Page 3 of Seducing the Sheriff
If she were a good representation of the average Charming citizen, then I should expect my personal business to become public. And Aunt Bonnie wondered why I wanted to live on the outskirts of town.
I worked to keep my expression unreadable. “First, I need to get that deck and stone foundation taken care of.” I winked to keep things light. I might not be interested in diving headfirst into a busy social life with everyone, but I didn’t intend to alienate anyone, either. “Plenty to keep me busy for a while.”
She nodded. “That’s an understatement. The Jenkins place has a colorful history and is certainly unusual. Sort of like a miniature Winchester Mystery House, don’t you think?”
I brought up the quirky historical tourist attraction in my mind and agreed she had a point. “Huh. I guess I never thought of it that way. But you’re right, it’s a less opulent version of the mystery house. I do want to uncover more of my new home’s past.”
She leaned closer, covering half her mouth as if sharing a secret. “You can start with the most recent owners. Did the realtor tell you anything about them?”
I arched my eyebrows. “No, not a word. I did a virtual tour with the agent, and I had the impression the home hadn’t been lived in for a while. Is there something important I should know?”
She chuckled. “He was quite a character. His wife was a bit odd, too, but he was lost in his own reality. They took off several years back, not sure where or why. Have you discovered any of the hodgepodge of random items he placed around the property, like the trees or cacti? Oh, and the rocks. The weird symbols and pictures he painted on them would make Wally—our previous sheriff—enraged. But he couldn’t do a thing. It was Mike’s private property. However, many of us saw it as a desecration of nature.”
She had me quite intrigued. I’d noticed a few oddities, but now I needed to hunt down more. “I’ve been overwhelmed making a livable area for myself while I renovate, so I haven’t walked the property or done much in the way of investigating yet. I think I’ll make that a priority.”
“You definitely should. Some of the townspeople were worried he was into the occult or something else spooky. But Destiny—she owns the Flying Saucer coffee shop—and several others who follow that new-agey stuff said he was trying to communicate with the aliens.” She shrugged. “Who knows.”
“Maddie.” An older man with a scruffy salt and pepper beard and wrinkled brown skin that had seen many a sunny day approached us with an easy gait. “I don’t know if this is the paint color Cora wants for the shop. She said you know what she’s after, and she’ll be here in an hour. I’ve got ten gallons to mix, so I need to get cracking.”
“Of course, hon. Leonard, this is Greg. He purchased the Jenkins place.” She beamed up at him, and I was sure this was the hubby she’d mentioned.
Leonard stuck out his hand and gave mine a hearty shake. “Did you now? You’re a brave soul. Got your work cut out for you, to be sure. Let me just say that if you need anything we don’t have here, we can order it and have it shipped. No point in driving off to the city when you don’t have to.”
“That’s good to know, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “We’re here to help. Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“No, thanks. Maddie was very helpful.”
“That’s my girl. She knows what she’s talking about.”
“Yes, sir. She surely does.”
I finished up at Happy Hardware, then made a few more stops in town before heading home. My mind was buzzing with everything Maddie had shared about my new place. It was late afternoon by the time I got back, and the shadows from the setting sun had me on edge. I shook my head at myself as I dropped from the truck. I wasn’t given to superstition, and I seriously doubted that the painted rocks were sending messages to the aliens to kidnap me.
Before I sat down to a bowl of leftover beef stew and corn bread I’d whipped up the night before, I wanted to get the supplies unloaded. I backed the truck up to the work shed door and went through the familiar action of unloading wood and cans of weather seal and stain. Tomorrow’s project would begin with replacing the missing and rotted board on the deck. If I still had time, then I’d add the railings.
Once everything was in a reasonably tidy pile, I peeled off my work gloves and wiped the back of my hand across my sweaty forehead. Despite the crisp chill of the evening air, I was hot. I was also famished, and my body announced it was done for the day. I had two beers left of the six-pack I’d bought when I first arrived, and tonight they were going down.
I put together my meal and brought it to the round pine kitchen table I’d bought from a thrift store the day before. I had a whole house to furnish, and I’d rather spend the money on building supplies and a flock of sheep with all their necessities. I kicked one of the two mismatched chairs to the side, then took a seat.
Sheep. I’d watched a lot of YouTube videos and followed one guy in particular who was an expert. However, consulting with someone in person about the best way to get the project underway was one of many things on my extensive list of things to do.
I’d grabbed the local paper on my way back and had it open on the table to look over while I ate. It was a freebie that I’d stumbled across after stopping in the Flying Saucer for an afternoon espresso and muffin. Once Maddie brought the coffee shop to my attention, curiosity prompted me to seek it out.
Destiny herself had been there, and I wasn’t disappointed by either her or the shop. She was friendly, funny, quirky, and so was her store. She’d gone all in on the alien theme, but I got a kick out of it. The brief interactions with the locals and my limited time spent in town gave me a good feeling. Rather than being merely satisfied with my decision to move to Charming Butte, I was excited to be here.
As I glanced over the homey stories regarding an upcoming spring seedling and starts fair, and a feature on the new sheriff in town, a waft of something unpleasant hit my nose. I sniffed a spoonful of stew, concerned that it might’ve gone off. I’d started up the old refrigerator that had been left behind, and it seemed to be holding the temperature well, but maybe it had given up on me while I was in town.
However, the stew didn’t seem to be the issue. I pushed up from the table, sniffing harder to locate the origin of the odor that I now recognized as decay. Old houses were my specialty, and I was well acquainted with the smell of a dead critter. Even a dead mouse could create a god-awful stench, but I was hoping that was all it was. I wasn’t in the mood to remove anything larger.
I located the spot where the smell was the strongest, an odd alcove off the kitchen. I’d pondered the purpose of this space more than once since arriving. It seemed to serve no particular function, other than being an intersection of different parts of the house.
A doorway with no door to the four-by-four space was next to the arch that opened into the kitchen via a narrow hallway that attached to the original line shack structure. Once I passed over the threshold, a bedroom door was to my right, a makeshift pine board cabinet and closet to my left, and the downstairs bathroom in front of me.
The bathroom had its own bizarre layout, and like many areas in the house, seemed to have been adjusted and rearranged over the many years and owners. Throughout the structure, I’d discovered rooms where doors had been removed, windows covered up, closets boarded over, and ceilings raised or lowered.
In the case of the bathroom, when entering from the alcove, there was a square section containing the toilet, a small sink wedged into the corner, and another built-in pine cabinet. It appeared that steam from the shower had wreaked havoc on the wood over the years. The cabinet doors were warped, so they wouldn’t close properly. And to get to the shower, it was necessary to squeeze through a narrow gap connecting that section of the bathroom to the tub area without being mauled by the towel rack.
