Grand Prize: Murder!

“…the situation could be resolved without further bloodshed. For that we also thank him.”

Cash bowed again. The sun reflected off his badge, and Vicky smiled to herself that he had really earned it the day he had arrested Celine’s killer. Before that, people had been somewhat reluctant to trust a former town bad boy as their new head of local law enforcement. But now Cash had earned his position. It gave him a new élan as he patrolled the streets looking for wrongly parked vehicles and trash littered around instead of duly put in the bins.

The mayor’s voice rose to a crescendo as he came to the highlight of the speech. “We are grateful to all involved and we honor all of them today. But as a community we feel we owe a special debt of gratitude to the woman who confronted the killer and prevented another murder. We want to show our appreciation for her courage with a special gift to her store. Handcrafted by the Dawson brothers from across the street…” the mayor gestured broadly at the hardware store opposite the Country Gift Shop “…this is a timeless gift that will keep reminding Vicky and us of her contribution to our community and the safety of our town.”

He took a step toward the sheet-wrapped object. “I was supposed to reveal it, but Vicky’s mother Mrs. Claire Simmons, had a much better idea.”

Vicky hitched a brow as her mother stepped forward with her beloved lapdogs, Mr. Pug and Coco, on the leash beside her. Mr. Pug was wearing a little black bow tie, and Coco had a pink lace bow attached to her collar. She twisted her fluffy white head around to see all the people and yapped.

The mayor said, “Mrs. Simmons will assist Mr. Pug and Coco to reveal the community gift.”

Claire led the dogs to the sheet-wrapped object and then bent down to gather them up in her arms. Vicky winced as she knew her mother had joint trouble and such antics hurt her back. But Claire was stubborn enough to demand to do everything by herself, and Vicky wasn’t about to disturb this grand moment for her.

Claire straightened up with a dog tucked under each arm and positioned herself in front of the wrapped object. She leaned forward to grab the sheet with her hands—making it look as if the dogs were grabbing it—and slowly pulled it away.

Coco barked triumphantly as the sheet fluttered to the pavement.

There on the easel was a dark green sign with golden lettering reading COUNTRY GIFT SHOP. Two metal chains were attached so it could be hung in front of the store, suspended to swing freely in the breeze. People walking up and down the street could easily see it and come to her door.

Vicky smiled in delight as the crowd applauded and cheered for her.

One of the Dawson brothers came forward with a stepladder and put it in place so he could climb up and attach the sign’s metal chains to two hooks that were already on an old brass arm attached to the building’s front. Earlier there had been a sign there no doubt, but the beauty parlor owner had taken it down. Now there was this new community-gifted sign rocking on the ocean breeze, glittering in the sunlight, like a public seal of approval on Vicky’s enterprise.

The clapping intensified, and Claire with the dogs in her arms came to stand beside Vicky to accept the applause as if it was meant for her. And in part it probably was, as Claire was a familiar face around town, involving herself with many activities such as the annual garden competition and the Harvest Fair.

Not to mention her active part in most gossip that was spread around town by way of her network of ‘informers’, or—as Claire preferred to call them—‘concerned friends’.

Vicky put her arm around her mother’s shoulders and smiled even broader as the cheers grew louder. She had come back foremost to spend more time with her mother and look after her a little, without Claire noticing of course.

As people began to move into the gift shop for a snack and a chat, a powerful automobile engine roared further down Main Street. Claire said to Vicky, “I bet you that’s a sports car.”

“A collector’s dream,” Vicky agreed, squinting against the sunshine to see it appear. “Whose can it be?”

A fiery red open sports car blasted down Main Street and halted at the curb right in front of the Country Gift Shop. Behind the wheel was a striking woman, her platinum blonde curls covered with a thin Grace Kelly scarf. She waved enthusiastically at them. “Vicky Simmons, right? You wore that same skirt when you came to my book signing.”

Stunned, Vicky drew closer, Marge hard on her heels. “Bella? I thought you’d arrive on Saturday.”

Her heart pounded. A woman who remembered what somebody had worn two years back noticed every little detail. Like every little detail that wasn’t completely decided yet about the book signing on Saturday.

“A change of plans,” Bella Brookes said as she clambered out of the low seat and came for Marge with an outstretched hand. “You must be the friend Vicky emailed me about. The one who can make chocolate dachshunds and has been a fan of my See Britain And Die mysteries from the start. Always a pleasure to hear that.”

In the same breath she turned to Vicky. “I’m going to stay right here for the first leg of my New England book tour. I hate hotels, especially for a single night. All the packing and unpacking, getting used to a new bed… I do love driving so that makes it an easy choice.”

She gave her sports car a loving pat on the hood. “I’ll have my set base right here in Glen Cove and then drive out to my other engagements in the area. Signings, meetings with the press. There’s a hotel here in town, isn’t there?”

“Several,” Vicky said, “but it’s the height of the summer season. You might find a vacant room for a single night, but not for a longer period. You’d still have to move around.”

“Of course—” Marge had found her voice again “—you could stay with me if you don’t mind two kids. And a big rowdy dog. I have a great guest room. A quiet color scheme, just wood and some black-and-white prints on the wall. And you can sit in my garden to write. Oh, I can’t believe some scenes in the next See Britain and Die could get written in my own backyard!”

Marge beamed at the prospect of housing her favorite author—like a kid discovering he’s going to Disney World.

But Bella said quickly, “I appreciate the invitation to stay with one of you at your home, very generous and kind, but I do need my privacy. Especially if I want to get any writing done. I’m kind of stuck on the plot of the book I’m working on, and I hope the change of scenery can get the creative juices flowing again. Any empty cottages around? Or…what’s that?”

Bella gestured at the door beside the entrance to the Country Gift Shop. It had a central glass pane. A big orange FOR RENT poster was taped behind the glass.

Vicky said, “That’s for the upstairs apartment. The tenant moved out a few weeks ago, and the owner is trying to find someone new for it.”

Bella gestured with her hands, four or five turquoise bracelets tinkling. “Well, here I am. If you give the owner a call, I bet he will let me live in it for the time being. Gets him some cash for a place that’s otherwise just sitting empty, right?”

“But I have no idea if it’s still furnished,” Vicky protested. She had been asked if she’d consider living over the store, but upon her return to Glen Cove, she had already rented a cottage close to her mother’s place and didn’t want to move out again. The cottage was but a few minutes’ walk from the sea. In the evenings she could watch the sun set over the frolicking waves. Just what she had dreamed about when she had lived far away from home.

“I could get the key at the real estate office,” Marge offered, “so you can have a look right away.”

Bella beamed at her. “I just knew you two would work something out. Apropos, my people will come in too. My personal assistant Lisa. Paul DuBree, who handles my PR, and his assistant. Maybe also some lawyer or accountant. They mentioned they wanted to discuss contract issues with me.”

She grimaced. “Dull stuff, but it can’t be avoided. So we need rooms for all of them. Or maybe a bungalow in a holiday resort? I’m sure that spending a day or two in the same house won’t kill them.”

Although Bella said it with that ever-present smile, it sounded cynical.

Even a little ominous?

Vicky tried to read something in Bella’s expression. “If they’re on the same team, they’re used to spending time together, I suppose?” she suggested cheerfully.

Bella grimaced. “They may be on the same team, but in this business it’s each to his own.”

She fell silent as if she had already said too much. Then she sprang to life again. “If you just get that key at the real estate agent’s, we can have a look at the apartment right away.”

Marge already started to rush down the street, but then turned back. “Your car can’t stay here at the curb. Our old sheriff stuck to warnings, but since Cash Rowland got elected, they hand out real tickets. Better transfer it into the lot there at the church, huh?”

“Cash Rowland? Quite a catchy name. In one of my books he’d be a terrible playboy who would have scores of jealous husbands and vengeful ex-wives out to get him. He might die. Or he might be the main suspect who didn’t do it.”

“I’d keep those ideas to yourself,” Vicky said quickly. “Our sheriff takes his new responsibilities very seriously and doesn’t like to be associated with anything…dubious.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Bella laughed throatily. “I can’t wait to meet him. But not at the receiving end of a ticket, I guess. I’m already drowning in speed violations. Don’t know how I do it, with a car like this.”

She got back in and drove off, people staring at her from the other side of the street.

“Wow,” Marge whispered to Vicky with a star-struck expression, “she’s so glamorous and flamboyant. And she is actually going to live in our town for a while. Wait until I tell Kev!”

“Yeah,” Vicky said, rubbing her temple where a slight headache was forming. “I hadn’t expected her here right now. We still need to tie up so many loose ends before the book signing on Saturday. And I have half the town in my store for snacks right now.”

But she was already talking to thin air as Marge galloped off to the real estate office to get the key to the upstairs apartment for their inspection.

Vicky glanced in the direction of the church parking lot with a sense of dread. When Bella had offered to do a signing in Glen Cove as part of her New England book tour, Vicky had thought that the famous author would just come into town, sign some books for local fans, maybe have dinner with Marge and her, and leave again. But now Bella would be staying here for days.

She probably expected a whole lot, both from the small town and the simple book signing on Saturday.

Maybe she expected a lot more than the Country Gift Shop could deliver?