Small Town Spooky (Cozy Mystery Anthology) Read online

  “I do. It’s in my safe and I’ve been waiting for the rightful owner to claim it. I don’t suppose you’re the sweetheart because you would be too young,” he observed when speaking to Denise. “Is it yours?” He asked Kay. She shook her head no.

  “It may have been intended for my Aunt Elizabeth,” Denise said.

  “I’ll go get it.” The owner walked to the back room to retrieve a small black box that held the ring. “Here it is, a heart shaped ruby ring.” Denise reached out to hold the box.

  Everyone, even the men, held their breath as she opened it. It glimmered and sparkled beneath the lights of the bar and was surrounded in bright yellow-gold with small diamonds on each side of the heart. Denise carefully lifted it from the box and checked to see if there was any inscription.

  “It’s engraved!” She exclaimed. “It reads B.F. & E.W. 4-ever.”

  “That’s me!” Erna shouted. “I’m E.W. Erna Wilson.”

  Denise raised her eye-brows doubtfully. She was certain, as everyone that the initials stood for Elizabeth Woods. But without another thought she placed the ring in Erna’s hand who instantly clasped her fingers around it. Kay was astonished at Denise’s generosity and kindness.

  Erna turned to Kay and said, “You can keep your red loveseat, I have all the love I need now.”

  Kay spontaneously hugged Denise and wished her well before they left.

  “Thank you so much for helping us,” Kay said to the owner.

  “We’ll be sure to come again under better circumstances,” Gavin added and finished his scotch. “Norman, you’re driving, right?” He nodded yes and they left.

  The moon was out, the storm had passed in more ways than one. The group looked at each other wondering what all this had been about. Kay and Peggy were quiet the rest of the way home. Kay was deep in thought, forbidden love, forgotten love, love that never dies. We’re all fools over love sometime.

  Be Mine

  Valentine’s Day fell on a Friday this year. For Gavin it had a feeling of Christmas morning when he awoke. He quietly left Kay sleeping and descended the stairs with Cody. He had been planning this event for several weeks and wanted it to be perfect.

  While he waited for Kay to awaken Gavin brewed coffee hoping the delicious aroma would stir her. Sure enough, he heard her running to the bathroom and then checking the study for him.

  “Gavin? She called.

  “Down here, honey,” he cooed.

  Kay made her way downstairs to where Gavin stood waiting by the red loveseat. One of the pillows was on the floor.

  “Why is one of the pillows on the floor? She asked.

  “How is a bloke my age to go on one knee to propose without a little cushion?”

  Kay’s face lit up and she rushed to him. Cody stood up and placed his paws on both of them.

  “Kay, please be seated,” Gavin instructed her. Kay started to laugh at his official tone while trying her best to be serious. She sat down, Cody sat down on the floor, and Gavin went on one knee with an engagement ring in his hand.

  “Kay, darling, will you do me the honor of being my wife for the rest of our lives? Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” She shouted. Cody started to bark.

  Gavin slipped a diamond ring on her left ring finger and they kissed.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you, Kay,” Gavin spoke softly.

  “I love you too,” Kay said. “It’s beautiful. Where was it all this time?”

  “That’s mine and Cody’s secret,” Gavin joked. “Cody if you won’t tell, I won’t either.” Cody barked. Kay loved Gavin’s sense of humor.

  “Let’s seal the deal,” Kay playfully suggested.

  “Yes, and what better way than to start attending church together tomorrow,” Gavin said looking deep into Kay’s eyes. She was touched by his words and now wanted him more than ever. She moved toward the stairs. Gavin smiled and followed her.

  Kay stopped.“Wait, are you marrying me just for sex?”

  “Kay, dear, we don’t have sex that often.”

  ***

  The six friends gathered at Gloria and Norman’s place for the pot luck Valentine dinner. The three women all wore some red in their outfits. Only Norman knew that Gloria was sporting a red bra and panties beneath her clothes that he had bought her for Valentine’s Day. Gloria and Peggy oohed at Kay’s engagement ring. George and Norman teased Gavin that his bachelor days were numbered. Gavin shrugged his shoulders and put his arm around Kay.

  “We have an announcement,” George began. “Peggy and I have set a date for our wedding.”

  “Mark it on your calendar, it will be June 12.”

  Champagne was poured all around to toast the newly engaged couple and the upcoming nuptials. Norman who couldn’t stand to be outdone by all this hoopla decided to join the celebration and declared, “Gloria, it’s about time we look for an engagement ring.” Gloria let out a burst of happiness, flung her arms about Norman’s neck and covered his face with kisses.

  “Now mind you, this isn’t a proposal, yet,” he quickly added.

  “Of course it isn’t,” Gavin instructed. “You have to go on one knee and propose with the ring, old boy.”

  The three couples sat down to a wonderful buffet of food. There was a mushroom quiche, fried shrimp, green bean salad, chicken cutlets, and garlic bread. George passed around brochure of the cruise he wanted to take for his honeymoon, The Bermuda Stardust. It was the same cruise that Gavin had thought about when he and Kay were in Ireland.

  The evening waned, conversation turned to health care, gardening, and the past Super Bowl game. Kay observed each person as they laughed and talked. What secrets did they have from one another and what purpose would it serve to know, she questioned. Kay looked out the window into the darkness allowing her mind to slip away from the party. She found herself thinking about a young man whose time was cut short but whose love endured. Bittersweet love is the tastiest morsel because of its lasting memory. She looked up and caught Gavin’s eyes gazing at her. They smiled. The candlelight caught the facets of her engagement ring and played against the window. Kay was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Gianna B. Reid lives in New York with her artist husband and 2 cats. They have 3 adult children and 2 grandchildren. Her writing has appeared in columns, articles and essays in California, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Virginia, and the United Kingdom. Cover stories have appeared in Educational Outlook, The Italian Tribune, Hudson Valley Life, and Student Aid Transcript Magazine. Email: [email protected]

  Please visit:

  Gianna B. Reid Author Page

  Other Gold Trotter mysteries by Gianna B. Reid

  Wine, Roses & Cheats

  A tale of roses and rogues thornier

  than a blackberry bush.

  What started as the garden club’s annual wine and roses event quickly uncorked a mystery. Kay, an ardent gardener and amateur sleuth, digs for the truth with the same passion she unearths a spring garden.

  Tea & Deceit

  Honey, tea, or mayhem?

  The perfect setting for afternoon tea-time is at The Harmony Tea Shoppe. But the kettle isn't the only thing brewing; trouble is also on the menu. The Harmony Tea Shoppe is Peggy's lifelong dream until she and her friend, Kay, discover its haunted past. Nerves unravel and scones travel with comings-and-goings of a ghost. Complete with a psychic and séance,

  Dogs Never Lie

  Mistaken identity, cryptic warnings,

  a dog named Cody and his charming owner

  Where it all began for Kay & Gavin!

  Blue Hill Heist

  STOLEN: Kisses, money and art

  Danger and romance follows lovers Gavin and Kay from the start of "Blue Hill Heist" right to the end. From the Blue Hill Gallery in

  New York to Blue Hill in Kilkenny, Ireland, they are caught in deception and temptation.

  Along
Came June!

  Smitten or bitten by the June-bug?

  June, a woman with a mysterious past swings into town whose mission is to wreck the peace and harmony among

  the Gold Trotter friends.

  Other Books by Gianna B. Reid

  Life is a Bike

  Like Gary Cooper

  Yes We Did!

  Contributing author to:

  The Bicycle Book

  Cup of Charm

  Gypsy Sleuths, Book 3

  Emma Blackcliff

  Prologue

  Legend of the Gypsy Sleuths

  Andalusia, Spain

  September of 1622…

  Deep in the Sierra Morena Mountains of southern Spain, an extraordinary baby girl was born on a breezy day halfway between summer and autumn. At birth, the baby did not appear extraordinary at all. Indeed, baby Placida bore no physical signs to reveal her unusual nature: no beauty marks or freckles or any other distinguishing features. In fact, aside from her rich onyx tresses and intelligent cocoa eyes, Placida was quite plain looking.

  One day, Placida’s mother served her a cup of coffee. Placida was only 6 years old and detested the bitter taste of the brew. She fussed and pushed the cup away, so her mother spooned a huge lump of sugar into the beverage to make it more palatable for the tot. Happily, Placida drank until the cup was nearly empty. When a thin sheen of coffee remained, Placida blinked and cried out.

  “Mama! I see something in the cup!”

  “Really, mi amor?” Mama murmured absently, stirring a pot of soup over an open fire. “What did you see? Some of the sugar didn’t dissolve yet?”

  “No, it’s Grandpapa! He’s crying out for help! He’s waving at us!” The child raved fearfully as her mother’s face turned waxen.

  “Grandpapa is on a journey to Gibraltar right now,” the frantic mother gulped ominously, slamming the soup ladle on the table. “We must send your papa and brother to see if he really does need help! But how did you know this? You saw it in the coffee cup?” Placida’s mother sounded frightened and incredulous.

  “Yes, Mama!” The girl nodded fervently. “I could see Grandpapa, and he’s in trouble!”

  Later that week, Placida’s grandfather was found incapacitated one mile from the Rock of Gibraltar. He had tripped and fallen and would have died of starvation had Placida not received the message from the mystical coffee. At first, the family believed that she was an aberration, perhaps even a witch. But as the family was rooted in proud Gypsy heritage, they knew that their people were sometimes capable of extraordinary things and Placida was ultimately held in high esteem.

  Placida grew up to have two daughters and two sons, who in turn spawned multiple grandchildren. None of her progeny inherited the gift of clairvoyance. In fact, the elusive gift disappeared in the bloodline for nearly 300 years until baby Catania was born in the year 1915. Catania could peer into any coffee cup or merely hold an espresso bean between thumb and forefinger and receive clues about secret matters. A Flamenco dancer, Catania married at the age of 20 and birthed three daughters, who produced many granddaughters, none of whom inherited even a wisp of Espresso Magic.

  In 1982, one of Catania’s rebellious granddaughters fled Gypsy country and transplanted to the United States, settling in Minnesota and marrying a sturdy young Midwestern farmer. The couple gave birth to two daughters, Marisa and Penelope, better known as the Gypsy Sleuths…

  Chapter 1

  Candlewick Falls, Minnesota

  Marisa’s New Apartment

  January, Present Day

  Am I really on a date? The incredulous question spiraled through my mind like spicy Arabica beans whirling around in a gourmet coffee grinder. Ramiro gazed at me through deep-set, intoxicating dark eyes as he sipped the after-dinner treat of Mint Magic Coffee I had served him. How surreal to be enjoying the company of a man after years of rooming with my baby sister and enduring dateless nights!

  “This is a really nice apartment, Marisa. How long have you been here?” He inquired as his full lips brushed the rim of the porcelain mug.

  Averting my eyes from his delectable mouth, and setting my dropped jaw back into place, I replied, “Actually, I just moved in a few weeks ago.”

  I sighed inwardly, musing how Penelope was still searching for a suitable roommate and finding only scary, utterly unsuitable prospects. But as I gazed around my breezy, open loft with panoramic views of the sugary snow, I couldn’t regret cutting the cord with my sister. After all, we were still business partners in our successful coffee shop/bakery Espresso Magic.

  Intimately, Ramiro spoke, interrupting my musings. “You know, I can’t believe I met someone like you around here. There aren’t many people with Spanish roots in this part of Minnesota. So many people are Scandinavian. I’m really glad I tried a new coffee shop last week.” He winked charmingly at me as I shivered, recalling how electrified I had felt when he strode through the door of my café. Two creamy cups of cappuccino later and he had asked me out for a tapas dinner date.

  “I’m glad you did too,” I replied shyly, rusty as a century-old doorknob at courting banter. Flirtation made me cringe, but culture was something I could expostulate about for hours. “It’s true about the Scandinavians in Minnesota. There are close to 2 million in this state. My father is part Swedish, but mostly English.”

  “You’re a beautiful blend,” he said smooth as a spoonful of caramel sauce.

  Mumbling a self-conscious “thank you,” I stared down at the hardwood floors. I had no idea what to say or do next. Telling him about my Gypsy heritage was out of the question. No, ancient lore and tales of prophetic espresso beans weren’t exactly first date material. So instead of opening my mouth and sticking my foot inside, I took a lingering sip of coffee, letting the cool peppermint essence wash over my tongue like lapping waves from a Great Lake.

  Nonchalantly, I peered down into my half-empty mug, not expecting to see anything. But my heart halted as countless crystals swirled around in the cup, spinning wildly until a clear image materialized. Breathing in shallow spurts, I watched as a red spot appeared at the surface of the pool of coffee, followed by a floating needle. Shaking my head forcefully, I tried to conjure more images, but in that moment the scarlet dot and the sharp sewing needle evaporated. All that remained was the thin milky liquid of the mint brew.

  “Is there something in your coffee?” Ramiro asked, puzzled.

  “What?” I murmured dazedly.

  “You were staring into the cup like there was a diamond in there or something,” he chuckled.

  “Oh no, I just zoned out for a second,” I said hurriedly, not wanting to arouse his suspicions. I tried to relax my facial features and not furrow my brow with worry. The images that had just revealed themselves were ominous and bespoke of future disaster and death. I had already been hurled into the middle of two homicide investigations. Could a third possibly be lurking around the corner? I bit my lower lip, knowing that the crimson dot represented a drop of blood. And the sewing needle? That image was more enigmatic.

  “Maybe you’re tired. I probably should go,” Ramiro said, already rising from the chaise.

  “No, you don’t have to…I’m not that tired,” I protested, furious with myself for ruining the date and driving the man out of my home.

  “It’s okay, Marisa. I had a great time tonight. But I have to get up early for work tomorrow,” he explained politely as I hoped he wasn’t just feeding me a line. “I do want to see you again. If you’d like to see me again too?”

  Ramiro perched on the edge of the heather loveseat where I was sitting as our bodies made tantalizing contact. Before I could respond to his question, his lips were on mine, rendering me speechless and more dazed than even the most outlandish espresso images ever could. As quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended as Ramiro stood up again and slowly walked towards the door, wearing a suave grin.

  “I’d like to see you again,” I blurted out with school-girlish enthusiasm as Ramiro’s grin
widened.

  “Good. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night, Marisa.”

  I held the door open, watching as his tall figure glided down the stairs. From the living room window, I could see him rubbing his hands together as he walked through the frigid Midwestern night. After a few minutes of warming up his car engine, Ramiro stole off into the night, leaving me aching with anticipation for our next date…and shaking with fear over the images of the blood and the needle.

  ***

  “Why hasn’t he called?” I hounded Penelope the next morning as she fixed me with a warning glare.

  “Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me you’re becoming one of those women,” she said sharply.

  “What? You mean the kind of woman who met an amazing man after years of being alone and now can’t wait to hear from him again?” I countered with a lethal glare of my own.

  “I can’t focus on your dating drama right now, Marisa. I have to find another roommate so I can make rent next month,” Penelope scolded, sticking her finger into a blob of chocolate chip muffin batter and pouting as she stole a taste.

  “You wouldn’t have to find a roommate if you would just get a one bedroom place like me! But you’re so stubborn keeping the two bedroom apartment.”

  “I don’t want to move right now. It’s too stressful,” she sulked obstinately.

  “It’s up to you,” I sighed, trying not to obsessively check my phone again. In Manspeak, “I’ll call you tomorrow” had many possible meanings. Only rarely could it be taken literally. Most of the time it meant, “I’ll call you in a few days when I get around to it,” or “Maybe I’ll give you a ring if someone better doesn’t come along,” or even “I’m just being polite so that you don’t turn psycho on me.”

  As I was glumly convincing myself that Ramiro’s promise was nothing more than sprinkled pixie dust, a stunning young woman with a French braid trailing to her waist walked in the door. “Good morning,” I greeted. “How may we help you?”