Farmers Market Fatality Page 8

  “You don’t know that,” Kat said.

  Hobo Joe cast a plaintive stare through Miss Jacqui. His invisible thoughts worried Lydia. Kat and Jacqui spoke in the background, but Lydia couldn’t make out their conversation. Her concentration on Joe erased all other stimuli until Kat backhanded her on the shoulder.

  “Ouch.”

  “Well, you didn’t answer when I called. A white car has circled the street, twice,” Kat said.

  “Is it the smashers?”

  “Appears to be.” Kat fiddled with the computer. She made certain the device was recording. “Get ready to call Ethan.”

  Lydia woke up her cell phone. 2:07 am it pronounced in bold white light. Joe creaked in his chair and pulled himself to standing. One crutch rested under each armpit. He winced with discomfort.

  Headlight streams striped the deserted street. They came slowly. All surveyors watched the car pause a moment in front of the Muggs residence. Lydia noticed a lamp flicker at Cordelia’s. She was somewhere in the second story. The car rocketed back onto course. “That’s it?” Kat sighed.

  “Maybe they noticed the light and were startled away?”

  “I think they want an audience,” Joe said.

  “Do they know we’re watching?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. I think they were waiting for Cordelia.” Lydia calculated what her words might mean. “But, why would they want to target Cordelia?”

  Everyone continued watching the screens and Jacqui backed away from the window. The screen rotated four times before the car reappeared. It jetted through the street. Its headlights hit the thick plastic bin. The receptacle bounced off of the car splattering onto the road behind it.

  More lights flashed on at Cordelia’s. In contrast, the bright glow from the Cotton Greenhouse went black. Lydia dialed Ethan. Hobo Joe hobbled out the front door and swung himself across the street. His movements were strong and steady. He arrived at Cordelia’s door before Lydia could advise against it.

  “That man is supernatural,” Kat said, reflecting Lydia’s thoughts. “He’s going to hurt himself.”

  “No, adrenaline can do that.” Miss Jacqui sunk back on the couch, taking every pound of weight off of her feet. “It can also wear a body out.” The peppy and powerful mood left her expression. Small rounds of sweat bubbled on her forehead, and her skin lost color. “Don’t suppose I could get one of you to make me some tea?”

  “I’ll handle it.” Kat popped to standing and hurried to the kitchen.

  Ethan had not answered. It was possible he was still at the earlier call. She texted him before calling the his office. Rachel responded with thick annoyance in her greeting.

  “It’s happened again?” She confirmed Lydia’s claim.

  “Yes. Just now.”

  “Well, the Sheriff is out. He’s dealing with a more important case. I can send Gus over, as soon as he reports back or I can have Parker come down.”

  “Okay. No one’s hurt so there’s no rush there. But the car is still circling the neighborhood. They may be nearby.”

  “I’ll let them know,” Rachel signed off.

  It wasn’t long, and Lydia heard her report crackle through the scanner. She stood at the open door and watched Joe standing at Cordelia’s door. She couldn’t see Cordelia, but Joe was engaged with a conversation with someone. Light flashed on the street, and Joe turned himself to face the road. The white car drove passed. They paused at Cordelia’s for the smallest of seconds and gunned it back down the street.

  Joe’s face went from concerned to aggravated and angry. It was a new look for the town crackpot. He was chipper and kind-hearted, a tender man. However, Lydia, watching him on the monitor, did not recognize the expression he now wore. It frightened her. It wasn't the face of the man who blessed the community with his famous fudge. Nor was it the man who helped everyone and anyone at a moment’s notice no matter the inconvenience. It was the face of a stranger and not one she wished to know any better.

  ✽✽✽

  Flora heard the news from her husband. Fresh from an overnight delivery and prepping session, Kevin arrived back home from work at the diner. He often took diner work during the summer. It offered their family savings a boost for the winter months. His normal catering job slowed when snow hit the dirt.

  He crept into their bedroom near four am. Since Enoch slept in their bed, any disturbance he caused Flora trickled down to Enoch. The baby boy owned a full and robust set of lungs. He showed them off when the house was the quietest. He reveled in the voices of his siblings and seemed to enjoy waking up the entire house.

  Kevin tiptoed his back to the bed, trying to make it to the toilet without disrupting the room.

  “Hey you,” Flora’s voice whispered in the dark.

  Kevin jumped, spinning in the air and landing on a jumble of baby supplies. “You terrified me!”

  Flora would have chuckled, but her energy was obliterated. “He’s not slept since dinner.”

  “No?” Kevin sat on the bed beside his wife. “Anything I can do?”

  “Sprout mammary glands?” Kevin’s face curled in disgust. “Sorry. I’m not myself. Talk to me. I could use some grown-up conversation.”

  “Well, I’ve got some news. It isn’t happy.” Flora shrugged. Her healthy sparkle, sucked by the needs of her newborn, was absent. Purple wedged in the corner of each eye and her lips were ragged and chapped. Kevin petted her arm and kissed his son, as the little boy ate.

  “I don’t mind,” she said.

  Kevin kicked off his shoes and settled. “The trash vandals struck again.”

  “At Cordelia’s?”

  “No, at Mr. Goldman’s,” Kevin said.

  “His whole street?”

  “No, just his house.”

  “That’s odd.” Flora readjusted a pillow under her arm. Enoch fussed at the jostling. She quieted him and returned to the conversation.

  “Not as odd as what came out of his trash barrel” Flora wasn’t in the guessing mood. Her interest didn’t reach her eyes. Kevin continued, “A dead body.”

  Suddenly wide awake, Flora sat upright. Enoch finished his meal, and she swaddled him in his favorite blanket. “Would you like some tea?” Downstairs and heating the water before he could respond, Flora took out two tea bags and blueberry muffins. She wanted the scoop, even if it cost her sleep. However, she wanted it fast, so she could try a steal a solid hour before Enoch was hungry, again.

  Chapter 16

  Ethan woke to Lydia staring at him. He knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t the same thing he did. She wanted news from last night. He tried to nestle her in his arms and rest for another hour. Lydia’s dark chocolate eyes sparked with eager curiosity. Ethan had seen that look, before. More and more recently it snuck into the couple's conversations. It made Ethan nervous.

  “Lay back down,” he said, patting his bare shoulder, offering it as a pillow for Lydia’s head. She did. Her eyes never released their hold of his. Ethan tried to ignore their pleading. He didn’t have much longer to enjoy his morning. He had an appointment in Ashton in a few hours and still needed to debrief Gus before he left. Bemoaning his small town budget, Ethan wished he had more help at the office. He’d love to send someone else to get news from the Ashton Coroner, so he could stay in bed all day.

  Lydia persisted in her silent prodding. She analyzed every sound and movement Ethan made. He wondered how much of last night’s news Lydia already knew, and how much he could leave out.

  ✽✽✽

  Cordelia sat sobbing on her bathroom floor. After speaking with the Hobo Joe and the police, she spent many hours heaving. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked. The back of her head thrummed against the bathroom wall.

  Lately, life disappointed her. Over and over, she ran into horrible circumstances with gruesome consequences. Life hadn’t always been so cruel to Cordelia. Once, she was loved and adored by the best man she’d ever known. They’d had a beautiful life together. And then one
day the impossible happened. He’d left her, without notice or without prior complaint.

  She’d known he was going through a difficult season. These happened at least once a year, and they each knew the reason why they returned. At the first symptom of oncoming tribulation, they both knew what to do. After years of trial and error, they had developed a step by step plan to recenter and recover. Mario and Cordelia were a team. In all things, they worked together for the better of the other. Now, Mario was gone, and Cordelia was alone.

  Her plans and old habits failed her. She’d hoped the Market would rekindle closeness between her heart and Mario’s. It had helped. As long as she was at the market completing their regular market chores. However, once at home, with Muffin as her only companion, the emptiness grew louder and more pressing.

  She made peace with Mario, but could not make peace with herself. She rocked and rocked, wailing without witnesses. In a while, she’d clean herself up and don Mario’s vendor apron. Cordelia would head over to the Tuesday Night Market and pretend, for one more night, that her beloved husband was still beside her. She would smother her sorrow in a make-believe moment and imagine Mario hadn’t gone away without her.

  ✽✽✽

  The teens lounged on the bandstand. They watched the sheriff’s car come and go from the department. Emily shivered. The mornings were still chilly even with the early morning sun. She tucked her hoodie around her. There was no reason to panic, anymore. She was done for. Though she’d begged Lucas to take her home before curfew ended, he’d laughed at her. There wouldn’t be an escape.

  Her roommates would only go so far. They weren’t going to risk their necks for her sake. She imagined their great sad eye act reflecting in Mr. Mike’s solid stare. They’d say they knew nothing about Emily’s late-night adventures. They’d been asleep and had no idea the alarm was disconnected from the window.

  There would be a search. Emily was glad she’d thought ahead. Other than contraband candy and her small stack of unexplainable earnings, there would be nothing condemning in the room. Her pills were in her purse. She debated popping one into her mouth. However, that would require moving, and she was too tired to stir. Emily had created a tiny pocket of warmth and didn’t want to lose it. She stayed, curled and cold, feigning slumber, while Lucas and Braden made crude comments and teased one another.

  It was nice to have someone to want her around. It didn’t matter if they paid attention to her or worried about her being chilly or in trouble. Lucas loved her. He’d said so, once when Braden hadn’t been around. That was enough.

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia knocked on Flora’s door. She wore a basket of homemade Oatmeal Scotchies and Oreo stuffed brownies over her left arm. A thank-offering for helping Lydia with sewing. Eloise answered, delighted with the gift and carted it away without a word from Lydia.

  “Mom’s in the shower,” Ever said, as he rummaged through the treats.

  Lydia didn’t answer. She helped herself to a dining room chair. Some of Flora’s photo album supplies cluttered the tabletop. Lydia fingered through stacks of stickers.

  Eden joined her, brownie crumbs blacked out her teeth and smudged across her face. “Mommy’s been at it, again. But she won’t let me see.” The little girl drummed her fingers along the canvas cover of a scrapbook.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t peek either,” Lydia said.

  The girl’s forehead wrinkled, and she tossed her head from side to side. “No, no. I want you to. Then you can tell me what is in it.”

  Lydia snickered. “I don’t think your mom would like that.”

  Eden leaped from her chair. Her boots smacked the tile flooring and echoed their unhappiness throughout the cozy home. “I forgot. You moms always stick together.” She pouted, hands folded against her chest, out of the room and back to the basket of goodies.

  Flora carried Enoch downstairs and rested him in his portable bassinet; the same one Scout had used. Flora followed Lydia’s eyes to the familiar carrier. “I purged all my baby supplies days before finding out I was pregnant.”

  “I think that’s what caused it,” Lydia said.

  “Here for more sewing tips?” Flora adjusted a throw pillow on the seat of a dining room chair before sitting in it. She pulled her scrapbook close and rested her arms on it.

  Lydia hoped for more advice. She was horrible at crafting but wanted to get better. She hoped venturing into the crafting world would pull her out of the funk she was stuck inside. Lydia was embarrassed, to ask for help, after seeing her friend so tired and frazzled. She denied the assumption. “No, just brought some thank you snacks and wanted to visit.”

  Flora’s hazel eyes sparkled closer to green. Her tired lips lifted. “Sounds nice, but he’s asleep. That never happens, unless I’m carrying him in a sling.” Flora nodded toward Enoch.

  Lydia recalled her early motherhood exhaustion. She’d grown so callous and heartless toward her friend. When had that happened? “Of course,” she said. “Why don’t you rest a while? I’ll hang out with the rest of the clan.”

  Flora’s eyes widened. She didn’t like the idea of leaving her children unsupervised, and she needed sleep. The answer was clear. She didn’t hesitate to agree. Flora tucked her scrapbook under her arm and cradled Enoch in the other, then returned upstairs to bed.

  Eden shuffled over and rested a sticky hand on Lydia’s floral skirt. Her most crafty apparel now smeared with kid crumbs, Lydia shrugged off her sudden gross-out. “She didn’t show you her book, either? Did she?”

  “Nope. Sorry.” She smiled as the girl growled.

  “Nutter Butters, what’s a girl to do?” With that Eden flashed out of the room. Her hasty retreat preceded the shattering glass sound of dumped Legos. Lydia needed to find a way to quiet the house, so her friend’s rest was not interrupted. She opted for her drill sergeant persona and rounded up the children.

  Eloise’s hair greased to her forehead and a line of miniature pimple constellations scattered across her skin. Ever’s face was covered in multiple layers of dirt. His breath, though cookie sweet, left a rank waft of snot smell in its wake. Eden was the cleanest of the bunch if Lydia didn’t look at her hands. Her hair was twisted and rolled into a bun. From what Lydia could see, at least seven hair ties held up the week-old monstrosity.

  She decided, first they’d tidy the house and then it was time to disinfect the children.

  ✽✽✽

  Kat watched her phone. She’d handed Gus her recorded surveillance earlier that morning. He left, promising to view it at his first opportunity. Gus took statements from all three ladies and checked on Cordelia. Hobo Joe was passed out on the recliner when he visited. Miss Jacqui promised they’d call as soon as Joe woke. Gus gathered his things and hustled back to the station.

  Before Gus’s arrival, the party scanned and rescanned the recordings. Kat tried to zoom in on the faces, in the car, without success. The license plate was visible. However, it did Kat no good. She didn’t have access to the kind of data needed to trace it. Without a choice, she waited for the police.

  Kat believed Hobo Joe saw the culprits. She didn’t understand why he didn’t reveal their names. He knew nearly everyone in town and those he didn’t he could describe.

  The stress of the night and the rush across the street on crutches wore on the assaulted man’s strength. He wasn’t supernatural, after all. He snored, to Kat’s frustration, in the chair for hours. Kat packed up her laptop and sat with Miss Jacqui a few minutes longer. No new information or theories circled among them. She left weary and worried. Perhaps Gus wouldn’t call.

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia wanted to speak with Flora, explain the early morning’s events. Flora slept, beside her baby, for three hours. When she came downstairs, soup bubbled on a back burner, and her children played cards at the dining room table. Her husband had kissed the clean heads of his kids and left for work an hour earlier.

  Flora sighed. Her presence delighted her children. They flocked aroun
d her, guiding her to the table. “Your friend is bossy,” Eden said.

  Flora hushed her with a soft look. “If making you clean up after yourselves, and take a shower is being bossy, then hurray for bossy.” She turned her face to Lydia and sat on her cushion. “I’ve been too worn out to be an enforcer. Thank you, Lydia.”

  Lydia winked and dropped her cards on the table. “Well, I’ve had a great time. But I need to get myself to the Market.”

  Flora grinned. “How’s it going?”

  “Horrible, but I haven’t given up.”

  “Never surrender,” Ever shouted with a fist thrust to the sky.

  Flora didn’t want her friend to leave. She wanted to visit and linger, but she knew Lydia had to go. “I’ll pray for you.”

  “Please do,” Lydia collected her things and smoothed her skirt. Flora admired the outfit, but it didn’t match Lydia. “What,” Lydia said. “Don’t I look crafty, enough?”

  “Oh yes,” Something shimmering in Flora’s eyes didn’t encourage Lydia.

  “I’ll try to swing by later this week. I’ve got some news.”

  Flora wasn't forgotten. It was indeed hormones and lack of sleep affecting her thoughts. “So do I,” she said. Ever locked the door behind Lydia.

  Chapter 17

  Cordelia was not herself. Ivy noticed as she helped at the craft fair. She spotted the woman walking from booth to booth aimlessly. Vendors offering friendly conversation were stunned and watched with stone-faced confusion as their leader ambled away.

  Victor Cotton, operating his booth, followed Cordelia with intentional vigilance. Ivy watched him watching her. One neighbor looking out for another neighbor? Ivy wasn’t sure.

  Lydia was far too busy to notice much else. She sewed the entire apron to her skirt, and two little girls worked with seam rippers to free her. Miss Jacqui visited the market at the most inopportune of times. She scolded and fussed.

  First things first. She ignored Lydia, completely and hurried to the Wedding Quilt. “You’ve displayed this backward.” The other crafters, at least a decade older than Lydia, flurried into action correcting whatever mistakes Jacqui pointed out.