A Dead Market Read online

  They laughed and the customer plopped her wallet on the counter. “I know that neighbor, Roy Merlock, is a nasty piece of work.”

  Slowly I eased around a circular rack of DVD’s, head down. Wow, this magazine article was so interesting.

  “He’s always been that way. I went to school with his daughter. She was as stuck up as the days are long.” The clerk leaned against the counter.

  “What about that new guy? I don’t trust him. And he was out there first thing this morning. Discovered the body even! Pretty suspicious, if you ask me.”

  “What new guy?” the clerk asked, processing her card.

  “You know, the one who owns that cheesy realty.”

  My heart sputtered in my chest. They were talking about us!

  “Can’t stand that man. They should definitely investigate him. Who knows, this could all be some sick publicity stunt, trying to drum up interest for the sale of the property.” The clerk bagged the items.

  “Wish they’d get out of our town. All he does is bring in developers.”

  “Heck, get out of our state even! Go back to California!”

  “Is that where he’s from?” asked the customer.

  “Probably. It seems our entire state is filled with them. Just what we need around here. Some more McMansions,” the clerk answered, snapping the gum in her mouth.

  Sweat gathered in my armpits and my face flushed. My uncle had every right to be in Brookfield as they did.

  Oh, boy. I just caught myself staring at them. Glaring, most likely. I stuffed the magazine back and walked away.

  I hated how the Flamingo Realty was being treated. My jaw clenched. People wanted to move. Well, realtors were awfully helpful in making that happen.

  The aisles had dissolved into a crowded obstacle course of grocery carts and little kids as I stomped my way through. I swept a package of spaghetti noodles into my basket and then found the sauce. The whole time I was thinking of what I would have liked to have said to the clerk.

  Finally, I grabbed my phone and called Kari. I needed to vent.

  “Are you in the middle of something?” I asked when she answered.

  “Just cleaning the house. I was about to do the toilets, so you saved me. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll make this quick. Did you hear what happened out at Johnson Lake?”

  She hadn’t, having been doing laundry with the music blasting all morning, so I quickly filled her in.

  Her next words sounded as high and excited as a pig’s squeal running from wrestlers at a rodeo. “Are you serious? Next time call! Like right away!”

  I snickered and turned one of the soup cans so I could read the label. “They say it was Lenny. Do you know who that is?” I couldn’t bring myself to use the name Old Man before the Lenny, especially since I hadn’t known him.

  “Aww, poor guy. Yeah, I do. It was his grandpa’s place under the water down there.”

  “I heard. Can you believe someone killed him?” I glanced around, realizing I’d said that with my loud phone voice. A mother glared at me before grabbing her preschooler’s hand and hurrying out of the aisle.

  “I’m shocked. He was the nicest guy ever,” Kari’s voice faded at the last word as she went deep in thought.

  “You actually knew him?” I asked, quieter this time.

  “Yeah, I knew him. Everyone knew him. He worked at the White Rangers restaurant. Have you ever been there?”

  “No. I really haven’t been anywhere yet,” I admitted. “I’m kind of an introvert.” I was more of a fast food connoisseur anyway, if I did eat out.

  “Oh, girl, we have to cure you of that,” she chided.

  I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be cured, but I held my tongue.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “The restaurant is out on Hobble Road. It’s an amazing place. They have an actual horse arena inside.”

  “Inside the restaurant?” I wandered through the store, looking for the meat section.

  “Well, the restaurant is on the second floor and overlooks the arena. They prance out on their horses and do shows. It’s pretty amazing. You should go, sometime. And Old Man Lenny was the chef. He was famous for his food too.” She thought for a second. “I suppose Mike is going to be the chef there now.”

  “Who’s Mike?”

  “He’s been the prep cook for a long time. There was a little gossip that they’d both wanted to be the chef. They had a bit of a squabble over it, and of course, Old Man Lenny won.”

  “Hmm. And what about the customers there? Do you think any of them could have wanted him dead? Maybe someone thought he’d poisoned them?” I was shooting in the dark. But, the guy was murdered. Someone had to have done it.

  She paused. “I suppose anything’s possible, but he was such a down-to-earth nice guy. Like an old cowboy. He always accommodated my kid’s allergies without batting an eye and even gave them extra large servings of fries.”

  “So, no enemies, huh?” I’d reached the meat cooler of the store by now and added a package of hamburger to my basket.

  She was quick to answer back, “You’re right. There was one guy who couldn’t stand him. The Johnson’s old neighbor. Even after the Johnson’s moved, their feud was pretty well known. But everyone was on the Johnson’s side. No one can stand Roy Merlock.”

  “Well, I mean that name alone,” I joked. “It sounds pretty intimidating. I heard he owns a sport shop. How does he stay in business?” I hurried as I walked to the front of the store. The metal handle of the basket dug into my fingers.

  “There aren’t a lot of spots out here to get sports gear. The Laughing Gull Sport Shop sells it all. Fishing, scuba, hiking. And, to be fair, he does have good prices. I know Joe got a great deal on a tent and a couple of sleeping bags last summer when he took Colby and Christina out camping.”

  “Well, here’s something you’re going to think is weird. The air tank that Lenny was using had a gull sticker on it.” I got into line and set the basket down on the conveyor belt with a sigh of relief.

  Kari gasped. “Holy cow! That’s the shop’s trademark! Maybe Roy was finally ending the family feud. This might be the fastest murder mystery ever solved!”

  I hoped she was right.

  Chapter 5

  The rest of the evening was spent buttoned up in my cozy home. It really seemed like Lenny’s murder was going to be solved quickly, a fact that appeared to be confirmed by Uncle Chris’s text stating that the police had already released the property from the investigation.

  I changed into my comfies—a pair of elastic-banded shorts and a t-shirt—and then started dinner. I stood on one leg, the other foot propped up against my knee, just like the famed flamingo mascot of our reality, as I stirred the spaghetti sauce.

  I absolutely loved this kitchen. It was fun, and I could picture Mrs. Carmichael standing right here in this very spot while cooking her first meal as a married woman. There were still a lot of repairs to the place that needed to be done. Mrs. Carmichael had offered a discount on the rent if I’d paint and get rid of the wallpaper. It’s true, it really had to go. There were roses and pink stripes everywhere. In fact, there was a strip dangling in the hallway that I had to resist yanking every time I walked by. The only reason I hadn’t so far was that I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure I wanted to take on the challenge. But, one day, I was sure the temptation would be too great.

  Just before I climbed into bed, I received an email from the realty website that another potential buyer had set up an appointment. I quickly confirmed the time with them and then started on my new favorite thing.

  My great-great grandma Wiktoria’s letters.

  Dad had sent them to me when I’d first moved back to Pennsylvania in a care box. I’d been thrilled to receive them, a thrill that had shortly dissipated when I’d realized they were all written in Polish. But slowly, bit by bit, and with the help of Translate app, I was figuring out what they said.

  Wiktoria had arrived from Poland during World War
Two. She left her mother behind and these letters were Wiktoria’s last communication with her.

  They were precious to me. In fact, I’d found the perfect thing to keep them in at a second-hand store, a wooden box with a carved flower on top.

  Gently, I spread out the one I’d been working on recently, and then readied my paper and pen. I read it as best as I could and typed the words into the app. I pressed the translate button and wrote down the conversion. I had to guess a few times on what some of the letters were, but, after an hour, this is what I had.

  Dearest Momma,

  How are you? I am well. You will be so happy to learn that I’ve found a good Catholic church. I walked to mass this morning. On the way, a man gave me a flower and told me I was very pretty. He made me smile, but don’t worry, Momma. He’s a good Catholic boy and works at the bakery. He said if I came by tomorrow he would have some day-old bread that I could have. I feel so fortunate.

  I love my flat even though there are six of us in it. I have my bed under the stairs, but there is a window and a spot for a lamp and I’m happy. I also have a job. It’s not much, but I mend clothes and wash them. You know the saying, never cry when it’s raining outside.

  I hope you are well. Much love,

  Wiktoria.

  I sighed with a smile. She was such a courageous person. I loved piecing together her experiences as she tried to build a new life in an unfamiliar country. I rubbed my eyes and stretched, then rolled over and set the letter and pad on the table next to me. I was wiped out after today. My bed was calling to me and I couldn’t resist. I scooted down on the pillow and pulled the sheets up to sleep.

  The next morning felt like I was on a repeat cycle, with the deja vu feeling running strong as I headed back out to the Johnson’s property for the new showing.

  As I climbed out of the car, the wind grabbed my hair and spun it around. It didn’t have the same cozy feel, whistling through the trees, like it had yesterday. I was scared to look at the lake, but I told myself I was being silly and forced myself. The water was as serene as a mirror, belying all the hidden horrors that had happened yesterday.

  A white SUV turned into the driveway and parked behind me. I smiled firmly and straightened, getting my game face on.

  Two young men got out.

  “Hi, there. I’m Stella O’Neil,” I said, striding forward to meet them with my hand out.

  The first man had on a pair of slacks and some nice shoes. I eyed them with concern, knowing how muddy the property could be.

  He reached for my hand. “Marty Davis. This is my younger brother, Jared.”

  The second man had short red hair and was dressed more casually in a t-shirt and jeans. He walked around the vehicle and shook my hand as well.

  “Okay, well this is a great piece of property. Let me show you around,” I said.

  “You sure this is the place, bro?” Marty asked his brother.

  My antennas went up. Oh, no. He’d heard about the murder.

  “Yeah. This is it.” Jared climbed up on a stump to look around.

  “So, there was some excitement at that lake yesterday, huh?” Marty asked me. He grabbed his phone out and started to scan through it.

  I nodded. “Unfortunately, there was a death. The police are still investigating, but the property has been cleared.”

  “Except for maybe a few ghosts,” Jared said from the stump.

  I laughed, hoping he was joking, and walked over to him.

  “It’s quite beautiful here, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Jared. But he didn’t seem very interested. Instead his eyes swept across the shore like he was searching for something.

  I was starting to feel a little off-kilter. Were all potential buyers this scattered when they viewed a home?

  “Would you like to see inside the house?” I offered with a gesture toward the cabin. There was an empty Dr. Pepper can on the ground, probably left by somebody yesterday. I needed to remember to pick it up on my way out.

  Then, I didn’t have any more time to think about it. Jared jumped off the stump and strode off, yelling at his brother, “Hey, we need to get this done.”

  I followed behind feeling oddly like a tag-along rather than the leader of the group.

  Don’t screw this up, Stella! I warned myself. I adjusted my jacket and hurried after him.

  “So, as you can see, the porch has been freshly painted,” I said, with a gentle sweep of my hand.

  “Mmm,” said Marty, still staring at his phone.

  “Have faith, this is it,” said Jared, nudging Marty’s arm.

  I wrinkled my brow, then punched in the code in the lockbox hanging from the doorknob. The key dropped out and I unlocked the door. We walked inside.

  A thick, musty scent wrapped around us like a wet scarf. Immediately, I mentally kicked myself for not having come in sooner. Duh! I should have aired it out, maybe even used a few air-fresheners. I swallowed hard, trying to think of how to explain this. Experience was sometimes a hard teacher.

  “When has this place last been opened?” Jared asked, wrinkling his nose.

  “Oh, I’m guessing maybe around a year ago. The owners actually live in New York.”

  “A year ago?” Marty repeated. He swept his fingers across the countertop and then wiped them on his pants, leaving behind a marked path in the dust on the surface.

  “This place is a dump,” Jared noted. He pulled a pack of gum from his pocket and unwrapped a piece. He shook his head as he glanced around the little living room. “Seriously, it’d be better just to doze it down.” He balled up his gum wrapper and flicked it toward the kitchen.

  The foil wrapper bounced along the floor and rolled to a stop in front of a cupboard door.

  I smiled, stifling the urge to snap at him for littering. “Well, this place has lots of opportunity for whatever the new owners want to do.” I pointed to a short hallway. “Back there are two small bedrooms, if you want to go check them out.”

  The men moseyed down the hall while I raced to scoop the wrapper up. As I reached down, something caught my attention.

  The cupboard door was open a crack. I froze when I realized it was propped open by a pair of rubber flippers.

  With my knuckle, I nudged the door open more. Were these here as a funny coincidence? Or were they used by the person who’d been with Lenny?

  I glanced toward the bedrooms where the men could be heard laughing, and then pulled out my phone. Quickly, I zoomed in on the swim fins and snapped a picture. I forwarded it to my uncle with the words —Look at what I found.

  A door slammed.

  “So, Sarah!” Jared yelled.

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t bother to correct my name.

  “Yes?” I said and bumped the cupboard shut with my knee.

  “We want to get out of here and check the rest of the property, okay?”

  “Absolutely! Just this way.” I signaled to the front door. Both of the men stomped down the porch stairs.

  “I’ll be right out!” I yelled after them, and then rushed through the house to check that all the windows were locked. I tried the back door, and discovered it was unlocked. Had it always been this way, or was this the door I heard shut? Everything else appeared secured.

  “Hey, sweetie? You coming?” Marty asked.

  Yuck. I plastered a smile on my face and closed the front door behind me. “I’m right here. Just need to make sure the place was locked up.”

  “Yeah, like someone would ever want to break into this shack.” Jared snorted.

  The smile froze on my face. I gritted my teeth, trying to ride the wave of self-control. Honestly, I didn’t understand what their problem was. This place was cute. The house could even be added on to easily.

  “Shall we continue to the lake?” I asked, stepping off the porch.

  Without answering, Marty headed down with Jared close behind. I trailed at their heels, feeling my chances dwindling that this would actually lead to a sale.<
br />
  My phone buzzed with a text from my uncle. —Where’d you find it?

  I typed back.—in the Johnson’s cabin. You think it was from the murder?

  As luck would have it, just as I hit send, I stepped into a chuckhole. The phone flew in the air as my ankle twisted and I stumbled forward with a squeal.

  The men never turned around. Mumbling silent curse words, I found my phone in the midst of some mucky leaves. Carefully, I tested my ankle. It seemed okay. I limped after them. I needed to ask if one of them had opened the back door, anyway.

  The men were talking by the side of the lake as they stared out at the dark water. Quiet waves lapped at the shore.

  “Secrets, secrets. Show me your secrets,” said Jared. He spit his gum out into the water. The ripples circled across the surface.

  “You sure about that?” Marty shielded his eyes from the sun and stared.

  “That’s what the riddle said.”

  Wait, what? A riddle? What riddle?

  I hung back to give them space, hoping to learn more. But the men must have heard me because they both turned around at the same time.

  “Hey, sweetie. This looks great,” said Jared.

  I’m about to sweet him. “Wonderful! Do you want me to write you up an offer?” I kept my tone crisp and professional.

  “Eager, huh?” Marty nodded.

  I smiled. “In full disclosure, I represent the seller. But I’d be happy to get this going for you.”

  “How long have you been in the business?” Marty asked. The two men started heading back up the hill.

  I hesitated. Do I tell them? “I’m pretty new to the business.”

  “New, huh? How new?” asked Marty.

  “Fairly,” I hemmed.

  “How many houses have you sold?” he pressed.

  I wasn’t sure legally what to do here, especially since I represented the seller. I swallowed and admitted. “This is my first.”

  Marty laughed and nudged Jared. “You hear that? You’re her first.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” He smirked and glanced at his watch. “Hey, are there any good bars in this town?”