Death Wore Brown Shorts (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 1) Page 3

  “They were mad, too,” Ben said.

  “Okay. Well, let’s have some cookies and milk.”

  Ben brightened. “Yay! I love you, Aunt Annie.”

  “I love you too, Ben. Best to not tell Mommie we ate cookies for breakfast.”

  He agreed.

  Annie never claimed to be anywhere near Jane’s level when it came to caring for kids. After all, she had none of her own, and interaction with her niece and nephews living so close hadn’t taught her much. Jane lectured her that she was too lenient, but Annie doubted she would ever change.

  She plated oatmeal raisin cookies for herself and for Ben and poured them each huge glasses of milk. After the fact, when Ben had trouble balancing his glass, she halved his portion into a smaller cup. They munched away, Annie feeling the fat gathering in her thighs with each bite.

  Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and Annie opened the door to Paisley. She flipped long silky dark hair over one shoulder. Nothing obstructed the other because she had shaved it almost down to the scalp. Jane had given birth to a cow when she found out.

  “Is the twerp here?” Paisley tapped her foot, already irritated and impatient so early in the morning.

  “You mean your brother?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Ben appeared around Annie’s leg. “Aw, why did Mommie send you, Paisley?”

  “Just come on. I don’t know why you bother pretending to run away when you always run to Aunt Annie. You should have gone to Mexico or something.”

  “I don’t know where Mexico is,” Ben shot back in a reasonable tone.

  “Well to the end of the block then!”

  “Shut up.”

  “Now, now, kids.” Annie patted the top of Ben’s head. “You can stay here longer if you want, sweetie, but I have to work.”

  “She doesn’t have cable, twerp,” Paisley told him. “Plus, Mom, says your show is on in five minutes.”

  Ben let out an alarmed squeak and ran to his sister. She grabbed his hand and spun on her heel. Ben waved to Annie. “See you later, Aunt Annie. I’m going to give Mommie another chance.”

  “That’s a good idea, Ben. She’ll straighten up and fly right.”

  He appeared confused as to the meaning of the expression but dismissed it with a shrug. Annie shook her head watching them walk to the end of her property and disappear around a group of trees. They had been through this routine before, and she expected to repeat it many more times. As she shut the door, she recalled the mystery brown through the hedges and hurried to her bedroom for her shoes.

  Chapter Four

  At the back of the house, Annie cut across the yard to reach the side. Rather than a fence like the white one surrounding Jane’s rear property, bushes and trees sectioned off Annie’s yard. If one wanted to risk being poked and scratched, one could cut through to the neighbors’ grounds on the street behind hers. That is, if one didn’t know where the gaps lay.

  The area that caught Annie’s interest was located at one of these spots. She trudged through the grass thinking she needed to call the lawn service some time in the next two days. Otherwise, she might get slapped with another citation from the city. Darn grass kept growing back, and she forgot about it.

  “If I get on a schedule like he suggested,” she muttered and moaned. The commitment didn’t appeal in the least. So silly she felt that way, but she never managed to change her habits.

  As she neared the spot, flashes of brown met her gaze through the trees, along with a bit of gold writing. Now she knew what it was. Why would the delivery truck be here at this time of morning? Paul usually drove through around ten a.m. and again at three in the afternoon. Once in a while, someone else delivered late packages about eight in the evening.

  “So what’s he doing here now?” she whispered as she shoved aside a branch and scurried through the opening.

  Annie stepped out onto the walk, arriving at the side of the big brown truck. The door lay open as usual, but this time, a pair of tanned legs with black running shoes hung out over the step. Annie had never heard of Paul taking a drink while on the job. The gossiping ladies would have made sure to pass that tidbit around.

  Something about the stillness in Paul’s legs sent a cold chill down Annie’s back. Dread tightened the muscles in her throat, limiting her air supply. She told herself to look away, but her head refused to turn. A stumbling step caused a branch to poke into her right hip, and the sting brought her to life. She swung on her heel about to return to her house.

  “Annie, what’s Paul doing around at half past six in the morning? Are you two having a secret rendezvous?”

  Annie froze. Stacy walked toward her, being one of the residents who lived on the small side street. Annie looked past her friend to the house beyond. Stacy’s rancher, one of the newer properties unlike Annie’s Victorian and others like hers, lay in the middle of two other ranchers. Each of the properties was situated just yards away from the spot where the truck was parked. Stacy should have a good view of the spot from inside her house.

  “I think we need to call the police, Stacy,” Annie said. She twisted her hands together.

  Stacy’s eyes widened. “Why? What happened?”

  Annie moved toward Stacy, wanting to get away from the body and keep Stacy from seeing it at the same time. She worked on automatic, her mind somewhat clouded. Stacy zipped around her, ever nosy, and squeaked in horror.

  “Paul!” Stacy rushed forward but then dropped back to grab hold of Annie’s arm. “Is he…”

  She all but dragged Annie closer.

  Exercise and strength training is what I need.

  Stacy’s grip was insanely strong.

  “Paul?” Stacy called as if she expected him to snap out of it and answer her. Annie longed to go back home and wished she hadn’t ventured out. “He’s not moving.”

  “He’s dead, Stacy.”

  “How do you know?”

  They crept closer to the truck, Annie with reluctance and Stacy almost eager to stare death in the face. Annie swallowed. The cookies roiled in her belly. Paul appeared to have fallen off the seat and landed face down on the floor, his feet hanging out the door. Thank goodness they couldn’t see into his eyes. No doubt about it from the way he lay, he wouldn’t be able to draw a breath if he had been alive when he hit the floor.

  Annie tugged on Stacy’s hold. “Come on. We have to call the police.”

  “I have my cell phone right here.”

  When Stacy dug into her pocket, Annie noticed the bathrobe. Annie had stepped from the bushes seconds before Stacy called to her. Even as close as she lived, she would need more time to notice Annie and then make her way across the circle to where they stood.

  Okay, Annie’s brain had started to function again. “Stacy, did you see the truck here last night?”

  “No, I just saw you. Then I noticed the truck. I was just getting my morning coffee.”

  Annie blinked at her in surprise. For some reason, Annie felt sure this was a lie.

  “I’d rather move away from here,” Annie said. “Do you mind?”

  “Come to my house while we wait. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

  “I have to lock up. My back door is open.”

  “Pish, no one will break in while we’re gone. You don’t want to miss when the police show up.”

  “Paul’s dead. He’s young, and probably didn’t have a heart attack. He’s parked somewhere he has no reason to be at a time he’s never around.”

  “Um, good point. That’s why you’re a mystery writer. Okay, lock up. I’ll call. Hurry.”

  Annie thought she was fine and that she’d snapped out of her initial shock and horror. Stacy being there with her chipper attitude helped. Yet, as Annie approached her house, she clutched her hands together tighter.

  When she walked along the hall and passed her kitchen, she stopped and hurried back to the sink. Hot water stung her skin and turned it red, but she added more hand soap an
d dish detergent to her palms and scrubbed. A fifth wash would do it.

  Someone rang the front doorbell. A stranger, she realized. An authoritative voice shouted through the door. “Police.”

  Annie’s head spun. “Okay, Annie, this is what you do for a living. You solve mysteries, even if it is in print. Get it together, woman.”

  Curiosity washed over her, and she grinned. That was better. Now that she had cleaned her hands, her mind settled a bit. Annie opened the door to a balding sixty-something policeman with a round belly that said too many donuts or too many beers, maybe both.

  Guess I don’t get the handsome detective hero in this adventure.

  The policeman checked his notes. “Are you Annie Holloway?”

  She stood straighter and smiled. “Yes, you’ve heard of me?”

  “Obviously.” The man looked peeved for having been called out. His shift probably didn’t start until later, but surely someone was on duty at six-thirty every day. “I’m Detective Lawson of the Amberlon Police Department. One of your neighbors informed me you were the one who found Paul Granger’s body. Why did you leave the scene of the crime?”

  “Because I didn’t commit it. So he is dead?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You seem pretty calm under the circumstances. This kind of thing doesn’t happen often in Amberlon.”

  “It’s happened five times in the last five years,” Annie informed him.

  “Why do you know that?”

  “I’m a mystery writer.” Annie hugged herself. “I don’t have to come down there again, do I?”

  His gaze swept her with suspicion. Annie got the feeling he thought she put on a show, pretending to be afraid when she wasn’t.

  “I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He pursed his lips. “So you know it was murder, do you?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Voices reached her, and Annie glanced past the detective to find that her neighbors popped into view from various directions. Some had started migrating along the street, headed toward Stacy’s. She spotted the reflection of a police car in the window of someone else’s vehicle, so there were other policeman probably cordoning off the area.

  The detective cleared his throat. “Describe for me why you were the one to discover the body and not one of the people who live on the street where the truck is parked. What were you doing over there, especially since you can’t see that area from your house.”

  “On the contrary,” she began, and an arm came around her waist from behind. Annie glanced over her shoulder to find Jane had walked up from inside her house.

  Jane wore her mother hen expression that most people cowed before. “Why are you berating my sister and not trying to find out who has done this terrible thing?”

  “Shush, Jane, don’t sass the cops.”

  “I will sass him when he’s obviously decided you’re guilty with no facts! No one is going to treat you like that.”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “Really, Jane, it’s fine. I don’t have a motive, and Stacy was right there with me.”

  Jane didn’t appear convinced, and neither did the detective. Her sister had a key to Annie’s house, and Annie had one to Jane’s. They never used them, but she suspected Jane had done so because she ignored the knock on the side door. Someone probably informed Jane of what happened just after Annie discovered the body. News traveled at the speed of light around their neighborhood.

  Annie recited what happened from the moment she spotted the delivery truck from the attic window until she met up with Stacy on the street. She left out the tidbit that Stacy seemed to already be on the street when she arrived but pretended she spotted Annie from inside the house. If she were wrong, or a simple explanation cleared up the matter, she didn’t want to cast suspicion in Stacy’s direction.

  Detective Lawson took notes, and when she was done, he slapped his notebook closed. “I’ll be in touch when I have more questions. Don’t leave town, Ms. Holloway, for any reason.”

  At his retreating back, she called. “Now, when you say leave town, do you mean I’m free to travel anywhere in South Carolina, even if it’s another city? Because I have research I’m conducting in Fort Mill this week. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  He scowled at her over his shoulder and then continued down the walk until he reached one of the fancy new police vehicles parked there. Annie couldn’t fit the grumpy and pudgy detective with the sporty style of the car, but one never knew.

  Once the policeman had driven around the corner, she hesitated, wondering if she should join the rest of the crowd to gawk. Jane squeezed her shoulder and then grasped Annie’s hand. Neither of them spoke as they stood in the doorway. Annie knew what must be running through her sister’s mind. Hers refused to dismiss what occupied her thoughts.

  “This has nothing to do with us, Annie,” Jane said. “Don’t let it bother you. Continue on with your day like nothing happened.”

  “Easier said than done, sis.”

  “Try.”

  Annie smiled and hugged Jane. “My life is all about trying.”

  Chapter Five

  “Annie!”

  Stacy’s voice came from overhead, and Annie backed off the porch to her house and down the walk a bit. She cleared the roof over the porch so the upper windows came into view. Stacy waved from an upstairs window.

  “Come on in. The door is unlocked.”

  Annie scanned the quiet street around them. Both houses on either side of Stacy’s lay in total stillness. She knew the one neighbor on the left worked downtown, and the other, an older man who had worked in the military for thirty-five years might not be awake yet.

  She opened the door to Stacy’s house, and a whiff of potpourri and bacon assaulted her nose. Annie wasn’t a fan of the flowery scent, but the bacon smelled heavenly. Her stomach growled. Stacy’s poodle sniffed Annie’s shoe, and Annie waved Muffin away. Thank goodness the dog, which seemed to be pretty tall for a poodle in her opinion, wandered off seconds later. Not much of a watchdog.

  “Come on up. I’m just getting dressed,” Stacy called.

  Annie hesitated. She had visited Stacy on several previous occasions, but she had never ascended to the second floor. Seeing Stacy in her underwear didn’t appeal. They weren’t that close. When curiosity got the better of her, she took Stacy up on the offer.

  Passing several rooms on the way to the stairs, Annie glanced into what Stacy called her library room. The woman loved reading so much she dedicated a space to all her books. What would have been the living room didn’t include a couch or a coffee table. One armchair with a matching ottoman accompanied a small side table and floor lamp.

  Each wall held up row upon row of shelves. In addition to the sides of the room, every available space was filled with more bookcases. Stacy left just enough room for squeezing among the aisles to get to the books. From what her friend told her, Stacy’s collection was all romance and nothing else. Annie had no idea so many romance novels even existed in the world, and she had come to understand why Stacy never stopped asking her to write them. Stacy was addicted.

  On the second floor, rustling and soft bangs led Annie to Stacy’s room. Stacy had already dressed in a retro styled polka dot romper. She bent over a chest, digging through piles of clothing.

  “What are you doing?” Annie asked.

  “Oh nothing, throwing out some stuff.” Stacy straightened, and when she did, she reached up to her hair, patted it, and then searched through it as if she expected to find hidden treasure.

  To keep herself from laughing, Annie glanced away. Her gaze settled on an open doorway, which led to a closet. Annie gaped.

  “You’ve noticed my secret indulgence,” Stacy quipped, and swept her hand through the air with a flourish. “This is where the magic happens, Annie. I’m not ashamed to admit I wear hair pieces and wigs.”

  Everyone already knew, but Annie declined to comment.

  Here was another spot fi
lled with Stacy’s personality. The closet appeared to be used exclusively for Stacy’s wigs and hairpieces, her makeup, and her jewelry. A vanity mirror and desk sat against the far wall. Around it were hooks for holding wigs. Another spot displayed Stacy’s jewelry. She liked a lot of the costume kind, so many pieces hung from hooks drilled into the wall.

  “We could have a costume party with all you have in here,” Annie quipped.

  Stacy laughed. “I guess we could. Do you want to try on some wigs? I bet you would look great with red hair, Annie.”

  Annie stiffened. “Maybe next time. I thought I smelled the stove downstairs. You didn’t leave it on by accident, did you?”

  “No, I’m cooking bacon in the oven. We can go down and have breakfast together. I’m finished up here.”

  Annie followed her down the stairs. “You cook bacon in the oven?”

  “I know it’s weird, but I don’t like being popped when it’s frying. It scares me, and needless to say hot grease hurts.”

  “True. I will have to give it a try. I never thought of cooking it in the oven.” Annie started thinking she should cook with the oven and get more writing in during that time.

  “A murder in our neighborhood,” Stacy said when they were in the kitchen. She’d switched the conversation in a heartbeat, which wasn’t unusual for her. “And Paul of all people. Who would want to hurt those gorgeous legs?”

  Annie snorted. “I think it was more than his legs they were after when it happened.”

  Stacy nodded, touching a hand to her throat. She missed Annie’s humor as her eyes glazed over. “Did you hear, Annie? He was strangled. I saw it. There was a bruise on his neck like from a belt or something. It was about this wide.”

  She held up her hands to demonstrate against her own neck. Annie swallowed several times. She imagined the difficulty breathing was a figment of her imagination. “Did the police say who they thought did it?”