Cadaver Lab, page 2
Natalie stifled—mostly—her snort. “Yeah, I think I can safely leave for a minute.”
On the off chance anyone actually came in, she locked the cash register, a vintage piece she’d splurged on back when she’d thought she’d have actual customers. She pocketed the key and moved around the counter to follow Harper, who was already reaching for the doorknob in the sidewall.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
“Uh, no. I mean, it’s empty. And dirty.” Natalie cringed.
“And it’s the perfect meeting room,” Harper said, walking inside and turning three-hundred and sixty degrees. “Would you feel comfortable offering it as a free meeting space to any local group who needed one?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess.” Natalie looked around at the space, trying to see it with new eyes.
Instead of the dust and dirt, she focused on the details. The high ceilings. The large windows framed by thick molding. The exposed brick walls and wide wood floorboards.
The architecture had been what had won her heart in the first place. What had turned her Zillow window shopping into her quitting her job in HR in the city and becoming a store owner three hours north of Manhattan.
How could she pass on a historic, authentic, small town train depot for only twenty-four thousand dollars?
For less than the cost of renting her one room city apartment for a year, she’d have an actual yard. Small but with real live grass. She’d own a building with a place for her to both live and work. And she’d still have plenty of space left over for a community meeting room, apparently.
“By offering them the space for free, you’ll get them in the door.”
“Where they might buy something,” Natalie finished, starting to channel Harper’s excitement.
Harper nodded. “Exactly.”
Natalie evaluated the space. She could clean it up. Paint the ceiling to hide the stains and brighten up the room. That wouldn’t cost too much if she did it herself. But there was another issue. “They’re going to have to bring their own chairs though.”
She couldn’t justify the investment of buying dozens of chairs for a space that might only theoretically bring her some additional business.
Harper tipped her head. “They do that already for football games and concerts in the park, so it wouldn’t be a problem. But I think I have a better idea.”
The tinkling of the bell had Natalie jumping. “I gotta…”
“Go. I’m going to make a phone call.”
Rushing to greet the newcomer, Natalie blew through the door only to find it was the mail person delivering—oh, joy—more bills.
She forced a smile. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”
When the coast was clear, she let the scowl appear as she shoved the bills under the register. She couldn’t deal with them now.
As she wondered if there was another sucker out there in the market for an old train depot in upstate New York, Harper reemerged.
She thrust her cell at Natalie. “What do you think?”
On the screen was what looked like a garage full of furniture. Old stuff, but not in horrible shape. An obnoxiously patterned sofa supported half a dozen mismatched wooden dining chairs stacked on top. Two comfy looking though worn armchairs flanked a small painted table.
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” Natalie confessed.
“The furnishings for your new meeting space. And there’s more than that if you’re interested. My friend owns a thrift shop and does estate sales. She’s looking to off load the big stuff. Free.” Harper’s brows rose as she waited for an answer.
Free was the magic word. Natalie took the cell and walked back to the empty room.
Amazingly, she no longer saw the cracked glass in one of the windowpanes or the thick layer of dust covering the scarred wood floor.
With the image of the furniture on the screen of the cell phone in her hand, she could envision various seating areas scattered around the room. One created by the sofa. Another by the two upholstered chairs and table.
After the addition of the dining chairs for more seating, she could picture book club members settling in for an evening of brisk literary discussion.
More than that, maybe this could become a quiet space where people could bring their newly purchased books and sit and read during the day.
Her heart was bursting with an excitement she hadn’t felt since she’d first seen the pictures of the train station on Zillow.
And look how well that had worked out…
Shushing the negative voice in her head, she spun to face Harper, thrusting the cell toward her. “Yes.”
“Yes to the furniture?” Harper asked taking her phone.
“Yes to everything. The community meetings. The book club. And especially the furniture.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. If she was going down thanks to her Zillow habit and a fetish for old buildings at least she would go out not with a whimper but with a bang.
Speaking of banging… A vision of godly manliness strode past the first of the three windows in the meeting room.
Drawn like a magnet, Natalie moved closer and asked, “Who is that?”
He was tall. Tall enough she could clearly see his hard well-defined buns moving beneath his khaki pants. She’d estimate he was over six feet of solid muscle. Muscle that strained the short sleeves of his black collared shirt.
“Rumor has it he’s a doctor. But you have to take Mudville gossip with a grain of salt. I’ve also heard from various sources that he’s a private investigator, a Navy SEAL, and a serial killer. Take your pick. For the record, I do think the doctor theory has some legs to it.”
She and Harper both tracked his progress as he moved past the second window. Once he’d passed the third and final window and was out of sight, Natalie could use her words and her brain again and asked, “Why do you think that—about the doctor theory?”
None of her doctors had ever looked like him.
“My friend who owns the bake shop was delivering an order to the lawyer who handled the lease on the warehouse next door to you. She said he was just leaving the office when she arrived and Dee called him Dr. Walsh as she said goodbye…Then Dee told Bethany his first name is William. Jeez, listen to me. I sound as bad as one of the old biddies. Apparently gossip is contagious and I’ve been living in this town long enough to catch it.”
Natalie didn’t mind a little gossip, especially if it entailed a certain tall, dark and handsome doctor. But she still had more questions. “What does a doctor want with a warehouse?”
“Maybe he’s opening a clinic or something?” Harper shrugged.
Natalie cringed. “Seems like it would take a lot of work to turn that building into anything, but especially a sterile facility.”
After the last month, she considered herself well qualified as an expert in old buildings and what it took to fix them up. The old warehouse next door looked like a case of tetanus waiting to happen. And that was only if it didn’t collapse on him first.
“At least it will improve your view if he fixes it up. And your property value too.”
She was all for increased property values just in case Harper’s book club plan didn’t work. Fingers crossed it would work and she and Once Upon a Vine would be here next to the new hot neighbor for a good long time.
three
Longingly staring at the list of shows she wanted to watch on Netflix, Natalie tried to narrow it down to just one for tonight. She’d never be able to get through the whole list before she canceled her subscription at the end of the month.
Pinching pennies sucked.
On the coffee table, her phone rang, reminding her she should look into a cheaper cellular plan.
Harper’s name appeared on the display. It had only been a few hours since she’d left the shop with a spring in her step. She’d gone on her merry way with Natalie’s blessing—carte blanche to do whatever she thought would help get people into the shop.
Maybe she had good news about the book club.
Swapping the remote control for the cell, Natalie answered, “Hello.”
“What are you doing right now?” Harper asked, excitement in her voice.
There was no way Natalie was going to admit she was already in her pajamas just fifteen minutes after locking the shop door at six. Or that she was about to microwave a frozen meal from the dollar store.
“Uh, nothing. Why?”
“You have to come to the Muddy River Inn. Right now.”
Having a friend would be nice. More than one, even nicer. But there was no way she could justify the expense of a night out on the town with Harper right now.
Putting on her happy, I’m not pitiful at all voice, she said, “Aw, thanks. But I’m really beat from work today.”
“We’ll have you home early. I promise.”
As she wondered who we was, she was about to continue begging out of the date when Harper continued.
“Hot doctor slash serial killer is here.”
That stopped the excuse that was right on the tip of Natalie’s tongue. “He is?”
“He is, and he’s even hotter close up. Come on. I want you to meet my friends and they’re dying to meet you too. I insist you let me treat you to a welcome to Mudville girls’ night out.”
“How can I say no to that?” Natalie glanced down at her current outfit. “Um, give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you there.”
“Perfect. Hot doc just ordered food.”
Even as a newcomer she knew where the bar was, but she’d never braved going inside. It had felt too daunting to walk in and then sit there by herself.
Meeting Harper and her friends solved the problem of sitting alone but not the fear of walking inside as it seemed like every eye in the place turned toward her.
“Natalie!” Harper stood and waved from a table where two other women sat.
She smiled with relief and had started toward them when her gaze hit on hot doctor, sitting alone not too far from them. Even if Natalie hadn’t noticed him already, she would have after Harper waggled her eyebrows while tipping her head toward him and pointing.
He was even better looking up close… and distracting. As he sat scrolling through his cell, she bumped one hip into the corner of a table, making the little vase wobble but not fall over.
She forced herself to focus.
Trying not to trip over her own feet she wove her way between tables, chairs and patrons and finally made it to the table of women.
Relieved that they too were dressed casually in jeans like she was, she smiled. “Hi. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Of course.” Harper waved away her thanks. “Natalie, this is Red who owns Red’s Resale and Bethany who owns Honey Buns, the bakery.”
The women greeted her like they were old friends.
“What do you want to drink?” Harper asked.
“We haven’t ordered food yet. Here’s a menu,” Bethany offered.
“The garlic parmesan hot wings are amazeballs,” Red added.
“Um…” A tad overwhelmed Natalie forced herself to focus. That was impossible so with one look at the three matching margarita glasses in front of her companions, she said, “I’ll have one of those.”
“Good choice. I’ll tell the bartender.” As Harper jumped up, Natalie took the time to glance around her.
“This place is adorable,” she said.
Dive bar on the outside, it was a surprise of quirky mismatched furnishings on the inside.
Red nodded. “Right? I bet your shop’s adorable too. Harper told me you want the furniture.”
“Is that from you?” Natalie asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m happy to get rid of it.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, but I thought maybe I can print out a little sign and put it in a nice frame that says something like furnishings provided by Red’s Resale. If that’s all right with you.”
“Thanks. That would be great.” Red smiled.
“Hot doctor’s drinking lemonade,” Harper reported as she planted an icy margarita glass in front of Natalie.
“Thank you. And maybe he’s on call or something,” Natalie suggested, keeping her voice low.
“He’s built more like he’s a trainer at a gym. Maybe he’s like a physical therapist?” Red suggested.
“Maybe.” Bethany said low. “But Alice Mudd insists he’s a murderer.”
“Not just a murderer. Serial killer,” Harper corrected. “Although Jack the Ripper was supposed to be a doctor too so…”
“Well, since we’re listing all the gossip, old Buck said he heard he’s a mercenary for hire,” Bethany added.
Taking a sip of her drink, Red held up one finger, swallowed then said, “Actually, Jeb told Cash he heard he was a hit man.”
Harper bobbed her head side to side. “Mercenary. Hit man. Both killers for hire so that’s kind of close. Could be something to that one. And Mrs. Trout told Agnes she saw bodies—plural—being carried into the warehouse.”
“So he’s a serial killer who keeps his victims’ bodies?” Red asked. “That doesn’t seem very smart.”
“Dahmer did that,” Natalie informed them. That was one show Natalie had gotten to binge before she became cash strapped.
In hindsight, since she’d have to cancel Netflix soon, she probably should have chosen better. A rewatch of Bridgerton season one would have been more pleasant.
From where she sat, Natalie could see the probable physician-possible psychopath’s profile.
Good strong chin. Great cheekbones. An amazing head of thick, dark hair, long enough to fall over his forehead and give him a rakish look, but not so long it hit the collar of his shirt at the back of his neck.
She wondered what color his eyes were as he stabbed a piece of lettuce in his salad with a fork that looked small while gripped in his big strong hands.
Interesting choice. Salad and lemonade. Pretty much the opposite of her own order of a margarita with Butter Garlic Parmesan Wings.
“Considering how hot he is, is it wrong I’m considering if being a possible serial killer is a deal breaker or not?” Natalie asked, her tongue feeling loose thanks to the drink.
“No. I’d be asking myself the same question if I wasn’t with Cash,” Red said.
“We’d all be asking ourselves that question if we weren’t taken women,” Harper clarified.
Bethany nodded in agreement as she sucked on her straw and all four of them stared at him eating.
“I say go introduce yourself,” Harper said. “You are his neighbor. You’ve got an automatic in.”
“And say what? Hey, I own the building next to yours. Wanna show me your collection of bodies sometime?”
“I might not lead with the bodies, but the rest works.” Red shrugged.
While they talked hot doctor had downed the last of his lemonade and tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table where he’d abandoned the last of the lettuce in the bowl. He stood and they got the full impact of the length and breadth of his hot body.
He turned toward them and Natalie couldn’t breathe. Why was he coming this way?
As he walked straight at her she caught the orange glow of an EXIT sign in her peripheral vision and realized there was a door behind them in addition to the front door she’d entered through.
Their table was silent as all four were glued to his every move. And that was before he tipped his head toward them and said in a deep rich voice that sent a tingle down her spine and all the way to her nether region, “Ladies.”
Something inside Natalie snapped. Whether it was the tequila or his testosterone, she forgot she was shy and blurted, “Hi-I’m-your-neighbor-I-own-the-train-depot.”
At that, his gaze pinned her where she sat trembling as he asked, “What’s your name?”
Heart pounding, she answered, “Nat—Natalie.”
He bent low. Close. She saw his eyes were green and amazing and she wanted to stare into them for the rest of her life. Or at least for an hour or so tonight. Preferably while in her bed.
“Well, Natalie. It’s rude to stare and talk about people while they’re trying to eat dinner.”
Straightening he swept a glance over all four of them seated at the table.
“Have a good night, ladies.” With that, he pushed the door open with a shove and left the building.
“That went well,” Red commented flatly.
Natalie used both hands to cover her face—and in particular her burning cheeks. “Oh my God. I’ll never be able to face him again.”
Harper patted her shoulder. “You’re going to have to, sweetie. He’s your neighbor.”
“I know,” Natalie groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
Her only hope now was that he really was a serial killer—or a Navy SEAL, mercenary or hitman—and would have to leave town for one of his jobs.
As misery and shame overwhelmed Natalie and she made plans to buy curtains to hang on his side of the building until she could sell the place, Red lifted one hand and called toward the bar, “We’re going to need another round here.”
four
Natalie considered herself a fairly intelligent individual. Case in point, she’d recently learned to be careful what she wished for.
As her head spun she knew it was a lesson she’d never forget.
Boxes of books to fill special book club orders were stacked and waiting to be unpacked right where the delivery person had left them yesterday.
The shop’s meeting room sign-up was filling so fast she’d resorted to buying a big paper calendar to hang next to the register because it was faster to scribble in a commitment than to log into her online calendar.
Customers streamed in steadily from opening until closing, which meant fitting in time to eat, and to pee, was challenging. And all it had taken was two weeks of implementing Harper’s plan.
One upside to being this busy was she hadn’t even seen hot rude doctor since that night.
Thank goodness for that. She had enough stress in her life. She didn’t need to be lectured on manners again by a possible murdering medical maniac.
Particularly now while she was trying to power through the day on only the single cup of coffee she’d consumed before unlocking the door.
