Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Colt’s mind wasn’t on work when he opened the depot Thursday morning. He was fifteen minutes late turning the “open” sign around, but it wasn’t like there was a line at the door.
Last night, after a meal of leftover surprise, he’d allowed Anna to drop him and the four boxes of records at the door. He’d planned to drive back over with his truck to collect them, but she’d offered to drive and he hadn’t been able to come up with a good reason to turn her down. I don’t want to be alone in that small car with you wouldn’t go over well and he could hardly explain.
He lied to her with every word he spoke. Not that he had a choice but still, it felt wrong. Deception always was, but it had become an everyday part of his life. He couldn’t tell Anna that Jack was dead. Not until he had answers. Proof. Something besides I see dead people …
He could’ve asked her to stay, after they’d carried the boxes inside, walking into a dimly lit and oddly silent depot. No music was playing, no ACDC or Frank Sinatra. All the regular ghosts had been present, but they’d hung back, giving him much needed space. Even Maude had remained silent.
Anna had lingered a bit, she hadn’t been eager to leave. Maybe she’d wanted him to ask her to stick around for a while. She wasn’t loving all the work at her mom’s house, she’d made that clear, but maybe it was more.
Unlikely. She just wanted a friend, an escape.
Just as he decided to bring his laptop down and try his hand at a search for Jack, business picked up. Tourists, a couple of locals looking not at records but at doodads. Mugs, keychains, Seawolf Beach snow globes. Well, sand globes. Seemed to him that September was much too early for Christmas shopping, but these ladies were determined to get an early start.
Sawyer Wakefield stopped by. He didn’t come in often, but he had been known to stop by. Sawyer never bought a record but he did browse as if he was interested, and he’d purchased a t-shirt or two which Colt had never seen him wear. Not that he saw Sawyer around town very often. Wakefield had been a year behind Colt in high school and they’d played baseball together, but they hadn’t been close friends then or now. Their lives had gone in different directions.
Colt and Jack had both headed to college. Sawyer had gone to work at his dad’s nursery right out of high school. He’d expanded the business to landscaping, which had gone so well a few years back the elder Wakefield had retired and left Sawyer in charge. Wakefield Nursery now employed twenty or more people, and business seemed to be going strong.
Colt approached Sawyer as he browsed a rack of t-shirts. “How’s business?”
“Good. Autumn is always a busy time.” Sawyer gave Colt a crooked smile.
“I could use some landscaping help,” Colt said.
Sawyer looked surprised. “You usually handle that yourself.”
He did, but these days he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions. “I’m pretty busy, and maybe I need to give some of the hard work up in my old age.”
“Happy to help, old man,” Sawyer teased. “Call the nursery. They have the schedule. I’m sure we have some open slots for an old friend.”
One less thing to add to his juggling act. The Jasmine Street house had a couple of dead bushes by the front porch, and the Pine Street house needed some beautifying before he rented it out again. For now there was no rush. He didn’t need beautification while he was living there.
Shit. Might as well… “Hey, do you remember the last time you saw Jack?”
“Jack Miller?”
“Yeah. We kinda lost touch, and I’d love to contact him. I can’t even find him on social media.” It didn’t feel wrong to lie to Sawyer, not like it did with Anna.
“I’m afraid I’m no help.” Sawyer shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t even tell you how long it’s been since I saw Jack. I’ll ask around. Harry might’ve kept in touch with him. Mark? Hmm. Tuck might know where he is. Jack hung out at The Magnolia all the time, when Tuck’s uncle ran the place.”
Sawyer didn’t avoid anyone and everyone the way Colt normally did. He had contacts, friends, a life .
Maude snuck up behind him and whispered, “He’s cute. Think he’d date a ghost? An older woman?”
Colt decided to save his response until after Sawyer left.
If Sawyer reached out to the old gang Colt wouldn’t have to. That was a relief, more comforting than knowing he wouldn’t have to wrestle with dead bushes to get them out of the ground. Damn, he really was becoming a hermit…
Anna expected Colt to call her Thursday, but he didn’t. Not that her problems were his, not that he had to worry about all her mother’s collections of this and that. He had a business and a life that didn’t include her. Did he have a life beyond his work? Beyond the depot and his rental houses? It was too soon for him to have news about any valuable records, and it was entirely possible he only saw her as his friend’s little sister, an annoyance, a pest who only wanted his coffee and his dumpster.
Somehow she’d have to change his mind. How was she supposed to have meaningless sex with him if he wasn’t around, if he didn’t see her as a woman, not the kid he remembered? Not that she was practiced in seduction, but he did have to be present for any of that to happen. She knew that much.
There was only so much she could do. If she kept showing up at his place of business she’d come off as desperate and lonely. Which, okay, maybe she was. She could call him with one excuse or another. Maybe invite him over for another mystery meal.
She did have a good excuse for calling; she’d need his dumpster a time or two or twenty…
All day Thursday, then well into the night, she picked up her cell to call him at least a dozen times. She never did. Instead she went through old magazines and tax forms from twenty-plus years ago. The decorative plates had been more fun. If Colt didn’t have a decent shredder, she was going to have to find one elsewhere.
She went to sleep that night with Colt, numbers, and recipes dancing in her brain.
Friday morning she woke with a new surge of inspiration. After a shower and a cup of weak coffee she left the house with cinnamon rolls, decent coffee, and Colt on her mind. All three were great distractions, much more pleasant than the paperwork and magazines that had filled much of the previous day. She could just show up at the depot with cinnamon rolls. Colt had coffee, plenty of it. Anna wasn’t sure where they might go from there. She was definitely interested, but was he?
She knew he was interested in cinnamon rolls, at least.
Since she’d arrived her car had been parked on the street most of the time. The exceptions had been her drive to Colt’s dumpster with a trunkful of plates and Wednesday night’s trip to drop off the boxes of records. The September weather had been pleasant and nothing she needed or wanted was very far away so she’d walked everywhere, as many Seawolf Beach residents did. Maybe the extra steps would make up for all the sweets she’d eaten since she got here.
At least she’d managed to stay out of the candy shop. So far.
Even if she didn’t move forward with Colt, she needed to get out of the house for a while. She loved her mother, but the constant chore of packing up junk, agonizing over each piece and reliving the history of every possession, was tiring. She understood, she did, but still… it was an exhausting experience. It was time for a break.
The good bakery had set up a trio of small tables and hard chairs that looked to be super uncomfortable on a small patio beside the shop. Overflow space, which was in use today. It was a nice enough day to sit outside and enjoy the bakery’s goodies, along with the weather.
It had been a while, but she recognized a couple of men sharing a table, coffee, and… muffins. The muffins made her question their tastes. She knew them both, but not well. Sawyer Wakefield was about Jack’s age. Maybe he’d been a year or two behind her brother in school, but he’d been close enough in age to play on Jack’s – and Colt’s – baseball team. Last she’d heard he’d been through a divorce that sounded as nasty as hers. Nate Tucker, who’d been called Tuck as long as she’d known him, was a couple of years, maybe three, younger than she was. Her mom had told her he’d inherited his uncle’s bar a couple of years ago. Hadn’t he been in the military for a while? That’s what she’d heard. Both of the men looked good, she had to admit. Tuck had really grown up nicely, and Sawyer was nice-looking, as he’d always been.
Two handsome men of the appropriate age, and neither of them affected her the way Colt did. She didn’t look their way and think oooh, they’d do nicely…
She would’ve walked on past and into the bakery, but Tuck saw her and called out. Both men stood and walked toward her. She wouldn’t call either of the men friends, but Seawolf Beach was a small town where everyone knew everyone else.
Tuck gave her a quick hug. “I didn’t know you were in town!”
Sawyer hung back, but he smiled at her. Upon closer inspection, he looked a bit haggard. Tired to the bone. The end of a marriage could do that to a person, she knew.
“I’m helping Mom get ready to move,” Anna said.
“Sounds like a job,” Sawyer said.
“It is. She never threw anything away!”
They all laughed and it was nice, somehow. Easy. She tried to imagine having her fling with one of these guys, if they were even available, but it didn’t work. Her mind and her body had decided. It was going to be Colt or no one.
“I’m sneaking a few things into Colt’s dumpster, and Nicole, at the antique store, took a couple of items. Not enough, I’m afraid. At least she took that awful duck picture off our hands. Dad loved it, for some reason, but I don’t think Mom liked it at all. That was one thing she wasn’t sorry to see go. The only one, I’m afraid.”
Belatedly, Sawyer leaned in and gave her a hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages. We should have dinner one night while you’re in town. You know, catch up, talk about the old days.”
It was the perfect opening, a chance to test the waters with someone who wasn’t at all squirrelly. Up close Sawyer appeared tired, maybe stressed. Tuck looked, as he always had, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. If she just needed to get laid…
Temptation came and went. “Thanks, but I’m so busy with Mom I just don’t have the time. We need to get everything out of the house, take care of some repairs, and get the place on the market.”
“Well, it was great seeing you. Good luck,” Tuck said before heading back to the table.
Sawyer nodded, then said, “If you change your mind call me. I’m at the nursery most days, or you can call there and leave a message. I’m in and out with the landscaping business, but I’m easy to find.”
She wanted to ask how his Dad was, but she knew from her mother that Walter Wakefield had been in declining health for a couple of years. His nursery, a small but flourishing business that kept all the local gardeners in good supply, was on the other side of the highway not far from the bar Tuck had inherited. The Magnolia was a fancy name for a dive bar, but it did a great business year round.
These men had stayed. They hadn’t run away the way Jack had. Why couldn’t her brother…? Over the years too many thoughts that popped into her brain started just that way.
Anna walked to the glass door of the bakery, took one look at the line at the counter, and changed her mind. This was beneath her; she was approaching desperation. She wouldn’t try to bribe Colt with cinnamon rolls or anything else. He’d want to spend time with her or he wouldn’t. He knew where she was. Sawyer had immediately asked her out, and Tuck had flashed her a charming smile. What was wrong with Colt?
She felt fourteen again. Did he see her that way? Would she always be a child in his mind?
Anna turned and walked back toward home. Home for now, but not for long. If Colt wanted anything to do with her, he’d show up or call. He’d ask her out or he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t go, cinnamon rolls in hand, begging for his attention.
Her only job here was to get her mother packed up and on her way out of town. Nina Miller would be on her way and Anna would be right behind, the sooner the better.
Saturday was always the busiest day for Hart’s Vinyl Depot. No matter the time of year, there were at least a few tourists. They wanted to check out the old depot, or look through the stacks of records, or grab a cup of coffee. Maybe all three.
Colt had two regular part-time employees who filled in if he needed a day off and came in every weekend. Christopher was on call, but he didn’t work often. None of Colt’s part-timers needed the money, which was a good thing since the few hours they worked didn’t provide much in the way of income. Helen Sommers had been friends with his mother since high school. She didn’t need the income, she just liked to get out now and then. She’d told him she made sure to spend everything she made working for him on frivolous things. Sometimes she’d show him what she bought. A pair of earrings. A new blouse. A colorful purse.
Like Christopher, Benny Travers was a high school student; a super smart young man who loved vinyl and needed a bit of cash for the occasional date. He was a nice looking kid, but so shy Colt had to wonder if he’d ever actually been on a date.
They all got along very well, with Helen becoming like a grandmother to the boys.
The ghosts — Maude in particular — had tried to get his employees’ attention more than once. She’d given up when her efforts didn’t produce a single reaction.
Maude gave Colt her full attention, as he leafed through one of the boxes of records he’d brought back from the Miller house Wednesday night after an evening of mystery casserole and talk about Jack that made him wish he’d opted for a PB one remained entirely untouched. Most of the Miller records were sorted and stored in three plastic milk crates. G reat finds , someone might want these , and I can give these away or sell them for a buck . They’d need more sorting once he went through the last box and everything had been cleaned and tested. What looked like a great find might be a one dollar record if it wasn’t in great shape, and if it was warped he couldn’t even get a buck for it.
Jack had been on his mind for the past couple of days, and he wondered if Sawyer might’ve had any luck reaching out to old buddies. He knew no one had talked to Jack in the past five years, but it was possible someone knew something . Who had he been hanging out with? What had he been involved in right before his death? It was a long shot that any of their old friends knew anything, but it wasn’t impossible.
Saturday morning at the depot had started off slow and he was tired of sorting the Miller records, so Colt headed out before noon. The Pine Street house should be clean by now. He’d get some help at some point, moving a favorite chair into the place along with a few boxes of personal stuff. He had to wonder if Maude would take revenge when he was no longer sleeping in the depot. She might be insulted, but the hours of peace would be precious. He’d take whatever punishment she dished out.
He didn’t want to do it, but he knew how to make her behave. She dearly hated heavy metal, and if he replaced Billy’s Boogie and Sinatra with Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister she’d soon settle down.
Or move on entirely. That was what he wanted for her, for all of them. It wasn’t right for the spirits to be held here, trapped among the living.
If he could solve Jack’s murder, would that ghost move on?
Colt was kind of embarrassed that he’d ever thought he could do this. He knew how to use a computer, but with his limited investigative skills he’d turned up zero. He was no private investigator.
Jack was dead, and no one else knew. No one even thought to miss him, except for his mother.
The little white cottage looked better from the sidewalk. The crew he’d hired had cleaned the porch, as well as the interior. He’d still have a few small repairs to make, but the place should be livable. And ghost free. No one commenting on his lack of cooking skills, or peering over his shoulder while he read, or standing at the end of the bed while he tried to sleep. No constant commentary on his life. That would still happen while he was at work, but to spend his evenings in peace and quiet… heaven.
The police car pulled to the curb while Colt stood there, studying the house and dreaming of peace. Police Chief Joseph Maxwell stepped out, scowling at Colt and the house behind him.
Chief Maxwell, Mac to his friends, had been in Seawolf Beach three years now, moving here to take the job after the old chief retired. It had to be much less exciting than his old gig as a detective in New Orleans, but he seemed to like the quiet even though he was far too young to retire himself. Rowdy tourists and the occasional misbehaving local kept him busy enough, but it was nothing like the city.
How would he like taking on a cold case? A murder, no less?
“This is it, huh?” Mac asked. “Why do you have to move right away? Give me a couple of days and I can round up younger, abler muscle. I don’t do a lot of heavy lifting, if I can help it.”
“Why should I wait when I have you?” Colt asked. “A chair, a few boxes, it won’t be too difficult. I’ve ordered the other furniture I need.” And when he was done, the place would be rented furnished again. “I’ll get you one of those wood-fired pizzas you like so much when we’re done.”
It was weird that Colt and Mac had struck up a friendship, since at first glance they had nothing in common other than they were both past forty and single, Mac thanks to a divorce he refused to talk about. The chief didn’t only not care about records and turntables, he didn’t seem to have a musical preference at all. He kept his hair cut nice and neat, was always perfectly clean-shaven, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a baggy t-shirt. He was order to Colt’s chaos.
Why hadn’t he thought to ask Mac about Jack? Mac had moved here about two years after Jack’s disappearance. He’d never known the man, or Anna, and it was unlikely he’d ever crossed paths with the senior Millers. Nina hadn’t left the house for years, and before his death Donnie Miller had led a quiet life that didn’t call for a police presence.
Mac had resources Colt did not, but how to ask without raising even more questions?
He thought about it, while they checked out the house and moved the bed that was currently in the master bedroom to the empty spare. The new bed frame and mattress he’d ordered would be delivered later this afternoon, along with a new couch and end table. The kitchen table could be saved, he’d decided. He could’ve moved his own bed from the depot, but he didn’t know how long he’d be in this house. Eventually he’d end up in the upstairs living space above records and ghosts again, so why go to the trouble of moving the bed?
A couple of times, as they wrestled with the mattress, Mac grumbled that this would be a good time to get a call about an emergency, but he followed the statement with a crooked smile.
When they finished up Colt grabbed two beers from the fridge he’d stocked last night and handed one to Mac.
“What would you say if I asked you to do some investigative work for me?”
Mac took a swig of the cold beer before answering. “Personal?”
“Not really.” Might as well just jump in. “An old high school friend left town five years ago, after a fight with his folks. Basically told them to fuck off. His sister is back in town, and she says no one has heard from him since. She’d really like to know what happened to him, if he stayed away on his own or if, you know, something happened to him.” Like maybe he was murdered on his way out of town…
Mac didn’t seem at all concerned, and why should he? “We don’t normally investigate grown men who leave home of their own accord.”
“I know, but it would ease Anna’s mind if she knew where he was and that he was alive and kicking.”
“Nice guy, this friend of yours?”
“Asshat.”
Mac nodded and took another swig of beer. “And this Anna?”
“Not an asshat.”
The chief grinned again, widely this time. “Okay, Romeo, I’ll see what I can find out. Text me whatever details you have about the guy, and I’ll get on it.”
Colt nodded. He could give name, address, date last seen and the details Anna had shared about the PIs findings. He didn’t dare add that Jack’s ghost was currently haunting his childhood home.
She’d tried to stay away, she really had, but she could only take so much boxing up and organizing and arguing with her mother about what might be valuable. Or not.
Anna was disappointed to find a couple of employees and a handful of customers in the depot, but no Colt. She got a cup of coffee from Helen Sommers, a woman Anna had known all her life but hadn’t seen in years, then sat at the coffee bar and watched people look through albums and t-shirts. Some of them just browsed, but others were thrilled to find a particular album or a shirt that made them smile.
Some albums were new releases, but she noticed that most were older. You could almost smell the nostalgia.
She glanced toward the stairway at the back of the store. A rope was draped across the bottom. A small sign hanging from that rope read “private.” Was Colt up there? Was he avoiding her? Maybe he was afraid her mom would try to feed him again.
He deserved a day off, she supposed. Helen and the young man behind the counter seemed to have everything in hand, so why not? Maybe he was sleeping into the afternoon, or running on the beach, or getting ready for a date. A date with someone other than her.
Since Anna hadn’t wanted to load up his dumpster on a busy Saturday, she’d walked. She’d told her mother she needed fresh air, and that wasn’t a lie. Oh, the dust they stirred up! There was also the promise that she’d check in with Nicole to see if she might be interested in a couple more cranberry sauce dishes. One of them was shaped like a turkey.
Anna decided she was wasting her time waiting for Colt to show up, so when she finished her coffee she headed out. After leaving the depot, she walked at a leisurely pace. It was a nice day, and downtown Seawolf Beach was an interesting place to take a stroll. There was still so much to be done at the house that she felt lazy for not rushing. The sooner she got this done the sooner she could get back to her life in Nashville, but she needed a break. She had to have some time out of that house! There hadn’t been any more weird incidents, so she’d written off what she’d thought she’d seen to exhaustion. Plates didn’t fly on their own. Snapshots didn’t hang in the air.
Treasures Past was as busy as the record store, as tourists searched for treasures among the junk. Anna browsed herself, while Nicole was busy with a customer who had questions about the origins of a piece of crystal.
Not a cranberry sauce dish.
After maybe half an hour, the crowd thinned. Nicole walked to Anna with a smile on her face.
“See anything you like?”
Nicole was even more nicely dressed than she’d been mid-week, maybe because she expected a busier day. Her blouse was silky and, in Anna’s opinion, too low cut. Maybe she was just jealous of the redhead’s boobs, which were impressive. Her jeans were so tight… how did she sit? Did she sit? She wore red heels when she was going to be on her feet all day. Brave woman, maybe foolish woman. But the effect was impressive.
Anna lowered her voice so the couple looking at kitchenware couldn’t hear. “No. When I get home I’m going to get rid of every doodad and useless keepsake I own.”
Nicole laughed. “At home I’m a bit of a minimalist myself. After spending my day surrounded by all these things, I want my space to be clean. I mean, a clear space on the kitchen table is a soothing sight, after a day at work.”
“I can imagine.”
Nicole gave her red hair a little toss and glanced toward the browsing tourists. “I suppose Colt is working today. He works all the time, I swear. I take a weekend off now and then, but Colt is always, always in his depot. I think he’s obsessed with those old records.” Nicole hesitated, then added, “Are you and he…”
Anna managed a nervous laugh. “There is no me and Colt,” she said. As she said the words, she was struck by the feeling that it wasn’t entirely true. There was something between them. Was it a shared love for Jack? Echoes of the past?
Nicole was relieved, that much was clear. “Not that it matters. I’ve been trying to get his attention for months, but he usually looks right through me. I even buy the occasional record, and I don’t own a turntable.”
They both laughed but Anna’s titter was nervous, not at all genuine.
“Honestly,” Nicole said, “I can count the number of eligible men in Seawolf Beach who are under the age of fifty on one hand. I’ve tried to put myself out there, but I’ve had no luck. It’s not like eligible unmarried men spend a lot of time in this place. That’s a handicap, for sure. Colt would be perfect but he’s not at all interested. At least, he’s not interested in me . I thought maybe you were more his type. Cute, blonde, and sweet.”
As opposed to gorgeous, redheaded, and… not sweet?
“Oh, well. Maybe one day I’ll show up at his store wearing nothing but a raincoat and these red heels and refuse to take no for an answer.” Nicole glanced toward the tourists again. “Hell, maybe tonight.” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t been laid in so long I’m about to come out of my skin.”
With that she walked away. Anna did a quick about face and pushed her way out the door.
It made no difference to her if Colt got laid by a forward redhead or not. He was allowed to have a love life. So was she, but it had been a while. A long while. She thought again that maybe a meaningless, quick hook up was in order. Not that she’d show up anywhere wearing nothing but a raincoat and a smile.
No, she was cute and sweet . Neither of those should be considered an insult, so why had it struck her like one?
She wasn’t ready to go home. She wasn’t ready to face boxes and dishes and clothes that hadn’t been worn in thirty years but were still perfectly good.
Colt had mentioned he was thinking about moving into the Pine Street house this weekend. Before his mother had bought it and turned it into a rental, the Carter family had lived there. Brandon had been a friend of Jack’s in middle school, but they’d moved west before high school. The house had been a rental for a long time.
Why was Colt moving there now? He might be tired of living and working in the same space. That made sense. Life should be about more than work. Life was meant to be lived, enjoyed, cherished. Preaching to the choir. She couldn’t even imagine what the second floor of that old depot was like. It might be less than magnificent. Old and creaky, with peeling paint. She hoped that peeling paint wasn’t that same awful green that was on the walls downstairs.
A police car pulled away from the curb as she approached. For as long as she could remember, the Seawolf Beach Police Department had been small. Last she heard there were a total of three employees, and that included the old chief. The sheriff’s department took care of most of the law enforcement around here, but the day-to-day grind was handled by the chief.
She glanced at the car as it drove past. Seawolf Beach Police Chief was painted across the door. The driver looked at her; she looked back. Huh. Nothing like the old police chief, for sure.
Colt stood on the porch watching her. Anna’s heart jumped in her chest. It would be cowardly to turn and walk away now. She’d already done that once. It would be bold to walk up the steps to that porch and…
And what? Naked and pushy wasn’t her style. She wasn’t forward, wasn’t one to make the first move, at least not where men were concerned. If she owned a pair of red stilettos she wouldn’t be able to actually walk in them.
But time was passing her by. She wouldn’t be here forever. One of these days some woman was going to catch Colt’s attention and hold it. Maybe Nicole. Maybe someone else.
Why not her? Not forever, not an undying love, just teenage dreams coming true. Connection and pleasure with a really nice guy who could turn her on with a glance. A one night stand. A temporary madness.
“What are you doing out this way?” he asked.
Anna didn’t answer; she didn’t slow down, either. She walked toward him, up the steps and onto the porch until they were toe-to-toe. He needed a shave. His eyes were intelligent and curious. He could’ve stepped back and away, but he didn’t. As she continued to move nearer the expression on his face showed surprise, anticipation, and at the last second, hope. Without a word she took his face in her hands and kissed him.