Death Wore Brown Shorts (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 1) Page 2

  “How am I being a wuss wanting my girlfriend not to ogle some other guy’s legs?”

  Annie shuffled toward the gate with most of the other women. She liked looking, too. Sure, Paul had great legs he showed off every spring and summer in work shorts, but her interest lay more in the antics the women got up to when they tried to get his attention.

  Annie passed Jason and offered him a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, Jason. She loves only you. Paul’s just eye candy.”

  Jason harrumphed, not at all appeased. Annie considered whether he should be worried about losing Marianne. Over the last few months he had gained a little around the middle. That happened when he was laid off from his job, but he found another within a month without too much trouble. Unfortunately, the paunch remained.

  A fitness instructor, Marianne must either be annoyed at his health or inspired to help him improve. She sure advised Annie enough on the subject. Annie didn’t expect she would get a hold of her extra pounds any time soon.

  The big brown truck rolled along the street and stopped several doors down. The ladies ahead of Annie rushed along Jane’s driveway to the front walk. Even Aunt Bridge joined the lineup.

  Annie gasped. “Et tu, Aunt Bridge?”

  Her aunt rolled her eyes. “I’m not too old to enjoy the view. I’ve been hearing about Paul’s legs for years. He’s not on my route where I live. An old lazy grump is, and I’ve complained often. Nothing changes. I hope with his legs Paul gives you all better service!”

  Annie snorted. “I don’t get much service myself, but many of the ladies on this block order online every week. Paul rolls through the neighborhood often. As to his service, you’ll have to ask the others.”

  Paul obliged the ladies by stopping just before Jane’s driveway. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he called as he twisted around in his seat to check the back.

  The side door to the interior of the truck almost never closed during the spring with the nice southern weather of Amberlon, South Carolina. Sometimes, on those days when temperatures reached above one hundred, Paul closed the door. Annie didn’t blame him, but she would be brain dead if she went without A/C at any time.

  “Hello, Paul,” Marianne called. “Are you heading up my way?”

  She didn’t settle for just greeting the man but boldly leaped onto the truck’s step and peered into the back. From where Annie stood, she could make out nothing. The interior seemed like a dark cavern, but perhaps her eyes needed to adjust to the lesser light. Not that she had the best vision staring at a computer screen all day.

  “I think I might have something for you, Marianne. First I’ll have to clear out the stuff for this area.”

  “Floozy,” someone muttered next to Annie, and she looked over to find Evie standing there. She drew her mouth into a tight angry line and folded her arms over her chest. Evie never ran to see Paul, but she didn’t look away either.

  At last, Paul stepped out of the truck, and feminine sighs rose all around the crowd. Annie had to admit the legs were yummy, all golden brown from plenty of sun, shapely with just enough muscle. A sprinkling of fine curly hair over the taut skin finished off the perfection. Boring brown shorts never looked so good.

  “The ladies all want to know,” Marianne said, jumping down from the truck behind Paul. “Are you single?”

  His eyes lit up with pleasure and amusement. Paul must have been in his thirties, and while one couldn’t call him handsome, he was cute in his own way. The legs were his best feature. He seemed unused to the attention the women gave him, but he must experience it all over his delivery route. These southern ladies never bit their tongue.

  “I have a girlfriend,” Paul admitted. “We’re having some problems, but we’re okay.”

  “Aw,” Frannie piped up. “You can visit me at my house, and I’ll serve you apple pie and ice tea. You can tell me all about it.”

  Generous of Frannie, another of the neighbors, to offer a listening ear and a comforting shoulder. Protests rose among the group and other invitations. No one wanted Frannie to get a hold of Paul because she happened to be single, if a teensy bit out of his age range, being in her early forties. Who knew, Paul might like that.

  Paul flipped a large box over one shoulder and balanced it there while holding up the other hand. “I’m sorry, ladies. I can’t stop. I have to keep to my schedule. Maybe some other time.”

  “You always say that,” Stacy pouted. Stacy might be in the running for gaining Paul’s attention, being in her late thirties.

  Paul offered a grin and jogged across the road to the small street perpendicular to Annie’s. All the ladies sighed in his wake.

  “So darn strong,” someone muttered.

  Others agreed.

  “Well,” Aunt Bridge said, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

  Annie noted the color in her cheeks and that this pronouncement was made while watching Paul disappear around a hedge.

  “If you’re all finished cheating on your significant others,” Jane snapped, “perhaps you’ll come back to the yard and enjoy the party.”

  “If I’m going to be accused of cheating,” Marianne shot back, “let me at least pinch his butt.”

  “Marianne!” Jason stood at the start of the drive, fury in his expression.

  For the first time, Marianne appeared abashed at her words. “I was kidding, Jason.”

  He spun on his heels and trudged toward the cul-de-sac. Marianne jogged behind him. After a short distance, Annie couldn’t make out their words, but from the heat in their tones, they argued.

  Aunt Bridge sniffed. “She was always a little too wild, and him too soft. That’s what comes of living together unmarried, but I suppose anyone can get away with anything these days.”

  “I’d hardly call it ‘getting away,’” Stacy said. “Marriage isn’t what it used to be in your day. Of course, you’ve had what three husbands, Bridget?”

  Aunt Bridge’s feathers ruffled. “I buried each one of them, and I married them before I lived with them.”

  “Buried them, huh?” Stacy said.

  Titters from several corners set Aunt Bridge’s face aflame as if she had nagged her husbands into the grave, or put them there on purpose.

  Annie headed back to the yard, and Killer met her at the table as she cut herself a slice of blackberry pie. He debated over the pie and Jane’s famous apple crumb tarts with a hand swinging back and forth between the two. Annie could have told him no one baked like Jane, so either of the choices would make him an addict with one bite.

  “Do you ladies have nothing better to do than to stare at a guy delivering packages?” Killer made his critical statement when the more vociferous of the group were not within hearing distance.

  Annie shrugged. “There’s not much else that happens around here. I mean look around you. Victorian houses, many of which have been in the families for generations, quiet streets where even Evie’s dog can lie in the center of the road and not get run over. He has a habit of that by the way. Trees, grass, beautiful blue skies, I happen to love the neighborhood and the entertainment the ladies provide.”

  “So I should keep my mouth shut when I criticize them?” he asked.

  Annie grinned. “No, say what you want. I like to hear the honest truth no matter how it stings.”

  “For your books?”

  “Bingo.”

  He gave Annie the once over and frowned a little as she guided a huge bite of pie into her mouth and moaned at the flavor.

  “You’re easygoing. I like that. You’d be great if—” Killer cut himself off.

  “If?” Annie encouraged him although she shouldn’t have.

  “Nothing. Thank your aunt for me, okay? I should get going.” Killer started to walk away and then stopped. He looked back at Annie. “By the way, that guy Paul isn’t the amazing guy you all think he is.”

  Annie’s eyebrows rose at the animosity coming off Killer. Wow, this seemed more than just jealousy for Paul’s legs and
attention. “Do you know him?”

  Killer turned away and kept walking until he reached the gate. He passed through it and didn’t bother thanking Jane for the food or Aunt Bridge for inviting him. Not a pleasant character. She decided not to pursue getting him to talk to his boss about letting her visit the bank.

  Annie debated whether to risk talking to her aunt about Killer to see whether he was just stirring up trouble out of jealousy. He might know Paul in some way. Their city of fifty thousand was big enough for residents not to know everyone, but despite that, the world was still a small place. Coincidences existed. In the end, Jane pulled her into the house while she made up a take home plate for Annie and made her forget all about the teller.

  Chapter Three

  Annie rolled over in bed and curled into her favorite position. She considered whether she wanted to get up at six a.m. or sleep until seven. Either way, she needed to drop off soon to get enough rest by morning. If she rose earlier, she could squeeze in an hour and a half for plotting before starting her new book. Sleeping an additional hour meant pantsing it, her normal routine. She grinned and shut her eyes. Why the heck did she have this debate with herself every night?

  Just sleep, silly woman.

  She yawned and started to doze, but a noise brought her back to alertness. What was that? Sitting up in bed, she strained her ears to pick up any sounds within her house. Not for the first time, she thought of getting a pet to keep her from feeling so alone in the family home.

  Had the noise come from the attic? Raccoons had once gotten in. “Could be squirrels or any number of other creatures running wild in South Carolina.”

  A black bear popped into her head, and she chuckled under her breath. The attic could no doubt hold a bear as it expanded big enough to be a separate living quarters. That is, if the summer heat didn’t make it intolerable.

  Of course, a bear would never go up that high, and he would have to enter through the narrow hall doorway to get there. If he could leap far, he could take a tree to the windows on the third level of her house, but size of the windows was an issue.

  Annie laughed out right. She wondered what her readers would think if she titled her next book, The Bear in the Attic.

  “Fun,” she whispered and settled down in bed again. Whatever lurked, it could wait until morning. Slumberland called her name.

  Shortly after six a.m., Annie stumbled into the hall bathroom. The master bedroom contained a bathroom of its own, but she had never taken possession of it. She knew it was ridiculous, but the room used to belong to her parents. They were the last to sleep there.

  While Annie had laborers come in and remove all the furniture to feel more comfortable, she refused to use the space. For that matter, she occupied just a few rooms in the house—her bedroom, the office, originally a den, the hall bathroom, and the kitchen. Even the dining room remained unused. Sure, to live in such a huge house and not take advantage of it was a waste, but she owned it, so she could do what she liked.

  Recalling the noise from the night before, Annie finished in the bathroom and delayed getting dressed to check out the attic. Barefoot and wearing a faded and stretched nightie, she headed to the door in the hall that led to the upper level.

  Annie didn’t keep the door locked. What was the point when the attic contained nothing but old junk? She hadn’t gone through it all, but they never owned much of value other than the house when she was growing up. At least, she didn’t think so, but the attic might as well be an extension of her parents’ bedroom—off limits.

  Annie opened the door and looked up the steep heart pine steps. The narrow passage curved to the right, so she couldn’t see the upper floor from where she stood. Might as well get up there. She started climbing, and dust stirred in the air making her sneeze.

  At the top, dim lighting outlined various weird shapes, and the hair on her arms stood on end. Stretching her hands out before her, she felt for the pull string that would turn on the overhead light bulb. Before she found it, her arms hit a pile of boxes, and the unsteady mountain fell over. Something crashed, and material brushed her foot.

  Annie screamed and leaped backward, almost tumbling down the stairs. She caught herself in time on the banister and sagged against the wall, heart pounding. Her legs turned to jelly, and her calves ached.

  Wait. That’s because of the climb up the steps. Good grief, I need to exercise.

  At last, she found the string and pulled it. The bulb didn’t do much, but she saw the mess she’d made. The boxes must have been topped with old curtains. Her mother changed out the curtains from winter to spring and back again. These heavy drapes were what brushed her foot, and they lay in a heap on the floor along with the contents of the box.

  Spotting pictures scattered about, Annie swung away toward the opposite end of the attic. Farther on, a small window let the light of dawn in through four panes.

  Nope, no bears here.

  She moved that direction anyway to be sure a smaller animal hadn’t found a way to open the window.

  The lock held fast, and she stooped to see if there were any holes in the floorboards or gaps in the walls that would lead outside. When she stood straight, she glanced out at her back yard. If she leaned to the side, she could get a view of the side of the property. A smaller street led that way, but Annie’s home sat on one of the most generous plots of land with so many trees and bushes she enjoyed tons of privacy and shade.

  Through a tiny sliver of space among the foliage, she spotted the color brown. Just three families lived on that street, and none owned a brown vehicle. For that matter, they each included driveways. The owners had no reason to park alongside her house unless one of them entertained guests. Annie didn’t mind. She didn’t own the street. Yet, curiosity got the better of her, as it usually did.

  She turned back to the attic and surveyed the mess of pictures from afar. The same old feelings washed over her as she observed them—reluctance, fear, panic, and so on. There came a time when a person needed to let go of the past and live for the now and the future. Annie believed she did so, but pictures brought back memories and picked at old wounds.

  Like the little coward she was in this situation, she bypassed the photos and moved down the steps. Maybe she would set aside some extra money next month and have someone come in and clean the attic for her.

  Most of the junk could be thrown away, but she would ask Jane if she’d like to take a look for what she might like to keep. No, Jane was the more put together of the two of them. Annie didn’t want to stir up pain for her sister.

  Since Jane had signed over any rights she had to the house, she probably wanted nothing to do with any item within its walls. Annie was convinced Jane lived two doors away for no other reason than to be closer to her. Otherwise, she might have left the state to forget the past. Annie didn’t blame her. She wished she could forget.

  Annie puttered around in her kitchen, debating whether to cook the chicken from the day before or eat the leftovers from Jane’s party. The doorbell delayed the decision, and she walked to the side door. No one used the front door except those who didn’t know her.

  She pulled open the door without checking through the closed blinds. A small round face with a determined expression met her gaze. “Who are you?”

  A bottom lip poked out. “Aunt Annie, this is serious!”

  She laughed and stooped. Five-year old Ben wore shorts showing off his knobby knees and a T-shirt that said Snack Attack and included a picture of a hungry shark. On his back he had slung his favorite teddy bear pack, and he clutched the straps in tights fists, one of which also held a plastic grocery bag.

  Annie brushed the bangs from his eyes that looked so much like Jane’s. “Why is it serious?”

  He raised his chin. “Because I’ve run away from home.”

  “Oh. Well, come in then. That does sound serious.”

  She suppressed another laugh and guided him into the house. Once they were in her kitchen, she offered him a
seat at the table and grabbed a chair across from him. Morning light shined through the window above the sink, but the day hadn’t brightened by much.

  “Mommie let you leave the house this early?”

  “She couldn’t stop me. I’m five now.”

  “Of course.”

  “Plus she’s been baking stuff since she woke up.” He heaved a sigh. “This is for you.”

  Annie frowned at the grocery bag. She didn’t have to peek inside to know Annie had sent another bundle of fresh warm cookies. “You ran away, but she sent you with cookies?”

  “That’s because she didn’t believe me.” He waggled the bag. “Do you want them?”

  “I told her not to keep sending me this stuff. It ruins my diet.”

  “So you don’t want them?”

  Annie groaned and took the bag. She rose and set it on the counter. Jane had gone through so much trouble, and it would be rude to send them back. Perhaps she could give them to one of the ladies in the neighborhood or take them to a shelter. For a moment, her hands hovered above the bag. The delicious scent tickled her nose.

  Drat Jane!

  Annie managed to swing away from the forbidden treat and sat down again. “So, what was the fight about this time?”

  Ben appeared scandalized, as if he needed a reason to strike out into the world. After all, he was five. With dramatic flare, he came clean. “I wanted to stay up late and watch TV, but she wouldn’t let me. It’s summer. Why do I have to go to bed early like a baby? Quinn and Paisley don’t have to!”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” Annie assured him. She didn’t mention she knew for a fact that Quinn being twelve did have to turn in at a reasonable hour. Paisley at fourteen was another stubborn story altogether. “So you told her you were leaving?”

  He nodded his head, too cute with a pout. “She said wait until it’s daylight. I told you she didn’t believe it, Aunt Annie, but here I am.”

  “Here, two doors away,” she said. Good thing Ben hadn’t learned sarcasm just yet. “What’s in your pack? It looks lumpy.”

  He removed his pack and handed it to her. She unzipped with a bit of struggle because Ben had stuffed it to capacity. An assortment of dinosaurs met her gaze, not one T-shirt or change of underwear.