Deadly Greetings Part 4

Handmade cards were created in Victorian times using paper "sc.r.a.p," tiny pieces of colorful die-cut paper available for just pennies.

In that tradition, I like to take favorite colors and textures of paper I've stumbled across over the years and incorporate them into the cards I make. It's my own way of creating a little history.

Chapter 4.

"Can I help you?" I asked, gripping my keys in my fist like a weapon. I'd teased Bradford about his recent lessons in self-defense, but I wasn't joking at the moment. I had pepper spray too, but unfortunately it was on the other side of the door, along with the baseball bat I liked to keep around for protection wherever I lived. Still, with the keys protruding between the fingers of my closed fist, I wasn't entirely defenseless.

"You must be the new tenant," he said. "I'm Barrett Dawes. From downstairs," he added, gesturing to one of the doors below us.

Okay, so he wasn't some crazy stalker. I slid my keys out of my hands and tucked them into the front pocket of my jeans.

I offered my hand. "I'm Jennifer Shane," I said.

He took it, and I felt a spark from static electricity at his touch. At least I hoped that was what it was. He wasn't a pretty-boy kind of handsome, but he didn't miss it by much. A slightly broken nose and a faded scar on his chin kept him from that status, but he was still one of the best-looking men I'd ever met face-to-face. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair and offered me my first look at his dimples. "Jennifer, it's nice to meet you." He pulled his other arm from behind his back and produced a nice bottle of wine. "Here, this is for you, a housewarming present."

"Thanks," I said as I took it from him. "Your greeting is a lot more cordial than our other neighbor's."

Barrett smiled, his pale green eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "So you've met Jeffrey. Don't mind him; he hates everyone."

"Even you?" I asked. Jennifer, get a hold of yourself. I swear, it was all I could do not to giggle like a girl in junior high school.

"We had a rough patch at first, but Jeffrey and I get along fine right now." He gestured to my door. "I won't keep you; I know you just moved in. I just wanted to say 'Welcome to the building.'"

"Thanks," I said. "I'd invite you in, but . . ."

"No, please, I understand. We'll have a proper drink once you're settled. Good night."

"Good night," I said as he headed down the stairs. I unlocked the apartment door, stepped inside, then slipped the dead bolt in place and, after a few moments' thought, wedged a heavy chair under the k.n.o.b.

"Guys, are you hungry?" I didn't expect Oggie and Nash to greet me with enthusiasm-there was no mistaking them for dogs in any way, shape or form-but I didn't think they'd hide from me either. The new apartment wasn't all that big, so where could the rascals be? I walked to the bed, expecting to find them curled up on my pillow like they always were, but neither one of them was there. There was only one more place I could look, and I'd avoided the bathroom so far. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and looked inside, but there wasn't a cat in sight. Now it was time to panic. "Oggie! Nas.h.!.+"

Then I heard a low, frightened mew. "Guys, where are you?"

I heard the sound of their whimpers again, and I knew where they were. Huddled inside their cat carriers, both of my roommates were staring out at me. "Oggie, Nash, what's wrong, you two?"

I had a tough time coaxing them out of their carriers, which was a first. Why had they ended up back inside, when they had an entire apartment to explore? They'd both already eaten, but tonight was an exception. I dug through two of the boxes until I found my electric can opener and got out some canned salmon, their utmost number one favorite treat. As they dug into the windfall, I stroked their backs and cooed softly to them. By the time they were finished, it appeared my old friends were back in their true form. Nash favored me with a nuzzle, and his whiskers tickled my nose. "Okay, salmon breath, I'm glad everything's fine now. What happened? Did something spook you two?"

I swear, sometimes I wished they could talk. I got out my comforter and spread it out on the bed. Before I could straighten it, both cats had pounced and were curling up on it. I didn't know how I was going to fit on the bed with them, but tonight I wouldn't have evicted them for anything in the world. I needed their proximity every bit as much as they seemed to need mine. I stared at the boxes by the front door, knowing that I should start unpacking, so there was really only one solution. I turned my back so I wouldn't have to look at them. I'd have enough time to unpack when I wasn't so exhausted. I'd worked hard enough that in day, it was late, and I had to get up early for work. I shucked off my clothes and slipped into my pajamas, which I had, quite by accident, rolled up inside the comforter. I didn't even wash my face or brush t my teeth, a rare event for me.

Then, in the middle of a deep and sound sleep, I swear I heard something moving around in my apartment.

The first thing I did was check on the cats. They were both sound asleep on my pillow, and for a second I regretted not having a nice pit bull or Rottweiler it as a pet. I might as well have wished for wings. I tried to find a light, but it was hopeless. My eyes were adjusting a little to the darkness, and as far as I could tell, there wasn't a single whisker twitch from my roommates. Blast it all, I couldn't remember where I'd put my baseball bat. In desperation I took the drawer out of the nightstand, determined to whack the intruder over the head with it if I could. It felt good having something in my hands.

I would have loved to have had a flashlight, the heavy kind I'd seen in Bradford's patrol car, but I didn't even have a lighter. As I scanned the room, I thought I saw someone frozen in place near one of the windows, though I could barely see his outline. What was he doing? Holding the drawer like a weapon, I crept up on him and swung at his head. There'd be plenty of time to ask questions later after he woke up. There was a loud crash as I swung, and, I knew he wasn't getting up any time soon. I searched I frantically for a light switch so I could find the telephone to call Bradford. Finally, my fingers brushed against the switch and I flipped it up.

Somehow, in the darkness, I'd managed to kill one of my new lamps.

As I gathered up the remnants of the broken shade, I had to laugh about what I must have looked like. Of course no one could get in my place, but that still hadn't deterred my imagination one bit. I laughed as I worked, proud of myself for downing an innocent floor lamp. Hey, I hadn't known it was harmless. I'd seen a threat and had taken action. Still, I doubted I'd I tell anyone about that particular confrontation. After I was finished, I turned off the lights and went back to bed. If Oggie or Nash had moved, I couldn't prove it. "You both missed all the excitement," I said.

They didn't respond, and I was tired of talking to myself, so I went to sleep, too.

It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening the next morning, but I finally figured out that someone was pounding on my front door. I glanced over at my alarm clock and saw that it was nearly eight. I'd slept in for the first time I could remember in the recent past. While I knew I had a robe in one of my boxes, I wasn't about to spend five minutes looking for it. I did find my coat from the night before, so I threw it on instead. "Who is it?" I asked without opening the door.

"It's Ethan York. Your brother sent me."

"With breakfast, by any chance?" I asked, his laughter filtered through the door. "Sorry, I would have picked up a few doughnuts for you if I'd known. I'm a locksmith. He said you needed me first thing."

I undid the dead bolt and opened the door. "Well, I'll tell him you're a man of your word. It certainly is first thing, isn't it?"

Ethan was a tall, skinny man with a hawk's nose and a mop of unruly gray hair. He took in my disheveled appearance, then said, "I'm sorry, Ms. Shane, but I had to squeeze you in when I could. This is it, but I could come back next week if you'd rather."

"No, that's crazy." I added with a smile, "Besides, you're already here. I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but I don't have the vaguest idea where my coffeepot is."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to have to jump on this pretty quick. Don't you worry, now; I'll be out of here in ten minutes." He retrieved a brand new lock set and his toolbox from the hallway, then got to work. I needed a bath, or at the very least a shower, but I wasn't about to take it at the moment, There was only one thing I could do, so I started unpacking. Ethan was a chatty fellow, so I wasn't without entertainment as I worked.

"You've got a good solid door here," he said as he started dismantling my lock. "Oak like they don't make anymore. Once I'm through here, it would take an ax to get through to you."

That particular sentiment sent chills through me, and he must have seen the expression on my face. "Not that somebody's going to be coming after you with an ax. Or anything else, I mean. Come after you, that is. Hey, I've got an idea: why don't I just shut up and focus on the job at hand?"

"You can keep talking, but I wouldn't mind if we changed the subject."

Ethan laughed, and it was a lot more potent when we were both on the same side of the door. "You've got yourself a deal." He chatted aimlessly as he worked, fortunately avoiding any further discussions about potential attacks, for which I was eternally grateful. Ethan was as good as his word, and finished the job quickly. "What do I owe you?" I asked as I scanned the room for my purse.

"Your brother's covered it already," he said, and before I could protest, Ethan added, "He told me you'd put up a fuss, but if I took a dime from you, he'd have my head. Please don't put me in that position, Ma'am."

Well, there was nothing I could do about it, I realized that. "Thank you," I said.

He looked relieved, and I wondered what Bradford I had told him about me. As Ethan handed me the keys, he added a card. "Don't hesitate to call me, day or night if there's an emergency. Have yourself a nice day, Ms. Shane."

"You too," I said as I closed the door. The lock had a solid thunk to it as it slid in place. Bradford was right; I did feel better. But I wasn't about to let him pay for the privilege.

There was a note on the register when I got into the shop.

Written in Lillian's fluid script, it said,

Jennifer, I'll be late today, as I'm just wrapping up my evening at a little past four in the morning. I'll see you at noon with bells on and our lunch in tow.

Fondly, Lillian PS Sorry about the short notice, but I'm having a wonderful time and most decidedly do not wish you were here. If you must, feel free to dock my wages. Ta-ta!

Well, at least one of us had a good night. Actually, I shouldn't say that. Once I got over attacking one of my lamps, I had fallen into a sound sleep, but I'd still been groggy this morning, and I'd decided today would be Casual Wednesday at Custom Card Creations, as the first articles of clothing I'd found were faded blue jeans and an old polo s.h.i.+rt. I tacked the note to the corkboard behind the register so I could tease Lillian about it later; then I got ready to open the shop. Lillian wasn't a big fan of music in any form, so I took the liberty of tuning my radio to a cla.s.sical station and I enjoyed a little Chopin while I worked. After I was set to go, I flipped the closed closed sign to sign to open open and unlocked the front door. Since no one was clamoring to get in and make a greeting card, I figured it might be a good time to catch up with my mail. I probably should have gone back to inventorying the back, but I decided it could wait until the next time I had to think something through. While I would dearly miss Maggie, I knew she'd live in my thoughts for a very long time, and a better memorial I could not imagine. There were several bills in the stack of mail, a handful of fliers, and one handcrafted card. I recognized the envelope as one we sold, and I wondered who would be sending me, of all the people in the world, a greeting card. and unlocked the front door. Since no one was clamoring to get in and make a greeting card, I figured it might be a good time to catch up with my mail. I probably should have gone back to inventorying the back, but I decided it could wait until the next time I had to think something through. While I would dearly miss Maggie, I knew she'd live in my thoughts for a very long time, and a better memorial I could not imagine. There were several bills in the stack of mail, a handful of fliers, and one handcrafted card. I recognized the envelope as one we sold, and I wondered who would be sending me, of all the people in the world, a greeting card.

My hands shook as I flipped the card over to open it and saw the name and return address. Printed in bold letters across the back of the envelope were the words "Do Not Open Unless Something Happens to Me."

Maggie Blake had created a card just for me, and she must have sent it right before she died.

Somehow I managed to tear the envelope open, but I was glad no one else was there to see my fumbling. The front of the black card was decorated with three-dimensional tombstones and skeletons, and the silver words help me help me were stamped on the front of the card. The edges had been cut in a new scallop pattern using decorative scissors she'd special ordered. I recognized the design because it had just arrived the week before, and I'd tried the scissors myself before I delivered them to her. were stamped on the front of the card. The edges had been cut in a new scallop pattern using decorative scissors she'd special ordered. I recognized the design because it had just arrived the week before, and I'd tried the scissors myself before I delivered them to her.

Inside the card, Maggie had written a message with a silver marker that stood out against the black background. It said, Jennifer, I'm afraid someone's trying to kill me, and I can't for the life of me figure out who or why. I've never harmed a soul in my life. It just doesn't make sense. If I should die, make sure your brother investigates it thoroughly. I'm in the best of spirits, so he can rule out suicide, no matter how likely it may appear. As to an accident, believe me when I say I'm most careful, especially lately. Finally, there is no such thing as a random murder in this case, so if I'm carjacked or a tree falls on me, you can rest a.s.sured that someone wanted me dead. Don't let me down, Jennifer. I'm counting on you. Your friend, Maggie.

I dialed Bradford's cell number as I finished reading. He picked up on the second ring. "Shane here."

The card shook in my hand as I stared at it. "Bradford, I need you to come to the store. It's urgent."

"What's wrong, Jennifer? Did someone break in?"

I tried to keep my emotions out of my voice. I knew my brother meant well, but most of the time I'd answer his questions if he just gave me the chance. "I just got a card from Maggie."

"Maggie Blake? Jen, that's hardly urgent."

"You won't think so once you read it. How long will it take you to get here? Hang on, some nitwit is honking his horn outside."

I peeked out my front door to see what was going on when I saw my brother's patrol car parked in front of my shop. "Are you stalking me, big brother?"

"No, ma'am, I'm just serving and protecting the town of Rebel Forge."

I wasn't buying that, not for a second. "I don't believe that. So why are you here?"

"Hey, you called me, remember?"

I scowled at him, which worked sometimes, but not often. Luckily, it did this time. He finally admitted, "Okay, I just talked to Ethan and I wanted to see if you're satisfied with his work."

"He's top-notch and you know it, or you never would have sent him to me. By the way, I'm not letting you pay for my new lock. I won't have it, Bradford, do you hear me?"

"Fine, I was just trying to be nice," he said, a little hurt edge in his voice.

I softened mine. "Bradford, it's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, because I do, but I've got to stand on my own sometime."

He shrugged. "Have it your way. When I get the bill I'll let you know how much it was. Now, what's this about hearing from Maggie Blake?"

"Come on inside. It's on the counter." We walked in, and before I could hand him the letter, Bradford spotted Lillian's note. I tried to grab it off the board, but he was too quick for me.

"Isn't that just like our sweet old aunt?"

I wasn't about to stand for any bas.h.i.+ng. "Hey, she's doing me a huge favor volunteering here. Lillian's ent.i.tled to a life of her own now and then."

That mollified him some, but it was pretty apparent the two of them were still on the outs. I didn't have time to worry about their petty feud; I had more important things on my mind at the moment.

"Read this," I said as I handed him the card, tucked back inside its envelope. He took in the message printed on the back of the envelope, grunted, then took the card out. Bradford read the message twice after studying the tombstones and skeletons, then handed the card back to me.

"So what are you going to do about this?" I asked him.

"Jen, you don't honestly believe she was serious, do you? I thought you told me Maggie made all kinds of gag cards. This sounds exactly like something she would do. Only this time her timing and her taste were both off."

It was true that Maggie was known for her offbeat sense of humor, but how could I convince him that this time it was different? "Bradford, she's not joking. How else do you explain the fact that she died right after she sent it?"

"I'll admit it's a sick coincidence, but that's as far as I'm willing to go."

I'm afraid I stomped my foot, something I did only when extremely irate. "This is serious. You've got to dig deeper."

My brother ran a hand through his hair. "Jennifer, why don't you leave the police investigations to me, and I'll let you make all the cards you want. I went over that car myself. There was nothing wrong with the steering or the brakes. I told you, the road turned, but she didn't. My professional opinion is that she fell asleep at the wheel."

"Did you have an autopsy done?" I knew I was pus.h.i.+ng him, but I didn't care. I'd lost a friend, and it had been murder, from the way things were starting to look.

"That's not my decision to make. You'll have to talk to the county coroner about that."

I wasn't about to let him derail me. "Bradford Shane, you know he'll never discuss that with me. That's why I'm asking you."

He was interrupted when the front door opened. I was in no mood to be disturbed at the moment unless a customer had an American Express Platinum Card clutched in her hand and was ready to put a serious dent in it. Not only was it not a customer, but it was my least favorite person in all of Rebel Forge: Deputy Wayne Davidson, a man who gave me the complete and utter creeps.

Bradford didn't look happy about his presence there, either. "What do you want?" he asked abruptly.

"I saw your car parked out front. I need to talk to you about something."

Bradford said, "Wait outside. I'll be there in a minute."

Wayne looked right through me, without a nod, a wave or any acknowledgment that I counted for anything. "It'll just take a second."

"I said go," my brother snapped, and Wayne left quickly.

"Why is he still working for you?" I asked Bradford. "He's a complete and utter jerk. I can't believe you are keeping him around."

"Jennifer, I can't fire the man just because you don't like him. Hold on a second," he said as he saw I was about ready to explode. "You don't have anything to worry about. I told him to steer clear of you."

So at least Bradford was willing to acknowledge that Wayne wasn't a model employee. I still didn't like him coming into my shop. "Yeah, I can see how much he listens to you. You practically had to throw him out."

It appeared that my brother wanted to say something, but then changed his mind. "It won't happen again; you can believe it."

As Bradford headed for the door, I grabbed his shoulder. "Wait a second. We're not through here."

"Jennifer, I have real work to do."

I waved the card under his nose. "So you're going to completely ignore the message Maggie sent me?"