Short Mystery 10-Pack

Short Mystery 10-Pack

Michael Kingswood

Contents

About This Book

Popper's

Across The Line

Abe's Liquors

The Billionaire's Daughter

Hunting For Game

Give A Dog A Bone

Bag Man

Fresh Out

The Suspect's Wife

Beach Bags

Message From The Author

Mailing List

Supporting Patronage

About The Author

More Books By Michael Kingswood

About This Book

A mysterious stranger upsets life in a quiet bookstore.

A police negotiator finds more than he bargained for on his latest case.

A quick trip to the liquor store becomes exciting. And dangerous.

Private Investigators seek to recover a lost heirloom.

A man goes hunting for more than game.

A dog on a run with his best buddy makes a grim discovery.

A simple courier job turns deadly.

Fresh out of prison, a man seeks revenge on the woman who framed him.

A client's cryptic story leads Private Investigators to evidence of multiple murders.

A bag of money makes a day at the beach very interesting.

A collection of 10 short mysteries from author Michael Kingswood, Short Mystery 10-Pack contains the stories Popper’s, Across The Line, Abe’s Liquors, The Billionaire’s Daughter, Hunting For Game, Give A Dog A Bone, Bag Man, Fresh Out, The Suspect’s Wife, and Beach Bags.

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Popper’s

New customers come through Popper's bookstore all the time.  But one of them, an average man in every way, has David very concerned that he intends more than just buying books.

It was nearing the end of David's shift at Popper's Books And Things. Even for a Tuesday, it had been a slow day. Maybe half a dozen people had actually bought something all day; not for the first time, he pondered whether working the counter at a small bookstore was the best summer job for him to have taken.

He was an Engineering major, not in the liberal arts. He probably should have pushed to find something more related to his field.

But he couldn't even apply for a summer intern position until after the end of next school year, and there was something about Popper's…

He'd discovered it his second week at school, and before long it had become the place he hung out in more than any other.

The antique but carefully preserved and polished mahogany counter running half the length of the store to the right of the entrance, where the staff kept watch over the customers like a bartender looking out over his pub.

The six rows of equally-polished hardwood shelves—not mahogany but still nice—that took up the center of the shop's space.

The wall shelves to the left of the entrance that housed new release comics of every variety, and the backlist boxes at the rear.

The small brown leather couch against the wall past the end of the counter, and the two matching stuffed chairs opposite it where customers could read or sip a cup from the pot that Barbara, the owner, insisted be maintained freshly-brewed and available at all times.

And, of course, the game room in back, complete with all the miniatures a game master and his groups of players could need for the evening, an old and battered but still running refrigerator where the players could stash snacks and—non-alcoholic—drinks, and a trio of tables sized for eight so that there was almost always room to get a game on.

Barbara kept the shelves well-stocked with a mix of new and used tomes, and liked to spray the place down with a different air freshener each week. Today, that meant the place had the mixed odor of french roast and lavender, with just a hint of old paper beneath.

Add the light jazz that made up the shop's approved playlist, piped from the cashier's iMac to bluetooth speakers nestled at each corner of the shop's main room, and it was a nice, homey, welcoming place.

Just lacking in customers. Today, at least.

David had the register app open on the iMac and was just getting started reconciling the take for his shift—not a hard task today—when the little bell mounted above the entrance rang.

A customer.

He looked up, and his hackles rose immediately.

The guy was average looking. As average as it was possible to be: height, build, facial features, hair…all the way down to his beige suit. He would have had to work to be more unnoticeable.

Except that as he approached David's counter, doffing the sunglasses he had been wearing to reveal light brown eyes, he gave off a sense of presence, of power right on the edge of control, and David knew this was no ordinary, average guy, however he may look.

Can I help you?

The guy folded up his shades and slipped them into the inner pocket of his suit coat. He remained silent for a couple seconds, and glanced to his left, toward the gaming room. Checking to see if anyone was back there?

Finally, the man looked back at David, and the intensity of that very average stare made him want to shift on his feet.

I don't know, David. Can you help me?

David swallowed. How do you know my name?

The man's lips turned upward into the smallest hint of a smile. Store's website, he said, and David felt heat rise to his cheeks in embarrassment.

He'd forgotten about the staff pictures Barbara posted there; it had seemed silly to put him up since he was just around for the summer, but she'd insisted.

The man let a few seconds pass in silence, then made a little shrug and looked toward the back room again. Is Barbara here?

No, she's coming in for the evening shift today. Should be here in twenty minutes or so.

Ah. He nodded as though David had said something profound.

There's coffee if you want to wait for her.

No, I must be off. Just tell her Henry said hello, and I look forward to catching up with her soon.

Then he turned and walked out. David couldn't help thinking the plain name suited his plainness perfectly.

It made him distinctly uneasy.

By the time Barbara showed up—thirty minutes later—he still had not been able to put the guy out of his mind. Something was just…off…about him, and the whole situation there.

Barbara was all smiles, as usual, as she walked in the door. She had her reddish-brown hair up, her curls mostly bundled away in an intricate mass of braids and twists and what-have-yous that was impossible to follow, and wore jeans and a loose green collared blouse. In her mid 30s, she was a bit on the plump side, but what she lacked in sexiness she made up for in good old fashioned fun personality.

Hey David, she said, as she swept through the door and over to the counter. Good day?

He shrugged. Slow day.

Well, it's Tuesday, she said, and maneuvered down toward the coffee pot over next to the couch.

Yeah. David logged out of the register app and picked up his backpack, from where he had left it in the corner behind the counter. Accounts are all square.

Barbara nodded, not taking her eyes away from the cup she was pouring. Ok, thanks. Have a great night.

You too. David slipped out from behind the counter, maneuvering carefully to avoid bumping into her as he passed her by. By the way, he said as he started toward the door, your friend Henry stopped by to say hi.

What?

The sudden change in her tone made him turn back to look at her, concern rising within him. She sounded like she really hoped she had heard him wrong.

Henry. Plain guy. Really average, but…also not? He said hi, and that he wants to see you again soon.

Her hand that was holding the cup began to shake, and then the coffee she was pouring into the cup ran over.

Barbara made a yelp of pain and chagrin as the scalding liquid spilled over onto her hand. She reflexively shook the hand, flinging the coffee off, but lost her grip on the cup.

It fell and shattered on the false-wood laminate floor, coffee spilling all over the place.

Damn! Barbara said, and raised her burned hand to her mouth.

Are you ok? David said, rushing toward her.

She put the pot back down and waved him away. I'm fine. I'm fine. Just…you surprised me.

Let me help clean up.

No. No, you go. You're seeing Lindsay again tonight right? She put on a smile, but David could tell it was forced. Don't want to be late.

No. No, he really didn't. Lindsay was something else. But… You sure you're alright? He glanced toward the door, recalling the look on Henry's face when he'd been there earlier. Who is that guy?

Just…a friend. An old friend.

Boyfriend? He tried to make his tone light, but failed and he knew it.

Barbara shrugged. The one that got away. Kind of? Again with the smile that really wasn't. Go on, get out of here.

David hesitated, and she made a shooing gesture. Go!

He went.

David had the evening shift Thursday. When he came into the Popper's, Henry was there, with Barbara.

Henry had on the same beige suit as before, and stood in front of the counter in the same casual, yet also not, pose that he had used before.

Barbara was behind the counter, in her red and white stripped shirt and wearing a not happy expression.

When the bell over the door rang, announcing David's presence, both of them turned to look his way.

Barbara immediately tried—and failed—to put a relaxed smile on her face.

Henry gave David a once-over, then sniffed ever so softly. He looked back at Barbara and said, Three days. Think about it.

Then he turned away from the counter and walked out. David, Henry said as he walked past. It was both greeting and dismissal. And then he was gone.

David watched the door close behind him, then looked back at Barbara, both eyebrows raising.

Barbara met his gaze for a second, then looked away toward the iMac screen. It's been a busy day, she said, and began typing away at the keyboard. But I've got the accounts register up to date. There are two groups in the back.

David nodded, though she couldn't see, and moved over to the counter. What was going on there?

Barbara's lips compressed. She continued typing, but didn't reply.

Barbara -

It's not your concern, she snapped, and David flinched.

She had never raised her voice like that, to anyone. Not in most of the year that he had been coming here, and that he had known her.

Barbara seemed to realize she had crossed a line. She stopped typing and just looked at the screen for a few seconds. Then, with a sigh, she turned her eyes back onto David.

I appreciate you're worried, but you don't need to be. It's just some old business Henry and I have to resolve. I'm a big girl; I can handle it. She grinned mischievously then, and added, And you have better things to be thinking about. You never told me how it went with Lindsay the other night.

It was a painfully obvious change in subject. She didn't want him involved with whatever was going on between her and David, that much was clear.

And, he reminded himself, she was almost twice his age. Pretty sure she knew how to handle herself.

So he went with the change in subject.

This time.

Henry didn't come around again that David saw, but the effects of his presence lingered. Barbara seemed distracted, and on-edge, as the work-week ended and the weekend began.

Normally David would not work the weekend. Barbara had a couple part-timers who handled the counter on Saturdays and Sundays, and though Popper's was open late on Saturday she closed up early on Sundays, so there really wasn't any need for him.

But he found himself in the shop more often than not most weekends anyway. His D&D group met there Saturday afternoons, and a lot of the time there was a writer on a signing tour or something else cool going on so he ended up sticking around after the game.

This weekend, he decided he was going to keep as close an eye on the shop—and Barbara—as he could. Henry had said something was going down in three days. That meant Sunday. And though Barbara's assurance that there wasn't a problem stymied David's initial suspicions, her continued obvious discomfort made him determined to help.

If he could.

So he stayed late after his D&D game, until closing time. Lindsay wanted to hook up that night, but he begged off, honestly saying a friend needed his help.

Still, as he sat on the couch in Popper's and read the latest Grisham book while Henry steadfastly didn't come into the shop and Barbara had absolutely no difficulty at all all night, David wondered what the hell he thought he was doing.

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, and David went out for his morning run.

While he was making his way through mile 3, he let his thoughts go, and he really considered what was going on. What he was doing.

Henry and Barbara had a previous relationship.

Something about Henry himself had certainly made David uncomfortable.

But maybe he was just projecting his own crap onto Barbara. She had seemed uncomfortable when he first mentioned Henry to her, but that was attributable to hearing from an old acquaintance after a long hiatus.

And David had no idea what he had stepped into when he arrived for work the other day. For all he knew, Henry had been trying to ask her out, and she felt embarrassed because David had walked in, not because of anything Henry had done.

She certainly didn't want to talk to David about it; but then she didn't really have to, did she? They were friendly, but she wasn't his friend. She was his boss, and quite a bit older than he was.