.

As she turned to leave the store, Grace almost ran into me. “Whoops! Oh, hi!  Ophelia, right?”

"Yes. Hello," I responded coolly. "You're Grace. Clint's date from last night."

"Date?"  She laughed and shook her head.  "Don't tell my husband! No, you have it all wrong.  I am here from the state police academy to do some mandatory training.  Clint was just nice enough to drag me out of my hotel room and away from vending machine food to offer me a nice dinner.  He's friends with my husband, Jacob. Who, by the way, gave his blessing that I eat real food since I am eating for two."  She nibbled the edges of her muffin.

"Oh? Really?  Congratulations!"  I stammered as I tried to process the fact that Clint had not been on a date with her.  My heart lifted a little, but then sank as I realized Clint thought that I had been on a date myself last night.  Not that he probably cared. "How long are you here?"

"Just until Tuesday.  I could have driven back home this weekend, but my husband was off on a fishing trip with his brothers. I decided to stay here through the weekend and do some antique shopping.  Miller's Cove is a treasure chest for an antique hound like me.”

"You like antiques?  Me too?  You should go to Jensen's Antique Emporium over on Elm Street.  They give the best deals.  I happen to know they have a beautiful rocking chair that would be perfect in a baby's room."

"Clint told me that you know your antiques.  He went on and on about how amazing your house is. I had to hear all about his best friend Rick's little sister, the town librarian."  Grace brushed some crumbs that had fallen on the front of her blouse.

"Really?  He talked about me?"  I couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across my face.  "I mean.  I'm glad he likes my house.  I've spent a lot of time decorating it."  I tried playing it cool. Inside I felt like a middle school kid receiving her first invitation to the dance.

"Yep.  Well, I've got to go.  Lots of shops to visit today.  It was nice seeing you again." Grace gave me a quick wave goodbye and headed out of the shop.  Still smiling like a cat who found the hidden catnip stash, I headed to the counter to pay for the cake.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” - Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

The following week was incredibly busy at the library as we had our annual Fall Book Sale to raise money for new programs.  Local author and semi-celebrity, Joanna Franklin, came on Wednesday to give a talk on how she became a writer.  That evening after I had closed up the library, I decided to swing by Odd Couple's and grab a bite to eat.  My cupboards at home were bare, and I was too tired to go to Abe's Market.

Stepping into Odd Couple's Diner was like taking a step back in time. It was an authentic 1950's diner that the current owner had vowed to keep intact when he inherited it from his grandparents.  The owners, Seth Hansen and his wife Stephanie, were a young couple in their late twenties.  Seth had served four years in the Coast Guard. When he came home, he had gone to work with his grandparents.  Last year, Ida and Melba Hansen had decided to start spending their winters in Florida so they handed the keys to the diner over to Seth as an early inheritance and headed south.  The diner served burgers and sandwiches named after 1950's actors, musicians and such.  I settled on Bleu Suede Shoes - a charbroiled burger smothered with bleu cheese and served on a grilled Kaiser bun.  Thick cut fries topped it all off.  I would have to walk ten miles to burn off the calories, but it was well worth it.

"Care if I join you?"  Clint stood next to my booth with his hat in his hands.

"Sure." I looked up at him and felt my cheeks flush a little. "I just ordered, but you can probably catch Steph before she gives the order to the kitchen."

Stephanie walked over to the booth to set down my root beer. "Hi there, Clint.  What can I get for you?"

"I think I'll get the Chubby Checker.  Can you put an extra slice of pepper jack cheese on it for me and hold the onions? And a glass of tea, please."  Clint set his hat on the seat next to him and leaned back.  "What a day!  The whole town is going nuts with Huey Long's murder.  I've had about a hundred calls from people saying they saw someone in their backyard and can we come check it out. Everyone's on edge and people are scared. I haven't had a bite to eat all day."

"It’s a small town.  People are nervous that someone they go to church with might be a killer. Any word on how Carla died? I read about her odd death in the newspaper." I sipped my root beer through my straw. I looked up at him and fluttered my eyelashes at him.  I hoped I looked like a young ingénue from a 1950's classic film.

"Do you have something caught in your eye?" Clint asked ruining my attempt at channeling Marilyn Monroe.  "No.  It'll take at least a few days to get the toxicology reports back from Carla's autopsy.   Chris is a mess.  He and Carla had been going through some tough times with their marriage, but just the week before had started marriage counseling.  They were even talking about starting a family.  Now, Carla is dead and no one knows how or why. Poor guy."

"It's sad.  I'll be honest with you. Carla has never been very nice to me, but I certainly didn’t want her dead.  I feel just awful about Huey, too.  He was always grabbing at me and making lewd comments, but I think he was just a lonely little man who didn't realize that he came across as creepy rather than suave." I shook my head sadly.  Stephanie came with our plates of food. We both were silent while we savored our burgers.

"I'm so hungry right now that I could eat ten of these," Clint said after taking another bite of his burger.  "Can we talk about something else besides death, please?  I think I've just about had my fill after the past few days."

"Well, I can tell you all about how I thought I had silverfish in my genealogy collection." I grinned across the table at him.  "In the library world, that's big time crime."

"How did you manage to solve the case?" Clint played along.

"It turns out that it was just a piece of thread from a bookmark that Mrs. Grimes saw.  Her eyesight is getting as bad as her hearing.  Poor thing."  I took a bite of my fries.  I grabbed the salt shaker and shook some onto my plate.

"You are a true crime stopper," Clint chuckled.  "Mrs. Grimes was one of my calls from today.  I had to go through every room in her house looking for a possible burglar.  It turns out that the noise she heard outside was just a stray cat going through her garbage."

We ate in companionable silence after that.  When I had finished off the last French fry, I sat back in my seat to find Clint watching me.  "What?" I asked uncomfortably. "Do I have something on my face?"  I wiped my mouth with my napkin.

"No.  I was just sitting here thinking how nice it is to spend time with you.  I'm comfortable with you.  Most girls feel the need to chatter about nothing because they have to fill the silence.  You don't ever do that.  I like it.  You did miss a spot of bleu cheese on your cheek though."  He reached across the table and wiped the corner of my mouth with his napkin.  "Much better.  Don't want anything to mess up that pretty face."

"You think I'm pretty?" I suddenly felt shy and uncomfortable.  I squirmed a little in my seat.

"Ophelia Jefferson.  I think you are beautiful," Clint said softly and took my hand.

"Thanks.  I think you're beautiful, too," I said softly.  I turned beet red. I stammered, "I mean handsome."

Clint laughed.  "I'm good with handsome.  I'd better get back to work, Phee.  If I don't see you before then, I'll see you at your dad's big birthday bash."  He stood up, grabbed the check off the table and went to the register.  I loved to watch that man walk.  I leaned back contentedly. I decided to live dangerously and order a slice of Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice Apple Pie. Life's too short to pass up dessert.