The Murder in Skoghall (Illustrated) (The Skoghall Mystery Series Book 1) (21 page)

Jess ran a finger along the spines of several books, skimming the shelf until a red, cloth-bound spine caught her eye. The title, embossed in gold letters, read
Satan Sanderson
. Jess smiled.
How could I not?
She plucked it off the shelf and gasped when she saw the front cover.
Satan Sanderson
by Hallie Erminie Rives was illustrated with a picture of a red-haired woman in a nightgown. The woman’s hair was longer, the nightgown of a different era, but it made Jess’s heart leap all the same. Once she regained her senses, Jess opened to the title page—1907. It was a coincidence. Just an eerie coincidence. She opened the box of type again and selected a J and V. It was a silly impulse, but the thought of something other than the cowboy sitting atop her desk soothed her after seeing the red-haired woman on the cover of an old book.

As she was leaving the room, Jess heard the quiet giggle of a young girl. She paused in the hallway to glance into the other bedroom. A girl of around seven hid in the closet. The clothing concealed her except for her hands and face where she parted the wardrobe and peered out. Her eyes were a lovely shade of green and she smiled and giggled again. Jess waved to her, a private wave of her fingers, and went back to the staircase.

The shop had quieted considerably. Jess set the book and type on the counter next to Lora’s antique cash register. “Does that work?”

Lora turned from the displays behind her sales counter and saw Jess standing there. Her mouth fell open in a look of surprise, then puckered in a way that was not altogether friendly. She wore a flirty dress with butterfly sleeves that evoked the 1940s. She also wore glasses Jess hadn’t seen before. Lora pulled them off of her face to blink at her. “Everybody’s been talking about you. The whole village can’t get over what happened.”

“I can imagine.” Jess touched the swell on her cheek. It had turned a blackish color with yellow-brown edges where it was finally beginning to fade. “You have a great selection. I could spend hours in here.”

“Thanks. I try to keep it orderly and attractive.”

“It shows.” The front door opened and Lora greeted her new customers. Jess realized if she didn’t get this conversation headed somewhere soon, she’d miss her opportunity as Lora focused on her
real
customers. “I’d like to buy these.”

Lora dropped her mascara-coated lashes to glance at the counter. “Have you read any of Rives’ novels?” It was a pleasantry. Jess could tell Lora didn’t care and wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t been particularly friendly at the party, but she hadn’t been cold either. Lora punched a key on her cash register and a small white placard popped up. “Yes, it works.” She smiled a rehearsed smile for tedious patrons. “Ten-eighty-five.”

“Do you only take cash?”

Lora reached below the counter and pulled up an iPad with a card reader attached. “Email receipt okay?”

“Great.” Jess pulled the card out of her pocket. “Say,” she said, as though it was a casual afterthought. “Do you have any contact information for Cathy Fenton?”

Lora swiped Jess’s card and handed her the iPad. “We lost touch after she moved, but I’d think she’s easy to find. She’s a painter. She probably has a website or online store.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Jess watched Lora slip her purchases into a paper sack and thanked her for the exchange.

Once outside, Jess grumbled to herself. Of course she had thought of looking for Cathy Fenton online, but figured an introduction from an old friend might be more effective. For whatever reason, Lora wasn’t going to help Jess.

Chapter Thirteen

Jess needed to see the Water Wheel again—not that it would make sense of anything. She turned into the garden and stopped to catch her breath. So many flowers were in bloom, irises, lilies, liars, black-eyed Susans… The garden buzzed with bees lighting on one bloom after another. Jess gazed at the sparrows and nuthatch who shared the shallow dish of a birdbath, splashing vigorously. A blue jay screeched from the branches of a crab apple tree, its sharp call loud and insistent. The businesses along the far side of the garden looked to have a steady stream of customers, several of whom leaned on the porch rails overlooking the garden, ice cream cones in hand. Jess turned her gaze toward the spring. When she listened for it, the water wheel’s creaking became audible through the din of a busy weekend. A man crossed the bridge over the spring and approached the café’s door. He wore a baseball cap and a backpack. Jess watched, expecting him to see the café was closed and turn away.

The man dug into his front pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He propped open the screen door and ducked behind it to unlock the main door, then disappeared inside. Jess ran after him and burst through the café door. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The man faced her, one strap of his backpack off his shoulder. “I’m Robin. Who are you?”

Jess couldn’t help looking past Robin at the dining room. It had been abandoned right after the party. The linen-covered tables still lined the back wall. The guests had taken their food dishes home, but Jess’s pan of spanakopita and bowl of pita bread remained, their contents sporting great green and orange colonies of mold. “I’m Jess. “ She looked at the man now and tried to catch his eyes under the bill of his cap. “I’m a friend of the owner of this place.”

“Then we have that in common.” Robin set his keys on a table with his backpack and stepped forward to extend his hand.

Robin had a firm grip, the kind taught in business schools. He also had a smile to match, the kind of smile reserved for tedious patrons. “Cut the crap, Robin. Where’s Tyler and why do you have keys to the Water Wheel?”

Robin withdrew his hand from Jess’s grip and wiped it on the front of his cargo shorts. “Whoa.” He studied Jess with piqued interest, his gaze resting on her bruise. “And why should I answer to you?”

“Because I care about Tyler. Those are my dishes over there.” She pointed at the remains on the party tables. “And Tyler gave me this bruise right before he cut town, so I think I deserve an answer or two.”

Robin pulled out a chair and sat, then gestured for Jess to join him. She set down her paper sack and folded her arms over her chest before joining Robin in a more friendly arrangement. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know anything about your dishes or your bruise. Tyler and I were in school together. A couple days ago, I got a message he had this café and needed someone to step in and run it.”

“And here you are?”

Robin leaned back in his chair. “Yep.”

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“He said he has a family emergency to take care of. I assume a parent is dying or something. He didn’t go into it and I didn’t ask.”

Jess nodded as she fit the pieces together. Tyler might be back and he might not. Either way, he wasn’t going to let the Water Wheel sit vacant until a banker came by to change the locks.

“Look, we’re in the middle of a holiday weekend and this place is leaking money as we speak. I have a to-do list long as my arm.”

“Sure.” Jess stood to leave, and Robin stood to see her out. Jess noticed he was wearing a
Hazards of Love
t-shirt. “That’s funny,” she said. “When I first met Tyler he was wearing a Decemberists t-shirt, too.”

Robin smiled naturally this time, his guard at last down, revealing dimples that framed a cleft chin. He stood head and shoulders taller than Jess and wore running shoes that looked like they’d pounded down a thousand miles of road. “Chefs like The Decemberists, I guess.” He removed his ball cap to wipe a trickle of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His black hair was shorn close to the scalp. As Jess followed the movement of his hand across his brow, she noticed lines in his dark skin and wondered if he was older than she had thought.

“I think Tyler keeps some fans in the closet by the back door.” Jess picked up her paper sack and turned to leave. She paused and looked back at Tyler’s replacement. “What’s your specialty?”

“Pastry.”

“Good luck,” she said.

Lora was right. Cathy Fenton had an online store for her paintings, though according to ProfessionalNet, she was working as an administrative associate at Biomed Technologies.
Ouch
. Jess glimpsed her future if she didn’t get Bonnie out of her house and write a book. The sooner she published, the less likely she was to run out of savings and end up in a crisis. With each week that passed by, Jess worried more about her finances and what kind of paid work she could do telecommuting from Skoghall. Jess rubbed Shakti’s head while she tracked Cathy Fenton’s internet footprint, clicking through her paintings for sale and admiring many of them. Shakti stretched out on the smooth vinyl bench and dug her feet into Jess’s hip. Beckett had been busy all day, working the weekend traffic, making one sale after another.

Jess squinted at the thumbnail of one of Cathy’s paintings. Was it possible? She clicked to enlarge the image and there was her house. It stood alone, before the garage had been built, with the barn in the left-hand foreground, surrounded by forest. The house showed some wear and the porch sagged. Jess decided this was the before picture, and the caption confirmed it had been painted in 2010. An autumn picture, the forest hues of orange, yellow, and crimson made a brilliant backdrop for the house. Jess guessed Cathy was planning to paint an after picture as well, showing how far she’d gone to improve the property, and she better understood Cathy’s bitterness. Jess clicked buy and pulled her debit card out of her back pocket. It was an act of faith, further laying claim on her house even if she wasn’t sleeping there for the time being.

After buying the painting, Jess found the contact form and emailed the artist. “Cathy, I now own the old farmhouse on Haug Drive. Is there a time we can talk? It is urgent.” Jess signed the message, including her phone number, then set her phone on the table and checked that the ringer was turned up.

“Hey you.” Beckett stood beside the booth, his hands on the back of the bench. Shakti stood up and shook herself, then plopped off the bench to greet him. He picked her up and patted her head while she tried to lick his face.

“I think she loves you.” Jess was about to say that Shakti had never greeted Tyler that way, but stopped herself in time. Instead, she told Beckett about Tyler’s friend, Robin, and how he was taking over the café. She barely had the news out when the front door opened and customers came in.

Beckett winked at Jess and walked over to greet them with Shakti in his arms. The women started cooing and reached out to pet the adorable fluff ball. Jess watched this, amused that her dog, the sweet little dingo, was now a sales gimmick. When the women actually bought pots, Jess saw the flaw in Beckett’s plan and had to go rescue him so he could take their money and wrap their purchases.

Jess and Shakti retreated just as her phone rang. She hurried to the booth and answered. “Hello?”

“This is Cathy Fenton.”

“Cathy, thank you for calling me back so quickly.”

“You’re welcome. I see you bought the painting of the house. I thought that thing would never sell. I just hadn’t bothered to remove it from the store.”

“That worked out for me.” Jess sounded overly cheerful to her own ears, hoping Cathy would be more helpful than Lora.

“I was going to burn the damn painting, but I hadn’t gotten around to that either.”

“Oh…” Jess’s hope diminished. Shakti squirmed off the booth and ran across the studio, her leash trailing wildly behind her. “Shit. Beckett!” Beckett turned away from a new round of customers and intercepted the puppy. Jess pointed at the phone and mouthed, “Cathy Fenton.” She returned to Cathy. “I’m so sorry. My dog just got loose.”

“Beckett Hanley?”

“Yes. He’s letting me hang out at the studio since the house is…you know.”

“So Beckett and Lora broke up?”

“Excuse me?” Jess glanced at the paper sack on the table as she remembered Lora’s mouth puckering with what…disdain?