Weaving The Web: A Cold Hollow Mystery (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 2) (2 page)

The chief chuckled. “Myrna, you know me too well. Am I becoming predictable?”

She joined him and cackled, “Yep.”

She handed him the next file. It was Warren Measly’s, and he asked, “Did you find anything in here I should know about?”

She shook her head. “Not a damn thing. It’s actually quite sad and boring.” She watched him flip through the pages and saw his eyebrows rise.

He turned to her. “Did you see how many degrees this guy has?”

“Yep, he’s probably a genius.” The chief mumbled something under his breath as she stood and went to the door connecting the rooms. As she opened it, she said, “Warren Measly, you’re next.” She watched a short, well-built man stand up, straighten his clothing, and approach her. She stepped to the side and saw the remaining parolee was a woman. One of the guards was napping, but the other was alert.

She shut the door behind her and returned to her desk. The police chief was already shaking Warren’s hand and congratulating him on his degrees. Warren shyly smiled and thanked the chief.

The chief handed him his appointment card for his meeting with the parole officer, and he immediately asked where the meetings were held. The police chief informed him the meetings would be in the adjoining room.

Myrna handed over the keys to his new home. She had chosen a nice, two-bedroom farmhouse for him. It was the home of an ex-police officer, had been cleaned and polished, and was fully furnished. Warren was elated over the news. She then handed him his new address and his banking information. When Myrna sat back, she noticed him staring at her. She said, “Is there something you want to ask?”

He was pensive for a bit, and replied, “I wanted to tell you how grateful I am for this opportunity. Also, do you know what my new job will be?”

Myrna smiled. “You will start work on Monday at nine a.m. at the pharmacy. The pharmacist’s name is Jack. He is in dire need of an assistant, and you certainly have the qualifications. I think you’ll fit in well and actually enjoy it.”

Warren raced all of this new information through his brain and could hardly stand the excitement he felt surging through his body, but he controlled himself. It was only Thursday, so he had three full days to explore his new home, move around the small town, and get acclimated.

“Warren?” Myrna waited for a response, but it appeared the poor man had been alone so long he didn’t know there were other people in the room with him. He was buried in his own thoughts. She watched the police chief poke his arm and he startled, and then apologized. He informed them he had a habit of drifting off inside his own head.

After he left, Myrna once again stared at the chief. He shook his head. “I don’t know about him. I honestly just do not know.”

She handed him the last file, and he mumbled as he scanned the pages, “Let’s make this one quick. She’s an open-and-shut case.” Sylvia Rossini was good with a gun, and she was a good makeup artist. She had managed to rob ten convenience stores in her hometown without ever being identified or caught. Her only slip-up was doing one on a dare. The chief shook his head. Peer pressure would get those young idiots in trouble every time. From what he read, she could have been an expert sharpshooter.

Myrna stood and called the woman in. She was a beauty. She appeared to be about twenty-six, had long, silky, black hair, an olive complexion, and fascinating green eyes. However, Myrna could see hardness in the woman’s eyes. She had grown up on the mean streets, just as Myrna had.

She told the guards they could leave now and return to work. They moaned and groaned until Myrna told them to go across the street to check on security at the bakery. She added they could tell Donnie their order was on the house. They raced out of the room and down the stairs.

The meeting with Sylvia Rossini was short and to the point. She was given her appointment card, a small, one-bedroom home, and a job with the local seamstress, who had been overwhelmed with new orders. She was then handed her banking information. She was polite and grateful. Myrna noticed a slight accent to her voice and decided she liked it.

After she left, Myrna rubbed her eyes as the chief said, “I’ll have my boys keep an eye on all of them. I don’t think they’ll gripe about keeping an eye on Sylvia.” Myrna snickered.

CHAPTER 2

Myrna cleaned up her desk and was about to go back to the bakery when there was a knock on her office door. “Come in.”

Amanda Borges popped her head in and smiled. “The new family has arrived early. They want to meet you.”

Myrna returned the smile and said, “Send them right in.” She watched as a tall, slender woman entered her office followed by what Myrna assumed were her two daughters. Myrna stood and extended her arm out to the woman, who seemed to be about the same age as her. She had long, flowing, blond hair. The woman introduced herself. “Good to meet you, Mayor. I am Carla Macy. We spoke on the phone so much; it’s good to finally meet you in person.” Myrna noticed she had nice, even, white teeth and a beautiful smile.

“It’s my pleasure, believe me. We are in dire need this year for a horticulturist, and with spring around the corner, I’m afraid I’m a bit panicked.”

The woman sat in a chair and motioned to her daughters. They moved in behind where their mother sat and smiled at Myrna. They were polar opposites. A song from
Sesame Street
instantly popped into Myrna’s head: “Which one of these things is
not
like the other…” She shook her head clear of these opinions and smiled at the girls.

“These are my daughters. Their names are Becky and Sarah.”

The one with long, black hair raised her hand and said, “I’m Becky.”

The other one smiled and said, “Obviously, I’m Sarah.”

Myrna chuckled and said, “Well, it’s good to meet you both. It’s nice to see more young people move into this town. I think you’re going to like it here and enjoy the beach a great deal this summer. This is the first year we’ve planned a big Fourth of July extravaganza. There will be fireworks, barbecues, and all types of games set up at the beach.”

The dark-haired girl didn’t react, but the blond-haired one did. She began whispering to her mother, and Carla had to hush her so they could finish the meeting. The girl kept poking her shoulder.

Carla blushed and said, “I’m sorry. She is overexcited. She saw there was a bakery in town, and she is a fervent baker. Do you know who owns it?”

Myrna smirked. “I do.” She held up her right hand in a “stop” gesture and continued, “Before you ask, I can assure you I would be happy to hire you part time while school is in session. Come to the bakery on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday after school. I can use your help prepping for the following day. When school lets out for the summer, we can see about increasing your hours.” Myrna watched the girl nearly jump out of her sneakers and squeeze her older sister in a tight hug.

The older sister pushed her away and mumbled, “You’re embarrassing me.” However, this didn’t stop the girl from smiling and thanking Myrna.

Myrna leaned over the desk and handed Carla the keys to all of the buildings at the nursery, including the spacious house. She jotted down directions and the address and informed her, “You have a hired hand arriving Monday morning at eight a.m. I told him to go to the machine shed and get the equipment greased and in working condition. I then told him you would be his boss and to report to you for further instructions. He will be the new town landscaper.”

Carla stood to leave, shook Myrna’s hand again, and gathered her children. As she hooked her shoulder bag over her right arm, she asked, “Are the utilities in the home turned on?” Myrna nodded, gathered her belongings, and followed them out of the office and escorted them to their car.

Carla slipped in behind the steering wheel, lowered her window, and said, “I’d love for you to stop by the nursery some time to see how things are coming along. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, Mayor Bradbury.”

Myrna bent down and spoke to all of them. “I hope you enjoy my town, and I look forward to visiting your new home and the nursery, but I’ll give you a few weeks to settle in.”

Carla replied, “Sounds like a good plan. Have a good day.”

The youngest daughter smiled and waved good-bye. “See you Wednesday, Mayor!”

Myrna waved goodbye and shook her head as she headed across the slushy road and back inside the bakery.

She headed to the back room, hung up her belongings, slid into her sneakers, and donned an apron. She sat at the prep station as Donnie Borges brought her a cup of coffee and a croissant. He sat across from her with his elbows on the table and chin in both hands. He was a sixteen-year-old lanky boy, but dedicated to the bakery and Myrna. “You look tired. My mama says you work too much.”

Myrna pushed her food to the side of her mouth and said, “I do, but it’s going to change soon. I hired another part-time baker. We’ll see how she does next Wednesday.”

“She? Is she pretty? How old is she?”

Donnie’s younger brother, Daryl, gagged at his older brother’s question. She took a sip of coffee and swallowed. “Yes, she is cute. She looks to be around sixteen. I think the two of you will get along with her famously.”

Donnie became flustered and glanced around the shop nervously. He muttered, “I need to get a new outfit. I need to get myself a sharp haircut too. I also need to…”

Myrna grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “You
need
to get a grip.”

Donnie blew air from his puffed cheeks and gave a terse nod of his head. He got off the stool when he saw the police chief enter the back room. The chief slammed Myrna’s handheld police radio on the prep table. “You forgot it on your desk at the town hall again!”

Myrna continued eating and finished off her coffee as he stood there with his arms crossed. He began tapping his foot, and she finally responded, “Sorry. Did you need something?”

He glanced at the front of the bakery and leaned over the table in front of her. “Well, it seems we made history today. It took one of my officers all of one hour to get a date with Sylvia Rossini!”

Myrna burst out in laughter, and her eyes watered. She spoke between giggles, “Well, it seems we don’t need to keep an eye on her anymore. Problem solved.”

His stance didn’t change, and his foot still tapped the floor. “I’m hiring two more men tomorrow.”

Myrna continued giggling and replied, “Okay, as long as you stay within your yearly budget.”

“Humph.” He straightened his pose, stomped his foot, turned, and left the bakery.

Donnie took his seat again and poked Myrna’s extended arm. “You love to bug him, don’t you?”

Myrna nodded. “He does the same to me all the time. I don’t know how his wife can live with the curmudgeon.”

Daryl leaned on the table and cleared his throat. He was pointing at the front of the store. “If the two of you are done gossiping, then I suppose you might wanna pay attention to the customers flooding in the front door.”

Myrna stood and pulled Donnie out to the front of the shop with her, and they got to work. She began taking orders and noticed Mr. Measly had shown up. She efficiently took his order and retrieved it. As she leaned over to serve him, some of her hair spilled forward. She heard him inhale the scent of her shampoo and sprang upright. He was grinning. She murmured as she turned to walk away, “Nice glasses.”

Warren was shocked. She was the first woman to compliment him. The fact she noticed his new eyeglasses and commented on them was a miracle; albeit small, it was still a miracle in his mind. As he paid at the register, he apologized to her. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I just love the smell of your shampoo. It reminds me of the smell of spring flowers. Do you mind telling me the name?”

“Suave, the lilac blend.” Myrna handed him his change and watched as he smiled at her, thanked her, and left the bakery. She watched him cross the street and head toward the town market.

Donnie sidled up beside her and whispered, “He’s a weird duck, isn’t he, Ms. Myrna?”

Myrna narrowed her eyes on the front of the store as she patted his back. “We’ll see. Let’s give him a chance.”

They cleared out the rest of the customers and cleaned up in record time. After Myrna had locked the front door and prepped for two more hours, she gathered the garbage and left through the back door of the bakery. With her pocketbook slung over her left shoulder, she heaved the garbage bag up in the air and over the lip of the dumpster with her right. In an instant, she felt a solid object slam into the back of her head. She staggered backwards as her pocketbook slid from her arm and her vision blurred. Struggling to hold on, she blinked and wobbled on her two feet, until darkness began to obscure the periphery of her vision. She hit the cement hard and lay there as she swam in a vast sea of the unconscious.

CHAPTER 3

By her estimation, Myrna had been unconscious for about one hour. Her vision began to clear and she tried to focus on her wristwatch to find she was right. Smacking her lips together to gather some saliva for her dry mouth, she reached out and pulled the handle of her pocketbook closer to her. Some items had scattered and were strewn across the small parking area. Reaching out, she gathered them back and slid them inside. Waiting for the dizziness to pass, she lay there and tried to recount what had happened. The only thing she could seem to remember was heaving the garbage bag into the dumpster and being struck with something solid. She remembered struggling to stay on her feet and staring at the pavement. Her vision was hazy, but she could have sworn she saw work boots behind her as she fell to the ground. She raised her right hand to the back of her head and winced. Pulling her hand back, she saw it was covered in blood. She wasn’t stupid and knew head wounds loved nothing more than to gush profusely. Taking two deep breaths, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and slowly acclimated. An odor struck her and she sniffed the air to realize she recognized that smell. It was the scent of manure blended with hay. As she sat there waiting for a few moments to pass, she rifled through her pocketbook to see that the leather money sack and receipts were still inside, but had been tampered with. She grimaced when she realized she had been robbed. She searched for some tissue, grabbed a few stray ones from her pocketbook, and held them to the back of her head. Taking her time, she stood and stayed put for a while. With car keys in hand, she took her first step towards her vehicle. Reaching out for it with her right hand for stability, she held on tight as she made her way to the driver’s side door. Breathing in relief, she slid the key home, unlocked the door, opened it, and slid behind the steering wheel.

She wanted nothing more than to see little Liam and Tom. She hoped Tom was making supper, because she was just too hurt and tired to think about it. Driving home would be a breeze compared to what she had just experienced. Her vision was stable enough to make it there without incident.

When Myrna walked in the front door, she couldn’t find them, but she heard them out on the back deck. She glanced through the kitchen window to see Tom at the grill. It was still late winter, but he had it running and Liam was giving him some kind of instructions on how to make something. She smiled and slipped out the back door and watched Liam race to her with his arms outstretched. She hauled him up to her chest, hugged him tight, and listened to his giggle as she kissed his cheeks and neck. When she stopped, he asked, “Did you need that more than your next breath, Mama Myrna?”

She smiled at him. “I sure did. It’s always the absolute best part of my day.” Liam had the face of a cherub, hazel eyes, and curly blond hair. It had been a while since he’d lost his real parents, and one day he just surprised them both by calling them Mama Myrna and Papa Tom. They were thrilled, and the child psychiatrist said he was making gigantic strides. He had told the doctor he knew they weren’t his real parents, because he remembered them, but he was happy with Myrna and Tom and he loved them. When the doctor told her this, she had openly sobbed. When the doctor informed her Liam would also like a new baby sister, Myrna had fainted.

Tom approached the two of them and wrapped his arms around them both. “This is always the best part of
my
day.” When he noticed the matted hair behind her head and the bloody tissue she clung to in her clenched left hand, he rushed them back inside the house and grabbed for his doctor’s bag. Sitting her on a kitchen stool, he began to cleanse and stitch the wound in silence as Myrna checked the days receipts and cash. Liam sat beside her wringing his hands in worry. She reached out and assured him that she was fine now that she was home.

When Tom was done stitching and checking her for signs of concussion, Myrna kissed him tenderly. When she pulled away, she asked, “What were my two handsome men up to outside?” She didn’t lie; Tom was tall, sculpted, and had dirty-blond hair and laughing eyes.

Liam answered, “I’m teaching Papa Tom how to make grilled pizza. We knew you’d like it.”

Her mouth watered at the idea, and she told them both to get cooking while she washed up and changed for the night. Tom reached out and grasped her upper right arm. “Be careful when washing your hair, honey. We’ll talk about what happened later tonight.” She agreed and slowly made her way upstairs wondering who in town needed two hundred dollars so badly that they would have done this to her.

***

Warren raced to the supermarket to do his weekly marketing. He wanted to start cooking at his new home and had found the kitchen bare. It didn’t take him long before his carriage was overflowing. When he found the shampoo aisle, he ran his fingers down the different brands until he found the exact one Myrna had told him. Myrna was the beautiful, red-haired owner of the town bakery and, as he had found out earlier, the efficient mayor. Some people in prison called redheads “gingers.” He didn’t like it. He loaded up three bottles of shampoo and left the market with a multitude of overflowing bags.

***

Serving hard time had taught Robert Collins how the system usually worked. He was sure this town would be the same. Get in good with the ones in charge, and your life becomes a lot easier. The following morning, he sat inside the bakery, relishing a delicious cup of coffee, and watched the crowd come and go. He ordered a refill and continued watching the varying people. When two hefty older women walked in, the place went silent. Some people put their heads down and stared at the tabletops. Robert’s lip twitched. He watched them take a seat at a table for two; one of them turned toward the boy manning the checkout counter and yelled, “Donnie, bring us our usual and make it quick! Don’t be singing or dancing or nothin’!”

He noticed Myrna Bradbury standing in the doorway between the front of the shop and the kitchen in back. She was staring at the older women with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed, and her upper lip curled into a snarl.

Robert watched the boy, about sixteen, race to the cinnamon bun platter, plate a few, and fill two large glasses of milk to the top. He smiled and placed the order down on their table with a grand flourish, which almost made Robert laugh aloud. The woman who had done the ordering shot the boy a look filled with hatred, but Donnie only smiled, bowed, and returned to the checkout station.

He heard one of the women address Myrna, “Where’s that shitty little brat of yours, Myrna? What’s his name? Is it Liam? You should know better than to let him out of your sight in this town. Strange things tend to happen round here.”

He then saw Myrna stomp her way to their table, place her clenched fists atop it, and bend over. She growled in a low tone, so Robert had to strain to hear what she said.

Myrna had felt the roundabout threat deep in her gut and growled at Bernadette, “My son is none of your concern. You just better hope he doesn’t get any more than a splinter in this town, or I’m coming for you!” She then stood tall, turned on her heel, and went to the kitchen to resume baking.

Robert raised himself from his table and went to pay his bill. He told the kid to keep the change. Leaning over the counter, he whispered, “Who are those two women?”

The boy leaned toward him and whispered back, “The Carlisle sisters. They run the big farm at the front of town.”

“Let me guess, they are the town bullies?”

Donnie glanced around the bakery before replying, “Those two are as ornery as a cornered rat. They cause quite a bit of trouble around here.” He looked over his shoulder to see Myrna was busy and continued in barely a whisper, “Especially for our Myrna. She was mugged last night, but won’t hold anyone accountable. She says she didn’t see who did it. Now her boyfriend is having security cameras installed out back.”

Robert stood straight, thanked Donnie Borges, and turned to leave. As he passed the Carlisle’s table, he bumped into it with his upper right thigh, causing their milk to slosh about and spill atop the table. He smirked as he heard their shouts of anger and left the bakery, never glancing back.

Warren Measly sat at another table and watched what transpired with interest. He also watched Robert’s reaction. He was jolted when a young girl, perhaps eighteen, sat opposite him at his table. She giggled, “Don’t spill your coffee, mister. I was just walking past this place, saw you, and wanted to say hello.”

Warren was taken aback, but smiled and introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I am Warren Measly.”

She replied, “My name is Becky Macy. We just moved here. I need to ask you something.” He nodded to allow her to continue. “Are all the people in this town so quiet and reserved?”

“Well, Becky, I can’t answer because I just moved here myself. I think you’re the first person I’ve met, but I’ve been watching the townsfolk and they seem awfully work oriented.”

She rolled her eyes. “Grrrreat. I start work Monday at the nursery with my mother. With spring only a month and a half away, we have a lot to do. What do you do?”

“I start work on Monday as well. I will be the pharmacist’s assistant.”

She tilted her head and said, “Well, Warren. If you ever want a tour of our nursery, I’d be happy to take you on one. Do you plan to have a garden or flowerbed this year? I mean, I think all the residents in town have one, according to my mother.”

He agreed, “Yes, it is part of the ‘going green’ movement, and I think I would enjoy it.”

She abruptly stood, patted his arm, and said, “Okay, then come on by Monday when you get out of work, and my mother and I will show you around. She can give you tips on how to double your crop and all the rest of the brainy stuff.”

Warren gave a slight chuckle and replied, “I’d be happy to stop by. How is four o’clock?”

She turned to leave and shouted over her shoulder, “Four o’clock is perfect! See you around.”

Warren shook his head in disbelief. He could hardly believe it. In all of his years, no one had ever noticed him, not once. He shrugged his shoulders, stood, and paid the bill before leaving.

He had many things to do and wanted to get right on it. Although the house they had given him was clean, he didn’t like all of the walls painted white. He wanted some rooms with color. He also didn’t like the way some of the furniture was arranged. He needed to make a list of what he needed to purchase. One thing of importance was a stereo system. He could hardly live without music in his life. He also knew he needed to purchase more clothes. As he walked home, the watery slush reminded him to add boots to his list.

He entered his home to find it silent. There was no one there to greet him and no music playing. Warren made his way to the kitchen, sat down, and began his list. He would see if the town had a pet store, or perhaps an animal shelter where abandoned pets were kept. He wouldn’t mind a companion and believed a small dog would suit him just fine.

He pushed away from the table, made his way to the attic, and inspected the items stored up there. He found quite a few antiques and gasped. There was an old dragonfly tiffany lamp, a Victorian era writing table, and an antique corner chair. As he searched further, he found a ball and claw half table that would blend with the living room perfectly. He carefully brought them all down the two flights of stairs.

After he finished in the attic, he made his way to both bedrooms on the second floor and checked the closets to find them empty. He stared at the spare bedroom and decided to turn it into a private office and library. He pulled his notepad from his back pocket and wrote down what he needed to accomplish this task.

He scoured the first floor, added to his list, and made his way to the basement. Blessedly, it was empty, save for a washing machine and dryer. He checked for water damage and found it a sound house. He then checked for termite damage and found none. There was a small barn on the property, and he exited the back door of his home and inspected it. There was an old car inside the barn, covered with a tarp. The walls were filled with shovels and rakes, and he noticed a gas grill, cooler, and lawnmower in another corner. He was all set for the summer.

Before leaving the barn, he pulled the tarp off the car to find it was a classic. He opened the driver’s-side door to see the keys were in the ignition, and he slid inside. He tried to start the vehicle, but it was apparent to him the battery was dead. He popped the hood, got out, checked the engine’s fluid levels, and found it was perfect. He noticed a roll board leaning against a nearby wall and pulled it down. He placed it on the floor at the rear of the vehicle, lay on it, and rolled himself under the car to inspect for rust and rot. He noticed an unfamiliar device attached to the undercarriage and slid his hand into his pants pocket to remove a jackknife he always kept handy. He maneuvered the small blade and unscrewed the device from the undercarriage. He turned it over in his hands and could not figure it out. It was unlike any car part he had ever seen, and Warren knew a lot about mechanics. Actually, he knew a lot about everything. Once the device was disconnected, and he was pleased with the overall condition of the vehicle, he slid out from under it and returned the roll board to its original location. He placed the device on a protruding nail on the wall beside it and left the barn.

With his list complete, he made his way back out of his home and began his shopping extravaganza. Warren was good with money, and whatever he had earned while incarcerated had been put to good use and invested. His earnings tripled. He was making more money while incarcerated than he ever did working for the dreary accounting firm.