Short Story – Awaiting Fate

November 20, 2018November 1, 2018 F.A. HuffmanLeave a comment

A note before I begin the story This story is posted on my website, but I wanted to make sure that everybody sees and reads my stories. Let me know what you think.

Bright, bleach white walls gleamed around the room. Matching white furniture sat around the room filled with clients. The soft buzzing of a tattoo machine could barely be heard through the wall. Like clockwork, each 18-year-old glanced at the large grandfather clock standing in the corner. Every hour, on the hour, another fresh adult was taken into the back room where their future would be permanently printed on their skin.

Along the far wall sat a family of ogres. The 18-year-old, Karolos, stared at the clock. He had been there since eight that morning. His family had tried to assure him that he had nothing to worry about. The Doyle family had long been given the fate of antagonizer.

Despoina, a fairy, sat with her family. She sat poised on the edge of her seat, ready to jump the moment she heard her name. She too had been assured that she would end up just like everybody else in the Nolan family. They were all destined to be famous. One of the vaguest fates a person could be given, yet everybody hoped to get it. One couldn’t ask for anything more than to be famous, and they didn’t care how they ended up famous. Despoina’s uncle had only recently reached his fate of being famous by murdering one of the high noble’s daughters. Ironically, the high noble’s daughter’s fate had been to die at a young age. Despoina’s mother and father had achieved fame through the family’s diamond business.

A family of sprites sat with their daughter, Pelagia. Again, she had been told time and time again that everybody in the Brady family had always been fated as a politician. None of these young adults found comfort in their family’s words. Maybe the past few generations had been given the same fate, but it all came down to what Amon chose.

Iris, an elf, sat between her mother and father and watched as everybody kept an eye on the time. She didn’t come from a long line of antagonizers, famous people, or politicians. The Quinn family held many different fates. Her father, Elias, was a prophet. He worked with the nobles when preparing for battle. Her mother, Thalia, was a writer. She worked with the nobles, politicians, and other people of importance to write their history, mainly in the form of a poem.

“Why do we still have to do this?” Iris asked.

“Its tradition,” Elias responded, “Since Amon first came to us he has provided us with our fates.”

“Amon,” Thalia started, “Is the son of the Egyptian God, Amun-Ra. He was in need of a home and he liked our aura.”

Elias told his daughter that Amon had powers much like a prophet, but he also had the power of influencing the future. While he didn’t write the complete future for everybody, he did influence it with his tattoos. Amon had left his Egyptian home because he was tired of being overshadowed by his father. He had discovered his powers 100’s of years ago, but nobody would let him use them.

When he left Egypt, he met a lot of new people that he didn’t even know existed. The Gods and Goddess controlled the types of people that were allowed to live in Egypt, and that had been limited to fairies and sprites. His first day on his own, he had almost been killed by an ogre, ran over by a giant, and taken in by a family of elves. The family of elves invited him to stay in the land of Inis. He agreed to stay and was soon swept into their world.

Inis was so different than Egypt had been. All sorts of people lived there; ogres, giants, sprites, fairies, elves, and more. They all worked with each, and their looks didn’t dictate their personalities. Elves, who wore dark, ominous colors, could be good people. And sprites who wore light, friendly colors, could be bad people. These things amazed Amon.

Once Amon had become used to his new home, he started offering his gift. His first customer has been an 18-year-old fairy that was struggling with her family. Raz’s parents had been grooming her to become a seamstress just like all the other women in their family. Raz despised sewing and felt that she was destined for something more. Amon told her he could set her fate all through a simple tattoo. The catch was, she didn’t get a say so. He would speak to the Gods and Goddess’, and whatever the Universe told him, would be her fate.

Raz agreed. Even if her fate ended up being that of her mother’s and sister’s, she could say she at least tried to be her own person. Amon spoke to the Universe and began her tattoo. When he finished, he revealed a large white rose with eight petals. Confused by the symbolism, Amon explained to Raz what it meant.

The white rose meant that she would be a mystic, working closely with the nobles to help everybody understand what the Gods and Goddess’ wanted. The eight petals meant she would live an infinite life. Amazed and thrilled by her fate, Raz rushed home to her parents.

Soon all of Inis had learned of Amon’s powers and people began to flock to him for their fates. Amon became so overwhelmed by their response that he wouldn’t leave his home. He didn’t know what to do. Nobody had ever been interested in his gift before. How was he going to use his gift for the entire land of Inis? The Universe spoke to Amon and told him that he was to provide the fates to 18-year-olds only. Those that were going through the transition from child to adult. Those that needed the most guidance.

Amon went to the nobles and told them what the Universe had instructed. Within the next week, Amon had set up his shop and began seeing all of the 18-year-olds in Inis. After the current young adults had been fated, it became a ritual for every 18-year-old to visit Amon on their birthday. Parents would wake their children early in the morning and rush them to his shop to await their fate. Some only waited for a few minutes or an hour, while others were there all day. Amon only called them in when the Universe told him to.

After a century of serving the people of Inis, Amon was still an important part of their world. Raz was still working with the nobles, and if anybody ever spoke out against Amon, she was there to share the word of the Gods and Goddess’.

Nobody ever seemed to hold a grudge against Amon, no matter the fate he gave them. They all seemed honored. Iris couldn’t understand how somebody could feel honored after being told they were destined to be murdered. Raz could have simply bucked the system and told her mother that she would following her own dreams. Instead, she went to some stranger for a tattoo. That simple act of rebellion had set the future for every young adult in Inis.

“I can tell you what each and every child in this room will be told,” Elias informed his daughter.

Iris rolled her eyes. Elias enjoyed showing off. Predicting things was his favorite pastime, and his answer to any problem. Whenever Iris was sick as a child, she had to listen to her father tell stories about how sick her friends were going to get. If she felt upset about a grade she made in class, he would tell her the grades of her friends. Now, as she waited for her fate, he was telling her what the other people in the room would get.

“That child over there is going to be a servant. That young lady will become a mistress. Oh, and that…”

“Dad, please,” Iris interrupted.

“Your father means well. You don’t have to quell,” Thalia said.

The large white door that led into Amon’s office squeaked open. Karolos stepped out, stretching his left arm around trying to get a look at the tattoo on his tricep. On his arm stood a large black and white tattoo of three interconnected triangles. His parents started at the simple tattoo. Everybody in his family wore a tattoo that showcased a badger in some fashion.

“Karolos,” the receptionist called out.

Karolos turned to look at the purple haired fairy. She held out a piece of paper for him to take.

“You received the Valknut runic symbol for a warrior. The paper explains more of what you have to look forward to.”

Karolos glanced over the paper, and then over at his family. After being told time and time again that he would be just like them, he ended up being his own person. His mother and father trudged over to him. Karolos’ father threw a large arm around his son’s shoulders.

“Well, it’s been nice knowing you son.”

His mother slapped him on the back before following her husband out the door. Karolos’ uncle grabbed the paper out of his hands, ripping it. Karolos looked over at the receptionist. With a sigh, she handed him another paper.

“Avoid them at all costs,” she whispered.

Iris watched as Karolos trudged out the door. She couldn’t believe that his fate had just cost him his family. Letting out a groan, Iris banged her head back against the wall.

“See, he gets a better future than his family,” Elias stated.

“Maybe, but his family hates him now.”

“They don’t hate him; they’re just not allowed to like him.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. You need to quit being so distraught. Life is the luck of the draw. It’s not something they could have foreseen.”

Iris and her family sat in silence. In the months leading up to her birthday, she had fought with her parents about her tattoo. Neither understood their daughter’s worries. They had both been ecstatic when it had come time for their tattoos.

What seemed like moments later, Despoina stepped out of Amon’s office. Despoina looked down at the side of her leg at the glistening golden apple. Her mother stepped over to the receptionist to grab her daughter’s information packet. She gave her daughter a peck on the cheek and handed her the packet. Despoina looked at the paper in her hand. She frowned. Her father led them out the door as her mother patted her on the back. Iris looked at her father.

“She’s following in her families footsteps. She’s going to be famous, but because she is going to be a mistress to someone of great importance.”

“That’s horrible,” Iris mumbled.

“Look on the bright side, it could have been matricide,” Thalia assured.

A little while later, Pelagia shuffled out of Amon’s office. On her shoulder stood a while lily wrapped in an orange noose. Pelagia’s parents ran to her, tears in their eyes. She took her paper from the receptionist and trudged out the door. Iris looked over at her parents.

Elias explained that the lily meant that she would forever be a virgin. Not because she was going to be alone, but because she would stand up for what she believes in. The orange noose meant that she would commit suicide one day for something noble. Iris knew her father wasn’t telling the whole story, but she was okay with that. The less she knew the better.

The receptionist stood.

“Iris Quinn, Amon is ready for you.”

Iris’ parents patted her on the back as she stood. She eased her way to the far white door. As she made her way closer, the door eased open. Iris stepped into the dark room. The smell of sage and rosemary filled the air. A partition was set up in the corner for Amon to meditate. A large black tattoo chair sat in the middle of the room. A stainless steel table sat next to it. Tiny plastic cups were lined up on the table. The closer she walked to the chair, the more she could smell alcohol and soap. The sound of snapping gloves came from behind the partition.

“Please remove your shirt and lay face down in the chair.”

Iris watched as the chair moved itself into a reclined position. She did as she was told. The black vinyl chair crunched as she laid down. Her skin stuck to the seat, ripping up as she tried to find a comfortable position.

Amon sat down and squeezed cool soapy water onto a paper towel and cleaned Iris’ upper back. Next, he cleaned her back with alcohol. Amon grabbed transfer paper with an intricate design drawn on it. With smooth precision, he laid the paper across her back and smoothed it out. He peeled the paper away, leaving behind the outline of her tattoo. Amon picked up his tattoo machine. He foot pressed a button on the floor, bringing drilling sound from the machine. He dipped the needles into black ink. As he eased them out, black ink slung across the blue paper towel that lined the table.

Once he had his machine loaded with ink, he lined over Iris’ back and drew a permanent black line. Iris craned her neck trying to see what he was doing. All she could see was the blinding overhead lights. The needles tickled across her back drawing line after line on her skin. She tried to follow the lines to figure out what he was drawing, but just as she thought she had figured out the pattern, Amon would switch positions.

What felt like a century later, Amon squeezed the cold soapy water across her back, wiping the excess ink away. A warm, stinging sensation remained on Iris’ back.

“You may get dressed and leave,” Amon said as he stepped back behind the partition.

As Iris sat up, she could feel the swelling in her back as she moved her arms to slip her shirt back on. She glanced around the room for a mirror, but nothing hung on the walls. Again, as she walked towards the door, it opened to let her out. She stepped out into the glaring light of the waiting room. Faces turned towards her, a mixture of concern and worry spread across them. She glanced over at the receptionist who held out a piece of paper. Iris blindly took the paper, and without looking at it, walked over to her parents.

Iris turned her back to them. Her mom eased her shirt away from her back to reveal her tattoo. On her back stood a majestic peacock with its tail feathers spread. Bright blues and greens popped out of the drawing. The peacock wore a chain of bright purple irises. Tahlia spun her daughter around and wrapped her in a hug.

“What is it?” Iris croaked through her mother’s crushing embrace, “Am I going to die.”

“No,” Elias started, “Far from it. You’re going to be an Elvin ruler.”

“Really?”

Thalia pushed the information sheet up so Iris would read it. Across the top, written in gold script, were the words ‘Elvin Ruler.’ The only other words on the paper were clan leader. Iris had hoped the paper would explain everything. Even though it bothered her not knowing how she was going to reach her destiny, she liked having a bit of uncertainty left in her future. Her parents wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her out the door.

FYI:

Grab your copy of Loved by Death on Amazon. I will be making Loved by Death: Book One of The Wolfsbane Chronicles available for free on Kindle in the coming weeks, so make sure you keep an eye out so that you don’t miss your chance.

Poem – Anxiety

November 13, 2018November 1, 2018 F.A. HuffmanLeave a comment

A note before I begin the poem This story is posted on my website, but I wanted to make sure that everybody sees and reads my stories. Let me know what you think.

The warmth spreads, head to toe.

No comfort, no relief, I can’t breathe.

I’m dying.

The warmth grows.

Tears well in my eyes, a lump grows in my throat.

What do I do?

I squeeze out a breath, “help,” I muster.

Stares from my parents, unsure of what to do.

“Try to breath.”

“I can’t,” I scream to myself.

Death is sure to come soon.

This thought. More tightness fills my chest.

A wash of ice fills my legs and arms.

I can’t feel my feet.

I pace the floor.

Voices sound miles away.

My own voice, foreign.

An elephant has moved in.

Another breath, one at a time,

Slowing working around the weight.

My parent’s, worried washed faces, watch.

Another breath.

My toes and fingers tingle.

My head clears, leaving pain.

The elephant moves on.

Another breath. Easier this time.

My body feels like mine again.

The storm is clearing.

I’m going to live, but there remains,

Knowing. Waiting. Fear.

I will be back.

FYI:

Six Hilarious Tips to Create Comedy in Your Story

November 8, 2018November 4, 2018 F.A. HuffmanLeave a comment

Have you ever wanted to write something that will make a person laugh? Then have I got some good tips for you. If you don’t like to make people laugh, you will have to wait your turn. I’ll get to you.

Laughter comes along with instant benefits to a person. It can improve the immune system, cure male pattern baldness, helps them relax, and lowers blood pressure. Now, before I jump into the tips to add laughter to your writing, I want to address those that don’t want to make people laugh. Why? Are you afraid of one of the following:

“I’m not funny.” – Have you ever laughed? If you have, then you have a sense of humor.
“My stuff is serious writing.” – It’s not going to hurt your readers to get a little surprise chuckle.
“Nobody understands my humor.” – You are probably trying too hard.

Humor can be tricky because everybody finds different things funny. But there are different things you can do that will almost guarantee that you can get a smile from just about anybody.

Edit it like crazy.

In reality, being funny is actually quite hard. Your first draft is going to have some goods stuff, so use the other tips in this list and make it better. The rewrite it. Once you think you have it, ask a friend to read it quietly as you watch them. Look at the corners of their eyes. Once you see their eyes crinkle a bit, you breathe a sigh of relief.

2. Find a swipe file.

Swipe files have a collection of comedy gold that you might not have thought up yourself. You don’t have to worry about plagiarism because it is there to help people.

3. Grab a thesaurus.

Finding that really good word can help to change and “eh” into hysterical laughs. It could be the spelling of the words or how it sounds with the other words that send your joke over the top.

4. Comedic timing is everything.

This could just mean that you add a word in at the last second to grab a laugh. You can also force a pause in your writing, and then hit them with the funny part. This can be used to surprise your reader with a funnier direction than they had expected.

5. Specificity is key.

Specifics tend to be funnier. People like specifics because they can visualize it better than generalities.

6. Be the joke.

The only way you can make fun of something without offending other people is to be that something. Readers will love to laugh at you and your life. That means you can use not only yourself, but your kids, pets, parents, spouse, your job, and so on.

I do believe you guys are ready to go write something hilariously funny. Now get to it. Share a bit of gold with me if you would like. Trust me, I’m an easy laugh.

FYI:

Short Story – Just Desserts

November 6, 2018November 1, 2018 F.A. HuffmanLeave a comment

A note before I begin the story. This story is posted on my website, but I wanted to make sure that everybody sees and reads my stories. Let me know what you think.

Growing up in a large town like Boston made Katie grateful for her new town. Katie moved to Nantucket ten years ago and quickly found her groove. Her cupcake shop, Sweet Treats, was up and running within a year. Now her shop was a staple, and a must try for the tourists.

Katie balanced the purple box of cupcakes in one hand as she unlocked the glass door to her shop. With a bump of her hip, the door swung open releasing the air-conditioned air from the shop. A shadow loomed over her as she walked through the door. She knew that shadow. She caught the door with her foot before it closed in the shadow’s face.

“Thank you,” said the gruff voice of the local-rent-a-cop.

Neil had moved to Nantucket around the time Sweet Treats had opened and had tried his best to become a police officer. The problem was, he was as blind as a bat. They felt sorry for him and gave him a job as a security guard at the Nantucket Cottage Hospital.

“Good morning Neil. I’ll have the coffee on in a minute.”

Every Friday morning Neil would come by just as Katie unlocked the shop. They would have coffee together, and he would help her get the shop ready. She had asked him once why he only came by on Friday. He stated simply, that it was the only morning he didn’t have to go in early. That was Neil, a simple, straightforward guy.

“I’m here on official business this morning.”

“Official business?” Katie asked, sitting the cupcake box on the counter. “Did somebody miss a doctor’s appointment?”

“No, somebody died.”

“It’s a hospital. People die there sometimes.”

“The death didn’t happen at the hospital. It happened at the wine and food festival last night.”

Katie stood silent for a moment. A lot had happened the night before. She had been busy at her cupcake stand for most of it and only had a break when her assistant Amy took over. She vaguely remembered noticing a hubbub around the lighthouse but assumed somebody had a bit too much wine.

“What happened?” Katie asked.

“Mr. Keenan was murdered.”

Mr. Keenan was the president of the bank and an unpleasant person in general. There were a countless number of people in town that had been tricked by Mr. Keenan. Several of the old ladies had lost their savings because of ‘overdraft fees.’ Newly married couples were warned to steer clear of Mr. Keenan’s bank if they were looking to finance a new house.

“Why are you here?”

“The other cops are busy talking to the witnesses, and they asked if I would be willing to talk to you,” Neil replied, looking at his feet.

“Did they really?”

“No, but I think they would have. I thought I could be helpful.”

Neil was always trying to be helpful, and he always wrapped Katie up in his escapades. Most of the time they were simple things like a missing wallet or a lost dog. This was by far the most interesting. Murders were virtually unheard of on the island. Katie pressed the on button and listened as the water began to gurgle in the coffee maker.

“What information were you looking to get from me?”

“I know you were working the festival, and I wanted to find out what you saw.”

“Unfortunately I didn’t see anything. Do you know what happened?”

“Grace found his body at the bottom of the lighthouse. There weren’t any visible wounds, but the police said he had signs of asphyxiation. I’ve heard some people say they saw Margaret fleeing the lighthouse shortly before Grace found him.”

Margaret Fleming was the local good girl. She was involved in every church function. She was the first to volunteer for everything, and she was the best at getting people to donate to a worthy cause. Margaret had never been in trouble a day in her life. Katie had bought her shop from Margaret. Sweet Treats had become a success because of her for two reasons: she warned Katie to stay away from Mr. Keenan, and Margaret loved flyers.

Katie couldn’t see someone as sweet and gentle as Margaret suffocating a grown man to death. It may have been quite a few decades since Mr. Keenan had seen his hair, but he was a large, stout man. He had enjoyed his fair share of Katie’s cupcakes.

“Margaret couldn’t have killed him,” Katie said, pouring them both a cup of coffee.

“That’s what I thought.”

The shop door banged open and Amy came bounding in, tossing her purse on the counter. She grabbed a cup of coffee and turned towards her friends.

“Guess what?” Amy quizzed.

“What?” Katie replied.

“Margaret Fleming was arrested for murder this morning.”

Katie eased her coffee cup to the counter. Stunned, she stared at Amy. Had they even bothered to investigate the murder? There was no way a woman of 50, that weighed 90 pounds soaking weight, could murder a man that weight well over 300. Neil fiddled with a button on the side of his utility belt.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Amy asked.

“How did you find out?”

“I just saw them taking her from the library in handcuffs a minute ago.”

Katie darted over to the window and peered out. Neil looked out over her head. Sure enough, there was a cop car parked outside of the library with Margaret in it. Amy was bad for sharing gossip she heard around town, and for the most part, it turned out to be false. But Katie was seeing this with her own two eyes.

People had started to gather around the library to see what was going on. Katie made her way out of her shop and eased her way over. She had to hear this for herself. She wanted to know the evidence they had that suggested Margaret had killed Mr. Keenan. The closer she came to the crowd, the louder their voices became.

“I saw her do it,” shouted some teenage boy.

His mother quickly covered his mouth and shooed him away. Besides a few loud-mouthed teens, everybody else had the same concerns as Katie. There was no way a tiny woman could strangle such a large man with her bare hands.

Katie and Neil followed the cruiser to the police station. They raced inside as they took Margret to the booking station. Sheriff Cox looked up over his newspaper and eyed the two of them.

“What can I help you with?” he asked, looking back at the paper.

“We want to know why Margaret was arrested,” Katie stated.

“Didn’t you hear? She killed Mr. Keenan.”

The Sheriff shoved a powdered donut in his face, washing it down with a gulp of coffee.

“No offense, sir, but do you really think somebody Mrs. Flemings size could have killed him?” asked Neil.

“Nope, but that’s the only lead we have. Unless you two can give us more information, she is our one and only suspect.”

“Can we talk to her?” Katie asked.

“If you can figure out the truth, then, by all means, be my guest. I’m not interested in getting flack from the town for arresting their beloved librarian.”

Katie smiled at the Sheriff. She and Neil made their way over to the booking station. Officer Miles held up his hand, stopping them.

“You’re not allowed back there,” stated Officer Miles, puffing out his chest.

“Let them through,” the Sheriff shouted.

Office Miles stepped back; his chest deflated and motioned them through. Margaret sat behind the cold table in the interrogation room. A dim light shined overhead, accentuating the bags under her eyes and her tired appearance. Katie and Neil eased in the room. Margaret glanced up at them. A momentary look of relief flashed across her face.

Margaret looked down at her hands. The cold grey cuffs glistened in the dim light. Katie sat down at the table across from her. Neil stood behind Katie. Katie reached out a gentle hand and touch Margret’s.

“What happened?” Katie asked.

“They think I killed Mr. Keenan.”

“But you didn’t?”

“Of course not,” gasped Margaret, “Lord knows he was not a nice man, but I could never hurt another living soul.”

“You were seen running away from the murder scene,” Neil stated.

Margaret fidgeted in her seat. She glanced around the room before settling her gaze back on her hands.

“Margaret, if you know something, please tell us,” Katie pleaded.

“I’m not sure what I saw. Why are you two even here?”

“The Sheriff is at a loss for suspects. I suppose it’s easier for him to blame you than it is to open an investigation. We volunteered to help.”

“So please let us know what you know,” Neil added.

Margaret sighed. She looked up at Katie. By the looks have her eyes; Margaret had been awake all night.

“I saw it happen,” she whispered.

Officer Miles led Katie and Neil to the crime scene. The yellow police tape billowed in the wind. The lighthouse was empty except for the three of them. The sun stood high above them.

“I don’t know why you two are wasting your time with this,” Officer Miles stated.

“Do you seriously think that Mrs. Flemings could have killed such a large man?” asked Katie.

“No, but there is nothing to be found.”

Katie and Neil ducked under the police tape. Just inside the lighthouse door, they could see the outline of Mr. Keenan. Police markers laid on the ground, marking what evidence they had found. Katie and Neil looked around, trying to find anything more. All they could find were the same set of footprints and a cupcake wrapper.

Katie took out her cell and took a photo of the footprint. Neil grabbed a tape measure from his belt and measured the length of the print.

“The print is 11 inches long.”

“That has to be too big for Margaret’s foot. Did you match this print to Margaret?”

“I don’t think so. I just booked her. This is the first I’ve been out here. They did measure it though, it’s in the notes. I think they assumed it was Keenan’s print,” Officer Miles replied.

Katie wandered back over to the cupcake wrapper. Bending over, she looked closer at the wrapper. It was one of hers. It came off of her maple bourbon chocolate cupcakes. Margaret never chose cupcakes with alcohol in them, and Mr. Keenan was allergic to chocolate. His cupcake of choice was always the French vanilla. He had been upset last night that she hadn’t brought any with her.

“Do you have an evidence bag for this?” Katie asked.

Officer Miles ran back to the car, bringing back a forensics case. Opening the case, he reached in a grabbed out an evidence bag. Katie took the bag and a pair of tweezers from Office Miles. She eased the paper into the bag, sealing it.

“What are the odds we could find out the size of Keenan’s foot?” Neil asked.

Officer Miles stared at Neil. A moment later, Miles nodded towards the cruiser.

Officer Miles dropped Katie off at her cupcake shop before taking Miles to the coroners. Amy had been running the shop since Katie left. Katie ran into the shop towards the back. Slinging open the fridge, she pulled out the cupcakes she had brought in that morning. She opened each box trying to find the one that had held the maple bourbon chocolate cupcakes. The only ones that were left were the margarita, butter pecan, and toasted almond.

“What’s up?” Amy asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Did you sell all of the maple bourbon chocolate last night?”

“Yeah, why?”

Katie glanced out into the shop. It was packed with the lunch crowd. She motioned for Amy to come closer.

“I think the killer was eating them.”

“Does the Sheriff know you are working on this?”

“Yes, he told me I could. Do you remember who bought them?”

“A lot of people did. It’s one of our most popular.”

Katie sighed. She slumped back against the counter and glanced at her phone. Neil had said he would call when he found Mr. Keenan’s shoe size. Amy started to head back to the front of the store, stopping at the door.

“Actually, I do remember something strange. Just after I took over, somebody bought a maple bourbon. He was in front of Mr. Keenan. When he turned around, he almost ran into him and Keenan went crazy. He started screaming about how he was allergic to chocolate and other nonsense.”

“Do you remember the guy?”

“Not really, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. I know most everybody on Nantucket, and I didn’t know him.”

That was saying something. Amy headed back to the counter as Katie wracked her brain, trying to remember any new men on the island. Margaret had said she had seen everything, but everything she had seen had been in shadows. The only thing Margaret kept saying was the man was tall and had huge hands. Maybe the tall, dark, and handsome man Amy had seen was the tall, shadowy figure Margaret had seen.

Katie’s phone rang. Neil’s face flashed up on her phone. She swiped across the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

“What did you find out?”

“Come outside, I have something to show you.”

Katie ran outside. Neil grabbed her arm and pulled her around the corner. He handed her his phone, images from the coroner’s office stared at Katie. Flipping through the photos, she saw images of the purple handprints on Keenan’s neck, a half-eaten chocolate cupcake, a strand of black hair, and business card. Katie zoomed in on the business card. It read, Need a Home? Call Derrick Shore for Help Today. Derrick Shore? That wasn’t a name Katie was familiar with.

“Miles let me take all the pictures I wanted, but I couldn’t take anything with me. By the way, Keenan’s foot size was 12 inches.”

“I wonder why they took the half eaten cupcake into evidence, but not the empty wrapper,” Katie mused.

“The cupcake was in his mouth, so it came along with the body.”

“He’s allergic to chocolate. Why would he be eating a chocolate cupcake?”

“Maybe the killer shoved it in his mouth.”

“We need to talk to Derrick Shore. Amy remembers some guy getting yelled at by Mr. Keenan, but didn’t recognize him. I bet anything it was this Shore guy.”

Katie sat in the open waiting area of the local bank. A somber hush filled the room. On a typical day, the bank would be filled by the booming voice of Mr. Keenan. Now things sat calm and quiet. An odd feeling of peace and sadness wrapped the room.

Katie had called the bank to ask if they knew of a Derrick Shore. Since the business card looked like it belonged to somebody in the real estate or bank business, somebody at the bank should know something. They knew who Derrick Shore was. He had come to Nantucket two days earlier. Nobody knew why, but he had met with Mr. Keenan the morning of his death.

“Katie?” asked Derrick as he walked out of Mr. Keenan’s office.

Katie stood and reached out her hand. Derrick politely shook her hand and motioned towards the office. Derrick’s dark black hair was slicked back in a neat coif.

“You own Sweet Treats don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I love you maple bourbon chocolate cupcakes.”

“They are our best sellers.”

“So what can I do for you today?”

“I had some questions about your relationship with Mr. Keenan.”

“This is a small town if a baker is also investigating a murder.”

“I’m trying to help out a friend. So if you could just help me out by answering a few questions, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“I only have a few minutes, but I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you. How did you know Mr. Keenan?”

“I was going to buy his bank from him.”

Katie hadn’t heard that Mr. Keenan was looking to sell his bank. News like that would have made its rounds on the gossip mill.

“He was selling the bank to you?”

“He contacted me about two months ago; I believe it had just turned 70. He wanted to retire.”

“How did he meet you?”

“We actually met at a convention over two years ago. I had forgotten about him, but he must have kept up with me. He invited me to the wine and food festival last night to talk about things.”

“He didn’t happen to yell at you for nearly hitting him with a chocolate cupcake?”

“Yes, actually, he did. It threw me off guard for a moment, but he apologized later.”

Apologized? Mr. Keenan didn’t apologize. He would knock down a child, and blame the child for messing up his suit. Mr. Keenan must have really wanted to sell the bank if he had apologized.

“Thank you for your time. I should get going now.”

Derrick showed Katie out. The sun had started to dip towards the horizon. Katie’s stomach growled. She hadn’t stopped to eat anything. Katie looked at her watch. It was creeping up on two. Neil should be getting ready for lunch. That would give them time to talk, and eat.

Neil and Katie sat in the hospital cafeteria, a tray of hospital food in front of them both. Katie poked at the spaghetti on her plate. Neil had tried to ask some of the patients about Mr. Keenan’s death but had only succeeded in getting reprimanded. Katie knew Derrick had to be connected to his death somehow. He had big feet, big hands, and black hair. He also had eaten his fair share of maple bourbon cupcakes.

“Mr. Keenan was selling his bank?” Neil asked for the third time.

“Yes, and he apologized.”

Grace Park walked past their table for the fifth time since they had sat down to eat. She worked as a nurse at the hospital and had been the one that found Mr. Keenan. She was also the reason why Margaret was in jail. Grace was the only one that had seen Margaret running from the lighthouse. She paused and turned back to Katie.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you say that Mr. Keenan was selling his bank?”

“Yeah, to some guy named Derrick Shore,” Katie replied.

“I meet Derrick about an hour before I found Keenan, and he said that Keenan had turned down his offer. Mr. Keenan wasn’t looking to sell; Derrick was trying to buy his bank.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he was pretty chatty about it.”

“Neil, come by my shop when you get off work. I have to get back to the bank.”

Katie raced towards the door, bumping into Clyde Owens. Clyde was a hulk of a man. If he hadn’t grabbed Katie’s arm, he would have knocked her to the ground.

“Sorry,” Clyde mumbled.

Clyde worked at the hospital as a maintenance man. His boss had called him early that morning to let him know that he could have the day off if he needed it. Clyde was Mr. Keenan’s nephew. When his mother died, Mr. Keenan refused to take him in, so he was sent to live with his paternal grandparents in Chicago. He moved back to Nantucket when he turned 18 in hopes of learning more about his mother, but that proved to be futile.

“It’s okay. It was my fault,” Katie said, sliding out the door.

Clyde straightened his black hair, nodding at Katie as she left.

Back at the bank, Katie ran into Derrick’s new office, interrupting a meeting. A little old lady sat across from Derrick, her hands shaking gently as she looked up at Katie.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, but I have to talk to you,” Katie stated.

“We were just finishing things up. If you can give me five minutes, I will be right with you,” Derrick replied coolly.

Katie stepped back into the lobby. She paced in front of Derrick’s office. Customers stared at Katie, her anxious energy worrying them. Officer Miles stepped through the bank doors. He paused for a moment, looking for Katie. Katie waved at him, grabbing his attention.

“Neil told me you were here. He said you had new information.”

“I’ll tell you once I talk to Derrick again.”

“Who’s Derrick?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you later.”

The door of Derrick’s office squeaked open as the little old lady walked out. She glowered at Katie as she headed towards the door. Derrick motioned for Katie to come in. Officer Miles walked in behind her, staying close to the door.

“So, Mr. Keenan contacted you to sell the bank?”

“Yes, he did. I thought we went over this earlier today?”

“We did, but I just had an interesting conversation with Grace Park. Do you remember her from the festival?”

Derrick glanced up at Officer Miles. Worry clouded over his eyes.

“Vaguely,” he mumbled.

“Can you guess what she told me?”

“Okay, I lied. Besides Mr. Keenan, Grace was the only one that knew I had approached him to buy his bank. I did meet him at a conference a few years back, and he did remember me, but he was never interested in selling. But that doesn’t mean I killed him.”

Katie looked back at Officer Miles. He had taken out his notepad and was writing down notes. Glancing up, he noticed the worried look on Derrick’s face.

“I think we need to take you in. I believe the Sheriff will be interested in learning more,” Officer Miles stated, removing his handcuffs from his belt.

“But I didn’t do anything.”

Katie finished cleaning the last display case. Since Amy had handled the store by herself all day, the least Katie could do was clean up. Amy sat at the corner table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a margarita cupcake in the other. The smell of pine sol mixed with the coffee creating an almost sickening smell.

Katie slid the cleaning supplies back in the closet and washed her hands. She felt proud of herself. Not only had she cleaned the shop in record time, but she had helped Neil free Margaret. She poured a cup of coffee and made her way over to Amy.

“I can’t believe you solved a murder case,” Amy stated, as Katie sat down.

“I didn’t solve a case, I just freed Margaret. All the Sheriff needed was another lead.”

“I’m pretty sure that Derrick guy did it. He wanted to buy the bank, and Keenan told him no. What better way to step in and take over. He also liked your maple bourbon cupcakes.”

“True.”

Katie took a sip of her coffee. She looked out the window over at the library. She pictured Margaret walking up those steps tomorrow morning. Katie had wanted to go the station with Officer Miles so that she could tell Margaret the good news, but he had suggested she stay behind.

Katie had reluctantly agreed. She called Neil, though. He said he would go to the station once he got off work and let her know how things worked out. Katie glanced at her phone again. A quarter till six. Neil had gotten off work 15 minutes ago.

“Stop looking at your phone,” Amy said.

“I can’t help it.”

“Go to the station if you are that worried.”

“I promised I wouldn’t. I’ll just wait for Neil to call.”

The bell jingled over the front door causing Katie and Amy to look up. Neil walked in. His brow furrowed as he fussed with his phone. Amy grabbed Neil a cup of coffee before grabbing herself another cupcake.

“So?” Katie asked.

Neil blindly sat down at the table and took a sip of the coffee. Katie stared at Neil. Amy shook his arm. He continued messing with his phone, ignoring the girls.

“Neil!” Katie shouted.

Neil jumped, noticing the girls for the first time.

“Sorry, I was trying to pull up the info Miles sent me.”

“Are they releasing Margaret?”

“Yes, but they’re releasing Derrick as well.”

“Why?” Amy asked.

“The footprint didn’t match, and Margaret said his size wasn’t big enough.”

“So we still don’t know who killed Keenan.”

“Look on the bright side, you freed Margaret,” Amy said.

Neil slid his phone over to Katie, a picture of the sole of a shoe shown on the screen. The shoe design was smooth compared to the lined print left at the murder scene. Swiping left, Katie saw a picture of Derrick’s hands beside the image of the bruises on Keenan’s neck. Derrick’s hands were considerably smaller than the bruises.

“It was just a coincidence that he liked the same cupcakes as the killer.”

“What is the Sheriff going to do?”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“That’s a footprint from the murder scene?” Amy asked, leaning over the table to get a better look.

“Yeah, why?” Katie asked.

“I’ve seen that print before. The nurses and custodians at the hospital all wear shoes like that.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

Katie looked at Neil. He grabbed his phone, sliding it back in his pocket. Katie grabbed her car keys and led Neil out the door.

“Where you going?” Amy yelled after them.

Neil unlocked the security access door and eased in, making sure it was clear. Katie snuck in behind him, easing the door shut. Neil checked the roster to see who was on duty for the night shift.

“Todd’s working tonight. We shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Why do we have to sneak around? You’re allowed to be here.”

“Yeah, but you’re not. Only hospital personnel can be in the security and nurse locker rooms.”

Neil motioned towards the door. Easing the door open, he poked his head into the hallway. Neil opened the door for Katie to ease through. Neil led them down the hall towards a set of double doors with the words Authorized Personnel Only written across it. As Neil reached for the keypad the doors swung open, barely missing him. Todd Jenkins, the on-duty guard, stepped through.

“What’s up four-eyes? Katie?”

“Todd, hi. I was just… uh…”

“I had lunch with Neil earlier, and I think I left my phone. He was going to go look for it.”

“Through there?”

“Shortcut,” Neil shouted.

“Go ahead, but I’ll expect a free cupcake,” Todd said, winking at Katie.

Katie feigned a laugh and followed Neil through the doors. Neil motioned for Katie to stay close to the walls.

“Todd may not care, but the nurses or doctors might have something to say.”

Katie nodded, staying close to Neil and the wall. Footsteps echoed up the hallway beside them. Neil opened the closest door and shoved Katie in. When the door slammed closed, Kate stood inside a dark custodial closet. Katie leaned her ear against the door trying to hear what was going on. The thickness of the door blocked out all the sounds of the hallway.

Katie felt around for a light switch. Her fingers snagged across the switch, illuminating the small closet. Mops and brooms leaned up against the far wall. Shelves along the walls held hospital gowns and towels. In the far corner, a blue lunch box and matching thermos sat on a small table. Katie stepped towards the little table, investigating the lunch box. The name Clyde was written across the lunch box in black sharpie. Katie eased the lunch box open. Inside was an empty cupcake wrapper, a ball of tin foil, and an empty bag of chips. The closet door opened.

“Come on, hurry,” Neil whispered.

Katie slipped back out of the closet and followed Neil towards the locker room. Neil eased into the locker room, motioning Katie in when he discovered it was empty.

“All the shoes, head coverings, and masks are kept in here. The actual locker rooms are through these two side doors. The women’s on the right and men’s on the left.”

“We just need the shoes.”

“Here, I grabbed an extra one so that you could help,” Neil said, handing Katie a tape measure, “Nobody else should be coming in or leaving for at least 30 minutes, so we shouldn’t have to worry about anybody catching us.”

Katie stepped towards the cubbies that held the numerous pairs of shoes. Some were filled with white shoes, and others held regular shoes. Neil and Katie went through measuring the shoes in each cubby.

“Neil, these tennis shoes are eleven inches. Do you know who number 53 is?”

“I think that’s Clyde’s number.”

“I found his lunch box in the closet you shoved me into earlier.”

“And?”

“It had a cupcake wrapper in it. It was the one I use for the maple bourbon cupcakes.”

“He gets off in ten minutes, and always leaves through the back. We could meet him there.”

Katie nodded, staring at the shoe in her hand. Why would the killer still be wearing their work shoes? They only wore white shoes in the hospital. Clyde should have been wearing his tennis shoes at the festival.

Katie and Neil waited by the back exit for Clyde to come out. They had been waiting for over 30 minutes. Katie was ready to leave and forget about it when the door opened. Clyde walked out, lunch box in hand, and tennis shoes on his feet.

“Clyde, good to see you, can we talk?” Neil asked

“I guess,” Clyde mumbled.

“Do you wear a size 11 ½ shoe?” Katie asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just curious. Did you enjoy the festival last night?”

“The festival? I had to work last night.”

The back door swung open revealing a burly, angry looking nurse. In her hands, she held a pair of dirty white shoes.

“Clyde Owens,” boomed the angry nurse, “Would you like to explain why these shoes are dirty?”

Neil took out his phone and turned on the recorder. Clyde looked at the nurse, anger filling his eyes.

“You also disappeared during your shift. You left for your break and were gone for three hours. I said you could go to the festival for a bit, but you had to come back. If I find out you wore these shoes out of this hospital, their replacement is coming out of your salary.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but did you say you let Clyde go to the festival last night?” Katie asked.

“Yeah.”

Katie looked at Clyde. A red flush had started to creep up his neck and onto his face. Neil looked over at Clyde’s hands. The skin around his cuticles looked darker than the rest.

“Clyde, did you hurt your hands?”

“Hmm?” Clyde grunted, turning towards Neil and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Can I see your hands?”

“No, you’re not a cop. You’re a damn security guard. You have no authority.”

“You’re a fan of my maple bourbon cupcakes aren’t you?” Katie asked, bringing his attention back to her.

“Yeah, so what?” Clyde shouted.

“It must be really hard on you today, with your uncle getting killed last night.”

“Not really. We didn’t get along.”

“Did you hear that he was found with one of my maple bourbon cupcakes in his mouth?”

“So, he liked those. Everybody does.”

“No, he was allergic to chocolate,” Officer Miles said as he came around the corner.

When Neil turned on his phone’s recorder, he had paged Officer Miles. Miles had heard the entire conversation.

“No he wasn’t,” Clyde spat.

“Yes, in fact, he was. He yelled at me on numerous occasions that I should get rid of all my chocolate cupcakes,” Katie said, “You, on the other hand, loved them.”

Clyde struck his hand out reaching for Katie. Officer Miles grabbed his arm, pulling it behind his back. Neil grabbed his other arm, inspecting his hand. The palm of Clyde’s hand was tinged blue with bruising.

“How did you bruise your hand?” Neil asked.

“He was selling his bank! First, he refused to take me in after my mother died, and now he is selling his bank to some stranger instead of giving it to his next of kin. I’m stuck working for this bear of a woman for breadcrumbs, while he does nothing but rip off little old ladies.”

“He wasn’t selling his bank,” Katie said.

“Yes, he was. I heard it from some guy named Derrick.”

“That was a lie. Derrick came to him. He wanted to buy the bank from Keenan, but he turned him down.”

Clyde’s head slumped down as Officer Miles clasped the cuffs around his wrists. He looked up at Katie, realization dawning in his eyes.

“How did you figure out it was me?”

“Your work shoes. Had you taken the time to change into your tennis shoe, it would have been a lot harder to figure you out,” Katie replied.

“I kept them on to make things harder. Everybody in the hospital wears them.”

“Exactly, it led us straight to the hospital.”

Officer Miles led Clyde to his cruiser, sliding him in the back seat. Neil put his arm around Katie’s shoulders, giving her a slight hug.

Once back at the station, Margaret identified Clyde as the killer. After she saw his stature and hands, she remembered seeing him in his custodial uniform. As for her fleeing the scene instead of getting help, she had been too afraid to speak. She hadn’t seen where Clyde had disappeared to, and she was worried that he would see her and kill her as well.

When everybody learned that Margaret had been released, they all gathered at her house to welcome her home. Katie and Amy brought cupcakes, and Neil brought coffee.

“Thank you, Katie. I don’t know what would have happened if you and Neil hadn’t have helped.”

“It’s the least I could do. You kept Mr. Keenan from ruining my life, so I owed you one.”

Margaret laughed as she wrapped Katie in a hug. Katie really did love her little island family.

FYI:

I Don’t Want This to Happen to Anybody Else

November 1, 2018October 29, 2018 F.A. HuffmanLeave a comment

If any of my blog readers also follow me on Facebook, you have probably heard the story. If not, here is what I posted on Facebook:

Last Sunday I said I had to unpublish my book for a bit. I didn’t explain why at the time, but I will now.
First, the book will be available for purchase again in the next couple of days. Whenever Amazon finishes their process.
Let me preface this by saying that I purchased my book cover from a guy on fiverr. I didn’t have anything in mind when he asked. I told him what the book was about and he sent me an image and asked if I liked it. It was a great image and felt it represented my book fairly well. I told him I like it and he finished out the rest of the book cover.
Maybe I was too trusting to pick somebody on fiverr and not go through a company that only does book covers, or go through an individual that I could research, what have you. I’m sure there are some people out there that would say what happened was all my fault and I shouldn’t have gone the cost-efficient route. I did what I could afford, and the cover cost me $22. I’m sure there are lots of other people out there that have used fiverr for book covers, or who have thought about it. People shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of thing. People that sell things on fiverr should be honest people.
Anyway, fast forward two months. A woman contacts me and tells me that I have to unpublish my book that the cover image is stolen. I even got an email with a cease and desist letter. It scared the crap out of me. I immediately contacted the fiverr guy that made the image. He claimed it was a free image, but he couldn’t provide me with a source image. I wasn’t taking any chances. I would never want to make money off of somebody else’s work, so I unpublished my book, temporarily took down my website and everything until I could go through and get rid of all the uses of the image. The fiverr guy even offered to make me another cover for free. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t trust him not to do the same thing again. Everything was taken care of last Sunday and nothing more has been said. I even got my money back from fiverr.
While this is embarrassing for me, I wanted to spread the word to let people know so that maybe it won’t happen to them.
Stealing somebody else’s work isn’t cool. As lame as that sentence may be, it’s true. Now, I don’t know if the fiverr guy knew the image was stolen or if somebody else had shared it somewhere and he assumed it was free to use, I don’t know. What I do know is he used the same image twice, so…
I just want everybody to be safe. I don’t want this sort of thing to happen to somebody else.
Like I told the original creator of the cover, I would never knowingly use somebody else’s copyrighted images for personal gain. I hate that I unknowingly used the image for two months to promote my book, and if I could take it back I would.
But, what’s done is done.
I’ve got a new image that I know I can legally use, and I will share it with you later.
Thanks for listening.

This isn’t something that is easy to admit. You never know how somebody will respond. I’m putting this out there willing to face criticism by some in the hopes that other people don’t find themselves in a situation like this.

I had written a blog post bragging about fiverr, but I have since taken that down. That’s not to say I won’t purchase things from them again. I’ll still probably use them for beta readers and things that can’t end up being stolen. I know there are a lot of people on there that are just trying to make a living doing things they love and sharing it with others, but once bitten twice shy.

The whole thing was embarrassing and nervewracking, and I am still trying to fix everything. I’m lucky that the owner came to me first to resolve it instead of going straight to lawyers. All I had to do was unpublish my book until I got a new cover, and get rid of the use of the old cover. Even still, I didn’t like the experience and I hope I never go through something like that again.

By sharing this, I hope I can prevent this from happening to anybody else. If you pay somebody else to make your book cover for your, or anything that uses images, make sure you get proof of the copyright information for the image.

On a positive note, my book is for sale again. While Amazon’s system hasn’t updated everything completely, the paperback and Kindle editions have new covers.

FYI: