Crafting Disorder (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Page 4

  Chapter 4

  Much to EV’s chagrin, Chloe was up and ready by eight o’clock in the morning, and she seemed less cranky than usual. The drive to Portland, which would have taken about an hour and a half in Chloe’s car, took nearly twice as long in EV’s ancient pickup truck. By the time the caffeine kicked in, Chloe and EV were fully enjoying the impromptu road trip.

  “Skittle Pink!” Chloe shouted, pointing at a tiny fuchsia sports car racing up the other side of the road. “That’s fifteen Skittles!”

  “What on earth does a Skittle have to do with anything?” EV asked.

  “Veronica’s kids made up this game, and it’s addictive. Pink cars are worth fifteen points; purple are worth ten; lime green are five; yellow and orange are three and one. The point system is somewhat arbitrary; supposedly based on how frequently each color is seen. Tractor-trailer trucks only count if the cab and trailer match. Oh, and if you see a cop car with the lights on, you can slap the roof and yell Busted! If that happens, you get everyone’s points.”

  “Do you get extra points if the driver pees her pants when you slap the roof?”

  Chloe gave her that look.

  “I’m not sure I understand.” EV said, “Where do the actual Skittles come in?”

  “There are no actual Skittles involved; it’s based on the colors of the candy.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing. Skittles are my favorite.”

  “I’ll buy you a bag at the next stop.” Chloe promised. An hour later, EV was ahead by 25 Skittles, and Chloe decided a distraction was in order if she was going to make a comeback. “So, have you had any epiphanies about how this guy could be connected to the town?”

  “The more I think about it, the less I feel like I know. The town, as a whole, is a close-knit group—we haven’t had a deluge of new residents for quite a while. Based on Roger’s account of things, our blackmailer spent some time in Gilmore schmoozing the board. I don’t think he could live in the Pines and be able to pull that off without someone noticing. So that means—if this person is intimately familiar with our town—that he’s either lived here or spent significant time here in the past. Skittle orange.” EV pointed to a vehicle parked behind a tree up ahead. Chloe looked out her own window and rolled her eyes.

  “I saw that. Anyway, there was a time when the Pines population was growing quickly. A lot of families came and went. That’s when we built the school, and when Dalton opened his cafe. Some settled in, and others moved on. Yeah, there were some…” she paused to find a word that fit perfectly, “…dedicated types; we were a commune. Who knows what prompted this guy to come after us. At this point, I’m thinking he could be anyone. It’s like a needle in a haystack the size of a skyscraper. I think all we can do is follow the trail and ferret him out.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Dedicated types? Is that a PC term for something else?”

  EV grinned, but declined to answer. “Sabra came to town with a group of UFO…” again with the pause, “…enthusiasts. All of them believed they’d been taken for a ride at one time or another.”

  “I see. Well, that explains a lot.”

  “After that, we had a family of fruitarian nudists who were also practicing locovores.”

  “Who what-ists and what, now?”

  “They ate nothing but locally-grown fruits and nuts. Unfortunately, half a winter of nothing but apples, frozen berries, and chestnuts drove them to look for a warmer climate where there were more options. They hadn’t planned for it taking two years for most fruit trees to bear crops, so the variety was poor. And it gets pretty nippy in the winter, so that was a factor.”

  Chloe could listen to stories of the Pine’s early days forever, and EV was happy to regale her with some of the more colorful tales.

  By the time they arrived at the address listed for the Barnard Group, Chloe was in tears, and the game of Skittle forgotten. The street was quaint, but deserted. Small trees grew along the sidewalk, their roots buried in planting boxes every few feet; penned in by concrete on all sides. Never would they reach their full potential; their growth stunted in order to achieve an aesthetically pleasing height. Real estate signs posted in several office windows and the luster of fresh paint indicated that this part of town had undergone a recent makeover. Hopefully, the office they were looking for was still in business.

  “7998, that’s it. We need suite 5.” Chloe reached for the door, but EV continued driving, pulled into a space around the corner and finally shut off the engine.

  “Why are we parking way over here?”

  “Because Christine doesn’t exactly scream Hey, look. I have a boatload of money I’m looking to invest, and we need a cover story if we’re going to find out anything useful.”

  “Oh. Okay, so what’s the plan? Am I your daughter, looking to ensure I inherit lots of cash?” Chloe teased.

  EV shot her a disgusted look. “My niece will suffice, Ms. Smarty-Pants. Have I really aged poorly enough that I look like I might croak at any second?” EV tilted the rear-view mirror and studied her face for a moment. Aside a few thin laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, EV could have passed for at least 15 years younger than her actual age, and she knew it.

  “Oh, stop, you know you’ve hooked me on your cold cream regimen—I’ve seen proof it works. Your face feels like a baby’s ass. Now let’s go.”

  EV searched the directory posted in the lobby for the Barnard Group, and found them listed for suite 5, but when they reached the reception desk, it became clear that their cover wouldn’t be necessary.

  “We’re looking for a Nicholas Lane. He left this business card with a friend, and we’d like some investment advice.” Chloe pulled the card from her pocket and handed it to a frazzled-looking red-haired woman with an irritated expression on her face. “Barnard Group, can you hold please?” She barked into the telephone receiver, and hung up before the person on the other end had a chance to reply.

  “There’s no Nicholas Lane here, and that’s not even one of our cards. I can make you an appointment with someone else, but it will be at least a week. We’re swamped right now.”

  EV shot a look at Chloe and pushed for more information. “Is there any way for you to check and see if he’s a former employee?”

  “No need, I’ve worked here for several years, and I know all our employees personally. I’ve never heard of anyone by that name. Sorry.” She returned to jockeying the unrelenting phone system. Chloe and EV trudged back to the truck in silence.

  “Another dead end. This guy was smart, using a legitimate business as a front. Now we’re back to square one.”

  Chapter 5

  Chloe followed EV’s brown leather boots up the steps onto the hayride trailer attached to an ancient farm tractor, reached for the rail to hoist herself onto the platform, and promptly lost her footing. Uttering a strangled, “Oh!” and, bracing herself for impact, she closed her eyes tightly. Instead of hitting the ground with a resounding thump, Chloe felt strong arms beneath her and looked up, surprised, into the face of Nate Harper.

  “Whoa, easy now. I’ve got you. Still clumsy as ever, I see.” He grinned down at her, but didn’t loosen his grip. It didn’t escape Chloe’s notice that he had one hand planted firmly against her backside.

  Chloe scrambled to her feet and stood, facing him, willing her heart to return to its normal rhythm. Adrenaline, she thought, though she knew it hadn’t kicked in until she realized who was cradling her in his arms. The last time she had seen him, he’d acted irritated and frosty. Now, apparently, he had gotten rid of whatever bee had been buzzing around in his bonnet. Talk about mood swings.

  “Yeah, that’s me, Clumsy Chloe.” She laughed nervously and nearly tripped again, over nothing but a blade of grass this time. Taking her hand, Nate helped her onto the wagon, while EV watched the exchange with an amused expression on her face.

  When the three had settled onto the bales of hay—Chloe squished between EV on one side, and Nate on the other—he final
ly let go of her hand with a gentle brush of his fingers. The sensation sent a shiver up Chloe’s spine; she imagined him running his hands over other parts of her body, wondered what it would feel like to surrender to the nagging ache that had lately grown into a resounding throb.

  Without warning, the wagon hit a bump, knocking Chloe out of her reverie, and nearly off her perch on the hay. “Someone said the Macs are really sweet this year, since it was such a warm summer. We should get some Granny Smiths too, so our pies aren’t too syrupy.” Chloe chattered nervously. “Applesauce would be good too. What kind of apples do you prefer for sauce?” This directed at EV, and accompanied by a desperate look that plainly said help me! EV pretended not to notice, but answered the question.

  “A mix of several varieties—Ida Reds, Macs, Cortlands, and Braeburns. Gives a nice texture and body you don’t get by using any one type.”

  Nate nodded as though he agreed, while EV bit her lip to suppress a smirk. Throwing Chloe under the bus, even if it was for her own good, meant jeopardizing the closest adult friendship she’d ever had. And yet, it was so tempting. These two were meant for each other. The only thing keeping them apart was total stupidity.

  Two minutes of watching them play a round of sliding eyeballs—while neither one wanted the other to catch them looking—put a strain on her resolve. Not knocking their heads together put a strain on her resolve.

  Not as big a strain as Chloe’s constant shifting to create some distance from where Nate sat on the hay. Tired of being nudged and shoved, EV shifted to settle on a bale of hay across from them.

  At the next stop on the hayride extravaganza, Veronica and her brood waited. Catching the younger woman’s eye, EV gave her a subtle head nod to call Veronica’s attention to where Chloe now maintained a critical foot of space between herself and Nate. Quick to catch on, Veronica plopped down in the spot on Chloe’s other side before directing her children to take up all the rest of the available space around them.

  “Budge over, Chlo.” Before Chloe had time to think of an alternative, her thigh was pressed tightly against Nate’s on the one side, with Veronica giving no quarter on the other.

  As always, nerves shot Chloe into a state of verbal incontinence.

  “Look how pretty the leaves are right now. We should take some photos of the kids playing in them and get out the scrapbooking supplies.” Chloe directed at Veronica, who merely nodded, busying herself unnecessarily with re-tying a tiny sneaker.

  “The pumpkin crop is ridiculous this year.” Chloe continued, nodding to a field full of bulbous orange gourds visible from their current view atop the crest of an apple tree-laden hill. “Even after all the decorating we did, there will still be plenty to carve in preparation for the Halloween Hike this year. Last year we lined the nature trail with, what, 250 jack-o-lanterns? This year we’re shooting for at least 300. I can’t wait.”

  The quirk on Nate’s lips matched the twinkle in his eye as he listened to Chloe prattle on. EV could tell he found no hardship in cuddling up so close. A particularly nasty jolt as the tractor bounced through a rut in the path had him throwing an arm around Chloe—merely for stabilizing purposes, EV was sure—but when the ride settled out again, the arm remained.

  When they reached the corn bin—the festival’s answer to a ball pit for kids—Veronica stood to help her kids down from the wagon. The corn bin was a family favorite. Two feet deep, filled with dried corn kernels, it resembled a large sandbox. Or, as EV preferred to describe it—a litter box for kids.

  “Bet you five bucks there’s pee in that corn. You ever read about the things they find in those ball pit things? Thugs hide guns and knives in there. Kids lose dirty diapers.” EV shuddered to think of it. “You let one of those forensic teams at it, and I’d bet you find all sorts of disgusting body fluids. Bacteria. You name it.” She convulsed once more at the thought.

  “Thanks a lot, Captain Killjoy,” Veronica’s expressive, cornflower blue eyes registered disgust. “Good thing I carry a container of wipes wherever I go.”

  Seeing her chance to escape, Chloe jumped down from the wagon, “I’ll come along to help you keep an eye on things.”

  Her plan might have worked, except Chloe had forgotten Nate’s addiction to apple fritters. The scent emanating from the nearby fritter booth curled around his nose and prompted him to hop off the wagon with a hungry glint in his eye. Luckily, Horis, who was currently in charge of the corn bin area gave her the perfect opportunity to break from the group when he called out, “Chloe, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “What’s up?” She asked, gratefully, as she approached his post. Nothing much, as it turned out. The pair chatted about the upcoming holiday season, and the winter-preparation tasks were due for completion. Chloe relaxed and told Horis to sign her up for a couple of shifts. To Chloe’s relief, by the time the conversation ended, Nate had wandered into the corn maze and disappeared.

  Chapter 6

  When the new email notification beeped on her phone, EV took the opportunity for a break in her leaf-raking duties, and glanced at the return address: cutebobbie@funtime.com. Spam filter fail—she’d deal with it later. Pocketing the phone again, she grabbed the water bottle she’d left on a stump, and glugged half the contents down in one go.

  Two more chimes in rapid succession emanated from her pocket.

  New email from hoosyerdaddy648, and one from manlyman3—both with the funtime.com address.

  EV scanned through the emails. What she saw sent her into a slow burn complete with clenched teeth and a red face.

  Someone had submitted her profile to an online dating site.

  Chloe.

  You’re dead—EV texted Chloe after forwarding copies of the emails. She heard the soft bong that signaled an outgoing text followed by three new email beeps.

  No wonder these idiots spent so much time searching for love online. If their emails reflected their personalities, at least half of them were horndogs.

  Beep.

  Prettyboy329? Did that mean there were 328 more of them? And the poor soul thought including a photo of him naked was the way to win her heart.

  Beep.

  Aww, this one sent a photo of his dog. No, wait. That was him from the back. EV turned off her phone. She seriously considered burning it. Or maybe having it exorcised.

  This was absolutely the brattiest thing Chloe had ever done. EV gave her full marks for inventiveness.

  But now? It was game on.

  Cue the evil laugh, EV thought as she pulled out her phone to compose an email of her own. Carbon copied to four women she knew in Gilmore, and with a photo of Chloe attached, she wrote:

  Remember that young woman I told you about? The one who lives next door to me? I think she would perfect for your son. I could set something up he’s interested. Get back to me ASAP.

  Not ten minutes later, she had Chloe lined up for a date that very evening.

  * * *

  The doorbell sounded as Chloe was putting the finishing touches on her face: a light beauty balm foundation; a touch of mascara; and shiny lip gloss were all she typically wore. Tonight she had decided to experiment with a smoky eye. Kohl pencil shavings littered the bathroom vanity, and she had nearly smashed a bottle of liquid eyeliner in frustration; but the trouble was worth it. Her almond-colored eyes shone bright beneath thick, feathery lashes; the smudged liner and shadow blend coating her lids was subtle but sexy. Good enough, especially since this date is a complete waste of time. She had only acquiesced in order to placate EV. It had nothing to do with feeling guilty over the dozens of messages EV had received from a variety of randy older men. Nothing at all.

  Taking a deep breath and preparing for the worst, Chloe opened the door to find a not-at-all bad-looking gentlemen holding a bouquet of flowers. “Hi, James. It’s James, right?” She stuttered nervously.

  “Yes, James Wright. Nice to meet you, Chloe.” He practically salivated. His voice sounded feminine enough that she double-checked for h
is Adam’s apple. He had one despite speaking in an obnoxiously high-pitched tone. Ahh, there’s the rub.

  “Let me put these in some water and we can go.” Chloe tossed the flowers in an old ceramic watering can and bounced back to the foyer, herding James out the door before he got too comfortable. And now he knows where I live. Fantastic.

  Gazing out to the driveway, Chloe noticed his monstrous Hummer blocked her car completely blocked from view, and she almost choked with the effort of biting down on an ecologically-minded rant. Chloe’s Mini Cooper wasn’t a hybrid vehicle, but it was still a heck of a lot more efficient than some giant beast of an SUV. And this guy didn’t look like he was doing a lot of heavy lifting with it; the interior was pristine, and she could tell it was more status symbol than necessary choice. Nothing irritated her more than people who didn’t care about the environment.

  “I made a reservation at Delmonico’s Steakhouse, if that’s okay.” James voice reminded Chloe of a whining child. Through gritted teeth, she managed a polite-sounding, “Sure.”

  Though she wasn’t a strict vegetarian, Chloe made it a point to eat locally grown, grass-fed beef when she did imbibe, and Delmonico’s was notorious for using the cheapest, most hormone-enhanced meat they could get their hands on. Didn’t stop them from charging premium prices, though, and Chloe suspected James meant to impress her by throwing money around. Too bad that wasn’t her style.

  All she had to do during the short ride to the restaurant was nod and smile; James didn’t notice she wasn’t paying attention, what with his incessant babbling about the specs of his engine, and how much extra the tinted windows had cost. By the time they arrived, Chloe had decided she and EV were about even. Two hours later, she was sure of it.