Trouble in a Big Box (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) by Judy Alter Read Free Book Online

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    Turned out there was another meeting I wished I could miss. Christian called from the title company. “Kelly, have you heard the rumor going around the neighborhood?”
    Paranoia is so easy to come by. “About Mike?”
    “No, why would there be a rumor about Mike? How is he anyway? I’m so sorry for you guys. Should have called sooner, even come by, but you know….”
    “Thanks. What rumor?”
    “Tom Lattimore has requested a variance to build a shopping center on Magnolia, anchored by a big-box store.”
    I drew in my breath sharply. “Which big-box store?”
    “An upscale grocery store called Wild Things. I hear they’re going to model themselves somewhat after Central Market or Whole Foods but offer more organic, more local products. Trendy in sophisticated neighborhoods like Fairmount and Berkeley. Apparently a stand-alone now, but they want this one to be a pilot project. Need a big store with lots of parking in front. They’ll landscape the parking lot.”
    All I could manage was a feeble, “Landscaping does little to disguise a parking lot.”
    “Yeah, you’re right. We need to work together, get the neighborhood involved to fight this. We’ll have to go before the zoning commission, probably the Landmark Commission, city council, whoever.”
    He stumbled a bit. “Kelly, you know Tom, maybe a little better than some of the rest of us….Can you talk to him?”
    Wow! That was going above and beyond. Tom Lattimore once tried to court me, and then he tried to involve me in a scheme to renovate Chase Court, a rundown but once-grand circle of houses on the edge of Fairmount. I balked, and so far Tom had made no progress on Chase Court. Maybe he’d moved all his eggs to another basket. With a suppressed giggle, I wondered if he’d broken any.
    “I’ll try,” I said. “Over lunch.” I didn’t particularly like Tom. He’s the kind of speculative realtor I’m not, and his schemes make me nervous, including capitalizing on the murder of several old women. I didn’t want to have lunch with him—and Mike had taken an intense dislike to Tom. “Want to join us?” I asked Christian.
    “Nope. I think you’ll do better on your own. He knows he can’t charm me. He doesn’t know that about you, though I do.”
    “Thanks.” Hmmm. Maybe breakfast, not lunch. That was it—breakfast at the Grill.
    But I didn’t leave well enough alone. “Christian, I know John Henry Jackson, chair of the landmark commission. I’ll give him a heads up but I don’t think it would be proper to invite him to our meeting.”
    “Sounds good.” He hung up, and I began to make my phone calls.
    I dialed John Henry Jackson, who always answered his phone himself. His voice boomed into my ear. “Good afternoon, little lady. What can I do for you?” He was as hearty as usual, and I guessed he’d gotten my identity from caller I.D.
    “John Henry, I need to talk to you about a big-box store being proposed for Magnolia. It would violate everything the neighborhood association stands for and require tearing down buildings on the national registry.”
    “Now, Miss Kelly, don’t worry your little head about that. I’ve heard about it, and it ain’t gonna happen on my watch.” I could picture him sitting in his old-fashioned office in front of his big, old roll-top desk, his tie pulled loose, his shirt sleeves stained with sweat. He would be mopping his brow with a huge handkerchief. John Henry was a big man—okay, a fat man—and he had the personal habits that went with being overweight, though he always seemed to have good hygiene.
    For all his heartiness, John Henry didn’t quite reassure me.
    ****
    Anthony came about two o’clock for our “staff” meeting—the idea still made me giggle. But I laid out what was happening about the stalker and about my agreement with Mike.
    Anthony was predictably angry, peering out the window and threatening, “I go get that little SOB myself and beat some sense into him.”