I squeezed out of Old Blue and went back to shoveling. It was some relief to see that Mrs. Crivitz had gone inside. The dining room curtains moved so I knew that she still watched me, but at least I didn’t have that odd feeling that I should be making conversation. Another twenty minutes and I was finally down to the mailbox.

  I spotted the neighbor across the street from me as he shuffled out his door to the mailbox. “Hey, Mr. Mead, how’s everything with you?”

  “Terrible,” he said, and pulled his mailbox open and took out a handful of mail.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Why should you be sorry?” he asked. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Right,” I muttered. Mr. Mead was dressed in a thick overcoat that covered a pair of blue and white striped boxers and a dingy T-shirt. His legs were bare and he wore snow boots that came up to his mid-calf and were untied. I’d spoken to him perhaps six times since I had moved into the house, and each time he was doing “terrible.” At least he was consistent.

  He muttered something dark under his breath as he bent to dig his newspaper out from under the bushes. “That paper boy ought to be shot,” he said. “I pay all that money for daily service and I get an incompetent idiot who can’t hit the broad side of a barn. I mean seriously, how difficult is it to hit my porch?” He waved toward his bungalow. The brick building had a thick sturdy front porch with a double-wide opening and four steps up. “Do you have this problem?”

  “I don’t get the paper,” I said.

  “Of course you don’t,” he grumbled. “Young people today are so darn illiterate.”

  “I read it online,” I said, as if that would convince him that I was smart.

  “Nothing better than real words on good old-fashioned paper,” he said with a shake of his head. “Online . . . sheesh.” He looked up and gave me the stink eye. “Don’t you be pulling any noisy parties,” he warned. “I’ll call the police.”

  “I don’t have parties, Mr. Mead.”

  “Don’t think you can play your music at all hours of the night, either,” he said, and shook his fist at me. “I have a hotline straight to the precinct.”

  “I don’t have a stereo,” I said. “So you have nothing to fear.”

  “Yeah, well, keep it that way.” He walked back through his unshoveled drive up to the porch.

  I shook my head and smiled. Crazy old neighbors came along with cheap rent and a lovely neighborhood bungalow. I accepted it as part of the charm of the place. Pulling my mail out, I noted I had two catalogs and a water bill. Well worth the twenty minutes it took to shovel my way to the mailbox . . . not.

  I turned and made it halfway to the house when a snow plow came through and blew three feet of snow across the bottom third of the drive. I resisted the urge to flip him off. Mr. Mead didn’t have my self-restraint as I noted the inelegant gesture he made with his arms.

  Finally inside and away from the neighbors, I turned on the lights, deposited my keys in the dish on the edge of the kitchen counter, took off my boots and left them on the mat by the door to dry. My coat went on a hanger in the small coat closet just inside the summer porch at the back of the house. I closed and locked my doors.

  The bungalow went back to front, summer porch, closet, stairs to the basement, kitchen, short hall to the right that ended in the only bathroom. There was a bedroom to the left and the right of the bathroom. I used the left back bedroom and the right bedroom was set up as my office. Straight in front of the kitchen was the dining room that had side windows which mirrored Mrs. C’s and in fact looked right into her house. Mrs. Murphy had hung lace curtains to let in the light. I hung a second set of light-blocking curtains to keep the nosy neighbors guessing.

  The dining room flowed into a living room complete with a gas fireplace. There were windows on the front and side walls. Again during the day the lace curtains let in the light, but at night I closed off the light-blocking curtains. This kept the cold out and helped muffle any road noises. To the left of the living room was a third bedroom. That was a complete luxury for a single girl. I used it as a guest bedroom and had had a good time at Ikea buying simple furniture to decorate it. I went for cute and cozy. I thought the peach and cream colors and soft curtains were welcoming.

  Mrs. Murphy had decorated the place so nicely that I pretty much moved in without a thought. The front bedroom was the only place I’d taken the time to make my own.

  I hadn’t had any guests over yet, but I was working on getting my college friend Alice to come to Chicago for a visit. She lived in St. Louis and complained of the Chicago winters. I suppose she had a point, but when you lived in Chicago your whole life, the winters didn’t feel any less than normal.

  I stepped into the kitchen to start heating a kettle of water on the stove for a nice cup of tea. Then I turned on my computer, which sat on a built-in desk, brought up my Internet browser, and sorted e-mails as I waited.

  The teakettle started to squeal. I got up, turned off the burner, and poured the hot water into my favorite mug and dipped in a peppermint tea bag. I sat back down and did some digging on the Internet to see what I could learn about Ashley and the others that were working at the country club the night she died. After only an hour, I had come to the end of everything I could learn about Ashley online. I sighed. Maybe Detective Murphy was right. Maybe there wasn’t anything here. Maybe I’d simply gotten used to thinking murder when someone died.

  I shook my head at myself and decided to forget about Ashley’s death for a moment and go back over what I had to do for my current clients. Maybe it was a full moon or bad biorhythms, or maybe it was because my sister was off on her honeymoon and my life was changing at a rapid pace, but everything seemed a bit off these days. I mean, Sherry was proposing and announcing her pregnancy. That was a little odd; sweet, but odd. Laura wouldn’t let me meet Monica before the proposal event. That was against my own business rules, but I had done some research online with Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. Laura had so many pictures of her and Monica that their romance was undeniable.

  Then there was the Fulcrum/Thomson engagement. I hated getting mixed up in what I considered a train wreck. Those two kids were far too young to get married. Still the Fulcrum name and money was good for my business and the moms were going see that it happened whether I did it or someone else did. At least if I were in charge, I could see Samantha took the time to make a real choice.

  Finally, Jen acting so strange, wanting to be in complete control and yet demanding to be surprised. Then Brad said her parents were worse and that her household while growing up was unstable. It didn’t help that each of these couples was somehow connected to the wedding reception. Maybe it was just me, but Ashley’s death seemed to put a gloomy cloud over every one of these events.

  The good news was I had asked for a huge retainer from Brad and Jen. Brad had given me a check for the full amount and my bank said it cleared. So at least there was that. I pulled the engagement ring out of my purse and put the box on the desk next to me.

  I had a small safe. Mrs. Murphy had shown it to me when I moved in. It was in the floor under the master bedroom dresser. I was glad I had it now. The last thing I needed was to get robbed and lose this ring. Sure, I was insured—a call to my agent had informed me that I was indeed covered for a ring of this price point—but my business was new and taking a claim that big would really hurt. I opened the box and looked at the ring. It was lovely. A little showy for my taste, but it looked like just the sort of thing Jen would love.

  I put the ring back into the box and went into my bedroom. Careful that the curtains were closed, I moved the dresser aside and pulled out the fake floorboard, dialed the safe combo, and put the ring inside, then closed everything up. By the time I was back at my computer the tea was drinkable.

  I typed my zip code into a website and brought up all the crimes in the area over the last six months. There was one speeding ticket. No robberies or break-ins, so my worries over the ring were relieved. The chances of a random break-in were low. It helped that the neighborhood was known to be a place where firefighters and policemen lived.

  There was a knock at the back door. I got up and glanced out to see Gage standing on the steps to the summer porch. He waved when he saw me. I opened the kitchen door and then the porch door. “Hi,” I said, and kissed his cheek.

  “Hi.” He grinned back and grabbed me, pulled me into his arms, and gave me a proper kiss. The cold from his jacket dissipated between us. “Nice welcome,” he whispered against my lips. He touched his forehead to mine. “I brought dinner.” He raised his left hand to display the bag from a chicken take-out place.

  “Come in,” I said. I took the bag of chicken while he took off his coat, shook the snow off of it, hung it in the closet, then took off his shoes and put them on the mat next to mine. I put the bag on the tiny kitchen table and pulled plates and silverware out of the cupboard.

  “I’ll wash up,” he said, and made his way to the bathroom. By the time he came out I had the table set and dinner all ready.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I said as he kissed me on the cheek and pulled out the chair across from me.

  “It’s the least I could do,” he said. “I see you shoveled your drive.”

  I glanced out the window. The snow was still coming down and covered his car with a new inch. “How could you tell?” It looked as if I hadn’t done anything.

  “The end of the driveway is about four inches deep from the snow plow,” he said with a chuckle and bit into his chicken. “I’ll shovel it again for you before I leave.”

  “Oh, you are a doll,” I said, and enjoyed watching him blush.

  “What was your day like?” he asked, changing the subject.

  I gave him the lowdown on my day. “I wasn’t able to find out anything more about Ashley. I still don’t feel right about her death. I don’t think it was accidental.”

  “You have to trust Detective Murphy to do his job, Pepper,” he said.

  “I know,” I said, and shrugged. “I do, but it’s got me feeling as if everything is a little off.

  “What do you mean by off?” he asked, and tilted his head.

  “There’s nothing I can point to exactly, but I have this weird feeling I can’t shake. I just don’t want it to be because one of my engagements isn’t going to work out.”

  “That’s one of the things I really like about you,” he said. “You throw yourself into these people’s stories. You really do care. I know you investigate your couples fully in order to give them the best proposal ever, don’t you?”

  I felt the heat of a blush rush over me. “I want every couple to be successful, not just in the proposal but in their life together.”

  “You can’t predict what will happen five, ten, or twenty years down the road, Pepper,” Gage said, and reached out to squeeze my hand. “People are people. All you can do is take care of them in the now.”

  I sighed. “I wish I could have taken care of Ashley.”

  “I know her death hit you really hard.”

  “I don’t think it’s right that they closed the case,” I said with a shake of my head. “My gut says that someone killed her.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “No, not really.”

  “But you suspect someone.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip then leaned toward him. “I think maybe Clark and Samantha Lyn’s moms had something to do with Ashley’s death.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “They are so unreasonably certain she deserved to die,” I said. When I got upset I had a tendency to gesture with my hands. I couldn’t help it. Sometimes words weren’t enough to emphasize my meaning. I gestured wildly now. “They keep saying she should have never been hired. That she deserved to die for mixing pills and alcohol. Well, let me tell you, Samantha Lyn told me that both her mother and Clark’s mother are taking Xanax and yet both of them were drinking that night. That tells me one thing . . .”

  “What’s that?” Gage had a smile on his face as he took in my active hands.

  “It takes a lot of Xanax to cause the small amount of alcohol I saw Ashley drink kill her like an overdose.”

  Gage rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his left hand and studied me. “You may be right. Then again, if I remember correctly, you said that Ashley was a very thin girl.”

  “She was thin, too thin if you ask me.” I tapped my chin. “I don’t think she intentionally took the Xanax. I think the moms could have slipped her the drug. You know? They might have meant to make her sick but then accidentally killed her.”

  “I love you, Pepper,” Gage said, and grasped my hand. “But I think you’re reaching. Why would they want to kill Ashley? And if they were only trying to make her sick, wouldn’t they be horrified that she died? I mean, playing a mean-spirited prank and then realizing you accidentally murdered someone are two very different things. One or both of them should have been horrified. Did they appear horrified that night?”

  I thought about the two moms at the reception. Neither looked horrified. They both looked annoyed at the delay in getting home. I frowned. “No, neither of them appeared horrified.”

  He patted my hand and went back to eating his chicken dinner. “Don’t worry, Pepper. If there is a case to solve, you’ll solve it. But right now why don’t we enjoy dinner. I’ll be heading out soon to shovel. I’d like to spend time with my girlfriend without any dead bodies between us.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I love that you care so much. Now, do you want to know what plays are coming into town next year? I happen to have a sneak preview of the new season.”

  Chapter 13

  Saturday morning I was up at five A.M. to shovel my drive. We had another two inches of snow. The air was ice cold and barely breathable. I wore a full face mask cap so only my eyes and mouth peeked out. I’m sure I gave Mrs. Crivitz a little scare when she glanced out the window. I waved.

  By six thirty I was showered, dressed, and ready. The plan was to get to the store by eight thirty A.M., ensure that everything was ready for the Rockettes and the proposal in the toy area, and then double check with the caterer and florist for the engagement party in the tearoom above.

  By the time the store opened, everything was ready. Sherry and William’s family and friends were up in the tearoom sipping mimosas and Bloody Marys and snacking on brunch appetizers. My video guy, Cesar, was set up in the toy soldier area where the store had cleared part of the floor and set up a stage for the Rockettes, who were in the back in toy soldier costumes and ready for their cue. A video feed was run up to the tearoom on a jumbo-sized screen.

  Brad and Jen entered the store just then.

  “Is this going to work?” Jen asked as she craned her neck to see around a pile of stuffed toys.

  “I certainly hope so,” I said. “I’ve got fifty guests upstairs in the tearoom and a table full of engagement gifts. I told them all to bring baby gifts as a gag.”

  “Wait, so the family doesn’t know she’s pregnant?” Jen said, and gestured with her hands.

  “No, she wanted William to find out first,” I said. I got a text on my phone. “Okay, they are at the front door. Places everyone.”

  We watched as Sherry came in with William. Sherry was dressed in a blue wool skater coat that just covered a sweet cobalt blue dress. She had on knee-high black boots and black leather gloves. She wore a blue beret perched jauntily on her head. William was stoic in a black wool dress coat, dark wash jeans, and what looked like a handmade knit scarf around his neck.

  Sherry chatted away as she guided him toward the toy soldier section.

  “Okay, go,” I said to Jen and Brad. “Remember, you’re shopping for a gift for your nephew for Christmas.”

  Brad nodded and he and Jen went out into the room that housed the green army soldiers and tin army action heroes to make it look and feel less empty.

  When Sherry got William into the toy soldier area, I cued Cesar to come out with the camera on his shoulder. He appeared to ignore the couple as music began to blare on the speakers and the Rockettes came out and filed onto the stage.

  “Look, look,” Sherry said as Cesar got them on camera. The Rockettes did their dance of the toy soldier routine. Sherry and William watched. The routine ended with one of the girls coming down and taking William by the hand. Drawn to the area by the music and camera, customers gathered in clumps around the stage. Another Rockette came down and took Sherry’s hand and led her to the stage. There Sherry went down on one knee and William’s eyes widened in surprise. A big grin spread on his face as Sherry presented him with a ring.

  “William Herald, I love you now and always. Will you marry me?”

  I held my breath as William looked at her and took a moment, as if considering saying no. Then he grinned. “Yes!” He grabbed her and swung her around. “Yes, yes, you silly girl. But I wanted to be the one to propose.”

  The Rockettes and the crowd burst out in applause. More music started as Sherry put the ring on William’s finger and the color guard from William’s squad came out and made an arch out of their guns. “There’s more,” Sherry said, and took his hand. “Come with me.”

  I smiled and nodded as she led him off the stage and through the arched guns to the baby toys section of the toy store where Santa sat holding a tiny T-shirt that said “I love my daddy.”

  William stopped. He had his arms around Sherry and his eyebrows drawn together in happy confusion. “What does this mean?”

  Sherry smiled and bumped him with her hip. “It means I’m glad you said yes to marrying me because—”

  “Oh, my God!” William shouted, and picked Sherry up and spun her. “You’re pregnant!”

 

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