A Country Gift Shop Collection: Three cosy crime novels that will keep you guessing!

Anger rushed through her, pushing her happy expectations for her gift shop away. How could her mother have stayed silent about something as important as this?

“Reopening the case, hah!” Claire grimaced. “That’s just what Michael Danning is printing in that paper of his. It’s what the both of them want, not what will happen.”

Vicky tilted her head. Her mother’s tone intrigued her. “How can you be so sure?”

Claire marched to the gate. “They should have left it alone. Everybody had forgotten about it. We don’t want it all dragged up again.”

She waved a hand in the air. “You were questioned by the police at the time. My only daughter, questioned by the police.” The indignation was thick in her voice like it had been a personal slight she couldn’t forget.

“Everybody in college was questioned,” Vicky protested. “It had nothing to do with me personally. They were just trying to find clues to that mystery man Celine was allegedly meeting. But nobody had ever seen him or could give a clear description of him.”

“Because he doesn’t exist. He was just some fabrication of Danning’s to shift the blame. He killed Celine.”

“You don’t know that so please stop saying it.”

Claire continued as if she had not heard Vicky’s protestations, “Now that you have left London behind and come to live here for good, you will go work at the Gazette. What else would you do with your time? You’re a reporter, a good one; you love your work. You’re not going to sit on your hands. You’re not going to Monday afternoon bingo or whatever else they think up around here for people who have nothing to do all day long.”Claire’s hand tightened on the gate. “You’re young and ambitious. You can’t fool me that you suddenly want to do something else, outside of the reporting world. No, this was all a setup from the start. You’re on your way now to the Gazette’s building, to see Michael Danning about freelance assignments. Or maybe even about a part-time job there? You have enough experience; he might take you on for that. But I’m telling you it’s a bad idea. That paper is dead, has been for ages. And with him in charge, people won’t touch it for sure. No matter what he comes up with for a cheap headline. They all know about him.”

Claire pulled back her narrow shoulders in her lilac cardigan. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to explain to my friends that my daughter is going to work for that man.”

So that was why her mother had been so reluctant to accept her homecoming as good news. Not only because she was afraid of a retirement home, but also because she had suspected Vicky wanted to work with Michael Danning. The Houdini among bachelors as Claire had called him, before Celine had vanished. After that, Claire had been convinced Michael was to blame. He was the last person alive she wanted associated with her only daughter.

Cheerful chimes wafted over to them on the breeze. The church tower’s melody for the quarter of an hour. A quarter to ten.

Vicky started, dropping the paper in the grass. It was a good ten-minute walk, and she didn’t want to arrive in a sweat from rushing. If only she had brought her bike to her mother’s. But she had figured it would be nice to walk into town, the old route she had taken countless times, and see if much had changed. It had seemed nostalgic and fun. Right now, however, she was shaken to the core by the news of Michael’s return and the possibility the old disappearance case would be reopened.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I have to go. And no, not to see Michael Danning. You kept that hidden from me very cleverly. Too bad really. If I had known Michael was back in town and this whole thing was about to unfold…I might have decided to stay away until it was over.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_27efcc8c-5397-582c-b319-dd1b284c023b)

Vicky stepped out of the garden gate, Claire hot on her heels with the dogs.

“How do you mean stay away until it was over?” Claire asked in a small voice.

Vicky clenched her hands into fists by her sides. Her overeager mother had drawn all the wrong conclusions and thereby achieved the exact opposite of what she tried to accomplish: dragging her daughter into a situation Vicky herself would have preferred to stay away from.

She sighed before saying, “You could at least have given me a choice. I considered it all when I wanted to come back: giving up my job, my friends, moving into a small town where all eyes would be on me. To some people here I never grew up. They will treat me again like I’m still a teen. But I didn’t consider this whole Celine business of old. Diane back in town, the case about to be reopened. And Michael even stirring up this hornets’ nest. I can’t believe it. Why would he do that?”

“You still care for him,” Claire groused. “Why else would you respond like that? It does matter to you.”

Vicky snapped her face toward her mother. “Of course it matters. Michael left like…a man on the run. Everybody believed he was guilty. Not of some minor thing but of a horrible crime, a premeditated cold-blooded killing.”

Claire blinked in confusion. “Nobody said it had to be premeditated. He could have killed her in a fit of rage.”

“But nobody saw them together that night. Michael’s car was clean. The body never found. If you kill someone in a fit of rage, you have not prepared your actions so you make mistakes and there are traces. Even eyewitnesses. Something that points back at you. I worked in the newspaper world long enough to know about such things. If Michael really killed Celine without anybody finding out about it, he would have had to prepare every step of the way. So when people accuse him, they actually say that Michael planned the murder of his own girlfriend, way ahead and into enough detail that he left no traces and could get away with it.”

Vicky shivered as she put the conclusion into words. “Now why would he come back here and face all of those evil allegations again?”

Vicky’s heart cringed for Michael Danning’s position, and she had to take a few steadying breaths. She shouldn’t become so emotional about it all. That was not the way to convince her mother she didn’t care.

As if she sensed that feeling, Claire held her head down and pushed ahead, satisfied to let the charged silence speak for itself.

Wanting to know so many things, Vicky could just scream that her mother wasn’t giving her anything more. Her quiet morning devoted to finding the perfect space for her gift shop had spiraled out of control, dragging her back into the whirlpool of the past. The one big event that had rocked Glen Cove and had never completely left public memory. It had left an invisible scar on the idyllic town, a scar that the many tourists might not see but that the long-time inhabitants felt itching from time to time.

The sheriff who had not been able to solve the disappearance.

Friends who had been questioned and played against each other.

The rumors about anonymous tips smearing people, just because the caller thought the occasion was best used to get even for an old insult.

Like a stone in a pond, the disappearance of one girl had rippled into so many lives, changing them forever. Even after two decades had passed, it was not over.

With the ocean at their backs, they were walking toward the church’s tower that protruded over the center of the town. Houses were scattered in groups with generous green among them. Gardens had signs announcing they were competing in the annual competition for best garden in town. Claire had mentioned in passing that for her record of winning three times in a row she had been made an honorary member of the jury.

This realization washed Vicky’s anger away. Her mother’s behavior had its reasons. As a lifelong inhabitant, Claire cared so much for her reputation in town. It was logical she had been upset by her own impromptu conclusion that Vicky was moving back here to go work for Michael Danning. A murder suspect who had never managed to clear his name.

Perhaps her return did look somewhat odd now that Michael was back here, and Diane. Like they had planned it between them. After all, Vicky was a reporter as well. Someone who had made a name for herself digging into the past of idyllic country seats and lovely wedding locations, but the essence of digging was always the same. Vicky couldn’t deny that Celine’s disappearance raised tantalizing questions that could cause someone to become obsessed.

Especially someone who had been personally involved.

“Everybody knows he killed Celine.” Claire could contain herself no longer. “And don’t you forget it.” She wagged a finger at Vicky. “Danning might have persuaded Diane to claim now that there is proof that says differently but…if the police found nothing at the time, there can’t be any now. Where would it have come from all of a sudden?”

That was a very good question. With all her journalistic experience Vicky had no answer to it.

She wished she had taken the newspaper along so she could study the article in more detail. Could she go buy one at Jones General Store after she had talked to the real estate agent? The headline would certainly be an ideal conversation starter, and Mrs. Jones liked to talk. Vicky might hear some interesting tidbit that her mother, with her antipathy toward Michael Danning, conveniently ignored.

“They have nothing,” Claire said with conviction. “They are only kicking up dust. Probably to boost the Gazette’s sales. When Danning took over, he claimed he could revive the paper. But his way of making good on that promise is less than tasteful, I say—”

Vicky had raised a hand to stop her mother mid-sentence. “Michael has taken over the Gazette? It’s not just a temporary position?”

“Of course not.” Claire huffed. “Why else would I be worried you will go and work there? He is editor-in-chief now. Can do what he wants. Write what he wants. Print what he wants.”

Claire waved both hands in the air. “He is like a dictator now. Can steer public opinion.”

Annoyed at her mother’s gross exaggeration, Vicky pursed her lips and pretended to be distracted by the activity in the old harbor to their left. A new marina had been built away from the town where tourists could moor their yachts, but this old harbor was still the place where fishermen worked day by day to bring in fresh catch for the diner, some hotels outside of town and the local fish dealer. Just the smell of real clam chowder was something Vicky had missed abroad. Here she could make it herself, or go to the diner where they served it fresh, with thin slices of homemade rye bread.

Maybe there would be time for lunch after her appointment? It was tempting to know Michael was at the Gazette’s building. Today’s headline was a shocker so why couldn’t she drop by and have a chat? The reporter inside of her was desperate to know what clue Michael and Diane were holding that had given them the confidence to take this bold step. It had to be something substantial, for Vicky couldn’t believe it was just a move for publicity, like her mother claimed, to boost the Gazette’s sales. That would be so…cold and mercenary. This news of a possible reopening of the case could have reporters descending on the town to pick apart any bit of the story they could get their hands on. People could be implicated all over again.

Or was that Michael’s ultimate objective?

Making others go through the same thing he had gone through at the time?

Taking revenge on the town that way?

She hadn’t been in touch with him since he had left, under suspicion, like a man on the run. She had no idea how bitter he might be.

“They must be lying about having anything,” Claire said, with a prim little tilt of her chin.

“You don’t know that,” Vicky protested, also to stem her unpleasant suspicions about Michael’s possible motives. “Cold cases get reopened all the time. The police might be able to use a vague DNA sample that they couldn’t use before because the technology needed wasn’t available at the time. Or maybe they arrested a man for another crime and Diane believes this man is also her sister’s abductor.”