A Stab in the Dark Read online

  Whodunit Antiques

  — Book 2 —

  A Stab in the Dark

  By Shelly West

  Copyright 2019

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 1

  Abigail struggled to breathe in enough air while she chased after Thor, her Great Dane. He wasn’t poorly leash-trained by any means, but the difficulty of keeping up with him came down to simple math: One of his strides amounted to five of Abigail’s.

  “Thor,” she gasped. “Thor, wait up!”

  The Great Dane heard her sputtering call, immediately made an abrupt U-Turn in the middle of the empty sidewalk, and came bounding back toward her. His long legs covered the considerable distance between them in just a few seconds.

  Abigail wheezed as Thor licked her hand encouragingly. She had decided she’d never miss a morning walk after moving down to Wallace Point and seeing how nice and quiet it was. Now she doubted her decision.

  Thor, of course, was a huge proponent of the walks. Living in a cramped city apartment for years could do that to a dog.

  Abigail’s lungs burned despite the good breeze, and she felt a serious cramp starting in her side. “That’s it,” she huffed, slowing from her tortured jog to a more comfortable walk. “No more.”

  Thor bowed his head, then slowly looked up at her in disappointment.

  “Oh, don’t take that tone of face with me,” Abigail warned, wagging a finger in front of his large nose. “We weren’t all built for galloping like you.”

  Thor sneezed at the compliment, as if to say, “I suppose I won’t hold it against you.”

  Abigail knew the neighborhood better now than she had a few weeks ago and soon they were walking up to Grandma’s antique store, Whodunit Antiques. The store wouldn’t open for a couple of hours, but the sheriff’s car was already parked in the customer lot.

  “Look, Thor,” Abigail said. “Sheriff Wilson caught Grandma bright and early today, didn’t he?”

  Thor trotted to the driver’s door and sniffed it. He looked back at Abigail, shot her a reassuring grin, jerked his leash from her hands and leaped onto the front porch, where he collapsed into a big, satisfied heap. Abigail shook her head as she walked up the steps, unclipping his leash before she headed in.

  The front door was unlocked, as usual. Grandma refused to lock her doors, even after the store had been broken into during one of the most exciting murder cases Wallace Point had seen in years.

  The case started with someone breaking into Grandma’s store in search of an antique. Grandma, alerted by her Shih Tzu Missy’s whimpering, had come down the stairs in the middle of the night to find the source of the noise. She got more than she had bargained for when she tripped over a dead body.

  The fall had landed Grandma in the hospital, which was the only reason Abigail discovered she had another living family member besides her mother, Sarah. Abigail sighed. Her mom wasn’t exactly forthcoming when it came to her past.

  Sheriff Wilson and Grandma sat at the kitchen table with cups of steaming coffee in front of them and a heaping plate of cookies between them.

  “Good morning, Grandma, Sheriff Wilson,” Abigail said. She walked to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Missy greeted Abigail with a quick trot around her ankles and then settled again underneath Grandma’s feet.

  As soon as Abigail took her first sip of water, she knew that something wasn’t right. The room was too quiet, as if Grandma and the Sheriff had stopped talking just before she entered.

  “Good morning, dear,” Grandma finally said, her eyes still on the sheriff. “How was your run?”

  “Awful. But at least Thor enjoyed it.” Abigail washed out her glass and placed it on the drying rack. “Shame on you, Sheriff Wilson, for pulling my sweet Grandma out of bed so early.”

  Sheriff Wilson glanced up at her. His eyes looked puffy and tired, and it took him a moment to understand she had spoken to him. “Eh? What was that, Abigail?”

  Yup, something was definitely up. Grandma usually had Sheriff Wilson’s full attention. In fact, Grandma usually had the full attention of most older men. Today, however, Sheriff Wilson was obviously preoccupied.

  “Sweetheart,” Grandma cut in, “I feel like pancakes this morning. Why don’t you take a shower while I whip some up?”

  Abigail paused. What was Grandma up to? Was she just trying to get Abigail out of the room? But Abigail only nodded. “Pancakes sound great, Grandma. Just give me thirty minutes.”

  *

  Abigail didn’t actually need thirty minutes, but she wanted to give Sheriff Wilson plenty of time with Grandma.

  When she walked back into the kitchen, the sheriff was gone and in his place at the table was a plate full of steaming pancakes. Bits of chocolate formed smiley faces on each pancake. Some faces had freckles.

  “So, what’s going on with the sheriff?”

  Grandma flipped a final pancake onto her plate and eased into a chair. “He’s got skeletons falling out of his closets.”

  “What?”

  “Just the past refusing to stay in the past. You know that stabbing at the motel?”

  “The one that happened right when I moved in? Yeah, how could I forget?”

  “Well, the newspaper had suggested it could be an infamous serial killer.”

  “Suggested is an understatement.” Abigail finished smothering her pancakes with butter and real maple syrup. “I can still remember that headline. Wallace Point Ripper Stabs Again! For a small town newspaper, they do love their gore.”

  “Yes. It was rather sensational of them. Anyway, Willy has the Ripper on his mind.”

  “But I thought it wasn’t really the Ripper. Something to do with out-of-towners, right?”

  Grandma nodded. “The more details that came out, the less likely it seemed to be our local serial stabber. But it still has brought up some bad memories for Willy. He has a complicated history with the Ripper, you see.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “He doesn’t talk about it much. It was a tough time for him. You might not believe it now, but Willy was a talented detective. He was on his way up. Nothing could stump him.” Grandma looked off, possibly remembering a younger, brighter Willy Wilson. “But then the Wallace Point Ripper came along, and Willy couldn’t solve the case. He followed every lead, pursued every angle. Nothing. Since then, he hasn’t been the same. He lost his confidence, his spark. I guess you could say it broke him.”

  “Wow. That’s awful.”

  “It is. Ever since, he hasn’t been comfortable
with any case that isn’t open and shut. And now the big fuss at the motel has brought it all back for him.” Grandma refilled her cup of coffee and, without meeting Abigail’s gaze, added, “I wouldn’t bring it up around him, dear, if you can avoid it.”

  That was a surprise.

  It made sense that Willy wouldn’t want to discuss the Ripper. But it seemed odd that Grandma felt the need to warn Abigail away from future conversations. In a town where rumors spread like wildfire, and where everyone else already knew all the details, why the extra caution? Abigail took another bite of her pancakes. “Sure, Grandma. The story is safe with me.”

  *

  It was a quiet morning for the store—too quiet for Grandma’s taste.

  “Something’s up,” she said from her seat behind the checkout counter, her eyes peering sharply into the vacant parking lot. “I’m going to fix a plate of cookies and take them… take them… Well, I’ll take them somewhere and find out exactly what’s going on.”

  “You always do, Grandma,” Abigail said, pausing from her work researching a colorful Tiffany lamp Grandma had recently acquired at an auction. “We can take my car if you like.”

  “No, thank you, dear. I wouldn’t want to trouble you. Willy probably just lost his cat up a tree again. Last time that happened, he shut down the entire town. And during tourist season too.”

  “That must be some cat.”

  “It’s twenty-five years old. Going for a world record, I think. Anyhow, I’m going to close for lunch and meet up with the gals.”

  “Gals?”

  Grandma smirked. “You’ve met them before. I heard that you apparently call them the ‘Granny Gang.’”

  “Oh, those gals. Yeah, well, I had quite the first encounter with them.”

  “When was this?”

  “When you were in the hospital. They arrived at the store in a bunch of golf carts and swarmed the place. It felt like a police raid!”

  “How silly. They’re just a bunch of old harmless coots. We like to exchange gossip while we sew us up some sock monkeys. Nothing more.”

  “Sock monkeys? I thought recently you told me you couldn’t sew.”

  Grandma’s expression grew dire. “That’s right. I can’t. My sock monkeys tend to be… How do I put it kindly? Sock monstrosities. I usually end up having to burn them in fear they might come to life and take revenge on their creator.”

  “Now I kinda want to see one of these things.”

  “Trust me; you don’t. And anyhow, I’m not there for the sock monkeys. I’m there for the gossip.”

  “Then gossip away, Grandma, and let me know what you find out. In the meanwhile, I think I’ll pay Sally a visit.”

  “Sounds like a plan… And sounds like we’ll be pretty busy today. Is Friday Movie Night still on?”

  Abigail smiled. “You know I’d never miss it.”

  Grandma reached out to Abigail for a hug, which Abigail returned. “Just think, two months ago I had never met my granddaughter. Now I get to see her every day.”

  *

  The walk to the Book Cafe, Sally’s coffee shop and rare books store, was short and pleasant. Summer was giving way to autumn, with the first whispers of cool weather kissing the air.

  Abigail stepped into the cafe, the tiny bell above the door announcing her entrance. The little shop smelled of fresh coffee and the innermost pages of old books. Sunlight poured in through the large glass windows, tinting everything gold and brown.

  Sally stood at the counter, facing away as she spoke excitedly into her phone. Not that there were many customers at the moment. In fact, Abigail was the only one.

  Sally Kent made the best coffee Abigail had ever tasted, and so the Book Cafe was rarely vacant, even during the quiet season. Yet here Abigail was, the only customer. Maybe Grandma was right that something was up today.

  Abigail, not wanting to interrupt, sought out the book she had been reading from the bookshelf. The Book Cafe acted like an unofficial library of antique books. The books had to stay at the cafe, but customers could read as many as they wanted.

  Abigail found her current book, one on steamships from the early 1900s. A blue sloth bookmarker marked her place, and she began reading about the SS Atlantic. This ship was quite a bit larger than the schooner she had saved from pirates during her first visit to Wallace Point.

  Abigail paused to shake her head incredulously. Sometimes even she didn’t believe she had managed to do that.

  Sally hung up the phone and whipped around, her blonde ponytail flying out over her shoulders. Her face, usually bright and perky, positively glowed with the excitement of fresh gossip. “Oh, Abigail! Have you heard?”

  Abigail closed the book and put it away, suspecting she wasn’t going to get any more reading done. “No. What’s the buzz?”

  “James Wilson is back in town!”

  “Who?”

  “Sheriff Wilson’s son! He just arrived, and after all these years, he’s here to help his father with the big case.”

  “The investigation into the stabbing? I thought that was over.”

  Sally shrugged, a happy bounce to her shoulders. “I guess not! Now, you know what this means, don’t you?”

  “No. What does it mean?”

  “Fresh meat! You’re off the hook as the newbie in town.”

  Abigail frowned, taking in this new information. The Sheriff’s son… If he had been gone all this time, why would he come back now? It wasn’t like this stabbing was that big of a case, especially compared to what happened with the ship earlier.

  A distant honking pervaded the store, shaking Abigail out of her thoughts. The symphony of horns grew closer and louder, until finally a fleet of old ladies in tricked out golf carts came into view through the big store windows.

  Sally whispered in awe, “The Granny Gang. There’s thousands of them!”

  Abigail stood, getting a closer look. “I would say about a couple of dozen at best.”

  “Still, you never see them all together like this unless something big is going down.”

  Abigail squinted, trying to make out the golf cart taking the lead. “Grandma?” she said in realization, but the horde of golf carts peeled away before she could think to go out and greet them.

  Sally commented, “Dang, they’re on a mission, huh?”

  Abigail shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever she’s up to, Grandma better not get into too much trouble!”

  Chapter 2

  Abigail pressed the lid tight over the large saucepan. Inside, yellow corn kernels were just starting to explode into white puffs. Here and there came a little pop! Keeping the lid closed tight, she swirled the saucepan over the hot stove, spreading heat into all of the nooks and crannies.

  Pop! Pop! Popopopopopopop!

  When the tiny explosions slowed down, Abigail pulled the pan off the heat. She dumped the popcorn into a large ceramic bowl and drizzled salt and melted butter on top. She mixed it all together with a wooden spoon, then carried the bowl with her into the small living room.

  Thor was already stretched out in front of the couch, with Missy sitting in Grandma’s chair. The ancient TV and VCR Abigail had discovered in the attic were set up on an end table. The VHS tape Grandma had picked out sat on an old cardboard box on top of the television with the remote. They had already tested all three pieces of antiquated technology and learned that, miraculously, everything still worked. Since then, for the past couple of weeks, Friday had officially been dubbed Movie Night.

  Everything was all set. Now all that was missing was Grandma.

  Right on cue, the sound of a golf cart’s musical horn sent Missy flying out of her chair and hurtling toward the front door. Her cream and gold body turned into a tiny sphere of fur and irrepressible excitement.

  Thor didn’t bother to get up. He knew the tune pretty well by now and wasn’t concerned. He did, however, have the decency to thump his tail against the floor when Grandma waltzed in with Missy in her arms.

  “
Why, hello, Grandma,” Abigail said from the couch. She tossed a popped kernel into the air and caught it in her mouth. “Fancy seeing you here at our store.”

  Grandma flopped onto the couch as floppily as a little white-haired lady could flop. “Don’t be sore with me, dear. I bet you didn’t have a customer all afternoon.”

  “I’m not sore. I did miss you, though. But you’re right. Not a single customer.”

  “Murders are bad for business.”

  “So is fresh meat.”

  “Oh, I would hardly call James fresh meat. He is more of a prodigal son.”

  Abigail leaned forward. She surmised that Grandma had just spent all afternoon with her senior citizen cohorts grilling James Wilson. Maybe Grandma had picked up something interesting. “So, what juicy details did you dig up?”

  “Well, James’s business is booming, but he’s taking some time off to help his father.”

  “Sally mentioned he wants to pitch in with the stabbing case. What exactly does James do?”

  “He’s a private investigator. Takes after his father, in a way.”

  “Grandma, don’t you think it’s kind of odd for James to show up now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why not show up for Reginald’s murder? That was big news. This stabbing case seems just about closed.”

  Grandma grabbed a small handful of popcorn. “Apparently it isn’t. I guess Wallace Point lost interest when we realized it wasn’t the Ripper, but the real killer still hasn’t been found.” She got up from the couch, leaving Missy to keep her seat warm. “Don’t worry about James. I watched that boy grow into a man in this town. And such a handsome man too. Anyhow, let’s start this wonderful picture. You’re going to love it!”