Murder at the Loft

Secrets Can Kill......

It’s Fall in Bridgeville and there is excitement in the air as local merchants prepare to unveil the newly-renovated Town Square. But the murder of Mayor Ralph Weaver puts a damper on the festivities, and amateur sleuth, Helen Lawson, finds herself trying to unmask a vicious killer before there is a second victim.

The next morning, Helen arrived at The Loft at eight o’clock. Since Maggie was at the Free Store helping Della Sue with inventory and Valerie had to pick Steve up at his father’s and drive him to school, she’d agreed to open the store so that Leon Banks, the local carpenter and all around handyman, could put the finishing touches on several remodeling projects.

In particular, Leon was expecting an answer as to whether Valerie and Maggie liked the new railing he had temporarily installed in the upstairs loft area. It was an original design, she understood, and quite intricate. She couldn’t wait to see it.

As Helen put the key in the lock, she briefly thought about that day in May, when she’d entered this building alone and found the brutally slain body of it’s owner, Harley Baker. Enough! That’s over, and a new chapter in Bridgeville’s history is beginning. As John would say, put the past where it belongs, in the past!

The minute Helen stepped into the cool, quiet interior of the building, the smell of sawdust, lemon oil and new furniture hit her. She scanned the area in front of the large picture window to her right. Where ice cream tables used to sit there was now a grouping of overstuffed furniture and a low, wide coffee table. To her left, where the soda fountain once stood were cozy alcoves that would soon hold custom-made book cases.

The spiral staircase had an intricate design and was clearly the focal point of the downstairs sales area. Helen glanced around, her gaze stopping for a second at the back of the shop, where the narrow hallway that had once led to the restrooms and storeroom had been replaced by an open area. The restrooms had been remodeled and an enclosure had been erected to serve as an office/storage area. Where the rest of the floor space had been opened up there were already bookshelves lining the walls.

Helen moved across the newly refinished wooden floor. “He’ll be here soon. Leon is always prompt.” She advanced toward the back of the shop intending to start a pot of coffee and heat some water for tea. Then, like a chill up her spine the feeling that something was off struck her. What was it?

Something is missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

In a moment it came to her and she stopped in mid-stride and looked up again. “Where is that new railing?” She saw a section of splintered wood hanging over the edge of the loft. Quickly, Helen rounded the counter then came to an abrupt halt.

“Oh my, not again,” she muttered as she looked down at the crumpled body of Mayor Ralph Weaver.