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Chapter 1
I looked up as the bell above the door to my store, Odds and Ends, jingled to announce a new arrival. A blond, blue-eyed fellow in a police uniform entered and I immediately broke into a big smile at the sight of him.
"Jon! Hello!" I hurried over to greet him, my dog, Newt, close on my heels.
"Hello, Morgan," he said. A mini tornado of red, brown, and yellow leaves swirled in behind him, carried on a gust of brisk fall air before the door closed. He did a quick surveil of my store, taking in the customers browsing the aisles. It was mid-October and Mother Nature was flaunting her colors, a vibrant, vivid display known to draw tons of leaf peepers to the area. Lots of visitors meant lots of shoppers for the store. If only all shoppers equated to buyers.
"This is a surprise," I said.
It was. Mostly. Jon Flanders was the Chief of Police for Washington Island, which is located off the tip of the Door County peninsula here in Wisconsin. While I'm quite fond of Jon and have seen him several times over the past few weeks, his unexpected arrival unsettled me a little. I mean, it wasn't as if he decided to drop in because he was in the neighborhood. Getting to my store in Sister Bay required him to take a half-hour-long ferry ride and then do a bit of driving. Plus, he was in his uniform, suggesting he might be here on official business.
Newt was clearly glad to see him. He walked up and pushed his massive head into Jon's hand while wagging his tail hard enough to threaten inventory on some nearby shelves.
"Looks like business is booming." Jon said with an approving nod, stroking Newt's head.
"It is. What brings you by today?"
He turned his attention back to me and, for a moment, his eyes warmed, his expression softening. Then he got all serious and businesslike. "I want you to meet a DNR warden by the name of Charlie Aberdeen who should be here in a few minutes."
"Okay," I said slowly, trying to parse this out. "Can I ask why you want me to meet a DNR warden?"
He winked at me, and I saw a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You'll see," he said vaguely. "I rather enjoy keeping you in suspense for now, though I will let you know Charlie is driving down here from Bayfield and wants to hire you. If you decide to take the job, I'm hoping you'll do it pro bono. Money is an issue."
"Hire me? You mean as a cryptozoologist?"
Jon nodded.
While I own Odds and Ends-a combination mystery bookstore and oddities vendor-I also do work on the side searching for cryptids, creatures thought to exist despite there being no proof. Jon and I met a couple of months ago when he hired me to look for a Loch Ness-type monster in Lake Michigan after a couple of mysterious deaths had occurred.
His pro bono request wasn't a big deal. I don't search for cryptids to make money; I do it because I love it and to continue the work my parents did in the field. Jon knew this, though he hadn't known it when he first hired me. I find a willingness to pay can sometimes be a good indicator of sincerity and motive. I'm a cynic at heart, and I approach my cryptid searches from a position of science and reality, not speculation and rumor. There are hucksters out there claiming to be cryptozoologists, and I'm always eager to distinguish myself from them.
"I only charge people to determine their level of commitment and seriousness," I reminded Jon. "A recommendation from you serves the same purpose, assuming I decide to take the case."
"Oh, you'll take it," he said with a knowing grin, managing to both annoy and intrigue me. "Assuming Charlie's willing to trust you."
That gave me pause. "What do you mean?"
Jon's mouth twitched. "Charlie has already dealt with a fellow claiming to be a cryptozoologist and things didn't go well. Apparently, the fellow sounded all excited at first, but after they discussed plans for him to come to the area and help out, the money game began."
"He wanted cash up front," I said, nodding. I'd heard of similar scams before.
"Yep. The DNR and the local law enforcement agencies want nothing to do with this, so Charlie offered to pay this guy a small fee. It wasn't going to be nearly enough. First, he wanted round trip airfare from Connecticut, a rental car, accommodations once he got to Bayfield, and an agreement to pay an hourly fee. Then he asked for a bunch of expensive equipment, a local guide, and a large upfront deposit."
This MO sounded familiar. "Do you happen to know this guy's name?"
"The last name is Baumann. I think his first name was . . ." His face scrunched up in thought and he tapped the side of his head a few times. "Herman? No, that wasn't it, but it was something like that."
"Hans," I said.
Jon snapped his fingers, getting Newt's attention. "Yes, that's it! Do you know him?"
"I'm afraid I do, mostly by reputation. I only met him once, about five years ago, on a trip with my parents, but I've followed him and his antics online for years. He's a shyster. If there's a way to bilk gullible folks out of their money, he'll find it."
"Good thing Charlie ditched him then," Jon said. He focused more fully on Newt, who had been whining for attention ever since the first head scratch. Jon reached down-he didn't have to go far since Newt stands more than two feet at the shoulder-and sandwiched Newt's head between both hands, giving him a good, hard rub. "How ya doing, Newt, old boy?"
Newt, who is not just big but also nearly blind, wagged his tail so hard he brushed a display of shrunken heads-fake ones, the only real one I had was in a glass case elsewhere in the store-off a nearby shelf. I quickly picked them up and replaced them after telling Newt to sit so his swishing tail disturbed only dust rather than the merchandise.
I had just returned the scattered heads to their rightful spots when the bell over the door tinkled, and a woman walked in. She was pretty with a pale, flawless complexion, shiny black hair with bangs, and huge blue eyes rimmed with thick, dark lashes. I pegged her as in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. She was dressed in boots, blue jeans, a khaki shirt, and a vest with an embroidered patch from the Department of Natural Resources on the right shoulder. A name tag on her shirt read C. Aberdeen.
Charlie was a woman? I did a fast mental adjustment in my head, feeling strangely disoriented.
Jon waved at her, and she smiled as soon as she saw him, making a dimple in her right cheek deepen. She started toward him but then her gaze shifted inexorably to Henry, and she stopped, staring in astonishment. Henry is a mummified corpse that typically sits on a chair along the edge of the book section of the store near the entrance. He's our unofficial mascot and greeter, though he tends toward the taciturn. Currently, he was suspended on a wheeled pole to make it look like he was standing, something we do with him every year in preparation for Halloween.
C. Aberdeen pointed and said, "Is that-"
"Real?" Jon finished for her. "It is. Meet Henry."
She moved closer to get a better look-Henry was wearing a large, floppy hat set at a jaunty angle to hide some of his face since he was missing his nose. Seeing how curious she was, I decided to enlighten her and offered up an abbreviated version of Henry's history.
"Rumor has it that Henry was a forty-niner who went west to look for gold and eventually headed up to Alaska. Unfortunately, he fell into a crevasse in the ice up there, died, and became mummified. He's had some travels since and ended up here when my father bought him."
Warden Aberdeen looked at me with a surprisingly whimsical smile, and then did a quick surveil of my place. "I wondered what a store called Odds and Ends might be about," she said, zeroing in on three eerie-looking African masks I had hanging on one wall. "I don't think I ever would have guessed."
"The store was my parents' idea. They were both fascinated by anything weird, unusual, or strange in the world, and they collected oddities during their travels. My mother was also an avid mystery reader, so she decided to dedicate part of the store to books. Those would be the 'ends' in Odds and Ends since someone always dies in a mystery."
"Ah, I get it," she said. "Very clever. Such a unique place." Her gaze settled on Jon, and she smiled warmly. "You look just like your picture. Nice to meet you in real life."
Jon returned her smile and extended a hand for her to shake. "You look younger in real life than you do in your pictures," he said. Their hands clasped and they did a token shake while Warden Aberdeen beamed at Jon. The amount of time the two spent eyeing one another made me a tad uncomfortable. Finally, Warden Aberdeen shifted her gaze to Newt, who was obediently sitting at my side. "May I?" she asked, pointing toward him.
"Of course." I was pleased and impressed she showed no fear of Newt. He's a sweetheart, but he can look and seem intimidating at times. Plus, I find dogs are a good barometer for people and their personalities.
Warden Aberdeen-Charlie, I reminded myself, though my prior association of a man with the name was proving hard to shake-walked over to Newt, bent down, and stroked his giant head. Newt closed his eyes in momentary ecstasy and then gave her a big, wet kiss up one side of her face. I thought she might rear back from Newt's slobbery display of gratitude, but instead she let out the most delightful, heartfelt laugh before returning the gesture by kissing Newt's muzzle.
She straightened and cocked her head to one side. "I apologize for my manners. I imagine you must be Morgan Carter. I'm Charlotte Aberdeen, but everyone calls me Charlie."
She extended a hand, which I shook. "Pleasure to meet you. And this slobbery fellow is Newt," I said, nodding toward my dog, who was gazing up at Charlie with blatant adoration. "Let's go upstairs to my apartment so we can talk."
I looked toward the counter where one of my employees, Devon Thibodeaux, was checking out customers. He appeared busy, so I looked for my other employee, Rita Bosworth, who's always easy to spot thanks to her rhinestone-studded eyeglass chain and a tall, lanky frame topped off with a messy bun of snow-white hair. I caught Rita's eye-she was always tuned in to me, it seemed-and pointed toward the ceiling. She nodded and I turned back to Jon and Charlie.
"Follow me." I led them through the store displays to a locked door and, once I opened it, upstairs to my apartment, the place I'd called home my entire life even though I hadn't spent much time in it.
"Oh, wow!" Charlie said as we emerged on the upper floor. She did a slow spin, taking in the large open area that made up my living room, dining area, and kitchen. Bright, cheery daylight streamed in through the tall windows on the front wall, bathing everything with a warm, inviting glow. The décor was eclectic and colorful, filled with items my parents had bought during their travels around the world. There was no theme to the furnishings, no attempt at a color scheme, or any real organization to any of it, yet it all seemed to work, the colors blending or complimenting each other, the unrelated items fitting together in a welcoming and cozy way.
"Yeah, that was my reaction, too, the first time I saw it," Jon said. He looked over at me and smiled.
Feeling a little embarrassed, I said, "Charlie, have a seat in the living room. Can I get you something to drink? I have lemonade, or I can fix you a cup of coffee or tea if you like. I also have a few beers in the fridge, if you'd prefer."
"I'd love a cup of coffee," Charlie said, wandering into the living room and running her fingers appreciatively over the arm of my Adirondack chair. "Black is fine."
"Jon?"
"Coffee sounds good to me, too."
I saw the two of them exchange warm smiles and turned away to focus on my coffee machine. "Three coffees, coming up," I said, hoping I sounded more chipper than I felt.
Chapter 2
I set a pot of coffee to brewing while talking over my shoulder to Charlie, telling her where the various pieces in the house had come from. I'd covered the dining room and most of the living room pieces and was explaining how the Adirondack chair she'd just been admiring had been a gift from someone I'd met during a recent case I'd done with Jon.
"Exquisite craftmanship," Charlie observed, giving the chair arm an appreciative stroke.
I started to reply but was overcome with emotion that made the words stick in my throat. That chair had sentimental meaning for me. To cover, I busied myself setting cookies out on a plate, along with cream and sugar for the coffee.
Charlie, oblivious to my emotional strangling, filled the void. "Yes, Jon mentioned the two of you recently worked together on a case. He said you're a cryptozoologist? What a fascinating field of work."
"Yes, I am, and it is," I managed, grateful for the change of subject. "I'm always on the hunt for the latest cryptid."
"I take it Bigfoot qualifies?" Charlie said without missing a beat.
I looked at her, intrigued. "It does." I held up a finger. "Hold that thought."
The coffee was done brewing, and I poured three mugs and added them to the tray with the other items, carrying it all into the living room and setting it on my glass-topped coffee table. Jon and Charlie each took a mug, Jon adding sugar to his-the man had a sweet tooth-and I took the remaining mug after adding a dollop of cream. Since Charlie had settled into the Adirondack chair and Jon had chosen the leather armchair next to it, I sat across from them on the Bali daybed that served as my sofa, the cushions and pillows of which were covered with hand-dyed Indonesian fabrics in purple, orange, and red colors that will always remind me of my mother.
