I’ve teamed up with Gemma Halliday and a bunch of super talented cozy authors to bring you a special holiday treat! Browse on over to https://www.gemmahalliday.com/halloween to ENTER TO WIN a fantastic prize (contest ends at midnight on 12/31/23 so enter now!) and visit the author links for Halloween treats. Now, sit back and enjoy a FREE short story set in Sip & Spin Records featuring Juni, her sisters, and of course, Daffy the cat!
A Record Shop Mysteries B-Sides Short Story
By Olivia Blacke
🎵 CHAPTER ONE 🎵
Daffy the cat did not want to wear a Halloween costume. Unfortunately, no one consulted him on the matter.
“Stop squirming,” my middle sister, Maggie, said. As soon as she got one limb fastened into the costume, the wily cat wiggled another limb free. “Juni, give me a hand, please?”
That’s me, Juni Jessup. Juniper, if we’re being formal, which I rarely ever am, at least not if I can help it. “Have you tried staples?” I teased.
“Don’t even joke,” Maggie said through clenched teeth as Daffy wrenched himself free of her grasp. He leapt off the counter, still half-wearing a jack-o’-lantern costume, and vanished beneath a rack of records, knocking off his green pumpkin stem hat as he fled. “This isn’t over,” my sister called after the retreating cat.
“Are you sure he needs a costume?” I asked, bending over to pick up the tiny hat. “He already looks like a giant candy corn.”
Daffy was a fluffy ball of orange and white fur. He might look pampered, especially when sporting the latest in Halloween fashions, but before we adopted him, he’d been a stray on the mean streets of Cedar River, Texas. And by mean streets, I mean the cozy little one-stoplight town I called home where crime was nearly non-existent. Not to mention that I wasn’t entirely certain if we’d adopted Daffy or if it was the other way around. One day, he walked into our vinyl records shop, Sip & Spin Records, and made himself at home.
Sip & Spin Records was in the heart of Cedar River, halfway down Main Street. The shop was narrow with a wall of glass facing the street and a brick backdrop behind the cash register and coffee counter. There was a set of stairs leading up to the balcony that ringed the inside of the shop where even more records waited to find their forever homes. Scattered around wherever there was room were high-topped café tables and matching stools. Playing on one of the several record players by the listening station was Michael Jackson’s Thriller.
“Yes, he needs a costume,” Maggie said. “It’s almost Halloween.” She looked at me and her eyes went wide. “You have a costume, don’t you, Juni?”
“Of course I do,” I said, a little too quickly.
There were lots of perks of being the youngest of three sisters. As the baby of the family, everyone assumed that I would always mess up, so their expectations were set pretty low. Which was kinda insulting since I was one-third owner of Sip & Spin, along with my sisters Maggie and Tansy. I might be able to get away with almost anything, but on the downside, my sisters knew me well enough to know when I was lying.
“Juni, you don’t have a costume yet? Where’s your Halloween spirit?”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “There’s plenty of time.” Halloween was tomorrow. The costume aisle at Walmart was probably well picked-over by now, but I was off tomorrow morning, and I’d go shopping then. Running the records shop-slash-coffee café was a lot of responsibility, but it was also fun, and unlike other jobs I’d had, I never minded coming to work at Sip & Spin and my co-workers were fantastic.
Speaking of co-workers, the front door opened with a cheerful chime and our oldest sister, Tansy, entered, carrying a crate full of vinyl records. “Who left these albums outside?” she asked. She navigated the aisles of records on display and hefted the blue plastic milkcrate onto the counter.
“Are we not supposed to keep records outside?” I asked, jokingly.
Texas generally had two seasons—hot and wet. In the last days of October, it could be either of those, or sometimes both at the same time. Today was an anomaly—dry with the slightest whisper of the autumn to come as the temperature slipped into the low eighties, which we life-long Texans called “sweater weather.” Even though it was significantly cooler today than it had been a few weeks ago, it was never a good idea to leave vinyl records outdoors for any significant amount of time.
“Where’d those come from?” Maggie asked, thumbing through the albums. She pulled one out at random. “Vintage Sonny and Cher. Nice.” She slid it back into place and selected another album. “Beatles.” She examined the cover. “In good shape, too.”
Tansy riffled through the crate. “The Beach Boys. Marvin Gaye. Whoa,” she said when she flipped over the album Do You Believe in Magic.
“What is it?” Maggie asked. “What did you find?” I asked at the same time. We leaned closer.
Tansy held out the album so we could see it clearly. At first, I thought she was surprised by the price listed on the yellowed price sticker—three seventy-five. Then I blinked as I noticed what had caught my sister’s attention. “Spin Records?” I asked, almost reverently.
Sip & Spin Records opened last spring as the popularity of vinyl records was rebounding with a vengeance. Or rather, I should say re-opened. Way back in 1965, our grandparents opened Spin Records—there was no coffee café back then—in this very storefront. They raised their family, including our mom, right here. They held on through the rise of cassettes and CDs, but MP3s and streaming services eventually ran them out of business.
“This album was originally bought in our grandparent’s shop,” Maggie declared. “What are the odds?”
“You tell me,” Tansy said. “You’re the numbers person.”
Maggie had always had a head for math, which was why she did the books for Sip & Spin. “A million to one?” she guessed.
“I’m sure it’s not that high,” I countered. “A lot of people live their whole lives in Cedar River.”
“Plenty of people that shopped at Spin shop here today,” Tansy agreed.
“We do have repeat customers from the original shop,” Maggie said. “But still, it’s cool, don’t you think?”
We all nodded. It was pretty cool.
I took the album from her and slid the record out of the protective sleeve. I held it up to the light so the grooves were easily visible. “It’s in good shape. No scratches that I can see. But there’s one way to know for sure.”
After removing the Michael Jackson record, I centered The Lovin’ Spoonful album and aligned the needle with the first track. The first jaunty notes of “Do You Believe in Magic” filled the record shop.
I closed my eyes and bopped along as I let myself be transported back to the first time the album was played. Had some lucky customer played it in this very shop before buying it? How many times over the decades had this very song played from this very record before being relegated to a shelf to collect dust, and then eventually end up in a crate on the sidewalk outside our front door?
As the chorus came to a crescendo, I spun around and almost smacked into a customer. I’d been so wrapped up enjoying the music, I hadn’t heard her come in. “Oops!” I exclaimed. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
The woman was dancing to the catchy beat of “Do You Believe in Magic.” She couldn’t have been much more than a teenager, too young to recognize the old song. Despite the cheery tune and catchy lyrics, she seemed upset.
“You okay?” I asked. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. I reached out to comfort her, but my hand passed right through her shoulder.
I stumbled backward into a display of vinyl records.
“Um, Juni?” Tansy asked.
I gulped and looked over at my sister. “Yeah?”
“Who’re you talking to?”
🎵 CHAPTER TWO 🎵
“Don’t you see her?” I glanced back at the dancing customer, but she had vanished.
Daffy reappeared with an angry hiss. He’d managed to shed his jack-o’-lantern costume, but the ensuing static electricity left his orange and white fur standing on end. He hissed again, louder this time, and arched his back in the perfect imitation of a Halloween cat silhouette, before dashing toward the front door.
Just then, the door opened with a chime and our honorary cousin, Kitty, came inside. “Dude!” she said as Daffy flashed past her and slipped out the open door. “Sorry for letting the cat out.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll come back. He always does,” Maggie assured her. Daffy was a very independent cat. No matter how hard we tried to keep him inside, he came and went as he pleased. We’d even taken him home, but after a week of living at Tansy’s, he’d disappeared, only to reappear the next morning at Sip & Spin.
“Who were you talking to just now?” Tansy asked again.
I ignored her and turned to Kitty instead. Kitty was the younger cousin of Maggie’s husband, J.T., which practically made her family. She’d moved to Cedar River a couple of months ago and fit in immediately. Depending on how much grief my sisters were giving me at any given time, sometimes I liked Kitty more than I liked them.
“Did you see a girl just now?” I asked. “Eighteen? Nineteen? About yay tall?” I held my hand around the level of my eyes. “Long, straight blonde hair? Tie-dyed tank top and bell-bottom jeans?”
“Why? Did she steal your wardrobe?” Kitty teased.
I looked down at myself. When I’d gotten dressed this morning, I’d grabbed my standard fare of a vintage concert T-shirt and jeans. It just so happened that today’s outfit was a blue tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt, and my equally vintage jeans did have a wide flair to them. “No…” I stammered. “I just…”
Kitty looked at my sisters. “What’s the special of the day?”
At Sip & Spin, we paired a new, fun drink with the atmosphere every day. I might not have my middle sister’s head for numbers, but I’d discovered a previously latent flair for designing and naming our featured coffees and teas.
“(Everything I Brew) I Brew It For You,” Maggie said. “It’s a rich blend of fruity and floral for a nice afternoon pick-me-up.”
“I’ll take one, but she’s cut off,” Kitty said, pointing at me.
“What? Why?” I asked.
“How much coffee have you had today?” Kitty asked. As Tansy poured her a cup of our special blend, Kitty came over to me and touched my forehead with the back of her hand.
“I don’t know. A cup or two. No more than usual,” I said. “Maybe a couple of sips here and there for quality control.”
“You aren’t running a fever,” Kitty declared with authority. As one of Cedar River’s paramedics, I trusted she would know. She was a good person to have around in an emergency. Or on a slow day. Or any day at all, really. “Are you hydrating?” She pulled a metal reusable water bottle out of her oversized purse and thrust it at me. “Here. Drink up.” Then she turned back to my sisters. “How long has she been hallucinating?”
“I’m not hallucinating,” I insisted. I took a long drink from the water bottle. Okay, maybe I was hallucinating a little. I wasn’t about to admit that for a second, I’d imagined that my hand had gone through the woman’s arm. Which was impossible, of course. “There was a customer here just a second ago, but I didn’t see her come in and I didn’t see her leave. Maybe she’s upstairs?”
I took another hit of water before handing the bottle to Kitty. Then I headed for the stairs leading up to the second story. When it’s slow, we reorganize the shop so repeat customers always discovered something new. This week, new releases, sale records, and show tunes were upstairs. Classics and collectors items were on the main floor. Who knew where everything would be next week.
“Um, Juni?” Maggie stepped in front of me.
“Yeah?” I asked, straining to see around her.
“There’s no one here. We’ve been dead all day.”
I blinked at her. She was right. It had been unusually quiet, which wasn’t terribly unusual. Every place had its occasional lull, even Sip & Spin Records.
“It’s been a long day. Maybe you should head out early.” Maggie steered me toward the front door. “Tansy and I have it until closing.” She looked over at Kitty. “Make sure she gets home alright?”
“Sure thing, cuz,” Kitty said. She put her arm around my shoulder and propelled me outside. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
It was absolutely lovely outside—not too warm and not too cold. The October sun was throwing long shadows across the sidewalk, but the streetlights had yet to switch on. Despite the perfect weather, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
“My sisters were busy cataloging new records,” I said, trying to explain myself to Kitty. “They never looked up. The music was on, so we might not have heard the door chime. There was a customer. There was. I almost bumped into her. She was dancing in the aisle.”
“I’m sure she was,” Kitty said, unwinding her arm from around my neck. “Oh shoot. Maggie hustled us out the door so fast I forgot why I stopped by in the first place. Car’s in the shop. I was hoping one of y’all would give me a ride home.”
“Hop on,” I said, gesturing at my bike. Only it wasn’t actually a bike. It was a lime-green adult market tricycle. It had a low-slung seat, three sturdy wheels, and a basket on the back large enough to carry a few bags of groceries. I’d never taken a passenger for a ride before, but there was a first time for everything.
“Where?” Kitty asked. “More importantly, how?”
“Sit backward on the seat, with your feet in the basket. I’ll stand to pedal.”
“Maybe I should ride on the handlebars,” she suggested.
“Then I couldn’t see,” I countered. “Get in.”
Kitty got on and we headed in the direction of Cedar River’s only apartment building, which was a few blocks away. It was the opposite direction from where I lived, but I could use the exercise.
“You said the customer was dancing?” Kitty asked. She had to twist around to yell in my ear. It was a good thing my trike had three wheels because otherwise, we would have toppled over.
“Yeah,” I yelled back.
“What song?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“What song was it?” she repeated.
“‘Do You Believe in Magic,’” I said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I can hear it. ‘Do You Believe in Magic.’ It’s coming from over there.” She pointed ahead of us and to the left, toward the river. “Don’t you hear it?”
I nodded. I heard it. I’d heard the song ever since we stepped out of the shop, but I assumed it was just an earworm. It was a catchy tune. Of course it was stuck in my head. But that didn’t explain how Kitty could hear it, too.
🎵 CHAPTER THREE 🎵
The town of Cedar River, Texas, just outside Austin, was built around—unsurprisingly—a river. Cedar River, to be exact. It was a long, meandering river that all but dried up in the summer but could transform into raging rapids after a hard rain. It served as a source of drinking water, not to mention being a convenient place for teenagers to slip away from the watchful eyes of the adults and get up to no good.
I should know. I spent most of my childhood and adolescence here. I went from fishing for crawdads from the banks to making out with my high school sweetheart on the old rail bridge that we called Lover’s Bridge.
The music got louder as I pedaled, so I knew we were heading in the right direction. The sound of the river grew louder, too. It had been an unusually wet October and as a result, the river was swollen and noisy. Luckily, there was no more rain in the forecast. Hopefully the weather would remain mild and dry long enough for the kids of Cedar River to spill out into the streets in their Halloween costumes, going door-to-door for candy.
Thinking about candy took my mind off of pedaling my trike up the slight incline toward the bridge, circumnavigating the potholed trail with the added weight of a passenger on the back. There were talks of a project to re-pave this whole route and make it more appealing to walkers and cyclists, but the funds had yet to materialize so I had to swerve to avoid the larger pitfalls.
“Careful!” Kitty yelled from behind me. “I’m gonna fall off if you keep that up.”
“Sorry!” I yelled back.
When most people think of Texas, they think of vast swaths of pancake-flat land, but Texas was anything but. There were mountains, ridges, even canyons. Here in the foothills, the landscape was gently rolling and thickly forested. Surrounded by the tall oaks and elms that were so common in this part of Texas, it was getting dark already. I expected to see lights up ahead to go along with the music, but there was nothing.
We came around the long, sloping bend that led to Lover’s Bridge, and eventually the other side of the river. While the music grew steadily louder, there were no people in sight. I pulled off to the side of the trail. Just to get my bearings. Not because I wasn’t certain I could make it up the steep incline on my trike. No, siree.
“I don’t see anything,” Kitty said, squinting in the twilight shadows.
“Me neither,” I agreed. Even with my glasses on, Kitty’s eyesight was better than mine, especially at this time of day.
“Do You Believe in Magic” continued to play.
“Hello?” I called out, straining to hear over the noisy river and the energetic pop song. There was no response. I looked at Kitty. “Well?”
“We’ve come this far,” she said, before marching uphill toward the bridge.
I followed, struggling to keep up. Kitty was several inches shorter than me, but I’d once seen her carry an unconscious man twice her size down two flights of stairs. I got winded going up and down the stairs at the record shop all day. Maybe I should hit the gym more often. Or, ever.
It had been a clear day, but as the sun set, clouds rolled in, adding to the October gloom. A cool breeze blew off the river. Kitty shivered. “There’s nobody here,” she said.
As we approached the apex of the bridge, I trailed my hand over the aging side rails, feeling decades of carved lovers’ initials under my fingers. The cheery song grew louder. Then we reached the very center of the bridge and the music stopped abruptly.
So did we.
I grabbed Kitty’s hand and waited for the music to start up again. When it didn’t, I turned to my honorary cousin and said, “What now?”
She shook her head. “You really saw someone at the record shop?”
I nodded. “I did. Clear as day.”
“And she was dancing to that song?”
“‘Do You Believe in Magic,’” I agreed. “And, I didn’t want to say anything in front of my sisters, because you know how they love to tease me, but I could have swore my hand went right through her arm like she wasn’t even there.”
“Huh,” she said. “That’s weird, right?”
I agreed wholeheartedly.
We waited a few minutes longer. When the song didn’t return, Kitty said, “We better get going before it gets too dark.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Plus, I’m starving.”
“Pizza at your place? My treat?” Kitty offered.
“Deal.” I liked food. A lot. I liked healthy food and junk food. I liked appetizers and main courses and dessert. I liked sweet food. Spicy food. Savory food. But my favorite kind of food was, and would always be, free food.
We hurried back to my trike. I had a lamp mounted on the handlebars. As soon as I started pedaling, I clicked it on. It wasn’t bright, but it cut through the gloom. By the time we reached the neighborhood where I lived, it was full dark but the streetlights and porch lights were lit.
I pulled up to the house I shared with my sister Tansy at the same time as the pizza delivery arrived. Kitty had placed the order on her phone while I was cycling. She tipped the driver and followed me into the house.
Tansy’s house was a modest three-bedroom ranch with a small mother-in-law cottage in the side yard. The kitchen was straight out of the seventies, and appliances were mis-matched, only being replaced when something broke. As a result, she had a stainless-steel refrigerator, an ancient gas stove, and a gleaming farm-style porcelain sink. The overall aesthetic was practical-chic, which was a fair representation of my eldest sister.
“Beer?” I asked as I pulled plates out of the cabinets.
“Please,” Kitty said.
As we dug into the pizza, Kitty was distracted by her phone. I didn’t mind. There’s a lot to be said about being comfortable with someone without needing to talk. Besides, I was too busy stuffing my face to carry on a conversation.
Kitty let out a grunt of surprise.
“Too hot?” I asked. I, too, had burned the roof of my mouth with the surface-of-the-sun temperature cheese, but that hadn’t slowed me down any.
“Look at this.” Kitty handed me her phone.
“Cedar River Bridge temporarily closed after two teens plunge to their death,” I read aloud. “That’s horrific!”
“Right?” Kitty took her phone back. “Look at the date. November 1st, 1966.”
I scanned the article. “They died on Halloween,” I said. “How sad.”
“I know,” she said. “When did that song come out?” Before I could think about it, she looked it up on her phone. “1965. Those kids died in sixty-six. I imagine ‘Do You Believe in Magic’ was pretty popular around then.”
“It’s a classic,” I agreed, staring off into space as the gears in my head spun.
“Whatcha thinking?” Kitty asked, with a mouthful of pizza.
“I’m thinking we need to learn more about those teenagers who died on Lover’s Bridge.”
“Don’t you think that the case is a little cold by now?”
“Doesn’t hurt to poke around,” I suggested. “It’s not like the cops in this town have a great track record when it comes to investigating suspicious deaths.” That was the understatement of the decade, but since the lead detective of the Cedar River Police Department happened to be very dear to me, I had to cut them some slack.
“It’s too late to do anything about it tonight, but according to the article, there was a witness. Jerry Higgins. Name ring any bells?” Kitty asked.
“Jerry Higgins?” I’d lived in Cedar River my entire life. That didn’t mean that I knew everyone, but as luck would have it, pretty much everyone in town had heard creepy stories of the recluse that lived on the fringe of town. “Sure do. He’s Cedar River’s version of the boogeyman.”
Kitty sat her beer down and looked me dead in the eyes. “Juni, you’re telling the truth, right? This isn’t some kind of practical joke?”
“I don’t know what I saw at Sip & Spin,” I assured her, “but I saw something.”
“Two teenagers died on Lover’s Bridge nearly sixty years ago. If the, uh, person you saw today was somehow related, why wait so long to make an appearance?”
“I don’t know. Last couple of years, there was a clothing store in that space. Could be that no one noticed her. Maybe it had something to do with the record, or maybe there’s other forces at work here,” I suggested. “But there’s only one way to find out for certain. Let’s go talk to the boogeyman.”
🎵 CHAPTER FOUR 🎵
The next morning, I found myself pedaling to the outskirts of town. Kitty was supposed to come with me, but work called at the last minute, so I was on my own. “I’m a grown woman,” I muttered to myself. “I can take care of myself.” I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I believed that, but it helped to hear it aloud.
The pavement gave way to a rutted path that eventually dead ended in front of a dilapidated trailer house. Off to one side of the house was an old Ford that was missing a wheel. It was propped up on a stack of cinder blocks with weeds growing around them. That car hadn’t gone anywhere for a long time.
The wooden steps leading up to the front door creaked as I climbed them. Ignoring the “No solicitors!” and “Trespassers will be sorry!” stickers, I knocked on the hollow metal door.
From inside the trailer, I heard a distant voice yell out, “Go away.”
I knocked again. The door opened a crack. I could make out the shape of a man, no taller than myself, in the slip of space between the door and the frame. “What do you want?”
“To ask you some questions,” I said, brightly. I held up a mug of coffee in a thermos cup. I’d been taught to never show up empty handed. “Jerry Higgins? Do you like coffee?”
He glared at me. “You came all the way out here to ask if I like coffee?” The door opened a little wider. Jerry was bent over, leaning against a walker for support. The hunched white man looked to be somewhere between a thousand and a million years old, but I knew he couldn’t have been more than eighty. Time had not been kind to him.
He glanced at the thermos of coffee in my hand. “Don’t suppose that’s decaf?” he asked.
“No, sir,” I said. “But if you’d prefer decaf, I could come back.”
“It’s no nevermind,” he said. “I never did develop a taste for that stuff anyway. Well?”
Growing up, I’d heard all the stories. Old Man Higgins was a witch. A vampire. A devil worshiper. An escapee from an asylum. Kids used to dare each other to tag his trailer on Halloween night. No wonder he was suspicious of a stranger turning up today, of all days.
“Can we talk?” I asked. “I wanted to ask some questions about Halloween night, 1966.”
Jerry grunted. “Always knew this day would come.”
He opened the door the rest of the way, and took a shuffling step onto the rickety front stoop. Except, it was less of a stoop and more of a few stairs nailed together, and there wasn’t room for the two of us. I took a step back to accommodate him. He gestured at the patchy lawn, where several rusted lawn chairs were arranged in front of a firepit. “Take a seat.”
“Need a hand?” I offered.
Jerry waved me away. “Do I look like I need your help?”
I shrugged, retreated down the steps, and sat. A few minutes later, Jerry hobbled over and lowered himself to the lawn chair with a pained grunt. I held out the coffee one more time. He waved me away, so I poured some into the lid and took a sip. It was a mild blend with just a touch of sweet, and I wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “What really happened that night, Mr. Higgins?”
I’d read the newspaper account, of course, but I thought that maybe the only living witness to the incident on the bridge could tell me something that the papers could not. Now, seated next to him, I wondered if this was a fool’s errand. Could he remember any details after this long? I could barely remember what I’d had for breakfast yesterday.
Jerry sighed. “I already done told my story to the police. To the reporters. To my friends. To the mailman, for land’s sake. Would’a thought people would leave it well enough alone by now.” He coughed, and his cough turned into a hacking fit.
“Can I get you something?” I offered, deep in thought at his mention of both police and mailman. It was probably a coincidence that up until a few weeks ago, I’d been dating both a police officer and a mail delivery person, torn between my first serious boyfriend and the friend that had been by my side since forever.
Jerry glared at me. When he gathered his breath, he responded, “All I ever wanted was to be left alone, but I guess that’s too much to ask, ain’t it?” He took a deep rattling breath.
“You were walking alone. At night. On Halloween. And you happened to come to Lover’s Bridge just in time to see two teenagers go over the railing.” I took another sip of coffee,
He nodded. “Just so.”
“Seems to me that there’s something you’re leaving out,” I guessed. I didn’t have anything to go on, not even a hunch. But that ghostly woman had been dancing in Sip & Spin for a reason, and Jerry Higgins was the only person alive that might know why.
His shoulders slumped even more. “We had a hot summer that year. And I do mean hot. I was driving an oil truck, and by the end of my shift, I was just about melted. But I would’a drove that truck twenty hours a day for just five minutes at the diner on Friday night.”
I assumed he meant the Cedar River Diner. It was still standing to this day, and had about the best French fries this side of, well, anywhere.
He continued, “Her name was Shirley Ann Mcbride. The first time I saw her in that cute little pink checkered apron, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Took all summer of asking her out before she said yes, but when she did, that was about the happiest night of my life.” He leaned back, his eyes glazed over with memories of a happier time.
“Shirley Ann Mcbride,” I repeated, to get him back on track. “She was on the bridge that night.” I knew that much from the story Kitty found online. The story had called Jerry Higgins a passing bystander, not her suitor. Funny how that tidbit had been left out.
He nodded. “As far as I was concerned, she was the One. But I guess the feeling wasn’t mutual, because I found out she was also going with that Lawrence Lamb fellow.” Jerry spit on the ground at the mention of his name. “Never did get what she saw in that pipsqueak.”
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” I said. I sympathized with Shirley Ann. I had, up until very recently, been in a similar predicament myself, unable to choose between the two good men in my life.
“Yeah, well, Shirley Ann and me belonged together. She just didn’t know it yet.”
“Ahh,” I said, trying—and failing—to not sound judgy.
“It was Halloween night. Shirley Ann loved Halloween. Got all gussied up and everything. I told her we was going to a party, but I took her out to the river instead, to Lover’s Bridge. We called it that because, well, you know.” Jerry coughed again.
I nodded. “Kids still call it that.”
“We get there, and I see a guy hanging out there all alone. He ain’t even got a girl with him or nothing. First, I think maybe he’s a creep or something, but we get closer and I see it’s that Lawrence fellow.”
“Why was he out there, all alone?” I asked.
He shrugged, then coughed. “All I know is I recognized him and I saw red. I know, it ain’t make any sense, but here I am out on a romantic stroll with my girl and here’s that twerp come along, mucking things up.”
“You lost your temper and threw him off the bridge?” I guessed.
“Don’t I wish?” Jerry said. “Would have been simpler. Words were exchanged. Lawrence took a swing at me.”
“He took a swing at you?” I repeated, not sure if I believed him. I finished my coffee.
“Hand to heaven,” Jerry said. “Took me by surprise, it did.” He got caught up in another coughing fit. I waited it out in silence, not wanting to break the spell. Finally, he picked the story back up. “I never meant for Shirley Ann to get hurt. You gotta believe me. We tussled, but it was Shirley Ann that went over the railing.”
“She tried to break up the fight,” I suggested.
He nodded sadly. “I’ll never forget the sound of her scream when she went over, and the splash when she hit the water. By then, Lawrence had already gone in after her. And the rest, well you know the rest.”
“I really don’t,” I said, but I had a pretty good idea what happened. When Shirley Ann Fell, Lawrence jumped in to save her and Jerry had run away. I guess that was one way to resolve a love triangle.
“The bodies were never recovered,” he said. “But you know Cedar River. They could have got washed all the way out to the Gulf.”
“You lied. Told everyone you were an innocent bystander,” I pointed out.
“Wouldn’t have made no difference.” Jerry interrupted himself with another round of wracking coughs. When he’d recovered, he continued. “Besides, I’m telling you the truth now, ain’t I?”
“Why?” I asked. “Why me? Why now?”
He blinked at me. “Doc said I had six months. That was eight months ago. I’m thinking this is my last Halloween, and if you hadn’t come along, I might have taken my story to the grave.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a worn matchbox. It was so old I could barely make out the advertisement on it. He handed it to me. “Found that after. On the bridge. Lawrence musta dropped it in the scuffle.”
I slid the matchbox open. Inside was a narrow gold band with the tiniest chip of a diamond mounted on delicate clips. “An engagement ring? Lawrence was about to propose to Shirley Ann?” I asked.
Jerry struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his walker to do so. “I reckon.” He shuffled toward his front steps. “Now get off my property.”
🎵 CHAPTER FIVE 🎵
As I rode home, my phone chimed. It was Kitty, texting me to meet her at Sip & Spin, so I detoured to the shop instead. Inside, Tansy was behind the counter. Kitty was seated with a woman I didn’t recognize at one of the café tables. They were sipping lattes.
Tansy waved me over. “Hey, Juni, I thought you had the morning off?”
“I did. I do. Kitty wanted to meet me here.”
“Before you run off, I’m supposed to ask if you’ve got your costume for tonight yet?”
I rolled my eyes. Leave it to my sisters to tag team me. I loved Halloween, I did! I just had more important things going on right now. “Not yet, but I will,” I promised.
Then I headed over to the table. “Hi. I’m Juni Jessup.”
“Milly Chisholm.” We shook hands and I took a seat. “Nice to meet you.”
Tansy came over with a latte. “I’m calling this one Take Me Foam, Country Roads.” She handed it to me. She noticed my surprised expression. “What? You’re the only one who can come up with punny coffee names, sis?”
I took a sip.
“Well?” Tansy asked, sounding nervous. “How is it?”
“Almost heaven,” I said with a grin.
“Oh Juni,” Tansy and Kitty said at the same time.
“Like the song!” Milly said.
I smiled at her. “See? You get it.”
Milly took that as her cue. “I’d like to apologize for yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” I asked.
“I was supposed to drop off some of my mom’s old records, but I couldn’t find parking. I double parked, just for a minute. Then I saw a cop coming and I didn’t want a ticket. I set the records down. I circled the block, but by the time I got back, the records were gone. Then my boss called and I had to go. I didn’t mean to cause any confusion.”
“No worries,” I assured her. Now that we knew who dropped off the records, one mystery was solved, but I still wasn’t sure how everything fit together. “Do you want to sell them on consignment or sell them outright?” I asked.
“Actually, I’d like to donate them, if that’s okay?”
“Some of those records are worth money,” I told her. I liked free stuff as much as the next person, but I didn’t want to take advantage of her. “Not a lot, mind you, but a collector might be interested.”
Milly shook her head. “That’s not what Mom would have wanted.”
“Who’s your mom?” I asked. “If she shops here, I might know her.”
“Sorry, I should probably start from the beginning. My mom is Shirley Ann Chisholm.”
A lightbulb went off. “Any relation to Shirley Ann Mcbride?”
“That was her maiden name.”
When Shirley Ann fell off Lover’s Bridge, she didn’t have a daughter. So how did Milly fit in? I glanced at Kitty. “She survived,” I said.
“Well, no,” Milly said, sounding as confused as I felt. “She passed a few weeks ago. That’s why I was dropping off the records. She bought all her music here when she was a teenager and insisted that the records go back to Spin Records in Cedar River.”
I nodded. “That explains why there was a Spin price sticker on one of the records.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I had the right place.”
“Spin closed in 2005,” my sister said, joining in. “We reopened as Sip & Spin just last spring.”
“I didn’t know that my mom was from Cedar River until a few weeks ago. She never talked about the past. It’s so weird,” Milly said. “I didn’t even realize this place existed until recently, but it feels like Mom’s here with me.”
I cast a surreptitious glance at Tansy. She gave me a subtle headshake. Geez, if you see just one glimpse of something that might be a teensy bit supernatural, no one in this family will ever trust you again. “I guess that’s the whole point of places like this,” Tansy said, before I could say anything. “We’re all about nostalgia.”
“Mom grew up here,” Milly said. “I don’t know much about her childhood, but I know something happened, something she refused to talk about. So one night, she packed a bag of clothes and her favorite records and took off. Apparently, she moved around a lot after that. She met my dad when she was backpacking across Alaska.”
“Wow, your mom was a free spirit,” Kitty remarked.
“That she was,” Milly agreed. “They eventually settled in Austin.”
“Wait a second, all this time, she was living just down the road?” I asked, surprised.
“Good thing, too,” Kitty said. “I was transporting a patient to an Austin hospital and when I was checking them in, I happened to catch a glimpse of the death certificate of one Shirley Ann Chisholm, née Mcbride, and all the pieces clicked.”
“You just happened to randomly, accidentally stumble across this information?” Tansy sounded suspicious.
Kitty crossed her heart. “Scout’s honor.”
I laughed. Kitty had never been a scout. She was just nosy, like me. No wonder we got along so well.
“It’s okay,” Milly said. “I’m glad she called. I wanted to explain about the records. Before she died, Mom told me they reminded her of a man she used to love, long before she ever met my father. She hoped that they’d bring someone else the same joy they brought her.”
“That’s sweet,” Kitty said.
“About that old love…” I started.
Milly held her hand up. “Stop right there. Whatever happened, Mom didn’t want me to know about it, or she would have told me herself.”
“You sure?” I asked. I could hardly imagine that. My curiosity would have been in overdrive if I was in her shoes.
“One hundred percent. Ladies, thanks for the coffee. Sorry I didn’t stick around yesterday to explain the records, but I’ve got to go pick up the kids.” Milly waved and walked out of Sip & Spin Records.
The matchbox-shaped with the engagement ring inside felt like it weighed a ton in my pocket.
🎵 CHAPTER SIX 🎵
After Milly left, Tansy shooed me out of the shop, reminding me that I was running out of time to find a Halloween costume. But instead of heading home, I pedaled toward the river.
Unlike last night, there was no music pulling me along. Without Kitty weighing down my trike, I was able to pedal to the apex of the Lover’s Bridge. I got off my trike and leaned against the handrail. Because of recent storms, the river below me roiled, much like it would have that Halloween night in 1966. If Shirley Ann and Lawrence had gone off the bridge when it was calm instead, their story might not have ended in tragedy.
Then again, Shirley Ann went on to travel. To fall in love again. To have a daughter, and grandkids. She even held onto her record collection through it all.
No one would ever really know what happened that night, but I imagined watching Lawrence drown would have broken her heart, especially when she miraculously managed to escape. She must have gone home to change out of her soaking wet clothes, and then decided she’d rather leave Cedar River for good than stay and face the music. She walked away without so much as a goodbye. And now, almost sixty years later, it was time to finally let her go.
I pulled the matchbox out of my pocket. It was so odd. A few days ago, I didn’t even know that Shirley Ann Mcbride existed. And now, here I was, bidding her farewell as I tossed the matchbox that held the engagement ring that Lawrence never got the chance to give to his beloved into the river.
It hit the water with a soft splash and sank below the surface.
The cardboard box would disintegrate quickly. I wondered if the ring would ever be found again. I doubted it. Even in the summer, when parts of Cedar River were barely a trickle, it was still deep enough here to swim.
I watched the river for a little while longer before heading home, where I hastily pulled together a Halloween costume. Good thing my closet was full of vintage clothes. I rooted out my biggest bell-bottom blue jeans, my funkiest glasses, and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. I even flat-ironed my long hair. Groovy.
Once I was appropriately dressed, I headed back to Sip & Spin Records to hand out candy. Halloween trick-or-treating was a success. Even Daffy the cat, wearing a taco costume courtesy of my middle sister, seemed to enjoy himself.
We had tons of kids stop by for free chocolate and handed out sample-sized coffees for the adults. I had a blast, but if I ever heard “Monster Mash” again, it would be too soon. Seriously, why aren’t there as many Halloween songs as there are Christmas carols? The music fairies must have agreed with me, because “Monster Mash” ended and the familiar notes of “Do You Believe in Magic” began to play.
Tansy had just emptied the last bag of candy into my plastic jack-o’-lantern, when one of our older male customers remarked, “Well, isn’t that sweet? It’s so nice to see the kids appreciating real music, just like the good old days.”
I glanced in the direction he was looking. The ghost of Shirley Ann McBride was over by the record players. This time, she wasn’t alone, and she was happy. She was merrily dancing with a handsome young man. He wore a brown beaded vest. His hair was shoulder-length and he had a large peace symbol necklace around his neck.
“Lawrence?” I whispered, a shiver running up my spine.
He glanced over at me and winked. Lawrence spun Shirley Ann around once, then he and his dance partner vanished.
🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵
I really hope you’ve enjoyed “Track-or-Treat.” Halloween is my favorite holiday and I’ve been wanting to write a sweet, slightly spooky story with just a dash of mystery set at Sip & Spin Records for a long time. If you want to get to know Juni and her sisters better, check the Record Shop Mysteries, starting with Vinyl Resting Place. Volume 2: A Fatal Groove is also available. This short story takes place after Volume 3: Rhythm and Clues (coming Spring of 2024 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks) so eagle-eyed readers might catch that Juni recently made a Big Decision. Keep in touch on Facebook, Bluesky, Twitter, or Instagram, and check out my website OliviaBlacke.com, where you can join my newsletter for updates, giveaways, and exclusive offers.
© Olivia Blacke 2023
