A Curio Killing Page 3

  “Absolutely. Hank walking into my shop yesterday was definitely a surprise, but it’s no big deal. I’m actually looking forward to hearing the band.”

  “They came well recommended.”

  “That’s the important thing. How did you learn about my, um, situation?” As far as Callie knew, Delia and Brian were the only ones aware of it, and she couldn’t picture either of them gossiping about it.

  “The band’s manager, Bobby Linville, brought it up when he called to tell me they’d arrived. He seemed to think I would want to play up Hank’s connection to Keepsake Cove when I introduced the band.”

  “There is no connection!”

  “Don’t worry. As soon as I figured out what he was talking about, I put an end to it.” Duane chuckled. “I told him it would be favoritism to single out one shop in the Cove, and that was against the bylaws of the association.”

  Callie grinned. “Sounds reasonable.” She picked up the pack of flyers Bobby had given her. “Speaking of favoritism, he was passing these out at Dino’s last night.”

  Duane took one and looked it over. It featured a black-and-white photo of Hank’s band, the Badlanders, and listed the dates and times of their performances over the weekend.

  “You’d think this was a Badlanders concert,” he groused, “instead of the Keepsake Cove Spring Festival. We do have other performers on the schedule!”

  “But they’re not managed by Bobby Linville. Don’t worry. I’ll keep your official festival poster in my window and the festival flyers handy. I won’t do anything with these unless someone specifically asks about the Badlanders.”

  “Great. Okay, so we’re good? I didn’t want you to think I’d purposely put you on the spot.”

  “We’re good, Duane. And best of luck with all your entertainers. Hope everyone stays healthy and … wait, that’s bad luck, isn’t it? I should say ‘break a leg,’ right?”

  “Not to me, but I’ll pass it on to the musicians, magicians, and the rest. Thanks. I’d better get going.”

  Callie watched as Duane hurried out, thinking it had been considerate of him to come by to say what he did. Did it make up for the hassle he’d stirred up last year for the Harts when he and Laurie Hart crossed swords? No, since he’d never apologized, only justified it when confronted. But he and Callie hadn’t had any issues—so far. She was fine with keeping on good terms with him as a fellow shop owner, and she appreciated the positive things he did for the association. But she didn’t see the two of them getting beyond smiles and polite words.

  Business picked up in her shop soon after that, and continued steady for the rest of the day. Callie was delighted, but also longed to get to the festival herself. Customers shared tidbits of their experiences, and she heard occasional strains of music wafting down the few blocks from the park. Not country music, yet. Duane had brought in amateur performers to take the stage during the early part of the day. So far, the chorus from the local high school had sung—and probably brought in many proud family members—and a banjo group from the senior center had performed. She itched to experience everything firsthand, not simply hear about it from a distance.

  Delia popped in late in the afternoon. “My booth handler at the festival says Jill’s doing pretty well. The crowd’s been building, and she’s set up next to the ice cream stand. A great spot to catch the attention of families.”

  “I’m glad.” Typical of Delia to be more concerned about how her friend was doing than how her own business at the festival was going. “She seemed anxious to do well.”

  Delia nodded, frowning. “When I invited her, it was because I thought it might be a fun thing for her, as well as a chance for us to catch up. Extra income, of course, is always nice, but I didn’t realize how important it might be to her. I haven’t pried, but I think she may have been struggling more in the last few years than I realized.”

  “Then I’m doubly glad the festival is working for her. I’ll see if I can convince Brian to get a costume photo taken tonight.”

  “Are you closing up the shop to go?”

  “No, Tabitha will be back to keep it open until eight. She’s at the festival right now. I appreciate her putting in the extra time, and since she couldn’t afford the booth fee for her beaded jewelry, I suggested she set up a display here for these two days as extra compensation.”

  “Oooh, I’ll have to look it over,” Delia said. As she looked through the window and saw customers walking into her shop, she added, “See you later!” and headed out.

  Callie had debated bringing up Jill’s surprisingly negative reaction to Bobby Linville’s promotional activities at the diner the previous night, but then decided it was both none of her business and probably explainable in a dozen different ways. For all she knew, Jill might simply have had a sudden attack of heartburn, or even been thinking about something else altogether.

  When her assistant arrived at six, Callie was able to report that two of Tabitha’s necklace and bracelet sets had sold. “And both women took your business card. I think they’ll be looking for more from you.”

  Tabitha glowed at that, her cheeks nearly matching the pink in her flower-printed dress, which, while perfectly nice, was unremarkable. She’d apparently decided to go “simple” that day, something that Callie hadn’t asked for but was glad to see, given that many first-time customers would be coming in. The festival was distraction enough. Best not to add more.

  Callie headed out the back door of the shop and followed the brick path to her little house to get ready for the evening. The sight of her red-painted cottage never failed to make her smile, with its steep-pitched roof and sage green front door. The roses twining through the white trellis over the door had started to open, adding their color and sweet perfume.

  Jagger, as usual, waited inside the door, and she picked him up to cuddle. “Sorry to have to leave you alone again,” she said, rubbing his fur and feeling the rumble of his purrs. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

  Jagger didn’t seem overly worried, as he soon wiggled himself down and led her to his food bowl in the kitchen. As she wound her way through the rooms, filling Jagger’s bowl and then running upstairs for a shower, Callie’s feelings of gratitude for the amazing gift her Aunt Mel had bestowed on her returned. The cottage, small as it was, had been so beautifully restored and decorated that she hadn’t dreamed of changing a thing. From the Wedgewood blue and white living room to the airy lightness of her bedroom, every detail was perfect and a daily reminder of a special aunt.

  She stared into her closet, wondering what to wear. It was tempting to reach for jeans, a plaid shirt, and a vest, a western look that tallied with her hopes of line dancing. But would it imply more than she intended? She wanted to enjoy the festival with Brian, not send signals of any sort to Hank. She pulled out dark stretch pants and topped it with a long, teal blue sweater, one that Brian had once complimented. Overthinking? Maybe, but she felt more comfortable with that choice.

  They’d agreed to each grab a bite to eat on their own to save time and avoid the long lines at the festival. As Callie did so, Jagger lingered nearby, grooming himself. By the time she’d tidied up, she heard Brian’s knock at the door and picked up her purse to go.

  Strains of music grew louder as they neared the park.

  “That must be the warm-up band,” Callie said.

  “Sounds pretty good.”

  “It does. ‘A little bit country, a little bit rock ’n roll,’ would you say?”

  “Hmm. Where have I heard that before?”

  “You mean it’s not original? Darn. Oh, there’s Laurie Hart.” Callie waved and Laurie paused to let them catch up, looking festive in a red and white striped tee tucked into a navy skirt. At the Harts’ vintage toy shop, Laurie spent most of her time in the back room sprucing up newly acquired, often dusty or scratched items, and therefore dressed mostly in sweats or d
enims. This was a nice change for her. Callie liked the thirty-something woman and was glad to run into her.

  “Bill holding down the fort?” Brian asked, and Laurie nodded.

  “We’ve been doing pretty good business all day. It’s starting to slow down, but he said he’d keep it open a little longer and meet me later.”

  They ran into more fellow shopkeepers along the way, all looking pleased with how things were going. Funding for the festival had come from all the business owners, via the association, and were significant, but it was apparently paying off.

  Once they entered the festival grounds, everyone headed in their own direction. Callie led Brian to the ice cream stand, partly to see how Delia’s friend Jill was doing at her adjacent station. There were lines for both, it turned out, and as they waited their turn, Callie had plenty of time to watch Jill at work.

  “Mmm, I like that Gone With the Wind dress,” she said, seeing Jill hold it up for a teen.

  “Cactus ice cream? Yuck,” Brian responded, studying the menu board.

  “It’s actually cactus pear,” a woman with stylishly cut dark hair turned to say. “And very good.” It was Krystal Cobb, the Keepsake Cove Shop Owners’ Association president. Always elegantly dressed, she’d toned things down for the occasion, but she still managed to work in her trademark sparkle with a sequin-dotted tee over designer jeans, which went well with the silver flecks in her chic bob. “Give it a try,” she urged.

  “I’m more of a chocolate chip kind of guy,” Brian said with a smile. “Taking a break from your official duties?”

  “No duties to speak of,” Krystal said. “The committees have all done their jobs well. I’m a lady of leisure today.” She moved up to the counter as the tall man in front of her stepped away, handing a cone to the little boy beside him.

  Having made her flavor choice, Callie glanced around at the milling throng, glad to see both the high numbers and the smiling faces. Then she spotted Bobby Linville weaving his way through the crowd in their direction.

  “Uh-oh,” she said quietly to Brian. “I might be in for a grilling on how many Badlanders flyers I handed out today.” She saw that Bobby had already spotted her, so it was too late to turn away. Bracing herself, she waited as he approached. Then a look of surprise crossed his face as he suddenly stopped. He turned on his heel and rapidly walked in the opposite direction, disappearing quickly in the crowd.

  “What was that all about?”

  Brian shrugged. “Remembered something he was supposed to do?”

  “It looked to me as though he didn’t like what he saw. That doesn’t make sense, though. It’s an ice cream stand.”

  “Lactose intolerant?” Brian said, which made Callie smile.

  “I’m going to browse through the booths,” Krystal said, having gotten her cone. “What about you?”

  “Not sure,” Callie said, as Brian stepped up to order. “We might get a costume photo.”

  “See you around,” Krystal said and took off.

  As Callie waited beside Brian, she heard an angry voice to her right. Jill was apparently upset. It sounded like some kind of damage had been done to a costume. Unfortunately, the berating continued much too long.

  Brian had also glanced over at the photographer, and he and Callie looked at each other.

  “Let’s walk around for a while,” Callie suggested.

  He nodded, and they headed off, though Callie was sorry to see other potential customers step out of Jill’s line and drift away as well.

  Five

  A magician had taken the stage, and Callie watched his act with Brian as they licked their ice cream. The performance was entertaining, though more so for the children in the crowd who shrieked with glee over the rabbit appearing from inside the man’s cape and drinking glasses that seemed to float in the air.

  “I think he must do a lot of birthday parties,” Brian said in Callie’s ear.

  The parents seemed just as happy as their children, and most knew more grown-up entertainment would be coming soon. As they left to browse, passing a young boy getting a Batman mask painted on his face, Callie caught sight of Bobby again. He was at the back of the narrow alleyway between Delia’s collectible salt and pepper shaker booth and a vintage comic book booth and appeared to be downing a drink from a pocket-sized flask. Uh-oh. Hank had said Bobby’s drinking problem was in the past. That didn’t seem to be the case.

  But then Delia’s assistant, a sweet woman named Mary Lou Casey, noticed them and waved them over. By the time they’d listened to her excited listing of what she’d sold that day for Delia, Bobby was gone. Within minutes, Duane’s voice could be heard over the loudspeaker introducing the Badlanders. Callie grabbed Brian’s hand and hurried toward the stage.

  The band, which started out with a lively, foot-stomping song, sounded great. Callie could see that the Badlanders was a big step up from Hank’s last band, and his face showed exhilaration at being part of it. The crowd obviously agreed, with much whooping, clapping in time, and cheers at the end.

  Hank had a solo in the second song, and Callie felt the familiar thrill at the sound of his rich baritone, though that was the limit of the emotion. She saw him spot her and give a grin and wink, which, thankfully, didn’t cause any heads to turn in her direction. She didn’t know what Brian was thinking, but she took his arm and leaned closer just to let him know her own thoughts.

  Delia had been right about a dance floor being set up. It was under the canopy next to the bandstand. After the third song, a band member pointed it out and invited line dancers to head over. Callie’s eyes lit up. She looked questioningly at Brian, who shook his head.

  “You go,” he said. “I’ll enjoy just watching.”

  Callie needed no urging, hurrying over to join the growing line. Laurie and Bill were already there, and soon Tabitha ran up, breathless from her sprint to the park after closing up House of Melody. They all shuffled around a bit, bumping into one another, until somebody stepped forward to lead. Gradually everyone got in sync, heels tapping and fingers snapping. Callie loved it.

  She saw that Brian was indeed watching, and though she knew she was no candidate for Dancing with the Stars, he appeared impressed. She did one more dance, then left to rejoin him.

  “That was fun,” she said, slightly out of breath.

  “Fun to see, too.”

  “Really?”

  Brian smiled. “Yes, really.”

  “Ready to try it?”

  “Oh darn. Looks like they’ve changed back to regular songs. Maybe next time.”

  “I might hold you to that.”

  The song ended and Hank took the microphone and waited for the applause to die down.

  “Thanks, everyone. You’re a great crowd. The guys and I are real pleased to be playin’ here in Keepsake Cove. And we have a special number comin’ up, just for you. This song was written by that guy right over there with the fiddle, Randy Brewer, with a little help from yours truly. It’s called Missin’ You, and”—he paused for effect—“it’s in the works for a big recording contract. When it comes out, you all can say you heard it first! Here we go with Missin’ You.”

  The crowd clapped, but Callie winced as Hank looked pointedly at her before turning back to the band and starting to play. She stayed to listen for a polite amount of time, then turned to Brian.

  “What would you think of getting a photo taken about now?”

  “Sure!” His enthusiasm for the idea had definitely increased several notches. Callie suspected that at this point he would have agreed to a Bugs Bunny face painting. Anything to move on.

  They discreetly eased out of the crowd and headed toward Jill’s area. They saw her slumped on her bench, head in hands. Callie tried to sound upbeat as she called out “Hey, Jill,” unsure if she was seeing dejection or simply fatigue from the long day.

  “Hi!�
�� Jill responded, jumping up from her seat. “Did you just come from the bandstand? They sound pretty good!” Her bright smile was sudden and seemed forced.

  “They’re great, but I guess they drew everybody away, huh?”

  “Oh, no surprise. We all expected that. Most of the booths have closed, and I was going to pack up pretty soon.” Her bright smile drooped. “Actually, my business dropped before the music started. My own fault. I got pretty ticked off when one of my dresses got torn, and I sounded off about it.”

  “That’s a shame. Is it fixable?”

  Jill nodded. “Easily. Which is why I should have kept my big mouth shut. I scared away the customers who were waiting and probably a lot more who heard about it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “My own stupid fault. But I’ve been on edge, lately. And seeing—well, never mind. No excuses.”

  “Would you mind if we got a photo?” Brian asked. “Or are you done for the night?”

  Jill perked up. “Not at all! What do you like?” She drew them to her row of costumes hanging on a line. “Historical? Movie characters? Vampires?”

  They fingered through the choices, Callie appreciating Brian being so great after what might have been a tooth-grinding time back at the bandstand. Whatever costume made him the least miserable would be fine with her. She expected him to lean toward something bland, like the chef and baker outfits, and was surprised when he pulled out an elaborate Henry VIII costume.

  “Really?”

  Brian shrugged. “I like historical stuff.”

  “Okay. But do I have to be Anne Boleyn?”

  “You could be Queen Elizabeth,” Jill said, holding up a sparkly gown with a high neck ruff.

  They slipped into their outfits, Brian getting a fake beard as well as a fake-fur-trimmed cape. Jill pulled Callie’s dress to fit with strings that tied at the back, then set plastic crowns on their heads and posed them for the photo. Since it was digital, they had two freshly printed color copies in minutes.