by Lena Gregory
“I’ll wait. I promise.” Actually, she’d forgotten all about them, but now that he mentioned it, it was a promise that might prove difficult to keep. “But you’d better hurry before my curiosity gets the better of me.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Cass opened the door and flipped the sign to Open, then stopped in the doorway. Half-chewed colored pencils and splinters covered the floor. She’d been wrong about Beast eating the table. Instead, he’d knocked her basket of colored pencils off the table and spent the hour and a half she was gone chowing down. Luckily, the pencils were nontoxic, at least according to the box. “Why do you do these things, Beast?”
He sat and lowered his head. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.
“One of these days, you’re going to get into something that can hurt you, and then what? Huh?” Though Doc Martin had assured her it wasn’t unusual for large dogs to get into things, she couldn’t help feeling irresponsible every time it happened. And with Beast, it probably happened more often than with most dogs.
Beast whined and scooted closer to her. When she didn’t respond, he nudged her leg with his nose.
“Oh, boy, what am I going to do with you?” She cradled his face between her hands and kissed his head. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
He tilted his head into one hand and closed his eyes, apparently content all was forgiven.
“Come on. Let’s get you some water to wash them down while I clean up this mess.” She filled Beast’s bowl with water and left him in the back room so he couldn’t eat any more of the pencil remnants, then she took the broom and dustpan out of the storage closet and started sweeping up. Luckily, she always kept a few spare boxes of pencils on hand. Once she cleaned up the mess and refilled the basket, she jotted a note to order more pencils and stuck it beside the register. Then she looked up Doc Martin’s number in her cell phone. It couldn’t hurt to give him a call and see if he needed to check Beast out.
Before she could dial, an elderly woman walked in. “Good afternoon.”
“Hello. I’m Cass Donovan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cass.” The woman shuffled across the room and extended a hand, veins visible through almost paper-thin skin. “I’m Rosa Dupree.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Cass shook Rosa’s frail hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. “I don’t recall seeing you before. Are you new to Bay Island?”
“Born and raised here, but I don’t get out much anymore, haven’t in a very long time.”
“I’m glad you came in.” Cass guided her toward a seating arrangement near the front of the shop. “Would you like a bottle of water or a cup of tea or coffee?”
“No, thank you. I don’t plan to take up much of your time.” Though she stopped near the love seat, she made no move to sit.
“Can I help you with something today, or did you just want to browse?”
“I’m hoping you can help me. You see . . .” One hand fluttered to the side of her cheek. “I’ve been robbed.”
“Oh, no.” Where had she put her cell phone? Cass wrapped an arm around her. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to call the police?”
She pressed her hand against Cass’s. “Oh, dear, no. I didn’t just get robbed; I was robbed last week, but I need help to find who did it.”
Relieved, Cass gestured toward the love seat. “Please, sit. Let me see what I can do to help. You have reported the robbery to the police, right?”
“Of course, but they haven’t been able to find who robbed me or retrieve any of my stolen belongings.” She finally sat and twisted her fingers together. “Honestly, I don’t even care about most of it. Whoever took it can keep it if they need it bad enough to come into my home and risk going to prison to steal it.”
Cass didn’t have the heart to tell her the thieves most likely hadn’t robbed her out of necessity but out of greed.
“But there was a small blown-glass figurine. I kept it in a case beneath a spotlight, not because of its monetary value, but for the sentimental value it held.” Tears shimmered in her eyes and tipped over her bottom lashes.
Cass set a box of tissues on the coffee table.
“Chance, well, Chancellor, actually, though he hated that name. Anyway, Chance, my late husband, made it for me as a gift when my first daughter was born, two flowers twined together, one for each of us.” She laughed and used a tissue to wipe her tears. “It wasn’t even very good, his first attempt at a new hobby, but it means the world to me. Please, can you help me? I just have to get it back.”
Cass sat beside her on the love seat and took her hands in hers. “I’m certainly going to try.”
“Oh, dear, thank you.”
She left Rosa on the couch to collect herself while she took her crystal ball from the back counter and set it on the coffee table. She sat in the chair across from Rosa, needing a bit of space from her grief to be able to focus. “I can’t make any promises, but I will do my best.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“Make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything before we start?”
Rosa scooted back into the corner of the love seat, slid her sandal off, and tucked one leg underneath her. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“Okay, tell me about the piece you’re missing.” Cass took a deep breath and stared into the crystal ball, looking past its surface, searching its depths for focus and aid.
“It’s all glass, on a small stand. Two pink flowers with glass leaves and stems, intertwined to represent the beauty and joy our new baby would bring us.”
Cass tried to picture the piece, tried to imagine it sitting beneath the spotlight.
“Help her.”
She gasped and lurched back. Was Rosa in trouble?
“Help her, help her.”
“Okay, I’m trying, but let me concentrate.”
She waited a moment, but the voice didn’t return, so she once again focused on the ball. The image re-formed easily, the glass case, the spotlight glinting off the figurine, drawing your attention. In a flash, the glint of light retreated. Another image replaced the first, sunlight glinting off an anchored yacht. It faded out of focus, and a third image quickly took its place, shimmering, unclear, a woman, lying on the floor it seemed, her long brown hair covering her face. “Help her.”
“Pardon me?” Rosa’s voice sounded so far away.
Cass’s eyes shot open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.
“Help her.”
Rosa frowned at her. “Is something wrong?”
“I . . . uh . . .” She shook her head, trying to dislodge the fog that had come over her. Who was she supposed to help? Rosa? Or the woman in the vision? “I’m sorry, I have to make a call.”
She grabbed her cell phone from her bag beneath the counter and hesitated. Luke or Tank? Who was more likely to believe her, or at least be convinced enough to check it out? And who was more likely to forgive her for being somewhere she shouldn’t have been? She dialed Luke’s number. Sorry, Bee.
Rosa studied her from across the room but remained where she was.
Cass was going to have to offer some kind of explanation, but she needed answers first.
He picked up on the third ring. “Hey, there.”
“Luke?”
“What’s wrong?” Of course, he’d immediately pick up the sense of urgency in her tone.
“I’m sorry. Everything’s okay, but I need you to do something for me. And then I need you to forgive me. And definitely Bee. It wasn’t his fault.”
“Calm down, Cass. What do you need? Hang on.” His muffled voice came through the receiver, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Probably telling Tank she’d lost her mind. “Okay, sorry, what do you need me to do?”
“There’s a yacht anchored off the beach behind Emmett’s garage, at least it was there a couple of hours ago. Is there any way you can send someone to check it out?”
Silence. Had she
lost him? Had he hung up?
“Please, Luke, I can’t really explain, but would you do it?”
“Tank’s taking care of it right now.”
Relief rushed through her. “Oh, thank you.”
He only paused a moment. “Do you want to explain now?”
“Is not explaining an option?”
“Cass?” Though he phrased it as a question, she had no doubt it was a command.
Principle had her starting to bristle at the order, but she tamped it down. He had done as she’d requested, immediately, no questions asked. He deserved an explanation. “I’m at the shop with a woman named Rosa Dupree.”
“That name sounds familiar.” The sound of paper rustling came over the receiver.
“Several art pieces were stolen from her house.”
“Yes, kind, elderly woman, worried about reclaiming a piece her husband made for her.”
“That’s her. She came into the shop to see if I could help her find whomever had taken the figurine and retrieve it. When I did her reading, something happened. I saw an image of her piece, then it sort of transformed into . . .” Now for the tricky part. “A yacht I saw when I was out by Emmett’s earlier.”
“Bee was with you out there?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. How could she tell the truth without Luke getting angry at Bee? “He begged me to leave things alone, but when I refused, he followed me to keep an eye on me.”
A scratching sound came over the line, and she could envision him stroking a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “All right. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
“Luke? Wait.”
“Yeah.”
“In my vision, there was a woman. She seemed to be lying on the floor, her hair covering her face. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t tell who it is.” She paused.
“All right. Hang tight until I call you back.” He disconnected.
Cass held the phone in her hand and stared at it for a moment.
“I knew you’d be able to help me.” Rosa wrapped her arms around Cass and squeezed, with more strength than Cass would have thought possible when she’d first walked in. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” They’d have to wait to find out if Cass had actually been able to help or if she was losing her mind.
“No matter how things turn out, I’m truly grateful. You understood how important it was to me, and you tried your best to help.” She nodded and stepped back, then dug her wallet out of her bag. “How much do I owe you? There is no price too high for me to get that figurine back.”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it, please. Let’s just hope I was able to help.” She didn’t often refuse payment but, sometimes, readings became personal, and it just didn’t feel right to charge.
“Thank you again, my dear, you truly are a good woman.”
Bee and Stephanie walked in just then but didn’t interrupt. Instead, they set the bags and cup holder on the table and started setting up for lunch.
Beast turned in circles by the back door and whimpered.
Bee pointed to his leash, and Cass nodded, grateful he’d understood he needed to go out.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Dupree. I really hope things work out, and I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I hear anything.”
“Thank you, again, for your help.”
Cass watched her go before joining Stephanie at the table and flopping into her chair. “I am so beat I can barely even function.”
“Is everything okay?”
Her hands shook as she pulled her hair back and knotted it at the back of her head. “I’ll tell you about it as soon as Bee gets back.”
She nodded, knowing he’d never forgive them if he missed something juicy. “Bee said you’re worried about Aiden keeping customers away.”
She shrugged. She hadn’t thought about that in a while, but it definitely was a concern. She’d hoped Luke’s talk would stop him.
“Don’t worry, business will pick up again. With the festival this weekend, you’re bound to get a ton of tourists,” Stephanie said.
“I sure hope so.” The last thing she needed was a slow summer. And to think, only a few days ago she’d been complaining she couldn’t get a break. “Anyway, what’s going on with you? Was that a client you were meeting with at the hotel?”
“Yes.” Stephanie took a large Caesar salad out of the bag and handed it to Cass. When Bee said he’d bring lunch, she’d been hoping for something a bit more substantial, maybe a nice Italian hero, since he’d said he was going to the deli.
Stephanie set out two more salads.
“Salad? For Bee?” What was the world coming to?
Stephanie grinned. “Do me a favor and don’t say anything. I promised I’d help him with his diet, since he gained another pound this week. And I had a heck of a time convincing him fast food from a drive-thru wasn’t the most nutritious lunch choice.”
Cass’s mouth watered. An order of loaded nachos and a couple of tacos sure would hit the spot. She removed the lid from her salad. At least it had grilled chicken and croutons. “Thank you.”
“For?” Stephanie’s brow furrowed.
“Not bringing me something I could stress eat and have to feel guilty about later.”
Stephanie laughed. “Thank Bee, not me, though he wasn’t happy about it.”
No, she didn’t imagine he would be.
Bee returned just as Stephanie removed the Diet Cokes from the cup holder and set them out beside the salad dressing.
Beast ran to Cass, tail wagging wildly.
“Good boy, Beast.” She petted him and looked up at Bee. “How was everything?”
“Colorful.”
Cass groaned and went to the sink to wash her hands.
Bee beat her to it. “What did he get into this time?”
“My colored pencils.” She’d have to remember to call Doc Martin right after lunch, though Beast seemed to be his usual perky self.
Bee shook his head, but to his credit refrained from saying I told you so. He used a couple of paper towels to dry his hands. “Did you figure out what was written on the papers you swiped from the hotel?”
“What papers?” Stephanie asked.
“Bruce Brinkman was on the phone at the hotel, and he seemed agitated. When he wrote something down on a notepad, Cass took the top page off each one so she could see what he was up to.” Bee poured dressing from a small plastic cup over his salad, then looked in the empty bag. “Is that all there is?”
“Yup.” Stephanie pointed at him with her fork. “That’s all you need to give it a little flavor.”
“I don’t want a little flavor.” Bee pouted. “I want a whole lot of flavor. Preferably, the flavor of beef. And cheese. Oh, and bacon. Definitely bacon.”
“Eat your salad, Bee. It doesn’t help to think about what you can’t have.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed, a pained expression marring his features through the entire process. “Why don’t you get the papers out and distract me.”
“I will, but first I have to apologize.”
He frowned. “What for?”
She ran through what Rosa had told her, then explained her vision. “I had to call Luke and tell him what happened so he’d check it out.”
“Who do you think the woman is?”
“I don’t know. The angle she’s lying at and the haze covering the image . . . I just couldn’t tell.”
He nodded and crunched his salad.
That was it? “Am I forgiven?”
“For what?” he asked.
“Telling Luke you were out there with me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Cass. If you think a woman might be in danger, you couldn’t have made any other choice.” He nibbled a crouton. “But how about that distraction now, so I can get through this salad?”
Cass dug through her purse for the papers from the hotel, then pulled a dark blue colored p
encil from the basket. She scribbled back and forth lightly over the top sheet of paper from the first pad, hoping the indentations would show her what had been written on the page above it. It only took her a minute to recognize directions from the hotel to the Bay Island Lighthouse. Probably a tourist who’d used the notepad to jot them down.
Stephanie’s cell phone rang, and she checked the caller ID, then groaned. She swallowed the bite she’d taken and answered. “Yes, Mr. Morris?”
A man’s voice barked what seemed like an order.
“No problem. I’ll be there in a little while.” She hung up.
“What’s he want now?” Bee asked.
She waved him off. “I have to meet with him again this afternoon. He says he found invoices to cover some of the money that’s not adding up.”
“This guy sounds like a real mess.” Which would be hard for Stephanie to deal with, considering she kept her books meticulously. Cass had no doubt she’d straighten him out quickly or drop him.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
The top page off the next notepad yielded a date and time but nothing to indicate what it meant. Cass checked the date on the page against her phone calendar. Whatever it was would take place this Friday evening at seven. The same day and time as her next reading. Coincidence? Maybe. It could be perfectly legitimate, as many hotel guests attended her readings, or it could have nothing to do with her and simply be a dinner date. Friday at seven certainly was a common enough time to go for dinner, especially while on vacation.
“Anything?” Bee craned his neck trying to see what she’d found.
“Not that I can tell.” She started on the next page, scribbling back and forth. The letters on that one showed up better than the others. Perhaps Brinkman’s anger had him pressing down harder with the pen. An address appeared. “Bingo. Thirty-five West Main Street. Hmmm . . . Why does that sound so familiar?”
Stephanie stopped eating and lay her fork down on her plate. “That’s the antique shop just outside of town.”
“The one where Ellie works?” Bee fumbled his fork. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
No wonder it sounded familiar to Cass, she’d just been there to see Ellie.