Murder for Two Read online

  “Psst, Olivia… Look at this.”

  I looked to Ivy, who was pointing out the shop window. Outside, Jenny Walker could be seen on the corner of my shop, evidently ranting and raving. Though I could only see her scrawny back, her arms were moving wildly, and a tall, suited gentleman towered above her. His face, in comparison, was completely deadpan and not a flicker of emotion showed, as Jenny Walker repeatedly thrust her fingers into his face.

  Then I saw it.

  Whatever word the old hag had used against him, its meaning had been perfectly clear, and his features reddened from ear to ear. I couldn't make out his eye color from where I stood, but if I had to hazard a guess, they burned with an equal amount of fury.

  Now, his hands flew into the air, pointing aggressively into Jenny Walker’s face and holding up a pile of documents—thrusting them so close to her nose that she stumbled back. Her body slackened, and I would have paid the morning’s takings to see the look on her face. Somebody putting Jenny Walker in her place, bringing her down a peg or two? I wanted box office tickets to see that.

  When the man stormed away from her, Ivy snapped her jaw shut. “Man, I wish I could've heard what they were arguing about.”

  “Shh! He's coming inside.”

  Ivy returned to clearing away the tables, and I waited until the man in the sharp suit approached the register. No longer burning with rage, he swept a loose strand of blonde hair behind his ear, which yanked at the unruly cowlick above his forehead. He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the menu on top of the cake display.

  “A peppermint tea and gingerbread muffin to sit in. Please.”

  Despite his ordeal outside, I was warmed to hear such a refined English accent. But I wanted to know what had happened between him and the hag. I thought better of prying, though. I wasn’t Jenny Walker herself—the nosy old bat that she was.

  “It will only be a moment,” I said and readied his muffin while Ivy got the pot, water, and peppermint for his tea.

  The man nodded and handed me a five-dollar bill. I typed the amount into the cashier, grabbed his change, and extended the coins to him.

  “Do you have a charity box?” he said, smooth voice clipped.

  Regardless if I were to be on the receiving end of his bellowing, I could have listened to his accent all day long. My Teashop often brought in people from around the world, which was one of the main reasons I stepped into the market, and I loved to hear the various, softly spoken words of foreign visitors.

  This particular accent had suited the blue-eyed, blond haired prince perfectly well. Not to mention his spotless, immaculately pressed navy suit. He looked as though he had just stepped out of a Men’s Health magazine.

  “Thank you.” I beamed at him. “Our donations go to the local rescue animal sanctuary just a few blocks away. Every little bit helps, you know?”

  He nodded again, no smile, but ran a hand over his shaved cheeks. I watched his expression soften as his thoughts ticked away in his brain.

  At last, he said, “I’ve always adored animals, actually. I find them to be entirely more delightful than humans, who are deplorable at the best of times.”

  An introvert like myself? “Yeah, I often say the same about cats, that I prefer them over people… I’m sorry if you saw our debacle earlier on with Jenny Walker.” I nodded toward Ivy, who stretched up from the floor and approached us with a bucket full of broken china. “I promise it’s not an everyday occurrence. The most exciting thing to happen in my shop is usually pigeons flying into the front window.”

  The man watched my sister walk by, before he turned his gaze on me. Something in his expression had softened. “I didn’t witness anything of the sort, but I can guess who caused it. And there’s no need to apologize. I’m sure that woman received her just desserts.”

  I wanted to agree with him, but thought better of bad mouthing my customers, regardless of how grotesquely Jenny often behaved. I was also relieved that my mom wasn’t around that morning. She would’ve gladly joined in on the discussion and unlike me, she wouldn’t have held back.

  Whenever things went wrong in life, she’d blame it on ‘that Jenny Walker!’ while raising a fist toward the sky.

  Everything was the Hagjex’s fault.

  “Are you here on business?” I asked him, as I grabbed a wet cloth and wiped down the countertops.

  They weren’t dirty, but it was a habit of mine that kept my mind occupied.

  “I am,” he replied.

  He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, so I held back my usual friendly questions. Instead, I shot him a smile and nodded to Ivy, who appeared from the stockroom, her freckled cheeks slightly flushed from the cleaning.

  “Hey, Ivy, can you give table number four a wipe down for me? Our lovely customer here is going to sit there for a while.”

  Ivy looked up from underneath her long lashes, and studied the suited visitor. I could tell by the way her eyes lit up that he had caught her attention more than the usual customer did. Suited businessmen were normal, but I had to hand it to him… Mr. Mysterious carried a strange, aesthetic air about him that left you intrigued.

  Ivy nodded. “Just lemme, uhh, wipe it down quickly. Otherwise, your suit will stick to the surface like glue and we don’t want that, now do we? Unless you like glue? Then I say, to each their own! Just give me a moment.”

  I eyed the man closely and saw a smile—just a hint of one—tug at his pressed lips.

  “Thank you,” he said, watching Ivy pick up a sanitized cloth and wipe down the table behind the stained-glass window.

  Once the man sat down, and the Teashop became relatively quiet, Ivy slapped her cloth onto the countertop and sighed.

  “Well, we knew something would happen today, didn’t we?”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Of course we did. Mrs. Walker only visits here every Friday.”

  “And every Friday she brings in some kind of drama. Mom’s right. She really is a bitter old Hagjex.”

  “What was it last week?” I murmured, glancing between the man and Ivy.

  “Uhh, her tea was too cold?”

  “No. That was the week before. Oh, yeah. Last week was the sun, remember? It kept blinding her and shining over her puzzles.”

  “Too bad we can’t control the weather,” Ivy snorted, stretching her arms, and rotating her long neck. She smoothed a pale hand down her rock t-shirt and sighed. “Oh well! At least Mrs. Muffins is okay. Aren’t you, my beautiful little bear?”

  Buttercup had perched herself on the edge of the counter, staring at us with two large, yellow eyes. Ivy bent over and stroked a hand down her back, which resulted in a furry arched spine and curved tail, and her whiskers brushing against Ivy’s cheek.

  “Okay, okay. Enough snuggling time, you guys,” I said, throwing Ivy a cloth. “Go clean.”

  “Yes, boss!” She pushed back from Buttercup and smiled. “She’s just so cute! Anyway, I have some homework to do later, but I was thinking afterward, maybe we could catch a movie? I know you don’t like making a big deal out of your birthday, but it’s not like the staff are gonna sing to you or anything… I’ll even buy you nachos? No salsa, extra cheese? Pleeeease?”

  I smiled and mentally went through my to-do-list. Later that day, I planned to do a stock check and make sure we were completely prepared for Christmas in a few weeks’ time.

  I still have some restocking to do…

  Workaholic, even on my birthday?

  Yeah. Maybe Mom was right. Ever since I’d come back to San Bas, all I ever did was work.

  “You know what?” I twisted a hand around my braids and grinned at her. “Let’s do it!”

  “For real?” Ivy beamed up at me and backed away from the counter, waving her blue cloth from side to side like a flag. “Yay! It’s on, Olivekins!”

  “If you call me that again, I might have to reconsider. Or kill you.”

  “Forgive me, Almighty One!”

  I rolled my eyes at her bowing, and then
turned on my heel. At that moment, the door chimes rang again, and the familiar scent of my mother consumed the Teashop. Strong vanilla perfume, jasmine incense, fruity, hard boiled sweets, and a hint of burning sage. I wasn’t sure if anyone else could smell her, but to me, she smelled of childhood memories and home. At any rate, if they couldn’t smell her, the sound of her bangles and various necklaces were a sure giveaway. People normally heard my mom before they saw her.

  “Hey, Mom!”

  “Hello, my gorgeous little darling! How are you today? And where is your sister? I have something exciting for her. For you both!”

  “She’s at the front desk,” Ivy responded. “I’m away to the convenience store. Be back soon!”

  “Excuse me, Misses, do you have any napkins?”

  I started at the little girl peeking over the countertop, her eyes large, and a sheepish grin on her rosy face.

  “Of course we do!” I reached behind me, grabbed a pile of neatly folded napkins from the bottom shelf, and handed them to her. “They have little kitties with Santa hats on them. Aren’t they cute?”

  “Uh-huh!” Carly Waters beamed up at me, wagging the napkins in the air. “This is why I love to come here. Thank you so much!”

  “No worries, honey.”

  Once Carly had skipped back to her table and joined her parents, my own mom surfaced in front of me. All five-foot-three inches of her, dressed in her favorite rainbow jumpsuit and her wispy, white hair tied into a messy bun. Without even saying anything, my mom reached over the countertop and pulled me into a tight bear hug—her bangles chiming away.

  “Happy Birthday, darling! I brought you a little gift.” Raising an eyebrow at her, I watched my mom bend down to collect something from the floor. “It’s…slightly…heavy… so once you put it somewhere, you’ll want to keep it there. I just had it shipped all the way from Hong Kong!”

  My eyes tumbled over an enormous emerald and gold incense burner, shaped like a Chinese dragon. The ornament engulfed much of my vision and the wooden surface—at least three feet tall, with a large, opened mouth and a small gap on the tongue in which to place the incense sticks. “Mom, I can’t possibly accept this! I love it, but are you crazy?”

  “Oh, quiet you!” My mom merely waved a heavily jeweled hand at me. “It’s not every day my eldest daughter turns thirty-three.”

  She pushed the dragon further toward me and steadied the base of it next to my tip jar. I made a mental note to place the burner by the coat stand at the entrance. When the sun filtered through the glass door, the rays would catch the dragon beautifully.

  “You make me feel old.” Mom sniffled, wiping a clean handkerchief over and around her sapphire eyes. “To think thirty-three years ago I was enjoying a nice, peach iced tea in New York, when suddenly, my waters broke, and the Lord blessed me with you. Your father—God rest his soul—would be so proud of you, Olive, as am I. We couldn’t be happier!”

  I groaned at my mom, who had resorted to licking her finger and then wiping the side of my cheek.

  “Urgh. Thanks…” I brushed my sleeve over my cheek and then grinned at her. “Are you staying for tea? I got some of your favorite in a few days ago. How about I put some on for you?”

  I wasn’t sure if she planned to open her antique shop that day. My mom wasn’t one for strict opening times, though she tended to open on the days Ivy had college—which was a Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday morning, where Ivy studied English Literature. But I’d never bet money on her opening Fantique at a specific time. My mom was unpredictable—in the best of ways, of course.

  “I can’t, darling. I have to go. I’m teaching yoga later this afternoon, out of town, so I’ll be gone until late evening. I wanted to see my birthday girl before I go.”

  “You’re not going to start crying, are you?”

  I noticed Carly and her parents waving goodbye to me as they swept toward the door.

  “Thank you for stopping by,” I shouted, waving back at them. “Please come back soon!”

  Buttercup chased after them, and my mom shook her head. “No, no, I’m just a sentimental, blubbering old fool.”

  “Well…” I leaned back against the shelves, stacked with various tea leaves. “You did miss the drama earlier this morning from another old fool.”

  “Drama? Old fool? You don’t say.” My mom leaned against the counter and pouted her lips, deep in thought. “Friday morning… hmm, let me guess, let me guess… was it perhaps Hagjex, darling?”

  “Hagjex,” I replied. “And Maggie, who just so happened to drop tea all over her.”

  “Oh, goodness me!” Dropping her tone, my mom added, “I have a trick that will make Hagjex forget that ever happened!”

  “Please tell me this isn't one of your homemade oil antidotes, Mom?”

  “Why yes! Yes, it is. I can collect a drop on my way home from class. Yes. That's what I'll do. She’ll sleep for twenty-four hours, and with any luck, when she wakes she’ll have a nasty case of the run—”

  “Mom,” I groaned, shaking my head at her.

  But my mom looked delighted at the prospect. The door chiming in the background pulled us from our discussion, and we turned around to see Ivy stepping inside. A gust of wind sailed over her shoulders and through the shop, carrying a cluster of leaves. The look on her face had me straightening up and unfolding my arms. Ivy’s normally ashen skin had turned even paler, and her eyes were wide with fear.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ivy stopped next to my mother, who caressed the side of her cheek. “Darling, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost! What’s the matter?”

  “It’s… it’s the old woman,” Ivy whispered, swallowing nervously. “The hag, I mean, Jenny Walker…”

  “Speaking of the devil,” I said. “What happened to her this time?”

  “She’s dead.”

  Chapter Three

  Ivy watched the shop while my mom and I hurried out to see what the commotion was about. My mind swam, and as I walked out into the cool morning air, the ground underneath my flats seemed to sway.

  Jenny Walker—dead.

  But she just been in my shop. Surely, the slight scalding from the tea couldn’t have killed her?

  She was only about one hundred feet from the front of the Maritime Teashop. A small crowd surrounded her and police sirens filled the air. I swallowed the lump in my throat and approached the crowd slowly, my mom jingling next to me like some absurd version of Santa Claus.

  I noticed Malachi kneeling beside Jenny, his normally dark skin ashen. He met my eyes and clenched his jaw. “I found her like this. She collapsed. I saw it from across the street and–”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder to soothe him. “Ivy said she died, but how?”

  “Heart attack? Stroke? She was an awful old biddy. Maybe she died of terminal meanness,” my mom offered, and I bit my bottom lip.

  She was right, by all accounts, but that didn’t mean I wanted Jenny Walker to drop down dead on the street after leaving my shop.

  “What’s that?” my mom said and pointed above my head.

  Clutched in Jenny Walker’s left hand was one of my teacups. The one we had served her with that day. So that’s where they had gotten to.

  “Customers aren’t supposed to take these out of the shop,” I muttered under my breath, quiet enough so only my mom could hear.

  While my mom drawled on about the possible reasons for Jenny Walker’s death, I spotted Malachi stuffing a piece of paper into his back pocket. I raised an eyebrow, but fixed my gaze on Jenny again. As soon as the police showed up, the crowd intensified, and various heads popped over my shoulders to speculate.

  My mother tapped my arm and made her escape. Right. Her yoga class. No doubt word of Jenny Walker’s death would spread with my mom moving through the town like a wildfire. Not that I could blame her. Standing there, it felt as if ice water had been poured over my head and down my back. She was such a huge part of the town—albeit a nasty and mean part—
but still. I didn’t expect this on my thirty-third birthday. Talk about surprises.

  I hadn’t seen it happen, so I left to let the police do their business and headed back to the Maritime Teashop. When I got back to the shop, the handsome businessman had already gone, and Ivy was alone, pale, and standing in the middle of the floor like she was lost.

  “I didn’t knock her over. Not even by accident,” she said and wrung her hands.

  I shook my head. “Of course you didn’t. Neither did I. And mom was here so she couldn’t have. Could she?”

  I met Ivy’s eyes, so much like looking into my own, and I knew the expression on her face said it all. She laughed nervously. “She wouldn’t. I mean, I know they’ve had their disagreements in the past, but if she was gonna kill Jenny Walker, she would’ve done it years ago.”

  I nodded absently. She had a point, but still —

  “It was probably a heart attack or a stroke,” I said. “She was old and angry.”

  Ivy nodded and gave a little smile.

  “So, when did the cute businessman leave?” I nodded to his table which had yet to be cleared.

  Ivy shrugged and moved to clean it once again. He’d finished his tea and his muffin. “I don’t know, but he left a twenty-dollar bill. Do you think it was an accident?”

  “Well, if he comes back, we can ask. I’ve got to frost the cakes. Mind the counter for me?”

  She nodded, and I went to get to work. I needed something to distract myself, and icing the afternoon’s cakes seemed like a good idea.

  I was halfway done with the second cake, a Black Forest with a white whipped cream frosting, when Ivy’s head popped around the corner of the door. Usually, she’d only come into the backroom if she was running low on tea or scones. But the look on her face said her visit was more serious than a lack of foodstuffs.

  “The police are here about Jenny Walker,” she said, and widened her eyes as if she were trying to impart a message to me.