Murder to Spare Page 2

  Logging off her laptop and storing it took seconds. Slipping an ever-present hair tie from her wrist, she gathered up her thick afro into a pineapple on top of her head, her go-to style. A quick application of gel to smooth down babyhairs and a refresh of her lip gloss, completed her look. She nodded the image of herself in the mirror: a cool, young professional who definitely looked much more put together than she felt inside. She slipped on her shoes, and was out the door.

  The wind carried a bit of the autumn smell, getting a bit crisp, but it was still too warm for a cardigan. The sidewalks had been widened since she was a kid to allow for more foot traffic in the downtown area. They'd even put in a bike lane.

  Nestled down in the Appalachian Mountains, Whisper Valley was one of the best-kept secrets of the state. Beautiful foliage and gently sloping mountains surrounded the small town. It was one of those towns where if you did something bad on the way home from school, your mama would find out about it before you got to the door. Gossip was a huge currency there and tradition its bedrock.

  The younger people were leaving in droves. Brain drain, they called it. Isa had been part of the drain. After finishing her library science degree a couple hours south at Marshall University, she'd left so fast, she's made skid marks. But like so many people her age, she'd boomeranged back.

  For now.

  All those chats with the librarians had her feeling nostalgic, She decided to head to the library first before visiting the thrift store. It was down the street from the Mystic Eye. On her walk over, there were so many shops that used to bustling that were now empty. She felt a pang of sadness for Whisper Valley. Pretty soon it would be a ghost town.

  The Whisper Valley Public Library was in a redbrick building, one of the few places with a green space in front. The little dark brown sign with the name in gold lettering tended to get lost in the scenery. A mother knelt on one knee, tying her daughter's shoe out front. One older gentleman had the bench, looking through a newspaper. Isa smiled at them as she entered the building.

  She'd always respected the hushed quiet of libraries like they had so many stories waiting to tell if you'd just ask them. She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts.

  On the other side of the doorway, there was a perpetual book sale. Walking into the library, Isa breathed in deep the musty smells of old books. The circulation desk was smack dab in the middle of the room. To the right was the children's area where things were a little shorter and a little brighter. To her left was the electronics section where the setup for laptops and tables for general studying. In the back was the reference desk.

  Mackenzie sat at the circulation desk, checking out an elderly woman's stack of books. She caught Isa's eye and gestured one minute. Isa smiled and gave a nod to her old friend. She wandered over to the reading room and settled in with a magazine. A small group of computers took up a length of the wall, and patrons could also borrow laptops for library use. None of them could leave the building and they all had tags on them so if someone left the building carrying one, the alarm would sound. Tables were occupied with patrons plugged into the electrical outlets underneath. Clearly, they'd invested in their tech instead of aesthetics, which earned Isa’s approval. Tech really was the wave of the future.

  Isa flipped through a magazine about the latest trends in gaming. She needed a TV in her bedroom so she could set up her gaming system. Her aunt wouldn't let her have one when she lived there as a teen, she was positive nothing on that point had changed. Besides, she'd need her own TV when she moved out the next time.

  "Isa, how are you?"

  She turned as Mackenzie joined her in the room. Her plaid skirt paired with black Converse and an indie band T-shirt, looked convertible if a bit too casual for Isa’s liking. Her hair was in a messy top knot, different shades of brown and blond. Thick purple eyeliner and matching lip gloss finished off the look. She looked just like she had in high school.

  "I'm good. Do you use some sort of anti-aging face cream? Found a random fountain of youth?"

  "Hah, I wish!"

  Isa stood and gave Mackenzie a hug. They'd been on the debate team together in high school. They'd both made the unusual choice of wanting to work in libraries. Mackenzie had chosen to take classes online. Isa had really wanted to fully experience college life and immerse herself in the experience.

  And had she ever, she thought ruefully.

  "Do you want to grab some lunch later? Is there anyone to cover for you?"

  Mackenzie shook her head, "We've still got a skeleton staff here. I just sneak for a bite or smoke whenever I can."

  Isa looked around her favorite spot growing up and made a quick decision. "Are you looking for any part-time help?"

  Mackenzie shook her head again, "Just volunteers. We might be able to swing a small stipend for you, but it wouldn't be much. Definitely not what you're used to."

  "I'd love even a few hours a week. I'd just like to keep my hands in it, while I'm at the Mystic Eye," Isa said.

  They talked about the bookstore with Mackenzie catching her up on some Auntie antics she hadn't heard before. MacKenzie was a sweetheart, but like everybody in town, she loved a good story, whether it was reading it or spreading it.

  "I don't know if anybody told you this but...," Mackenzie looked around and then leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Auntie Maybel had some harsh words with somebody at the shop before you came here."

  "My aunt told someone off in the store?" Isa was shocked. Auntie could get a little spicy at times, but she was a generally good-natured woman. "Who was it?"

  "You're never going to believe it."

  "Who?"

  "Miss MacKenzie, it's story time!" A little gap-toothed boy called from the doorway.

  Isa wanted to shoo him away so she could get the last of the gossip.

  Mackenzie looked down at her watch. "It sure is! Lucas, can you tell everybody to circle up on the magic carpet?"

  "Aye, aye captain!" He saluted smartly and went running toward the room.

  "Magic carpet?"

  Mackenzie grinned. "There was a hole in the main carpet. Unfortunately, we couldn't replace it, but Mrs. Barry donated a large circle throw to us. I started calling it the magic carpet and the kids loved it."

  Isa nodded. It was fun to create programs for the kids to enjoy. They were so much more receptive than adults.

  "Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get in there before they revolt."

  "I understand, but could tell me-"

  "Miss Mackenzie! Dylan took my spot!"

  "See you soon! Make sure to stop by again so we can do the volunteering paperwork," she said, smiling apologetically before she rushed away.

  Isa waved and then frowned a bit. Who would've pushed Auntie buttons enough for her to lose her cool at the store?

  THIS-N-THAT WAS A QUAINT shop that looked like the embodiment of Santa's workshop, red brick with a green awning adorned with a red and white striped barber's pole in the front. In the windows, Mrs. Barry had decorated with red curtains pulled back that showed a mannequin wearing a lovely gingham vintage dress. At her feet, an antiquated tiny bench was in the window with a few antique dolls on it.

  Isa pushed open the door and the little bell rang.

  "Just a minute!" Came a voice from somewhere in the store.

  "Take your time!" Isa called back.

  She hadn't been to the thrift store in so many years. Stuff. Stuff everywhere. Shelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling with so many items, it boggled the mind. Lavender satchels carefully placed throughout the shop, mingled with the musty smell of old things. A little overwhelming, but still not as strong as the bookstore.

  Isa had to control the urge to sort the shelves and put them in a bit more of an orderly fashion. Antique dolls leaned against Fenton glassware, which really should be in separate glass cases. Knick knacks galore especially classic Coca Cola items, tiny cat pieces, a Felix the Cat clock with moving eyes, old phones, records, and just so much stuff. T
he clothing was at least on separate racks, so she started there.

  One particular piece caught her eye: a circle skirt that looked straight from the 1950s with its pea green color and white buttons down the front. She plucked the hanger from the rack and gave it a closer look. The item had been handmade with neat, precise stitches. It had enough room around the waist that it may fit her.

  Sir Mix A Lot's Baby Got Back, could've been her theme song.

  "That one is gorgeous, isn't it? We just got a shipment of antique clothing in a few days ago. I went to a lovely clothing sale in Pittsburgh. Do I know you?"

  Isa turned and saw her old teacher standing there, her hair much whiter, but still in her typical close curls.

  The retired teacher pulled her glasses down her nose a bit further and then her faded blue eyes warmed with recognition.

  "Isadora! How are you, my dear? I hadn't heard that you were in town."

  "Hi, Mrs. Barry, I just got in town yesterday and you're one of the first people I came to see. How are you doing these days?"

  Mrs. Barry had been one of the sweetest people to Isa when she was growing up. She used to run her elementary classes with a velvet-clad fist and now ran This-n-That the same way.

  "Oh, I've been doing pretty well, my dear. Some days are better than others. You know my arthritis was acting up when we had that rain storm last week, but today they've been fine."

  Isa happened to glance down. "You have some lovely flooring in here. Oh my goodness!"

  The floor was wooden with a beautiful cherry cast to it and had different gradients. The last she'd been in there the floors had been stained and scratched to high heaven.

  Mrs. Barry gave a disgusted sniff. "Beautiful, yes indeed, but oh my word what a struggle to get them done."

  "It was?" Isa asked despite herself.

  Mrs. Barry launched into a story of how she'd been charged and overcharged for the work on her floor. The carpenter had done sub-par work at the expected premium prices. Only after she'd threatened a lawsuit did the partner, not even the original carpenter do right by her.

  "Who was the contractor?" Isa asked. Crazy that someone would be an incompetent jerk in such a small town. When everything operated by word of mouth, the last thing you'd want is someone to give you bad press like this.

  Mrs. Barry was a wonderful woman with a heart of gold. But if loose lips sank ships, she'd be going down.

  She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice. "Do you remember that Chad boy?"

  Isa's nose scrunched up, her glasses sliding down a bit. "Chad...I don't remember..."

  "I don't like to speak ill of my old students, but I never liked him. You can always tell a child by how well they handle share time. He never did learn how to share."

  Isa shrugged. Mrs. Barry squeezed her arm, like that would jog her memory.

  "I'm sure you do. He was friends with that boy you used to go steady with, that Garris boy."

  "That Chad."

  Chad Hammill. Isa's eyes widened at the jolt of memories. Chad making fun of the poor kids, who didn't have the best clothes. Chad being an unfunny clown in the class. He'd been one of those jocks who was kind of golden in the sense that he seemed to start a bunch of drama, but none of it ever stuck to him. He always had the best clothing and his hair was perfect like Justin Timberlake during his N'Sync years, curly and blond-tipped. And his family owned the biggest law firm in the county, which gave him a whole different level of clout.

  "I'm surprised his family didn't bail him out."

  Mrs. Barry leaned in conspiratorially, her voice lowered a pitch even though no one else was in the shop. "From what I heard, his father got tired of his shenanigans and cut him off."

  That put a different spin on things, Isa thought. Hammill LLC had been a really solvent firm before she moved away and had taken cases from all over the state. They had the kind of power that helped to put senators into office. As far as she knew, they were still pretty powerful. The bell behind her jangled as the door was open.

  "This is how I see my best friend for the first time in years?"

  "Clarebele!" Isa spun around, grinning. Her best friend stood there, looking a little put out with her if Isa was being honest.

  "Oh, you remember me, huh? I'm surprised, I haven't heard from you in so long... Hi Mrs. Barry, how are you?"

  Mrs. Barry waved them on, probably taking gossip notes for the lunch crowd.

  Isa thought quickly. "I've been the worse best friend ever. I was planning to come see you tonight. You're beautiful and your hair looks great. Have you lost weight?"

  "You're forgiven and a terrible liar." Clare laughed and brought her friend in for a hug.

  "Whatever. You always look amazing," Isa said and it was true.

  With gray tank over slim fitting jeans, large statement necklace, and rounded kitten heels, Clarebel managed to look equal parts relaxed and put together. Even back in high school when everyone else had looked like passengers on a hot mess express, Clare had looked like she'd stepped out of the pages of Teen Vogue or the West Virginia equivalent.

  Her friend's eyes had softened somewhat, but Isa knew some easily handed out compliments wasn't going to cut it. She needed to give an actual explanation. But she wasn't ready for that, especially with Mrs. Barry standing there, not even trying to pretend to not be taking mental notes of the entire episode.

  "You can make it up to me."

  "How?" Isa felt a small sliver of dread.

  "Come out with me tomorrow night!"

  Clare raised her arms like she'd won a battle. In a way she had. Isa preferred a nice book and a cup of tea to going out and getting hammered. But what was a bad bestie to do?

  She nodded.

  "Fine, fine, fine. But not too much drinking. And no driving."

  Clarebel rolled her eyes. "Deal. We're walking anyway, ya goof. Text you tomorrow. I have to head back to the office," she said on her way out. "Bye Mrs. Barry!"

  Clare worked at the Whisper Valley Chronicles, the weekly newspaper and they were putting together the paper for next week. Auntie had said it was mostly ads.

  "That skirt dear, will that be all?"

  Isa hurried to the cash register after that not so subtle hint. She tried to dispel the uneasy feeling that going out was going to bring all the high school drama back to life.

  Chapter Three

  It was Friday night and Clare was dragging Isa out on the town.

  Sorta.

  Whisper Valley wasn't a hotbed of late night action, so there were only so many options.

  "You've always been all work and no play," Clare said, linking her arm with Isa's. "You need to get out, girl and let loose a little bit."

  She bumped her hip against Isa's and made her stumble.

  "Very little," Isa said. She admitted to herself, her friend was right. She'd always been the kind of person who put work above all else. Between the shop, volunteering at the library, and just trying to get acclimated to living with her aunt again, she would definitely be working too much and probably stressing all the time. She might as well take advantage of her downtime now while she still had it.

  "No, a lot. Your eyes don't just have bags, they got an entire Louis Vuitton suitcase collection."

  "At least they have good style," Isa said and pantomimed a flick of hair over her shoulder.

  Clare snorted.

  They were walking down Main Street to The Rec—literally a recreation center that had all of the fun spots for the town. It was a little bit on the outskirts, but since the town was small, the walk wasn't too bad. And the added bonus of no drunk driving.

  "Does Whisper Valley have Uber yet?" Isa asked. Clare stopped dead in her tracks and looked at her like she'd grown a horn out of her head.

  "I'm guessing that's a no," Isa murmured.

  "Look atcha, gonna go and get you a fancy education in the big city-"

  "I was literally in Ohio. There are cornfields there."

  "-and come back askin
g about Uber. This ain't Morgantown girl."

  Morgantown was the proud home of The Mountaineer, the mascot for West Virginia's "party school," and was a little better known than the rest of the state. At least for fans of college football.

  Isa rolled her eyes. "Anyway. What's this place like? Spill the tea, sis."

  Clare took a breath and spilled the gossip. "Remember that kid Wesley, who used to wear black trench coats and didn't really talk a lot? Had black glasses?"

  The glasses jogged her memory. He had moved to Whisper Valley during junior high. He'd had a really hard time fitting in until he finally just stopped trying. By high school, he had the nerdy-cute thing that girls were gagging over at the time.

  "I remember. He looked good in his specs."

  "He still wears glasses. And now he's renovated the old Kilster Factory building and put in that recreational center."

  The Kilster Factory was named after one of the town's founding families and it used to be a major business in the county. People from all over would come to work at the factory, but once it shut down in the 90s, the town took a major financial hit. Maybe Whisper Valley was finally on an upswing.

  "Can't say he's a creative genius with giving it the oh-so-clever name of The Rec," Clare said. "But he does have his finger on the pulse of Whisper Valley."

  Isa nodded. Maybe growing up as an "outsider" had helped him to see the townspeople needed fun as well as jobs. They walked in silence down the sidewalk, past all of the houses with their perfectly manicured lawns. Further down the road away from Main Street, the homes still had nice yards, but the degree of niceness started to vary. Isa knew if they started walking down the side streets, they would walk up on a few trailers that weren't in an actual lot, just on a big piece of land. In Whisper Valley, people were just happy to have a home and didn't put a lot of stock in appearances.

  "Yoo-hoo! Oh, giiiiiirls!"

  Of course, there's an exception to every rule.

  They grimaced in unison, trying to turn them into half-hearted smiles. Sally Anne Johnson was the biggest social climber in town. She'd climbed her way up her husband, the mayor of Whisper Valley. But her sights for him were set much higher. Think helicopter parent, except for her spouse. And just as annoying.