Kicked the Bucket Read online

  When it became apparent that she was always going to out distance me, I went back to the house to enlist Jasper’s help. Turned out to be a horrible idea as he was too excited to do much good. Instead of herding her, he ran around in circles, darted under her belly and then ran to jump on me with muddy paws.

  I brushed off the marks and searched for Tilly. There she was, down by the watering trough. The goats were hardly any better behaved. Finally, Tilly caught a kid around the belly and picked it up. Jelly—or was that Bean?—kicked his legs and wiggled to escape.

  “Chelz, can you grab that one?” she pointed to the other kid as the one in her arms settled down, looking forlorn with his little legs dangling.

  One would have thought their mother, Daisy, would have followed after her kids. Instead, she seemed content instead to enjoy chewing on a patch of dandelions, free from baby head butts and other hippity-hoppety nonsense.

  Spotting the baby, I attempted a stealthy approach. It was almost as if that kid read my mind, because the animal turned and ran, kicking his hooves. Clods of clover flew into the air.

  The chase was on. I tried to zig after his zags. He seemed to enjoy the new game and pranced faster. At one point, he even showed off by leaping into the air and kicking his hind feet sideways.

  My foot decided at that moment to bend to the left and snag a clump of weeds. Like a bad stuntman about to lose his job, I tumbled to the ground, arms flailing. Gasping, I lay there, with arms outstretched. The sun shone warm on my face, and I closed my eyes with only one thought in my head.

  Please let that not be a cow patty.

  A moment later, a shadow blotted the sun’s heat. I squinted to see Tilly.

  “You having fun down there?” she asked. Tucked under her arm, the other kid sat comfortably. He bit the corner of her shirt sleeve and nibbled before turning to give me a quizzical stare. She offered a hand to help me up, which I ignored. Something hurt. I think it was my pride. Especially when I limped into the barn and saw Rosy standing in her stall, munching on a bag of alfalfa.

  “How?” I asked, flabbergasted.

  “That girl is so sweet. She’ll follow anyone anywhere. She’s just like a puppy dog.”

  It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. “She is a darling.” The words felt like dry graham crackers in my mouth. One day I’d get that cow to like me.

  Maybe graham crackers was the answer.

  I rolled my eyes, for real this time, and then looked at Tilly. “Corey Brickstone. Do you know him?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “No. I never heard that name before. Must be someone from out of town.”

  “I overheard one of the cops saying it. Any idea why that person would be at our place?”

  “Absolutely none. What makes us so popular?”

  I had no idea, but I’m sure my mom wished I would meet someone other than dead guys.

  Chapter 3

  Tilly brushed herself off as we walked together to the house. “So, anyway, I leave first thing in the morning. At the crack of three am, I believe, to catch my flight. You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Of course.” I gave her my biggest ‘I’ll be great’ smile.

  She shivered. “Don’t grin at me like that. You look like a deranged clown from some horror movie. Anyway, this might be a good time to give you some bad news.”

  Bad news? Could there be more after finding a dead guy?

  “Sharon asked if she could borrow Freckles for a few days. She just had surgery and needs some help on her farm.”

  “Oh. Of course.” Sharon was our closest neighbor and was the actual home of George. My most sarcastic inner voice announced that this was terrific news. I struggled to keep off the pouty-face. Another chance to take care of the animals, and specifically Rosy, all by myself. Now my sleepwalking could really amp up. I could hardly wait.

  I pulled myself together with a stiff smile. “Do you know if she needs anything else? Meals?”

  “Meals? You want to kill her? Poor thing is recovering from surgery.”

  “Ha. Ha. I’m serious. And you know I can cook.”

  She nodded but didn’t look convinced. In fact, her expression was irritating me. Then I reconsidered. Did I want to add cooking duties to everything else? Better to have a reputation as a bad cook.

  I wondered if I could get a reputation as a bad bathroom cleaner. I checked the time and jumped up. “I have to cut this short. I don’t want to be late for work.”

  “Okay. See you tonight.”

  I headed to the thrift store, taking the long way so that I could try to regroup. My job wasn’t taxing, but finding a dead body would leave most anybody frazzled.

  When I arrived, Pam, one of my bosses, was waiting on the door steps of In For A Penny. As I ran up I saw that she was arranging some knick-knacks on the top of a little table. I recognized the table as one she’d been working on refurbishing in the back room for the last week.

  “It turned out great!” I said as I approached.

  She smiled, her cat-eye glasses firmly on her nose and bouffant hair teased to the heavens. “Thank you, dear. You’re just in time. Can you head to the delivery area and help unload a truck?”

  Somehow the gossip train hadn’t made its way down town yet because ordinarily Pam would be firing questions away faster than a machine gun. It was okay by me. I wasn’t in an answering mood.

  “Sure,” I said, looping my purse higher on my shoulder. Jerking open the door, I walked through a cloud of her heavily sprayed White Shoulders perfume and entered the store.

  Polly, Pam’s sister, was perched on a stool at her traditional place behind the counter. A giant puzzle stretched out over the glass surface, and she held a piece in her hand. She was the one who rang up all the sales for the business, while Pam did the restorative work.

  “Chelsea! How are you?” Her brow puckered, and I worried the gossip had made it here after all, at least as far as the cash register. She snapped the piece into the empty spot and sighed. “It’s just a shame.”

  Prickles crept up my back, and I silently pleaded that the phone would ring and she’d forget all about me. “What’s a shame?”

  “I told you yesterday to wear your spiffy sweater. I have someone I want you to meet. Someone special.” Here she winked spider-legged eyelashes at me. “He’s very charming.” She glanced over at me again. “Are you feeling okay?”

  I felt my frowsy bunned hair and sheepishly grinned. I did vaguely remember her mentioning the sweater the night before. Talk about a roller coaster of emotions. On the one hand, I was relieved not to be grilled about this morning’s events. On the other, apparently I looked sick and like something the cat dragged in. I tried to smooth my hair back and then tucked down my shirt. “Actually, I’m doing okay. Sorry this isn’t spiffy enough.”

  “Oh, no, dear. Heavens. You look fine. Amazing.” She smiled then, but her eyes glossed over in a telltale sign of a lie. The struggle continued through her face even as her lips pursed as if to physically hold back the words. She was obviously not up to the task as the comment burst forth. “Perhaps you want to check the sweater rack to see if there is something suitable to wear.”

  I knew a rebuke when I heard one. “You’ve got it. Do you mind if I go unload the truck first?”

  “Please go ahead and pick one out before anyone has a chance to see you.”

  Ouch.

  I swung by the sweaters and picked a soft one that looked like it went well with jeans. I slipped it on and headed to the back room.

  In there, I could see the fire door was open and revealed a glimpse of the bumper of what appeared to be the rolled gate of a moving van and the back of a very tall, muscular man in a camel-colored work jacket.

  He turned away from the truck with a grunt. In his hands, rather large hands, I might add, was an enormous box. It was held high enough that I still couldn’t see his face. I’ll admit, I was rather curious.

  I stepped to the side to get out of his way and
he set the box down with a loud thump. He stood up, his hand going to the small of his back to stretch. He was about my age, with a tanned scalp of someone who kept his hairstyle as minimalist as possible. It looked good on him. He turned and saw me, and his eyebrows shot up. Apparently, I’d scared him.

  He grinned. “You’re a little Johnny jump up, aren’t you?”

  I’d never heard that expression before. I will admit it was kind of adorable. It might have been the way it had been delivered with a soft Southern accent.

  “I’m here to help,” I said, finding my smile in return.

  “Aw, well. I’m almost done. I just have a couple more boxes.” He stared at me then and then nudged his head in the direction of the truck. “I’d sure be pleased with some help, though. Last one about whacked my back out.”

  He walked to the truck, and this time I followed him.

  I was surprised when I saw inside that it was just a few odds and ends. The curiosity must have shown on my face because he chuckled. “Just moved to the area. Brought way too much stuff. These are my left-overs.”

  “Oh, wow. Well, welcome to the neighborhood. Where are you from?”

  “Tennessee. Kind of out of my element up here.”

  My eyebrows quirked. That accent was as strong as anything. It was pretty cute, though.

  Like he was.

  He noticed me staring and that corner of his mouth lifted higher. Kind of like the blood to my cheeks, which filled with an embarrassed heat. I ducked my head and tried to recover my cool.

  “That’s quite a change. What brought you up here?” I asked.

  “Work,” he answered simply. He didn’t add more and to be honest, my pride hadn’t recovered enough from being caught gawking to pursue the topic.

  He handed me a box. I tried to take it from him and noticed he hung on to it a second longer than he had to.

  We stood there at a weird stalemate, with me gently pulling.

  “Are you going to let go?” I teased.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Listen, you want to get some coffee later? Maybe you could tell me about some places to hang out?”

  That stupid heat came back to my cheeks. This time I think I played it off better. “I don’t know. I work pretty late.”

  “Yeah? Maybe for a drink then later tonight?”

  I gave him a more professional smile. Time to nip it in the bud. “I’m sorry, but I have plans later as well. It was nice meeting you.”

  His eyebrows lowered, as did the corners of his eyes. If ever I saw a hangdog expression, this was it. He tried again, “Maybe another time?”

  I decided to throw him a bone. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, if you have any questions about the area, stop by and let me know. I’ll try to help.”

  “Yeah, I guess I know where to find you.” That charming grin was back. Wow, he was good looking.

  I clenched my jaw, determined not to get caught staring again. With my head held high, I carried the box inside.

  It was a second later that I realized he hadn’t followed me. The back door slowly closed, catching the start of the work truck as it finally latched shut.

  The box was light, and as I carried it to the sorting table, I realized I hadn’t given him a receipt. I opened the box, hoping to discover something that would identify him. Just a coffee carafe, a silver serving dish, a flower tea pot, and other kitchen odds-and-ends. The other boxes held books, towels, and a few pillowcases. Good for us because those were easy to sell. People flocked to thrift stores just for these types of things. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the pile to identify him.

  I threw the sheets and towels into the washing machine. That was Pam’s rule. Everything had to be washed before it went out onto the floor. She had a worry about bringing in any little critters. The last towel gave me a scratch as I tossed it in.

  “Ow!” I sucked the cut and then looked at the towel. A staple was in a corner. I plucked it out and filled the soap dispenser and started the machine.

  Okay, time to face the music. I needed to find one of the sisters to know how to deal with a no-name consignment drop-off. Pam had been very clear to always get the information.

  There was no Pam in sight, however Polly was still at the counter. Her puzzle was nearly finished now, but she wasn’t working on it. Instead, the cash register open, and she was counting slips of paper and matching it against a notebook.

  She looked too busy to bother, so I continued to search for Pam. I checked back outside where the display she’d been working on was looking darling. She’d added a vase of blue flowers and a cute hand-painted country sign. No Pam though. I wandered the aisles until I found her in the store’s back corner in front of the antique tool section.

  “Did you get that stuff unloaded?” she greeted brightly as she picked up an antique leather punch. She dusted it lightly and set it in front of a wooden tool box. There were several other tools already placed on the table, their worn wooden handles silently speaking of years of history, being gripped by sweaty palms.

  “Yeah, I sure did. Uh, do you have a second?”

  “For you, of course.” She brushed her hands off and then straightened up. “Oh, my back. This getting old thing is a pain in the tuchus.” Her lips pressed together. “Literally.”

  I tried not to snort. She might be my grandmother’s age, but she still ran circles around me. She watched me now with twinkling eyes, and I took in a deep breath. I didn’t want to confess. “I kind of messed up.”

  “Oh, no. What happened?” Her voice was filled with a hint of worry. It touched me that she was actually concerned for me, rather than bothered at what I might have done.

  “I just accepted some consignment boxes, but I didn’t realize I hadn’t taken his contact information before he left.”

  “Was it that young man from earlier?”

  My eyebrows raised. “You know about him?”

  “He came in yesterday to see if he could make a drop off. Don’t worry, it was a donation. Did you give him a donation tag?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, just make an account of what the items were and keep it in the back room for a few days. If he comes back, we can hand it to him then.”

  “Okay, great. Thank you.” Relief flooded through me. It wasn’t that big of a mistake. I hurried back and grabbed a pad out of the drawer. Carefully, I recorded everything I’d found.

  I wrote the last item and then threw the clothing from the washing machine and into the dryer. Among the items was a blue shirt. My fingers froze before grabbing it. All I could see was the poor man from this morning. Who was he and why was he out at our place? I shivered and flung the shirt into the machine as fast as I could.

  My phone vibrated. Frowning, I pulled it from my pocket. I couldn’t think of who would be calling me. Everyone I knew texted.

  It was William. The man I’d recently found out was my father.

  I pushed accept. “Hello?”

  “Darn phone! Why isn’t it working?”

  “William? Can you hear me? Hello?”

  “Trying to Facetime you. What’s the matter with it?”

  I closed my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do right now was a video call. “Let’s wait. It’s not really a good—” It was too late. My phone jangled with the new request. I hit accept again.

  This time the screen opened to black. Words across the middle said, “Pause.” He grumbled in the background. “Now what’s wrong?”

  “You have me on pause. Push the pause button. No, the other button. The button at the bottom. Can you hear me? I’m going to call you back.” I hung up and immediately called him back.

  “I can’t talk long. I’m at work now,” I said when he answered.

  “Thanks for answering, Chelsea. I really don’t know who else to turn to.”

  “What’s going on?” I started stacking the books from the box.

  “It’s Nikki. I’m really worried about her.”

  “You were saying that earlier. Is she safe?”


  “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to find her in weeks.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Oh, my gosh. Have you called the police?”

  He sighed. “Yeah. They took a report, but I don’t feel like they’re really serious about searching for her. I think she got herself into trouble this time. Remember what I told you?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m missing something here.”

  “I told you I was worried because she was in over her head. Really, she’s a good girl. Just finished school and trying to find a job in Franklin. Well, I heard she borrowed money. Maybe from the wrong people. Plus she got herself a boyfriend who didn’t like some of her customers. He’s incredibly jealous.”

  I almost missed his last sentence because I was completely tripped out that the sister I’d only recently learned about actually lived quite close to me.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to get myself grounded. “Who was the last person who heard from her?”

  “Maybe her boss.”

  “Do you know about who she borrowed the money from?”

  “I’m guessing it was—” Of course, it was here the phone cut out. I stared at the cell to see the message that the call had been dropped. Seriously? I tried to call him again, but it went straight to voice mail.

  Perfect. In a matter of a few weeks, I’d gained a sister I didn’t know I had, and before I even got to meet her, I might have lost her again.

  Chapter 4

  I texted William to try and finish the conversation. When he didn’t respond, I stuffed the phone in my pocket. Just then Polly poked her head into the backroom.

  “Well?” She waggled her penciled-in eyebrows.

  Confused, I arched an eyebrow back. “Well, what?”

  “What did you think of him? Kevin Wagner. Mr. Southern.”

  I stared at the back door and then at her. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s the reason why I wanted you to be dressed nicely this morning.” Her eyes narrowed at my sweater. “I should have picked something out for you, maybe.”

  I plucked at the front. “What’s wrong with it?”