A Niceville Paranormal Mystery: Season 1, Episode 7

Previously in Niceville: Carrie Cooper discovered her friend and local business owner, Sylvia, dead on Sylvia’s coffee shop floor. With a request for investigative help from the local police, Carrie and Mandy set out to question citizens of Niceville.

Season 1: Caramel Macchiato Murder

Episode 7: Call Me Questions

We sat there for a moment, in silence, letting the car idle. Sometimes, the sheer magnitude of what you are embarking on is enough to knock the wind out of you. I don’t want anyone to misunderstand. This wasn’t a game for us. We knew this case was dangerous, but it was important to take it on.

Finally, I turned to Mandy and said, “Let’s go back to the Kitchen to look at the files for a few minutes. Then, maybe we can ask a few questions to some of the locals.”

She nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. Thought we needed to take a look before we started asking questions. You know, see what’s already clearly documented and covered. No need in doing extra work.”

“Exactly.”

So we drove off. After settling into my office, we were saddened, if not entirely unsurprised, to find the files comprised of exactly nothing useful besides photos that were devastating, and everything I provided or had been provided. Our police force, on its best days, wasn’t the type that was exactly on it. It rarely had a real need seeing as the town was quiet.

“Well, if this isn’t some useless crap!” I said.

“Uh-huh. I don’t know what the flippin’ heck this file was supposed to tell us or help us with. I learned absolutely nothing except the person taking photos doesn’t match his socks and can’t focus his camera.”

I snorted. “There is that.”

Another reason to adore Mandy. In dire times, she always had a sarcastic comment to lighten the mood. Like any good friend, she was here when I needed it. Like any amazing friend, she was here even when I thought I didn’t need it. That is the priceless part of a true best friend. They know you better than you know yourself.

“Look,” Mandy said. “We need a game plan. We can play good cop, bad cop…except without the cop part of course.” She was grinning. “Or we can ask people the same set of questions a little while apart and see if the answers mesh up. That checks for gossip versus validity.”

“Did you read that book I gave you?” I was beaming at her. She wanted to know how to become more analytical in our investigating, so I’d bought her a book. I never thought she’d read it. She was currently quoting bits back at me though.

“You notice?” She said, wiggling her head back and forth at me while crinkling her nose up at me with a little smirk.

“I might have…” I said, laughing.

I raised my hand for a high five. She slapped it hard.

“Pick your poison,” she said.

“Let’s both ask them the same sets of questions. If we get different answers, we know they aren’t very reliable. If we get the same narrative, it’s something to consider and look into.”

“AH! My choice too!” She said, laughing.

“Perfect.” I said. “Now the question is, what info are chasing first?”

“I don’t know…” Mandy said. She looked deflated.

“That’s okay. I have an idea.” I grabbed a pad of paper. “I want to know what she was upset about when I saw her. Maybe a customer or local knows. I want to know if anyone has seen or heard anything weird or suspicious lately about Sylvia or Corner Coffee. You never know what the motive could have been. I think that could be a good start.”

“That seems easy enough,” she said.

It wasn’t ten minutes later and we were leaving to head down to the area around Corner Coffee. I’d hope to wonder around the businesses near there and chat with people. In all honesty, it was going to be hard to be near there, but I had to woman up and do it. For Sylvia.

When we pulled up and parked, I sighed loudly.

“You ready for this?” Mandy said. She sounded gentle. I think she realized I was strained to my limit.

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s get it over with. I’ll take the old folks first. you take the young ones.”

“Fine by me,” she said.

I knew she wouldn’t argue. Why would she? I’d literally offered to take the nosey old gossips from her. It was the least I could do considering she was being such an amazing and supportive friend. And so we went. First, we went into the thrift shop next door. Ms. Pinky owned it. She’d been around since the dinosaurs, according to her. If I had to guess, she was around 85, and mean as a bear. If I was that killer, and choosing a random victim, i’d have chosen Sylvia too. Ms. Pinky just seemed like the type that, even at her age, probably carried a Glock in her purse. She wore her hair in tight curls on her head, and they were, you guessed it, hot pink. She also wore all pink.

“Hi, there,” I said. Just sound friendly.

“Carrie, Darling,” she drawled out. “I hear you had a bad morning. Sorry to hear about Sylvia. She was such a good neighbor.”

A bell rang in my head. “Oh! You all were shop and home neighbors, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I just can’t imagine someone wanting to hurt her. I saw her leave early for work. I never thought she wouldn’t ever return. I waved. She waved, if a little distracted, but waved all the same.”

“What time was that?” I asked.

“Oh, 4:30?”

“Had she had any problems you know of lately? It’s just so weird. She hadn’t mentioned any to me, but i’ve been so busy. I feel terrible…” It was true. I did feel terrible.

Ms. Pinky rounded the counter so fast. I was shocked when she put an arm around me a led me to a chair. She sat down in a chair close by. “You didn’t cause this. You can’t blame yourself, girl. You found her, got her off that floor, and brought her some dignity so that it wasn’t some pissant that took her picture first to post it to some stupid social media. Whatevers big now. Tiptap or whatever.”

I tried not to laugh for her social media comment, but I was touched all the same. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said. “And as for problems… I might know a few things.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She looked around then yelled, “Alex!” A man poked his head out and walked slowly toward her. He looked confused. She said to him, “You know how to run this yet?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. I need to go chat with this young woman. Good boy, Alex,” she beckoned for me to follow her. I read his name tag. It said Brandon.

“Is his name Brandon or Alex? It says Brandon on his tag.”

She glanced back. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Andrew.”

“Why the hell did you answer to Alex? And why does your name tag say Brandon?”

“Your sister said to answer to whatever you called me, and we were saving money on name tags.”

“My sister is a bitch. I’ll order you a name tag after this. Give me half an hour and we’ll chat. I own this place, not her,” she said matter of factly as we kept walking.

I barely registered the relief and shock on his face before following her out of the main room, back through a maze of little rooms, and into an office at the back. It was cozy with several overstuffed armchairs.

“Set, set.” She motioned at me to take a seat.

I did. “Thank you for taking the time.”

“Non-sense. I knew you would be coming round. With you seeing ghosts and all the investigating you do.”

“What?” I felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.

“Ah… I see them too. You might have other abilities as well. Your secret is safe with me. Well, I think a few people know these days after you saved that man, but it’s all hush hush. Mandy knows?”

“Yes.” My only reply.

“Good. A best friend keeps the secret well. When mine died, my secret died with her. I didn’t know who else to tell.”

I felt an ache deep inside me. That was terrible. She must feel so alone sometimes. “I’m so sorry. Well, now I know. You can always talk to me. I could really use some help understanding my abilities. They’re growing.”

She contemplated this. “Maybe. We will see. Let me think on this.”

I nodded.

“Now, Sylvia had a fight with a customer recently. I think his name was Claude Houston. He ran out on his bill several times. I heard the shouting when he came in and ordered. She refused to serve him. She said he could be served only if he paid up the over $100 he owed in times he’d ran out without paying. He tried to swear that he was just having hard times. She said his not paying was gonna cause her hard times. She told him she was sorry but she wouldn’t serve him. He said he’d get her back. Then, he left.”

“That’s ominous.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, I think it was all words. Guy cried on the way to the car. He was so sad and embarrassed. I think he has been living out of the car for a while. And sometimes, I think he was getting so desperate for hot food and coffee, he’d go in. She didn’t know that’s why he’d run out. If she did, she’d have given him food on the house, saved leftovers for him, things like that, but he was too damn proud to tell her.”

“Oh…that’s so sad. I know she would have. As long as he’s not the murderer, I’ll look him up and tell him to swing by my place a few times a week for some goodies.”

She smiled at me. “That would be wonderful. I’ve started bringing my leftovers from home and offering them to him when I see him. He doesn’t question why. I also let him come in and go to the bathroom. I think he’s harmless, but there isn’t any real way to know…”

I nodded.

“And then there’s the fact that when I was in there yesterday, she fired the girl working for her. There was such a scene.”

“Becky?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “As long as she only had the one.”

“She did. I thought she still worked there.”

“No. I saw it myself. She fired her.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“She saw her stealing. Told her she’d finally caught her redhanded, but had been keeping logs. She wrote her up on the spot and fired her.”

“What was she stealing?” I asked, feeling incredulous that Becky hadn’t mentioned getting fired.

“Money from the cash register.”

“Ohhhh….that’s bad.”

“And then rumor has it that someone has been trying to buy Sylvia’s spot out to make a donut shop. I’m sure it’s true because I’ve been approached about my spot too, saying that if they acquired the corner lot, they’d pay me double the value of this lot if i’d sell.”

Feeling curious, I asked, “Would you?”

“For Sylvia’s sake, I said no. If anyone else owned it, I’d consider. I mean, money and luxury for my final years. I couldn’t say no to that.”

I nodded at her. It made sense. “And you don’t know who wants to buy?”

“No. Secretive. Secretive.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Will you not tell anyone I’m asking around for info?”

“Mums the word.”

“Thank you. And if you hear anything,” I reached into my little purse and pulled out a business card. Several things hit the ground. I scooped them up. “Here’s my card. Call me.”

“I will sweetie. Straight away.”

“Be careful.”

“I always am.” She smiled warmly. She was not who I expected. I’d never had a long conversation with her. She was a sweet woman.

I stood up. “I’ll swing by soon for another chat.”

“My office is always open.” She hugged me. I hugged her back.

As I wound my way back through and out to the front, I pondered the info I’d gathered. It was a lot. Out front, a defeated looking Mandy stood by the car.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing. No one knows anything but he said she said gossip.”

“I have all the real info from Ms. Pinky. It’s not gossip. She was Sylvia’s neighbor here and at home.”

“OH! That’s great. Like really great, but isn’t she mean?”

“No, not at all. Once I started talking to her, she is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

We crawled back into the car as we were fast approaching dusk. I asked Mandy to drop me off at home.

“See you tomorrow!” She says.

As I walk back to my door, I couldn’t help but think about this morning, leaving for a simple cup of coffee, and how my life was flip upside down. As I reached the door, I started digging for my keys in my little purse. They weren’t there. I must have dropped them at some point today. I’d have to look for them tomorrow. Sighing, I pulled out my phone and searched for the number to a local locksmith.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Connor Click Locksmith, How may I help you?”

It must have been the day. I laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m locked out of my house.”

He was quiet on the other end of the line. “Was it my name?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just been a really bad day…” I trailed off.

“Nah. It’s sort of meant to be. Right?” He said, laughing.

“Address?” He asked.

*** 

Connor was on my porch in fifteen minutes.

“Thank you so much for coming so fast.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “What made your day bad?”

I hesitated. “Did you hear about the murder?”

“Yes. That’s terrible. Scary!”

“She was one of my close friends. I found her.”

He stopped dead. He turned to me. “I’m so sorry. I’d like to offer my condolences. And this,” he gestured at the door, “It’s on the house. You are allowed to lose your keys on a day like today. Anyone would. At least you didn’t loose your mind.”

I laughed. “Yet.”

“Better than I would be…” he teased me.

As he was bent over, I couldn’t help noticing his chiseled arms and back through his tight grey t-shirt. Man had the body of a God.

What was wrong with me? An extended celibacy was wrong with me. So sue me. I was stressed. He was sweet and sexy. And… I glanced. No ring.

The door popped open. “There you go. I have a couple of questions for you. He pulled out a form from his bag.

“Sure.”

“Full name?”

“Carrie Elizabeth Cooper.”

“Phone Number? Food preference? And availability for tomorrow night?”

I looked at him. Heat rising to my cheeks. “You have my number. I love Italian or Mexican food, but I’m not picky. I’m available at 7:00. I work until 6:30 and need to come home and change.”

“Perfect. May I pick you up at 7:00?

“Yes,” I smiled at him.

“Was I too forward?”

“No. I was hopeful you’d ask me out, so I didn’t have to lock myself out again…” I said, laughing.

We both dissolved into laughter standing on my porch.

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