Last Straw (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 7) Read online

  I thwacked his arm. “Something like that.”

  I reached for a bag again but this time, he positioned himself between me and his luggage and shook his head. “I’ll get them,” he said firmly.

  I started to protest but he interrupted me. “You know what would be great? A cup of coffee and something to eat. Something homemade. They served us pretzels on the plane.”

  “I’d think you would be used to eating pretzels for breakfast.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am,” he said. “Which is exactly my point.”

  I chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll make you breakfast and you can haul all of this stuff out to the guest house. Key is in the planter by the front door. It’s for the doorknob, not the deadbolt.”

  He looped his guitar case over one shoulder and hefted two of the bags from the porch. “And it’s just behind the house?”

  I nodded. “Straight back. You can’t miss it.”

  I watched as he clunked his way down the steps and disappeared around the corner of the house. And then, with a smile on my face, I closed the front door and headed for the kitchen.

  My son was home, and he was hungry.

  And everything felt right in my world.

  THREE

  It was Tuesday morning, and the table in the kitchen was set for three. Laura had arrived late Monday afternoon, hours after Luke, and without Connor. He would be coming later in the week but she’d insisted on driving down sooner. Her rationale: Luke was here, and she wanted to be able to spend as much time together as possible as a family. While this might have been somewhat true, I knew the real reason.

  She didn’t want to miss out on anything.

  I would never say she was jealous of my relationship with Luke, but it did ruffle her feathers that he and I got along so easily. There had never been anything contentious about our relationship, no teen drama or angst; the most Luke and I ever argued about was making sure chores were done. Laura, on the other hand, had almost driven me to drink, and there might have been a celebratory toast with my favorite merlot after I’d moved her into her college dorm. She hadn’t been wild or difficult, just…trying. And this pattern had continued into her adult years, solidifying the fact that this was just how our relationship was destined to be. I loved her, but she sometimes drove me crazy.

  I had a baked French toast casserole in the oven and was just finishing cutting up a cantaloupe. A full cup of coffee sat on the counter next to me, a winter blend version flavored with ginger and cloves. Music played softly, a sultry version of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” and I glanced out the window for confirmation. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun a watery yellow orb barely visible behind a copse of spindly, bare-branched trees. It definitely looked cold.

  I could hear Laura coming down the stairs. Luke was still in the guest house. I’d told him breakfast would be ready at nine a.m. but whether or not he would be ready was anyone’s guess.

  “Morning,” Laura mumbled sleepily.

  I finished dicing the last bit of cantaloupe and dumped the pieces into the waiting bowl.

  “Good morning,” I said. “How did you sleep?”

  She slumped into a chair. “Terrible. Did you know you have mice?”

  I grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and filled it with coffee for her. “In your room?” I tried to keep the alarm out of my voice.

  She took the cup and sipped greedily, then winced. She’d probably just burned her tongue. “No, not in the room,” she said. “I would have come and got you right away. But I heard them scurrying around in the attic.”

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I hear them all the time.”

  And squirrels. And bats. I was pretty sure a zoo of wildlife animals had taken up residence in my attic. My house was like Florida: it got cold outside and instead of heading south, all the little critters had decided to head inside my house.

  Laura wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to do something about it?”

  I brought the bowl of fruit over to the table and set it down next to her. “Like what?”

  “Like exterminate them?”

  “Why? They’re not bothering me.”

  Laura stared at me. “They’re probably pooping everywhere, eating through insulation.”

  I didn’t think this was the right time to bring up the fact that the home inspector had said there actually wasn’t much insulation in the attic. And that the house might be very cold during the winter because of it.

  “I’ll get it taken care of eventually,” I told her.

  “Which means never,” she muttered. She took another sip of her coffee, a little more cautiously this time. “They could eat through wiring too, you know. I saw that on a show on HGTV.”

  “Mice eating through wiring? They showed that?”

  Laura frowned. “No, not the actual chewing. It was a remodel after a fire. Mice chewed through the wiring in the house and started a fire.”

  Like other conversations with Laura, this was going to quickly devolve if we didn’t change subjects, and fast.

  “You’re right,” I said, nodding. I refilled my own coffee and added a generous splash of cream. “I’ll call later today.”

  “You will?” The disbelief in her voice was unmistakable.

  “Yes.”

  And I meant it. I would call...someone. Maybe Sophia, to see if she had any recommendations for an exterminator. Or Vivian. She might have suggestions. Briefly, I thought of Gunnar. He was so knowledgeable about home issues that he would probably offer to do it himself, but I kicked that idea to the curb as soon as it popped up. He had a houseful for the holidays. A houseful that included his ex-wife. The last thing he needed was his neighbor—his ex-lover neighbor—calling him for help yet again.

  Laura was still eyeing me suspiciously, like she couldn’t decide whether or not my yes had simply been to appease her or if I really meant it. She didn’t have time to comment further, though, because Luke stumbled through the back door, looking bleary-eyed and disoriented.

  “Good morning,” I said, a little cautiously. After giving him a thorough once-over, I decided he just looked tired, not hung over.

  He dropped into a chair across the table from his sister. “Morning,” he mumbled.

  It looked as though he needed coffee more than his sister had a few minutes earlier. I poured a cup, which he accepted gratefully.

  “Time changes suck.” He sipped his coffee, much more carefully than Laura had, and then looked around the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

  “French toast casserole.” I glanced at the timer on the oven. It was down to double-digits, counting down the last minute. “It’s almost done.”

  “Mom has mice,” Laura announced. The coffee must have worked its magic because she looked—and sounded—much more awake.

  Luke gave her a blank stare. “What?”

  “Mice,” she repeated. “In her attic. They’re probably eating insulation and chewing through wires every night. She needs an exterminator.”

  Luke glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. His expression was one of concern, but I could tell it wasn’t related to the mice; it was reserved for his sister.

  “Wires and insulation are a staple in a mouse’s diet?” he said. “I never knew.”

  Laura glared at him. “In winter, yes.” She hesitated. “Probably.”

  “So they change their diet habits seasonally? Huh.” He brought the cup to his lips and sipped again. “Did you learn this at school? Teaching it to your kids?”

  I bit back a smile. “I told her I’ll get it looked at,” I said. “No sense in talking about it now until we know what’s up there.”

  Laura’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s up there? You already said you knew it was mice. What else could be up there?”

  I held up a hand. “No, I meant what kind of damage. I mean, if there is any damage. Maybe they have a nice little pile of food that they brought up.”

  “So now they’re bringing food into the attic?” Her eyes wide
ned. “Where are they getting it from?”

  The timer on the oven beeped and I pulled out the casserole. It would need at least a few minutes to cool off, but I was so hungry, I wanted to dive into it right then.

  Laura gasped. “Oh my god. Do you think they come to the kitchen? Like, get into your cupboards and steal food?” She was staring at the casserole dish as if it were loaded with vermin feces. “Because that is disgusting. You’re going to need to get the whole house exterminated.”

  “You have pills, right?” Luke asked.

  Laura looked at her brother. “What? For the mice? To kill them? Of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t even think they’re a problem!”

  “No, not for the mice,” he said. “For you. So you can take a chill pill and just stop.”

  Laura’s cheeks reddened and I could see where this was heading. It was like we’d turned the calendar back ten years and two teenagers were sitting at the kitchen table, griping and snipping at each other. As amusing as it was, the way Luke could immediately get under Laura’s skin, I was not ready to experience five full days of it, especially on our first morning together.

  “Luke,” I warned.

  He gave me an innocent look. “What?”

  I tried not to melt at those blue eyes. He’d used them to his advantage all through his childhood, and the immunity I’d built up had clearly waned from lack of use.

  A loud bang on the front door saved me from having to answer. I left the two of them and hurried into the living room. Maybe this was the final delivery I’d been waiting for.

  My stomach dropped as soon as I opened the door.

  There was no truck, no delivery driver, and no package.

  Instead, Sheriff Don Lewis was parked on my porch, his arms folded over his chest.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “Sure can,” he practically growled. “Got a search warrant for your property, Rainy Day.”

  FOUR

  “A what?”

  The sheriff’s bushy white moustache twitched. “You heard me. I have a warrant to search your property.”

  “What?” I sputtered. “Why?”

  He waved a hand impatiently. “No time for that. I’m supposed to tell you I have a warrant, and I’ve done that.” He turned on his heel and stalked away from me, back down the front porch steps.

  “Wait a minute,” I called. I didn’t have shoes or a jacket on, but that didn’t stop me from chasing after him. Neither did the fact that my two adult children were sitting at my kitchen table, oblivious to what was happening.

  My nose tingled from the cold air and goose bumps immediately covered my skin. The morning was just as cold as the previous day, but I didn’t know if my physical reaction was to the elements or to the news the sheriff had just shared.

  A search warrant? Why on earth was I being served with a search warrant?

  “Sheriff,” I said, trying to catch up with him. “Wait a minute.” But if he heard me, he made no indication.

  I sighed in frustration and doubled back to the house, just long enough to slip some shoes on and grab a coat. Laura was in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, the cup of coffee cradled in her hands, and my stomach bottomed out. She was the last person I wanted to see at that moment. I’d actually been hoping she and Luke would be too busy scarfing down the breakfast casserole to even notice I was missing. Or fighting. I would have even welcomed that if it meant they could remain in the dark about the sheriff’s unexpected visit.

  She looked at me with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I said, probably a little too brightly.

  Her brow wrinkled. “Nothing?” She glanced pointedly at the shoes and jacket I was wearing. “Where are you going?”

  I swallowed. “Oh, just to check on something.”

  She waited, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

  I thought fast. “I was, uh, going to look for some mice traps out in the barn.”

  I didn’t know who was more surprised by this statement, me or her.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding as though I was trying to convince myself that this was indeed a good idea. “I’m pretty sure I saw a box out there on one of the shelves. Figured I could get them set up in the attic now, before I call anyone. Maybe save some money that way.”

  Laura was still studying me. “Okay,” she said. “That’s probably a good idea. But what if they’re rabid or something?”

  “The mice?” I was bouncing from foot to foot, anxious to catch up with the sheriff.

  She nodded. “You don’t want to get bit while you’re up there. A teacher friend of mine got bit by a rabid raccoon and she had to do a whole series of shots.”

  “I’ll look for some gloves in the barn while I’m out there,” I told her. Inspiration struck. “Might take me a while, though, so don’t worry if I’m gone for a while.”

  “Leather,” Laura said. She leaned against the doorframe and sipped her coffee. “You want leather gloves. Those would probably be harder to bite through. And I’d wear two pairs, if you can. Just for extra protection. You never know how sharp mice teeth are.”

  I wasn’t even sure that mice had teeth, but I just nodded vigorously. “Of course. Two pair. I’m on it.”

  “You want some help?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, probably a little too quickly. “I mean, you should eat breakfast. Stay and visit with your brother.” She wrinkled her nose at that suggestion. “Besides, it’s cold outside.”

  “Maybe Luke should come out.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. I glanced at the open front door and wondered how much of my property the sheriff had already ransacked while I stood talking about mousetraps and gloves and rabies with my daughter. “You both stay here.”

  I didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, I took as normal of steps as I could out the front door and across the porch, just in case she was watching me from the window. And then, when I knew I was safely out of view, I sprinted around the house and headed down the driveway toward the barn, hoping that was the building the sheriff had chosen to start with.

  I needed to catch up with him.

  Because I needed some answers.

  FIVE

  The barn’s wooden double doors had been pulled open just enough to let me know the sheriff was indeed inside.

  “Sheriff Lewis?”

  The subtle smell of hay and manure assaulted my nostrils the minute I stepped into the building. I hadn’t used the barn for anything other than storage, so the odors that greeted me any time I put the lawnmower away or came out to search for a pitchfork or other gardening tool always took me by surprise. Len Konrath, the previous owner, had owned livestock, and the smells in the barn were always a reminder of this. He’d left other things in the old wooden building besides the musty odor of livestock: rusty tools and empty feed sacks and long forgotten watering cans and buckets.

  The sheriff had somehow managed to find the light in the barn, a single bare bulb with a long pull chain attached to it. It shone weakly, the light barely enough to illuminate the large space. But the sheriff was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sheriff?” I called again.

  There was a sound from up in the loft area, something that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a cough.

  I headed toward the wooden ladder propped against the loft, and a mouse skittered in front of me, scurrying from an empty feed sack toward the back wall of the barn. I wondered if it was a cousin or some other relation to the mice living in my attic.

  “Are you up there?”

  “’Course I’m up here,” the sheriff snapped. “Who else do you think is here?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Maybe the person you’re looking for?”

  His head came into view, and from the position he was in, it looked like he was on his hands and knees. “I’m not looking for a person.”

  “Oh?” I put my hands on my hips. “Well, I wouldn’t know since you haven’t
told me why you’re on my property.”

  He stepped on to the ladder and made his way down, his ample stomach grazing the rungs as he lowered himself. His hands gripped the wood so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

  “Told you,” he said once he got down. He wiped his brow. “Got a search warrant.”

  “So you said.” I stared at him. “For what?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the pile of old feed sacks. Right on cue, another mouse appeared from underneath them and, after circling a bit, headed in the same direction as its friend had a moment earlier.

  The sheriff let out a little squeal as it scurried toward him, and jumped back.

  I almost laughed at his reaction, but I was too focused on why he was there and why he had a search warrant.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  He apparently had recovered from his mouse scare, because he just made another grunting noise and scanned the interior of the barn. There wasn’t much to look at: some wooden hen houses barely held together with long, rusty nails, a single stall for a larger animal, the gate hanging drunkenly from the frame, and a couple of old, large whiskey barrels, both of them with large enough cracks that they’d never adequately hold liquid again. A large wooden cupboard was in one corner, and I’d decided to use it to store my smaller gardening supplies—seeds and the like—but the remainder of the barn was empty. If he was looking for something, or someone, it wouldn’t take him long to realize it wasn’t there.

  “This is ridiculous,” I muttered.

  My irritation was ramping up because the sheriff was acting as though I wasn’t even there. As far as I was concerned, he was trespassing on my property. He said he had a search warrant, but he had yet to produce one. But who was I going to call to report him? He was the law in this town. In this county, really.

  And I had other concerns, too. Namely, my daughter. The last thing I needed was a repeat of what had happened at Thanksgiving. She’d come to spend the holiday with me and I’d been consumed by a murder mystery that had engulfed the entire town, much to her horror. She’d been upset by the time I’d spent on it, and I’d felt guilty that I’d neglected her and Connor. I was looking forward to the Christmas holiday, thinking it might be a way to both make amends and convince her the town I now called home wasn’t half bad.