The Deadly Dust Bunnies Read online

  "Uh, Rune? What happened? Why did you agree to a dance-off? And how are we going to run the shop with you taking the lead in the town's winter play?" I fired one question after another until my mouth went dry. Grabbing my bottle of sangria from the table, I took a swig of the fizzy, blueberry-flavored drink and mentally willed my nerves to calm.

  Between bites, Rune replied, "Ye worry too much, lass. It will be fine."

  Having lost my appetite, I left the half-eaten slice of pizza from earlier untouched, put the remainder of my drink in the mini-fridge, and returned to the shop proper to flip the sign to open for the crowd of people on the sidewalk. No doubt they were curious about the handsome Irishman who had put Warren Nagle in his place, but if the handsome Irishman could talk them into buying a trinket or two, well, that was fine by me.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next morning, I walked the few blocks to the Treasure Trove. Hazel's brother, Gavin Rjasko, a local police officer, had my Volkswagen Beetle booted for unpaid parking citations for most of the last year. By the time our business earned enough money for me to pay off the fines, I had learned to love walking all over town. Not only was it cheaper, but it helped burn the calories of my favorite indulgence—donuts filled with beach plum jam.

  Of course, as long as I kept eating said donuts, the existing excess pounds wouldn't melt away anytime soon. But I wasn't out of breath standing behind the sales counter, and I could work at arranging the displays longer before my lower back started to ache. All in all, I counted it as a win.

  The thought of those donuts had me bypassing the shop. I instead crossed the street and headed for Mocha Joe's coffee shop. It was early enough that the wooden platform outside the store was blissfully empty along with the rest of the road. A light fog rose from the pavement, and, in the distance, the sun tinted the waters of Beach Plum Bay with shades of pink and gold. I stood and watched until my stomach rumbled, a reminder for me to keep moving.

  "Hello, Tori!" Ivy Coyle called from behind the counter the second I opened the door. "Were your ears burning? Joe was just talking about you."

  "Uh-oh. What'd I do that's worth a mention?" I gave an exaggerated wink as she prepared the order I'd placed online before leaving my house.

  Joe appeared at her side as if by magic. Despite being the size of an NFL linebacker, he had the grace and finesse of a prima ballerina. "I was curious what time the dance-off is between your Irish beau and Warren Nagle so I can be out there in plenty of time."

  "I didn't know you had any interest in dancing, Joe," I teased to avoid responding to his comment about Rune being my beau.

  "Har, har, miss. I'm taking the coffee and donut cart out to the sidewalk and want to make sure I'm there in plenty of time. With the crowd we're expecting, I'd be dumb as a stump to pass on this opportunity."

  "You're running it yourself? What happened to the new guy?" Every year, Ivy and Joe hired college kids to handle the extra business the festival brought to the shop.

  "Hmph," Joe grunted.

  "So, he's not working out too well?"

  "Joe can't stand him. He comes in late and leaves early. His handwriting is sloppy, and he can't spell to save his life. Do you know how he spelled my name?" Ivy rolled her eyes and, without waiting for us to reply, continued, "I.V. Not my full name. Just those two letters, as if my drink was some kind of medical supply. He left the E off Joe's name. Joe was livid. Said the last time that he checked, he was not a character in Little Women."

  The image of Joe dressed as the character Jo March from the book popped into my mind. It wasn't a pretty sight, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

  Ivy went on. "And he's late, again. I wish we had someone as reliable as Rune to work in our shop."

  "Ha! Well, there's nobody out in the street now if you want to select a spot to set up. You've probably got half an hour to an hour before the big show."

  "Looking forward to seeing your fella kick Warren Nagel's behind out there?" Joe asked.

  "Honestly? No. I wish there were a way to stop all of this from happening, but, well, men are stubborn." Realizing that the coffee shop owner was staring at me with a giant smirk across his face, I added, "No offense, Joe."

  "Now, don't you worry about a thing. Joe Coyle is the most stubborn man I've ever met, and he knows it because I am quick to remind him whenever I can." Ivy stuck her tongue out at her husband before turning back to me. "You may not want to hear this, Tori, but I do hope that Rune takes Warren down a notch."

  "Why? I mean, yeah, a part of me hopes Rune wins, but it would be bad for business if he did. The Treasure Trove wouldn't be half as popular if he weren't so adept at dealing with our female customers. If he's off at dance practice, Hazel and I will have to work twice as hard to make the same amount of profit."

  Ivy tucked an extra container of donut holes into the shopping bag with the rest of my order and leaned in, lowering her voice. "Between you and me, Warren Nagle still owes us for supplying refreshments for the dance studio's last three competitions. He walks around town with his nose in the air like his blue-blood lineage makes him better than everyone else, but it sure doesn't make him pay his bills on time. And it's not as if his dancers are that good. Do you know they haven't won a competition in over a year? It's bad enough that Joe won't do business with him anymore. His primary reason for taking the cart out today is to rub salt in the wound, I'm sure."

  "Whoa, I had no idea. Do you think Warren goaded Rune into doing this dance-off to drum up extra business for his dance studio?"

  "Anything is possible, but-"

  The bells atop the front door jangled, and a lanky young man with a mop of blond curls rushed in, apron in hand. "Sorry! I'm so sorry! My phone died overnight, and I use it as an alarm, so, uh, I'm not like, in trouble or anything, am I?"

  Joe's face turned lobster-red, and his hands clenched, but Ivy jumped in to save the new barista. "We'll let you off with a warning, but this is your very last one. Get into back to the back and start washing dishes."

  "That boy doesn't know how lucky he is that you're here," Joe grumbled to his wife once the teen disappeared into the kitchen area of the cafe.

  Ivy clucked her tongue. "Look at the time, Joe. Don't you have a kiosk to set up?"

  "Speaking of the time, I have to get a move on as well."

  “Don’t forget, Mayor Goldman wants us to tell all of our customers about the ribbon-cutting ceremony.”

  I grabbed the shopping bag with one hand and the drink carrier in the other. "Thanks for the reminder, Ivy. Speaking of customers, we've got some new items in the shop and spent yesterday putting together displays in various shades of blue. I want to make sure everything's still in place before the spectacle happens. If you get a chance, pop in to see what we’ve got."

  "That sounds lovely. I certainly will," she promised as I made my way back outside.

  I was barely two steps onto the sidewalk when Hazel pulled her van up to the curb and stopped. The logo for Bubbles & Troubles, our housekeeping venture, was still plastered prominently on both sides. We'd been so busy at the Treasure Trove that we hadn't had time to switch it out. "Come on. I know it's right around the corner, but I'll give you a ride."

  Accepting her offer, I settled into the heated passenger's side front seat with a happy sigh, the takeout bag on the floor between my feet, and the drink carrier balanced on my knees. Hazel drove at a snail's pace along the street, through the alleyway, and to her designated parking space behind the shop. This early in the morning, without the sun overhead to dispel them, long shadows crept up the side of the building. If I were anywhere else, the dark backdrop would lead me to imagine any number of horrible scenarios. We were in Cooper’s Cove, though, where I'd lived my entire life.

  "The morning before the Beach Plum Bay Days kickoff is always so calm compared to during the event," I mused. "It's hard to believe it's the same town."

  "Wait until Rune kicks things off with his and Warren's Irish dance-off. It wi
ll be wicked busy then." Hazel snort-laughed. "Get it? Kicks things off?"

  "Very punny, but please, don't remind me. That's all that Ivy and Joe could talk about earlier. He's even taking the coffee and donut cart out to pull in some extra business from bystanders. Oh, ugh. Someone tossed a coffee cup toward the dumpster and missed."

  "What's the name on the cup?"

  "From here, it's hard to tell, and if that new guy wrote it, then it would take a handwriting expert to figure it out."

  I couldn't help but laugh even as I nodded in agreement. "Want me to toss it in the dumpster?"

  "Nah. I'll grab it since you have, like, actual coffee."

  We opened our doors to exit either side of the vehicle, and a foul stench permeated into the van. I covered my mouth with my free hand to try and keep from tasting it. "What's that rotten smell?"

  "I think it's coming from over there. I bet it's someone's household trash again." Hazel waved her hand in front of her face.

  "Ew, I hope not! Whatever's in there smells worse than those garbage bags full of dirty diapers someone dumped in there last month. If the town is going to mandate that businesses use local trash services, then they should help prevent illegal dumping."

  Hazel approached the dumpster as I walked toward the rear of the shop with our coffee. "Uh, Tori?"

  "Hmm?" I struggled to balance the coffee carrier in one hand while digging my keys from my pocket with the other.

  Her voice rose in both volume and pitch as she ordered, "Put the drink carrier on the patio table and come here!"

  "What's wrong?" I set the drinks down and wiggled my cramped fingers.

  "Hurry and get over here!"

  The closer I got to the dumpster, the worse the smell intensified until I held my breath to inhale as little as possible. Once there, I stood on my toes and peeked in to see the reason for Hazel's frantic tone.

  Empty pizza boxes and take-out containers, a couple of trash bags, and a scattering of dust bunnies from the vacuum cleaner Rune emptied the day before piled in the bottom of the dumpster. It was everything you'd expect to find in there, except for the adult male lying atop the garbage. One of its hands reached toward us, its ring finger sporting a gold ring with a ginormous emerald stone. Only one person in Cooper's Cove wore jewelry that tasteless.

  "Warren?" My voice echoed a little inside the giant metal container. "Warren Nagle! Is that you lying in that pile of garbage? What are you doing? Stand up and crawl out of there right now!"

  "Uh, Tori? He's not going anywhere," Hazel's voice cracked, and she pointed to the jeweled handle of a sword sticking out from Warren's side.

  "What are you talking about, Hazel? He's just... oh, my blueberries." I quit speaking as I realized the truth of the situation.

  Warren Nagle was dead.

  CHAPTER 3

  Unfortunately, this wasn't our first rodeo when it came to finding dead bodies. Six months ago, we discovered the squeaky-clean skeletal remains of our former client, Christine Livingston.

  Without further conversation about this new development, Hazel and I meandered to the patio table and sat in the chairs farthest from the dumpster, the corpse, and the smell.

  Hazel dialed nine-one-one on her cell phone as I took a sip of my coffee, thankful for the jolt of caffeine. From where I sat, I could see the Mocha Joe's logo on a takeout bag sticking out from beneath the dumpster. It gave me an idea.

  Before I could overthink the situation, I took a breath, held it, and rushed across the alley, where I used my cell phone to take photos of the crime scene. After I snapped images of every angle both inside and around the dumpster, I returned to my seat, satisfied with the knowledge that the photos were already safely tucked away in cloud storage.

  Hazel ended the call and asked, "What on earth were you doing?"

  "Getting pictures of the crime scene on my phone." I panted to inhale gulps of untainted air and slipped the device into my pocket. "The last time this happened, the pics I took were wicked helpful in figuring out who the murderer was. I had to get them before Gavin shows up."

  "Good thinking." Hazel tapped her coffee cup against mine in a mock toast. A siren wailed in the distance. "Wow. They said they'd send someone as soon as possible, but I didn't think it would be quite so immediate."

  A little shiver ran down my spine, and I rubbed my palms against the outside of my forearms. "The sooner they take care of this, the better. Having a corpse in the alley is creeping me out. It was one thing when we found a dead body in someone else's home. Every time I come through here, I'm forever going to wonder what's in the dumpster."

  "Or who's in the dumpster," Hazel corrected. The sirens shrieked as the patrol car slid to a stop at a diagonal behind her van. Two policemen stepped from the vehicle, and Hazel rolled her eyes. "Of course, they sent my brother. Again."

  As luck would have it, Gavin and his partner, Davis Sterling, were the same two police officers who were first on the scene the last time we discovered a corpse. It was as if they were the only two policemen in town.

  Hazel took a sip of her coffee. "You can hardly smell the dumpster from here. Should we warn them?"

  Gavin took a few steps toward the dumpster and grimaced. Davis followed behind him and peered inside, seemingly nonplussed by the foul odor. As Gavin turned greener by the second, Davis pulled a notepad and pen from the front pocket of his shirt, flipped to a new page, and began writing.

  "Too late." I winced, feeling genuine sympathy for the guy—unlike the last time this happened. Back then, I reveled in his misery, but Gavin and I had since called a truce to our frenemy-ship.

  "Witch Hazel, Queen Victoria," he barked, using the nicknames he bestowed upon us as children. "Get over here. Now."

  "We haven't had enough coffee for this, Gavin. You come over here. It smells better where we are," I whined.

  When her brother failed to budge, Hazel rolled her eyes and snorted. "Mocha Joe's doesn't make enough coffee for this. The quicker we answer his questions, the sooner we can get inside."

  My best friend was right, as much as I hated to admit it. We stood and walked side-by-side as close as we dared, stopping when the smell became too strong to take.

  "So, Tori, who'd you kill this time?"

  Gavin had asked me a similar question six months before. Even if he was joking, and I hoped he was joking—his question was highly inappropriate. The enormity of the situation hit me all at once, and I blinked back tears.

  Without hesitation, Hazel came to my rescue. She linked her arm with mine, straightened her shoulders, and stared her brother down. "Knock it off, Gavin. You know as well as I do that Tori had nothing to do with whoever stabbed Warren Nagle."

  "Look, sis, you don't know that someone stabbed him," Gavin warned, placing air quotes around the word stabbed. "Or do you? Unless you'd like me to haul you in for questioning, which I may do anyway."

  "Do it, and I'm telling Mom," Hazel threatened.

  Gavin narrowed his eyes and took a step toward his sister. "You need to leave the detective work to the experts. Forensics will find the clues. The medical examiner will determine the cause of death. And Davis and I will find the killer. You and your BFF can play store and sell, uh, whatever it is you sell in there."

  "Are you serious, Gavin? Hazel and I do not 'play store.' We have a thriving second-hand shop that is a massive part of the Shop Main Street small business movement in this town." I blurted. A little voice inside my head told me to stop while I was ahead, but my mouth had a mind of its own, and I continued, "If you bothered to stop by without requiring a call to nine-one-one to visit our place of business, then maybe you'd know more about it. And not only are we thriving, but we no longer have to scrub toilets or wash windows or any of the other gross housekeeping-related jobs we did in the past. Besides that, did you forget that Hazel and I solved the last murder that happened here in Cooper's Cove? It might not make us experts, but it's one more than you've solved, Officer Rjasko."

  "Calm down, Tor
i. I don't want to have to put you in the back of my police car for verbally assaulting a policeman." Gavin jiggled the handcuffs on his belt and smirked. Memories of every lewd joke he'd ever made at my expense rushed to mind, piling on one another like kindling on fire until my blood boiled.

  Hazel held one hand up as the wail of another siren preceded the arrival of an ambulance. "Gavin, do your freaking job. Tori and I will be over here at the patio table. You may ask us questions about what we found, but you will not disrespect us or our business. Do you understand me?"

  Gavin rolled his eyes.

  "I promise that I will call Mom right now. Would you like that? What do you think she'd say about your actions right now?"

  "Go ahead. Mom doesn't scare me."

  "Or, better yet, I could call Marci."

  "Oh, now come on, sis. You know I was only joking. Sheesh! You and Tori go back to your table until I'm ready to question you."

  "That's what I thought." Hazel linked her arm in mine, and we walked back to the table in silence. Once there, I lowered my voice and asked, "So, Gavin and Marci?"

  "Apparently, and before you ask, no, I don't have any of the details."

  "Would their celebrity name be Garci or Marvin?"

  Hazel snickered and took a swill of her coffee. "Whatever's causing that smell in the dumpster reminds me of the time that poor whale washed up on the beach at the Rustling Pines campground. It was during our senior year. Remember?"

  "How could I forget?" Even now, I shuddered at the memory. "Ooh, the medical examiner just got here."

  "Is that Mayor Goldman with him? Odd to see him about town."

  "Not really. It is an election year, but enough about politics."

  "Amen. Murder is a higher priority anyway."

  The firefighters arrived next. When Davis finished taking photos, two of the volunteers used ladders to climb into the dumpster while a third passed a large metal basket to them. When they passed the basket back to the EMTs, it contained what I could only assume was Warren's corpse under a white sheet. Dust, cobwebs, and whatever else the vacuum cleaner previously inhaled clung to the fabric.