Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery)

  Spyglass Lane Mysteries presents:

  A River Valley Mystery

  Book One

  Deadly Neighbors

  By

  Cynthia Hickey

  Copyright 2012

  Spyglass Lane Mysteries

  Smashwords Edition

  Discover other Spyglass Lane titles at SpyglassLaneMysteries.com.

  Published in association with MacGregor Literary Inc., Portland, Oregon.

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  Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Hearing voices when no one is with you is not a good thing, even when you’re thirty-four years old. Some people call it women’s intuition. Regardless, I heard a distinct voice inside my head and not for the first time in my life. At that moment, the phantom whisper clearly told me not to take the last glazed, jelly-filled doughnut.

  “What are you doing?” Lynn, my best friend and virtual sandpaper, entered the store and reached for the pastry.

  “I was about to eat that and was afraid of the repercussions. I went shopping last week for a bathing suit and it was not a pretty sight.” Images of misshapen dough rose to mind.

  “Oh.” Her hand fell to her side, and she stepped back like the doughnut would bite her.

  The store door swung open, a bell jangling a pretty tinkle, and Sharon Weiss, my current nemesis, sailed into Gifts from Country Heaven, snagged the pastry from the plate, and shoved it between puffer-fish lips. The product of this year’s latest bit of collagen injections. The summer before she’d had liposuction and, to be honest, after seeing the cute clothes she wore, the thought occurred to me to get the procedure for myself. She could eat all the sweet stuff she wanted and have it sucked back out.

  “Do you have those handkerchief dolls I ordered? I’ve got an errand to run right now, but if you could have your daughter bring them by my house in. . .” She glanced at her watch, a gold piece outlined with diamonds, and made sure to turn it so I could see every bit of its finery. “About an hour? I need them for my women’s breakfast in the morning. They’re door prizes. Did y’all hear about Anderson’s sister?” My eyes followed the last of the jelly-filled delight to her mouth. “Missing.”

  “What?” My attention jerked from her brightly-painted mouth to her heavily mascara-covered, false-eyelashed eyes. The lids seemed to droop with the weight.

  “Mis-sing.” Sharon enunciated so my slow brain could catch up.

  “Where did she go?”

  Mouth stuffed with temptation, Sharon threw her hands in the air as if to say, “Duh.” She swallowed then leaned forward, her glittering eyes focused on me. “She wouldn’t be missing, Marsha, if people knew where she was.”

  “I understand that.” I planted my fists on hips, too round in my opinion, and stared her down. My mother said I had curves in all the right places, and that men didn’t like stick figures for marriage partners. They wanted someone soft and cuddly to warm their bed. God paid mothers to compliment their daughters, didn’t He? Maybe He put an extra jewel in their crown if they built up their children’s self-esteem? Besides, I didn’t have anyone waiting in the wings to marry me anytime soon, anyway, so why give up on the good stuff. Like food. “When someone goes missing, you usually begin looking for them at the last place they were seen.”

  “Right. Since when did you become so criminally savvy?”

  “I watch a lot of crime scene television.”

  “Whatever.” Sharon drummed Scarlett-colored manicured nails against the countertop. “When you have a chance, get a load of the new high school football coach. Really hot. I met him this summer at the city pool.” She winked. “I’d just bought a new swimsuit. Red and sizzling. Now, I’ve got to figure out how to get him to ask me to dinner.”

  “I bet.” I glared at her back as she sashayed out the door. “Have you ever met anyone more interested in men, looks, or gossip? And maybe Lindsey doesn’t want to spend a half-hour out of a summer afternoon to deliver anything to Sharon.”

  “Oh, stop. You know you’re going to tell her to. Sharon sends a lot of business to this store. From here and surrounding towns.” Lynn clapped a hand on my shoulder and leaned closer. “And, we’re gossiping about her right now. Here’s a secret, I like men too.” She stared intensely at me. “I’ve seen the coach. He’ll stop your heart, Marsha. Prepare yourself. Gotta go. See you later.”

  I grimaced. What did she mean “stop my heart?” How could Lynn leave out such valuable information? I’d seen good-looking men before and not one of them put me at a risk for a heart attack.

  I glanced out the store window. Lindsey swept the sidewalk with all the enthusiasm of a child on punishment. She wouldn’t be happy about making a delivery to Sharon. Why I did the extra work for the woman, who felt like a burr in my bobby sock, was a mystery. Oh, well. Customer service brought the people back day after day. That and the free coffee and pastries. I headed to the storeroom to grab the miniature dolls.

  The bell over the front door jingled, and with arms loaded, I stepped behind the counter and caught a glimpse of the man who entered the store. The wrapped dolls fell to the floor. I ducked behind the counter. Please, don’t see me. My heart leaped into my throat and beat with all the power of a marching band.

  Duane Steele, the last person I expected to see waltz into my shop, stared into the display case above my head. Maybe he hadn’t recognized me. Ten years had passed after all. I stalled, remaining crouched on the floor.

  “Mars Bars?”

  Darn! I cringed. Duane had been the only one with the guts to call me by that despised nickname. “Let me help you.” He moved around the counter and knelt beside me.

  Glancing over, I fell into the darkest blue eyes known to humankind. Like a midnight summer sky. I’d almost forgotten. His biceps bulged as he shifted the wrapped gifts into a pile.

  “Duane.” The word rushed from my mouth in a whisper. Trying again, I spoke louder. “Let me get those.” In my haste to rise, the top of my head collided with his mouth, knocking him backward.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” My foot slipped on a doll’s dress, and I landed in a heap beside him.

  In spite of a bloody lip, Duane laughed. Clutching his stomach, he rolled to his side. “God help me, woman, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Somebody needs to help you.” I punched his arm, surprised at how quickly I could revert back to snappy teenage remarks and juvenile behavior around him. Using the counter as support, I pulled to my feet.

  Duane re-gathered the scattered dolls and handed them to me. I tossed him a nearby napkin. “Your lip is bleeding.”

  He dabbed his lip. “Wow, it didn’t take long for you to put me in my place. You’ve probably been waiting a long time to clobber me.”

  If he only knew. “What brings you back to River Valley, Duane? I thought you hated this small town.”

  He shrugged. “I thought I did too. Sowed my wild oats and came home. I’m the new high school coach.”

  “You are?” Why didn’t Lynn warn me? What kind of game was she playing? Oh, stop my heart, indeed. I would so get her back for this. “You didn’t say anything about getting a de
gree when we spoke at Robert’s funeral.” Of course, we’d avoided each other then, but that was beside the point. Suddenly, the dust on the counter screamed to be cleaned, and I grabbed a rag from the pocket of my apron.

  Duane placed his hands over mine to still them. “There wasn’t anything to say, Marsha. You’d just become my brother’s widow. You had a small child.” I glanced into eyes shadowed with pain. “It was too late for me to say anything.”

  I yanked free. “It’s never too late.” I wasn’t ready to revisit my prior feelings for Duane. No matter how much time had passed. Make that present feelings, since his arrival brought everything rushing back.

  His sad smile lured me like a lover’s gesture, tugging at the part of me that brought home strays and gave money to a dirty man on a street corner. I was lost the moment Duane strolled through the door.

  My daughter Lindsey barged through the front door and skidded to a stop. Her gaze fell on my visitor. “Uncle Duane?”

  A grin split his face, and he turned to me. “You’ve told her about me?”

  “There’s a picture of you and Robert on our bookshelf. Plus, she was five when you left. That’s old enough to remember someone who gave her piggy-back rides.” I grabbed a bag and shoved Sharon’s purchase inside. “Lindsey, can you take this to Ms. Weiss, please?”

  Lindsey groaned. “She’s a horrible tipper. Oh, and here’s your sign.”

  “Tape it to the window, please.” I pushed the box into her hands. “I know she isn’t generous, but you’re the delivery gal, at least for now.”

  Lindsey taped the sign in the window and dashed out the door.

  “She’s beautiful.” Duane watched her go. “Looks like you, with Robert’s eyes.”

  Your eyes, I almost said, considering the two brothers could’ve been twins. “She’s a good kid. Smart. I’m lucky.”

  Duane put a strong, warm hand on my arm. “I’d like to spend some time with you and Lindsey. Get to know my niece.”

  My heart stopped. We’d seen plenty of each other before he’d split town. More than I cared for my mother to find out. “We’ll see. Glad to have you back.” I grabbed a broom from around the corner. “Excuse me. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t have to look to know his face radiated hurt. What did he think? That he could just two-step back into my life in his cowboy boots and faded jeans that fit like they were custom made, make my heart stutter, and I’d forgive everything? Not likely.

  I shoved the broom across the scuffed wooden floor with enough force to almost throw my shoulder out of socket. After a moment of hesitation, Duane clomped away and out the door. My shoulders sagged. I’m not strong enough to resist him again.

  The man I truly loved waltzed back into town while I worked in my mother’s business. I shook my head. Yep, I was a real success story. My gaze roamed the country store, taking in the homey atmosphere and cuddly crafts. We even had a small bakery in one corner where we served pastries and flavored teas and coffees. At least this was something I could do. I was good with people and good with my hands.

  The phone rang. Relieved by the distraction, I grabbed the handset. “Gifts from Country Heaven, how may I help you?”

  “I appreciate the cookies, Marsha. But I didn’t order them, and I’m not paying extra.” Sharon’s nasal tone resonated against my eardrums. “And your quality is definitely slacking. You need to speak with your supplier. That last cookie tasted different. Plus, tell your daughter not to enter my home without me letting her in. I mean I appreciate the delivery, but still. . . I’ve got to go. I feel ill.”

  Cookies? Entering uninvited?

  The line went dead, leaving me staring at the silent receiver.

  Chapter Two

  “Mom? I’m home.”

  “In here, Marsha.”

  I dropped my purse and car keys on the marble-topped table in the foyer. The aroma of pot roast greeted me at the door of the kitchen. Lindsey glanced up from the book she read at the kitchen table, and smiled. I ran my hand along her back before going to greet my mother.

  “Smells good.” I gave Mom a one-armed hug.

  “How was work?” She leaned into me.

  “Fine. The people of River Valley, Arkansas, do love the doughnuts, cookies, and coffee. Good thing or we might be out of business.”

  Mom shook her head. “Never. They don’t come just for the doughnuts. We’re a community icon. Like the Dairy Queen, or that stuffed cow at Wanda’s Cafe.”

  Not likely. I glanced back at Lindsey. “How’d the delivery to Ms. Weiss go? She said I gave her cookies and that you entered her house uninvited.”

  My daughter’s eyes narrowed. “She only gave me a dollar for delivery and had crumbs hanging off her chin, but she didn’t get them from our bag. Gross. She looked like I woke her up. Unless she has a twin we don’t know about, she answered the door.”

  “Huh. She said the cookies made her ill. Maybe she’s thinking of the stale doughnut she ate at the store.”

  “We don’t serve stale doughnuts.” Mom lifted the Dutch oven pan and poured out the meat juices. “If she started in on cookies after a jelly-filled, it’s no wonder she got sick. You know what they say about gluttons.”

  I smiled at Lindsey who rolled her eyes. “Are you coming in to help me tomorrow, Mom?”

  “Most likely.” Her gaze searched mine, and her voice lowered. “How are you doing, really? I heard who just got back to town.”

  I reached in the cabinet above her head for my bag of dark chocolate M & M’s. My sure-fired feel good in the moment and be riddled with guilt later method of dealing with stress.

  “The fact you’re reaching for those tells me all I need to know.” Mom turned back to her roast. “Lindsey, set the table, please.”

  “He wants to get to know his niece,” I said around a mouthful of candy.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full. The man wants to get reacquainted with you.” Mom raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me anything different.” She waved a wooden spoon at me. “I know there was some hanky-panky going on between the two of you. Once upon a time. Things no mother wants to know about her baby girl. If you want me to go into detail—”

  “Stop please.” I ripped the bag down the side trying to grab another handful of heaven and colorful discs scattered across the faded linoleum. “No one’s heard from him in ten years. He’s barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Yep, sure he is. You keep telling yourself that.” Mom tossed a couple of potholders onto the table, then hefted the pan. “Put the candy away, and sweep the floor, then let’s eat. You can have him over for dinner tomorrow.”

  I choked on an M&M. “I don’t want him over.” Lindsey pounded my back on her way to the cabinet for plates.

  “Uh-huh.” Mom planted fists on ample hips. “I know my little girl. And you ain’t over that boy. Doubt you ever will be. We only get one true love in this lifetime. One soul mate, and I think Duane is it for you.”

  “Mom’s got a thing for Uncle Duane? Eww. That’s like dating your brother or something.” A wicked grin split my pretty daughter’s face as giggles erupted.

  I scowled. “I do not have a thing for Uncle Duane. It was during high school. Your grandmother’s insane. I’m committing her to the funny farm first thing tomorrow.” Gritting my teeth, I shot my mother a warning look.

  She flung her arms wide then pulled out her chair. “Fine. I won’t say another word.”

  Not talking or giving her opinion is impossible for my mother, despite her intentions. I doubt she could not say anything if her life depended on it.

  After serving dinner, she stabbed a piece of meat then shook her fork at me. “Mark my words, if your father were still alive . . .”

  “Mother!”

  “Sorry. I’ll eat now.”

  Lindsey watched our exchange, interested cobalt eyes glued to Mom and then to me. Don’t say anything, don’t say anything.

  Forcing my lips into what I hoped resembled a
smile and not a shark’s grimace, I transferred my attention to the food in front of me. I’d lost my appetite, and the handful of candy I’d eaten had nothing to do with it. Feelings for Duane? God, help me, but yes, I’d never gotten over the immature jerk who had ditched me after graduation and fled the state, taking my innocence, and my heart, with him.

  Then, I’d rebounded into the arms of his look-alike younger brother. The result of that union sat across the table from me. Although I hadn’t loved Robert the way I should have, I wouldn’t give up my daughter for anything. I forced myself to take a bite of food. Why had Duane taken the coaching job here? He could’ve gone anywhere. Sometimes I thought God got a perverse pleasure out of shaking up my life.

  When we finished, I shoved back my chair and stacked dirty plates on top of each other. The phone rang, and Lindsey bolted to answer it.

  “Mom, it’s for you. It’s a guy!” She mumbled something. “I think it’s Uncle Duane.”

  My shoulders slumped even as my heart rate accelerated. Lindsey handed me the phone and hovered. I placed a hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Go away,” I hissed.

  “Why? You listen to all my phone conversations.”

  “Go.” I waited until she flounced out of sight before turning to the phone call. “Hello.”

  “I’m free tomorrow or the next night. I’ll bring dessert.”

  “Get right to the point, Duane.” Nothing like inviting himself over. I leaned against the wall. “Why is it so important for you to come over here?”

  “I want to make things up to you. There’s a big hole in my life, and I think you’re the one to fill it.”

  I gasped, spun, lost my footing, and slid down the wall, landing hard on my more than sufficiently cushioned bottom. “You’re rather presumptuous.” My mom stuck her head around the corner, spotted me slumped to the floor, and shook her head before withdrawing. Amazing how one look from my mother can leave me feeling like an awkward thirteen-year-old.