The Deadly Dust Bunnies Read online

  Whatever Marci said was lost on me as I watched Joe perfect the concoctions that would soon arrive at our table. Although I couldn't speak for my friends, a coconut mocha latte with a drizzle of dark chocolate syrup was my self-care in a twenty-ounce paper cup.

  When Marci slid a single sheet of paper across the table, I forced myself to pay attention. She explained, "Here's a copy of the police report from this morning. Please, don’t ask how I got it."

  Ivy returned and placed our drinks along with a plate of beach plum donuts on the table. "Let me know if you need anything else.”

  As the coffee shop owner made her way behind the counter, I noticed the lack of spring in her step and the way her shoulders slumped. It was as if she had aged a decade since my early-morning visit.

  Although I wanted to dash after Ivy and offer whatever assistance I could, I already knew what she would say. Find Warren's killer. I turned my attention back to the page on the table in front of me with this in mind.

  "Of course," Hazel offered once Ivy was out of earshot. “I won’t mention a thing to my brother.”

  "What about your brother?" Gavin stood at the end of the table.

  "Nothing. Aren’t I allowed to talk to your sister and her friends?" Marci raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Instead of answering his girlfriend, Gavin turned toward Hazel and me. "Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, sneaking around to talk to Marci. Anything I tell her is in confidence and she won’t share it. What did I tell you two about meddling in my investigation?" When he spoke, his eyes bulged. Little drops of spit landed on his bottom lip.

  "The lasses t'were not meddlin' in yer investigation. They were jes looking over yer lass's list to do research."

  While Rune's good looks were a definite point in his favor, his willingness to defend me—even when there was a chance that I could be wrong—only served to increase my attraction to him.

  "Yeah. Remember? Hazel and Tori are researching some things for me." Marci stood and linked her arm through Gavin's. "Besides, don't we have a reservation?"

  "We do." Gavin shot us a stern look before leading Marci out of the coffee shop.

  I took a sip of my coffee. "Does Gavin honestly think we'd interfere with the police's investigation?"

  "My brother is still salty about us solving his one-and-only murder case."

  "One-and-only until today, lasses. I imagine ye've bruised his ego."

  "Ego, schmego. Who solves the murder is less important than whether it gets solved. I've learned enough from the Hallmark Mysteries & Movies channel that I'm every bit as qualified as my brother to investigate a crime. The fact that we already solved one murder out from under him proves it."

  "Mhmm," I agreed with Hazel despite the reasons against it that Gavin mentioned when he stopped by the Treasure Trove. Deep down, I knew Hazel wasn't every bit as qualified as her police officer brother. But she did have a point that we solved Christine Livingston's murder before he could fit the clues together and solve the murder. Not that I was in any hurry for us to put our lives on the line again, but someone put Warren's body in our dumpster. Didn't that give us some level of responsibility to find out how and why it got there?

  Ivy slid into the space created by Marci's departure. "Are you girls going to find out who killed Warren like you solved Christine Livingston's murder?"

  "Absolutely," Hazel confirmed. She filled Ivy in on what we knew so far. The more she talked, the paler Ivy became.

  “Ivy, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Joe was all over town in the wee hours of this morning. That’s when he delivers the freshly-roasted beans to local customers.”

  "Okay. Let's establish a timeline." I took a notepad from my tote bag and flipped to a new page. Ivy slid her ballpoint pen to me across the table. "Now, who was the last person to see Warren alive?"

  Hazel tapped her index finger on the corner of the page. “And more importantly, who hated him enough to kill him?”

  CHAPTER 9

  Rune, Ivy, and I surveyed my handwritten notes as Hazel recapped, "So, we know that Warren was in the street arguing with Rune on Thursday afternoon. Tori and I found his body in the dumpster this morning. Any clue where Warren was between those two points?"

  "You might want to ask Dusky." Joe set a take-out bag in front of me on the table. It didn't take a private detective to deduce that more of my favorite donuts were inside.

  Hazel sat up a bit straighter. "What? Dusky Robertson? What's she got to do with this?"

  "Who's that, lass?"

  Even though Rune directed the question at Hazel, I explained, "Dusky Sowers, well, she's a Robertson now, went to high school with Hazel and me. Her mother inherited money during our sophomore year, and Dusky has treated us like commoners since. She was a cheerleader, president of the debate club, and had four different coming-out parties. The works."

  "You know that Dusky's daughter is a student at Warren's dance school, right? Dusky was in here last week, bemoaning away about how Warren never gives her kid the recognition she deserves."

  "Whoa. Really?" Hazel raised an eyebrow.

  "Yep. I also overheard Dusky talking about it while serving coffee at the dance school's last competition. Warren hosted it at the studio. Not sure why, as they never win. This morning Dusky was in here explaining to Ivy how by planning Warren's memorial, she hopes to get some brownie points with whoever steps into Warren's role at the school."

  "Who is taking over the school?" I asked, adding Dusky's name to the top of the chart.

  Ivy shrugged, and Joe replied, "Nobody knows."

  "When's the memorial?" I fired.

  Joe shot back, "Monday morning at the school."

  "Isn't that a little quick?" As if reading my mind, Hazel beat me to the question.

  "Mhmm. But it's after the Beach Plum Bay Days festival. Mayor Goldman wants to keep any drama related to the murder to a minimum and as far away as possible from the weekend activities. As far as he's concerned, it's business as usual in Cooper's Cove."

  "That doesn't make sense. What if the person who did it is someone linked to the festival?" Hazel rolled her eyes.

  "As long as they stop pointing the finger at me." A touch of melancholy tinged Joe's words.

  I patted his shoulder. "Everything will work out, Joe. Hazel and Rune and I will help."

  "Yes, we will. Right, Rune?"

  "I've no choice, have I, lasses? But even if I did, I'd still agree to help ye."

  Hazel's phone began vibrating across the table. She scooped it up, looked at the screen, and her eyebrows knitted together across her forehead. "Sven's flight is delayed. He won't be home until after midnight."

  My stomach rumbled, and I laughed to cover my embarrassment. "Anyone else as wicked hungry as I am?"

  "We've got to settle the accounts for the day and get things ready for tomorrow." Ivy stood next to her husband. "Murder or no, people still need their coffee."

  "Ah, well, we'll head across the street. Thanks for everything." The three of us slid from the booth, and after Ivy insisted on hugging each of us—holding onto Rune just a second longer than she held onto Hazel and me, left the coffee shop.

  Unlike earlier in the day, when the sun was high in the sky and the sidewalks were full of people, the streets of Cooper’s Cove rolled up at twilight. A few businesses, like the Blue Bear Brewery, stayed open past dark, but not many. The shadowy recesses between the streetlights offered places where anyone could lurk without being recognized. Whoever killed Warren could be watching us from a few feet away right now. The thought sent a little shudder down my spine.

  "A Saint Patrick ha'penny for your thoughts, lass." Rune put his arm around my shoulders.

  If you're wondering if I edged closer to him as we walked, then you're absolutely right. He shortened his long stride to match my pocket-sized one. Keeping my gaze straight ahead and my voice low, I admitted, "On any other night, I'd love to stroll through town with you, but whoever killed Warren is still out there. Our sleepy little town has had two murders in less than a year. Cooper's Cove doesn't have a history of heinous crimes. A few years ago, it was named one of the most family-friendly towns in the country. What's going on around here?"

  Rune gave my shoulder a little squeeze but said nothing.

  Once inside the Treasure Trove, Rune turned on a couple of the lamps we used for displays while Hazel went straight to the back of the store. The white glow from the LED bulbs banished the eerie shadows and the uneasy feeling that came over me while crossing the street.

  I relocked the door and confirmed that the front window's sign displayed the side reading "CLOSED."

  "Chinese food?" Hazel asked once Rune and I caught up with her. Without waiting for our answer, she placed the order using an app on her phone. One benefit of working in town every day was knowing each other's standard comfort food orders from every restaurant offering delivery service.

  Hazel tapped the screen twice, and it went black. "It will be here in twenty minutes. I asked them to bring it around back."

  "Are you sure that's safe, under the circumstances?"

  "Oh, duh. I wasn't thinking! Should I call them and let them know to bring it around front instead?"

  "It will be fine, lass." Rune waited for me to claim one of the chairs not occupied by Hazel before sinking into the other. The cat came out of hiding and jumped into his lap. "There ye are, ye Prince o' Cats. Are ye a son of the King o’ Cats, lad?”

  "King of Cats? That’s not a real thing, is it?"

  “It’s as real as ye or me, lass.”

  As we waited for the food to arrive, Rune regaled us with a bit of Irish folklore about a fairy who looked like a cat. "And after the old eejit poisoned the cat, he went to the pub for a pint. Soon enough, he was fluthered and began making a right holy show of himself. And the wee pub cat, he stands up and says, 'Thanks, ye old culchie! Now I'm yer King o' the Cats!' And he bobbled away."

  "Do you think this cat might be, ah, um." I trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question in my head.

  "Have something to do with the gingernut who laid a curse on me? It's unlikely, lass.”

  Relief should have surged through me at Rune's assurance that the cat probably wouldn't turn into a human. I lacked his confidence, but before I could fully overthink the situation, a knock on the back door announced the arrival of dinner.

  Several minutes later, after a few bites of orange beef and vegetable fried rice, the subject was the furthest thing from my mind. The discussion turned to business, and, as we ate, we made plans to replenish the displays in the front room. The day's sales left plenty of gaps in our inventory as tourists from all over Beach Plum Bay, even Puffin Island, came into the shop to gossip about Warren's murder.

  "What about the two cases of blue wine glasses?"

  "The ones from the old wine shop? What about them?" I asked. Our beloved small town was coming out of an economic slump. The past two years were especially rough on small businesses. As a result, Cooper's Cove lost some of its most well-loved retailers, including the bookstore and the wine shop. The next closest bookstore was Tattered Pages in Dewdrop Springs, and I'd discovered the blueberry cordial at the House of Chowder over in Fort James Harbor. It wasn't the same as having these types of places within walking distance, though. Thankfully, having Topher live nearby saved us from making trips to Ferndale for legal advice.

  "Rune, if you can load them in the back of my van, Sven and I can use paint markers to write Beach Plum Bay Days on them. We'll fill the gaps, especially in the front windows for when the afternoon sun hits the front of the building."

  "Do ye need our help painting, lass?"

  "Nah. It gives me something to do while I wait for Sven to get home from the airport."

  "Do you want company? I don't know how I feel about you spending the night in that big house all alone."

  Hazel dismissed my concerns with a wave of her hand. "I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you living a few blocks from here."

  Mercutio jumped onto the table and stalked the remaining few pieces of chicken swimming in the orange sauce on my plate.

  "Oh! No, you don't, mister." I set the cat on the floor. It replied by sticking its tail straight into the air and crawling into an empty cardboard box in the corner. Returning my attention to Hazel, I replied, "I'll be fine."

  "Aye, because I'll be with ye."

  "Wait. What? No. You can't come home with me, Rune. We discussed this."

  "Those were different times, lass. Let people talk. I'd rather know that yer safe."

  Maintaining separate residences was something I considered a priority, but the note of tenderness in Rune's voice broke my resolve.

  "Tori, I agree with Rune. You know you're not going to compromise your values. And even if you did, it's nobody's business but yours."

  "Well, okay. But just for tonight." Conceding to my friends sent a whoosh of relief through me. The sensation outweighed any fears over neighbors questioning my moral compass.

  "Unless ye would like to stay here?" Rune suggested.

  "No, thanks. I'll sleep better if I have some distance between myself and that dumpster, even if it's only a few blocks away."

  CHAPTER 10

  Scents of vanilla and nutmeg teased me from an ongoing dream that combined the previous day's events with childhood phobias about a creature rumored to live in Beach Plum Bay. On any other morning, I would have stolen an extra few minutes to snuggle deeper beneath the covers. Lounging in bed wouldn't help find Warren's killer, and whatever Rune planned for breakfast smelled delicious. My stomach growled in agreement.

  I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes with my index fingers, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet sliding into plush slippers resembling green fuzzy monster feet complete with glittery pink toenails. They were silly. A spontaneous purchase that didn't match anything else in my wardrobe. Wearing them helped me begin each day with a smile, and on that scale, they were worth the exorbitant amount I paid for the frivolous footwear.

  When I entered the kitchen, Rune stood at the stove, his back to me. I'm not going to lie. I spent a couple of minutes admiring his shirtless physique before clearing my throat to let him know I was there.

  Rune turned sideways to greet me while still watching the stove. "G' morning, lass. Did ye sleep well?"

  "Not really. You?"

  "My night was nothing remarkable."

  "Oh. Was something wrong with the bed in the guest room?"

  "It wasn't the bed. I was jes restless, is all."

  "Oh." I sat at the table where a cup of steaming caramel latte awaited. "The coffee is super delicious. Thank you."

  "Ye left it the same."

  "What?"

  "Yer guest room is the same as when I left it. Were ye hoping I'd return?" Rune raised an eyebrow and waited for me to respond.

  "I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind."

  "So ye do want me to return?"

  "Yes, but you can't live here. Nothing has changed since the last time we discussed this topic. I don't believe in living with someone if I'm not married." I didn't add that we'd be the talk of the town, and heaven forbid if my mother found out. That I was a grown adult, widowed, and living in my own home didn't matter. She'd gossip the juiciest details about my personal life to anyone and everyone who would stop to listen.

  "And ye have no idea if I'll return to my own time."

  "Yes. That's another reason."

  Rune piled two plates with blueberry pancakes and bacon before placing them on the table. He took his seat, dug his fork into the short stack before him, and murmured, "Sláinte" before taking the bite.

  "Sláinte," I echoed the Irish word for "health" and took another sip of my coffee before digging into my breakfast. As with everything Rune cooked, the food was worthy of a Michelin star restaurant. Between bites, I asked, "What did you put in these pancakes? Besides blueberries, I mean."

  "Do ye like it, then?"

  "They're delicious!"

  "Hazel rang to see if we'd like a ride to the shop. I told her we'd walk."

  I grinned across the table and took another sip of my coffee. Memories from last night surfaced in my mind, and I could feel a slight blush rise from my neck to the apples of my cheeks. After stopping at the market for a few essentials, Rune and I walked straight here. We each carried a bag of groceries in one hand and laced the fingers of our free hands together. Aside from an occasional hug, holding hands was the most physical contact we had shown toward one another. It might sound old-fashioned, but that was fine with me. The thought of us walking hand-in-hand across town on our return to the shop crossed my mind, and I grinned so wide it hurt the sides of my face. Nothing could ruin my good mood, or so I thought.

  Rune's next words pulled me from my giddy daydreams like a stretched rubber band snapping back into place. "And yer mum rang as well."

  "Wait. What?" Except for a few text messages, my mother and I hadn't had a real conversation since the funeral. And she texted the old-fashioned way—with an actual text instead of using the Reel Life app that everyone in Cooper’s Cove used. "What do you mean, my 'mum rang as well?'"

  "Yer mum. She rang to let you know her plans to attend Warren's memorial service."

  "Why? I didn't know she knew Warren. How did she even find out about it?"

  "How would I know? Ye never talk about her."

  The pancakes, delicious a moment ago, felt like sand against my tongue. I forced them down with a gulp of coffee and sighed. As much as I didn't want to face facts, Rune made a valid point. He knew very little about my past because I preferred to live in the present and look to the future. I set my fork on the nearly empty plate and sighed. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

  "As much or as little as ye'd like to share, lass, but that's for another time. Hazel will be expecting us at the Treasure Trove soon."

  "You're right. I need to get dressed. Thanks for breakfast, Rune. It was delicious, as always."