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Authors: Christine Husom

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BOOK: Snow Way Out
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That had inspired me to dress up as the famous, although haunted, actress for a few costume parties over the years. When I styled my strawberry blond hair like Monroe’s, covered the sprinkling of freckles across my nose and cheeks with makeup, darkened my eyebrows, and wore red lipstick, I passed. As long as you didn’t look closely at my more generous mouth or my smaller ears with attached earlobes. And I’d gotten a pair of colored contacts to make my green eyes blue. Decked out as Marilyn from head to toe, I looked quite authentic, and almost fooled myself.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

B
oth Pinky and Erin were walking around in the coffee shop like chickens with their heads cut off when I got there at ten minutes before nine. Actually, in the bird world, Pinky was more like a swan, with her long, skinny legs and elongated neck, and Erin was more like a baby chick: small and compact. Pinky wore black leggings with a pink-and-purple-striped top that hung to her knees. Erin was in her usual outside-of-work outfit of jeans and a sweater.

Pinky opened her shop at eight o’clock for her clients, but I rarely had a customer before ten, so that was when the curio side opened. An occasional coffee shop customer would wander in and look around, but we were lucky if Pinky sold an item for us once a month.

As soon as she spotted me, Pinky grabbed my shoulders and steered me to a table. “You sit right down here. I’ll get your coffee and scone.”

Erin sat down opposite me. “You’ll have to talk between bites.”

Pinky plunked food and drink on the table, then slid onto the chair between Erin and me. “Shoot.”

I gave each detail I remembered, starting with looking at my e-mails, using the bathroom, finding the snowing snow globe . . .

“Wait a minute. Say that again,” Pinky said and reached over to check the temperature on my forehead. “You’re not spiking a fever.”

“One of your old snow globes just started snowing?” Erin asked in an “I want to believe you but can’t” voice. Her frowning expression backed up her tone.

“Not one of the old ones. It was one I’d never seen before. . . .” I filled them in on the scene, and how it looked like a snow globe made of the same materials we’d used in May’s class. They glanced at each other in a way that made me curious if they knew more than they were admitting to.

“Did you see the globe?” Both Pinky and Erin shook their heads, but neither answered. I continued my story. When I got to the part of touching the body with a stick, and having it topple to the ground, they grabbed my hands—Pinky my left and Erin my right—and squeezed. “Ouchy, you’re cutting off my circulation.” They eased their grips a tad.

“Cami, you were alone with Jerrell Powers’s dead body in the park at night and you lived to tell about it. I’d have died of fright,” Pinky said. Her hazel eyes were as round as the moon had been the night before.

Erin slowly shook her head back and forth. “That is the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

When I relayed that Clint and I had discovered the snow globe was missing from the shelf, they both squeezed my hands again. Pinky spoke. “And you’re sure you weren’t having some sort of premonition? Like when your mom comes—”

“I’m sure. More than sure. Positively sure.” I hadn’t used that expression since we were teenagers and I was trying to convince the others I was right. “And my mother’s visits are not premonitions or hallucinations. And they are not even real visits . . . oh, never mind. After I’d watched the last of the snow settle, I picked up the globe and studied it. I know what I saw.”

“Yes, but if you were having a premonition, you would see the scene. I mean, what if it was really one of your other globes, but the scene changed to show you what had happened, or was about to happen?” Pinky said.

I felt my eyes squint slightly. “Uh, no. I will say it one more time. I don’t have premonitions.”

“Then how do you explain it?” Erin asked.

“I have a theory.”

“And that is?” Pinky said.

“Someone planned the murder, captured the scene in the snow globe, and realized they’d accidentally left the globe. They saw me in here at the computer, waited until I went to use the bathroom, slipped in, and was about to grab it, but I came back faster than they expected, so they hid instead. Then, after I left, they took it and fled.”

Erin shrugged one shoulder. “That sort of makes sense.”

“And if that’s what happened, I’m glad you didn’t get bopped on the head. Or worse,” Pinky added.

We all knew what worse meant. “There is one major flaw in that explanation to consider,” I said.

Erin was the first to take a sip of coffee. “What’s that?”

“My shop door only locks with a key from the outside.”

“That’s true with your door, but you can lock my shop door from the inside, then pull it shut from the outside. They could have gone out that way,” Pinky said.

That widened the pool of suspects substantially.

A
group of people came in for coffee, which put an end to our discussion. Erin left to run errands and I went into my shop to get ready for the day’s business. I unlocked the shop door at one minute to ten and my mother called me at one minute after ten. They’d heard about my walk through the park from Mark, who had stopped by their house. “Thank God you weren’t killed last night. Why didn’t you call us?” Mom’s voice was shaky.

Although I had planned to call my parents before they heard the news from anyone else, I was trying to think of a good way to do that without overly upsetting them. Plus, I needed to process major events for a while before I was able to talk to my parents about them. My dad had calmed down a lot over the years, but his Italian temper still rose quickly from time to time. I felt the need to phrase disturbing news in the most diplomatic way possible so neither one of them freaked out.

“Sorry, Mom, I meant to, but it’s been a little hectic. Kind of a late night. And I really wasn’t in any kind of personal danger.” Not that I could tell.

“Your brothers and sisters, not to mention your nieces and nephews, are all buzzing like bees. Like half the people in Brooks Landing seem to be.”

When I had gone to live with the Vanellis at age five, they had four children of their own. It was a busy, noisy household and a bit of a culture shock for me; I had been an only child in a quiet home.

“I’ll talk to everyone in the next day or so,” I promised.

“Yes, that’s one of the reasons I called. Susan wants to have the whole family over to her house tonight for a potluck.” Mom started coughing.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea, especially for you, Mom. You should concentrate on healing.” Her coughing sound muffled, as though she had covered the receiver or moved away from the phone.

“Cami, it’s Dad.” He took over the conversation. “Your mom’ll be fine. She caught a little cold with her immune system being down the way it is. But don’t you worry, I’ll keep a close watch on her. Come to Susan and Mick’s place when you close up the shop. We’ll see you a little after six, then.”

That settled that. “Okay, Dad. I’ll bring some muffins.” We said our good-byes, and I moped about the whole thing for a minute. I dearly loved my family, but when I’d lived out of state I had more control over my personal life. With the exception of that one major incident, of course, but that was different. Another life-changing experience, but different. Maybe someday my parents would realize their baby was all grown up with a mind of her own.

After we’d hung up, I checked the phone messages. There was one from May Gregors, left at 11:57 the night before. “Hi, Camryn and Pinky, I must have left a bag of supplies in your coffee shop, maybe on one of the chairs. I am missing some figurines and snow globes. I know you’re not still at the store this late, but please call me when you get this message.”

Oh, my, Jerrell Powers’s ex-wife. I wondered if she had heard the news that morning. Or had she already known about it last night because she was directly involved in the crime? She was definitely on my list of potential suspects. It seemed a little strange she had phoned late at night to ask a mundane question when she knew we wouldn’t be there. Or was it a well-planned attempt to shift unwanted attention away from her?

I went into the coffee shop in search of May’s missing supplies. Pinky glanced at me then back at the customer she was handing a bag of goodies to. I looked around for May’s things, including under the tables and chairs.

“What are you doing?” Pinky asked when she was free.

“May is missing some snow globe–making supplies and thought she might have left a bag behind.”

“That’s strange. I didn’t find any extras here, last night or this morning.”

“Maybe they fell behind something, like these bags of coffee beans.” She had large burlap sacks against the side wall.

Pinky lifted an arm and waved. “Have at it, sweets. I sure didn’t see anything when I did my morning grinding earlier, but then again, I wasn’t looking for them.”

We searched for a couple of minutes, but turned up nothing that didn’t belong to Pinky. There were not many potential hiding places in that area, and to our knowledge, no one had gone in her storage room. “I’m always relieved when we move things and don’t uncover a mouse nest,” she said.

“Pinky, ew. What would make you think of such a thing?”

“Out in the country, living next to a field, mice would crawl in sometimes in the fall to find a warm spot to have their babies. I remember my mother moved the couch one time to clean and there was a nest underneath. I can still hear her screaming.” She shook her head and smiled at the thought.

I gave her a single pat on the back. “Okay, this is an old building, like, ninety years old, but I have never seen any sign of a mouse.”

“Good point. And I don’t see any sign of May’s supplies, either.”

“I’ll let her know we looked. Hopefully she misplaced them when she packed up last night and has found them by now.”

A pale Lauren Engle and a paler Pamela Hemley appeared from seemingly nowhere. I hadn’t heard the customer alert bell on the door ding and, judging from her look of surprise, Pinky hadn’t, either. Pam put her hand on a table for support and collapsed onto a chair. Lauren hovered protectively near her.

“Jerrell didn’t come home last night and I thought it was because he was afraid of . . . I mean, that he was worried about what Lauren would say,” Pam said in little more than a whisper.

Lauren rested a hand on her sister’s shoulder, then looked at me. “The assistant police chief paid us a visit very early this morning. He told us about, um, your, um, discovery in the park last night.”

“Jerrell’s dead and they questioned
us
,” Pam said.

“God rest his sorry soul.” Lauren mouthed the words so no one would hear, but I read her lips. She caught me staring and lowered her eyes to look at Pam.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone.” Pam grabbed a napkin off the table and buried her face in it. She sobbed and Lauren patted her back. When Pam lifted her head and found my eyes with her own red, puffy ones, she sucked in a big gulp of air. “Tell us how he was.”

I searched for a word other than “dead.” But that was the one that was most accurate and summed it up the best: dead. That was how he was. “Well, when I saw . . . Jerrell, he was sitting on a park bench. And I honestly thought he was sleeping. But then he fell off, and didn’t move at all, and that’s when I realized he had . . . passed on.”

“They wouldn’t even say how he died. Just that it was being investigated as a homicide,” Pam said and more tears rolled down her face and dropped on her chest.

The police hadn’t told me to keep how he’d died a secret from anyone. I had no idea why they couldn’t give the poor ladies the basic facts. I’d heard somewhere, maybe from a movie, that there were sometimes key pieces of evidence that only the killer would know about. Maybe that was the case. And it was something for me to consider in the investigation I was secretly conducting. Maybe the police didn’t want Pamela and Lauren to know because the two of them were on their radar after all. They were surely on mine. “I’m sure the police will reveal whatever details they can when they can. But of course I can’t speak for them,” I said.

Lauren gave Pam’s shoulder a squeeze. “We should get you home, and let these ladies get back to work.”

“Home.” Pam said the word then wailed. “It’ll never be the same, knowing Jerrell will never be there again.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Come on, Pam.”

I raised my hand. “Oh, if you have another minute—this isn’t a very good time to ask you this, but did you happen to accidentally pick up a bag of May’s snow globe–making supplies? She’s missing some things.”

Lauren shrugged. “I don’t know how we could have, but things got a little confused before we left. We’ll check our bags when we get back to Pam’s and let you know if we did.”

“Thanks. She said it’s some figurines and globes.”

Lauren nodded then helped Pam get to her feet and guided her out the door.

“They are quite the pair of opposites,” Pinky said.

“They really are. And Lauren acts more like her mother than her sister.”

“Let’s face it. If you had a sister who took to the likes of Jerrell Powers, you’d be doing your darnedest to get her away from him.”

“I guess I would. But to what lengths?”

“What are you getting at?” Pinky bent over slightly and leaned her face closer to mine. “You think Lauren had something to do with Jerrell Powers’s murder?”

I shrugged. “I missed that part—you know, the actual committing of the crime.”

Pinky folded her hands. “And thank the good Lord you did.”

Yes, indeed. It was bad enough coming on the scene after the fact. “Well, I’ll go call May to tell her we didn’t find her supplies.”

May’s voice was shaky when she answered. “The police just left. I can’t believe Jerrell is actually dead. I mean, not that I’m really that sorry he’s gone for good, but . . .” I gave her a minute to finish, but she had quit talking. She must have figured she had said enough.

“It’s a pretty big shock, I’m sure. I didn’t even know him, and I’m bowled over,” I said.

“Now I won’t have to make excuses to our daughter about why her father never comes to see her, or never makes any kind of contact with her.”

My own father had always been there for his children. “That must have been tough for you all those years.”

It sounded like May sniffled. “It’s all behind us now. It would have been easier if he had moved to the North Pole, or some other remote place that was hard to get to or from, but that was not to be.”

The way she talked about her ex-husband’s shortcomings, I half expected her to confess that she had been the perpetrator of the crime. After all, she had a stack of reasons, happened to be in Brooks Landing, and had even seen Jerrell Powers. She could have arranged an opportunity to meet him and then killed him. I wished I had been a fly on the wall when the police had talked to her. If she had told them the things she’d told me, maybe they would have arrested her. I moved her up to the top spot on my list of suspects.

I thought I’d play an angle. “Well, as difficult as it was to see him yesterday, at least you did get to see him one last time before he died.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was hesitant.

“In the post office, before you came to the coffee shop.”

“Ah . . . yes, that’s right.”

“Or maybe you saw him after that. After the class?”

“After the class?” she repeated. “Uh, no. No, I didn’t.”

We were both quiet a while. “Before I forget, I wanted to tell you I got your message about the missing supplies. Pinky and I searched around and didn’t find them.” Should I tell her about the two sisters stopping by? Why not? “Oh, and I happened to see Pamela Hemley and Lauren Engle this morning and asked if your things had accidentally gotten mixed in with theirs. They didn’t think so, but they’re checking.”

“Hmm. Well, if they find them, ask them to bring them to your store and I’ll stop by the next time I’m in town. I do not care to have another run-in with either one of them, which I’m sure you can appreciate.”

“Yes, I can. Okay. We’ll check with the others who were at the class last night and hopefully we’ll be able to locate your things.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She paused then said, “The police told me that it was a woman who found Jerrell last night. Can you imagine a woman walking through the park all alone in the dark, at that time of night?”

I was more embarrassed every time that question was posed. Mark had told Lauren and Pamela it was me, but the officer who’d talked to May had just said it was a woman.

“Actually, I can. I have the bad luck of being that woman.”

“No.
You?
Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, I am very serious.”

“So you know what happened? The police wouldn’t give any details.”

“I don’t exactly know what happened, but I was the one who found him. I guess if the police are keeping certain things about it quiet, I’d better not say any more, for now.”

“All right, then, I won’t try to pump you for information. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”

Too late. I was up to my neck in trouble. Starting from the minute I’d spotted Jerrell Powers sitting on the bench. “Thanks.” A customer came in the front door. “I need to hang up and get to work.”

“I’ll let you go. And thanks for calling me back. I don’t think I’ll be able to get much of anything done myself today. This whole thing is kind of starting to hit me, I think.”

“I’m sure it is. Take care, May. ’Bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

• • • • • • • • • • • •

P
inky ran to the bank shortly before noon, and I had the shops to myself for a few minutes. There were no customers so I went to the back office and found an empty spiral notebook and pen. I carried them to my front counter, where I could watch for any shoppers, and slid the stool over in front of a clear writing surface and sat down. I opened to the first page and wrote,
Who killed Jerrell Powers?
That was blunt, and maybe too specific of a question. I tore out the page and put it through the shredder located on the floor behind me.

BOOK: Snow Way Out
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