“So, no fine china or jewelry?”
“There’s a possibility that those things were present also. Anthony inherited a lot after his mother passed on and I don’t think Melanie cared for her mother-in-law. Thom told me in his email that his mother had once found a vintage pearl necklace in a black velvet pouch. They were the kind that you tied behind your neck with satin or velvet ribbons. He said that they were too fragile to be worn and his mother planned to restring them. He wasn’t sure if she ever did though because she never mentioned them again.”
“Vintage pearls and railroad stuff. Anything else?”
“You could always talk to Homer Stillwater who runs the Blissville Historical Society and Museum.”
“You have a historical society and museum?” Elijah asked incredulously.
“There’s so much more to this tiny town than meets the eye,” I told him. “They’re only open a few days a week, but I can pull some strings to see if Homer will meet you today.”
“What kind of strings?”
“His wife is my part-time employee, Elijah. I wasn’t going to offer up sexual favors.”
“Not this early in the morning anyway,” Milo interjected, letting me know he’d been eavesdropping the entire time.
Elijah snorted. “Good to know,” he said to my idiot brother.
I glanced at my watch and saw that we’d been talking longer than I realized. “Do you have any other questions for me? I should get back to helping Milo since our faithful customers will be showing up soon.”
Elijah tucked his notebook and pen inside an interior pocket of his battered, black leather jacket. When he looked at me again, the smoldering heat had returned to his dark brown eyes. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“No.”
“You do now.” I should’ve been offended by his bold assumption and arrogance, but it would’ve been a lie. He wanted me; I wanted him. No games or pretense was wanted or needed. “What time do you get off?” His face turned a light shade of pink when I raised a brow at his question. “From work.”
“I should be home by five thirty.”
“I’d kill for a steak dinner,” Elijah said. “Does that appeal to you?”
“It sounds great.”
“Does six o’clock work for you, or do you need more time?”
“Six is fine.” Neither of us made a move to get up until I heard Milo curse the espresso machine. It was a bit tricky at times and he had no patience with it. He sounded like he was a few seconds away from taking a hammer to the expensive piece of equipment. “I better go.”
“See you tonight, Maegan.” I expected him to walk away, but he placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me to him for a brief kiss. “I hope you have a good day.”
“You too.”
“I think I just came in my pants,” Milo said breathlessly behind me after the door closed behind Elijah. I heard our machine hiss followed by Milo’s yelp.
I stifled a giggle even though I thought he deserved it for being nosy. I took over prepping the espresso machine to save Milo from further pain. Two of our baristas, Joe and Sarah, showed up and the four of us fell into an easy routine that lasted until our doors opened to the public. The town had heard about what happened to Thom, of course, so we were even busier than a normal Saturday morning. Some people stopped by to check on us, but most attempted to get grisly details or speculate on who amongst us was the killer.
For the most part, I plastered a smile on my face while accepting well wishes and deflecting questions from inappropriate jerks, but it was mentally draining. Curious Things opened at ten and was packed with customers all day long until I closed. My customers’ wild speculations spanned from a cult killing to Anthony’s ghost getting vengeance for Thom attempting to sell his things to strangers.
I don’t think I took an easy breath until I locked the door after my last customer left at five thirty. I shut off the lights and let myself out the back door, stepping into the alley. I was running behind and eager to get home and changed for my… What was going on between Elijah and me? Was it a date? Two people consuming red meat before they fucked like animals? I was down with either of those things, to be honest.
I had just turned my key in the deadbolt lock when I detected movement near our dumpsters. Fear danced up my spine making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I turned my head in that direction, but didn’t see anyone.
“Hello?” I asked loudly as I grabbed the canister of pepper spray on my keychain and aimed it in front of me. “Is there anyone there?” It was hard to get the words past the lump of terror lodged in my throat.
My options were to go back inside and exit the store through the front door or continue down the alleyway to get to my parked car. Smart people would’ve chosen option number one, but I went with option number two. My heart pounded harder and faster with every step I took toward the dumpster. If this were a movie, the audience would be yelling insults at me right before the psycho killer jumped out of the dumpster and attacked me.
My eyes kept shifting from the path in front of me to the closed lids as I walked by them, but I could tell the sound was coming from the other side of the bins, not inside them. Just as I stepped even with the far corner of the last dumpster, a black ball of hissing fur came flying around the corner.
I screamed and dropped my keys then clutched my heart while I tried to catch my breath. “Damn cat!” I hissed angrily.
I laughed nervously when I realized that I wasn’t going to drop dead from a heart attack but then I saw what had drawn the cat’s attention. Someone placed an oddly shaped item wrapped in bloody newspaper beside the dumpster. “This can’t be good,” I said, blindly fishing my phone out of my purse while I kept my eyes on my surroundings.
“Or a coincidence,” I whispered.
