A Wonder Springs Cozy Mystery Omnibus: Books 1, 2 & 3

by B. T. Alive

  “I’m sure,” Mercedes said. “Listen, sister, I don’t know if you killed him or what—”

  “Me?” Rats. So much for a change of outfit being an adequate disguise. On the other hand, she’d actually watched me hand Nyle the plate that killed him.

  “I said listen,” she snapped. “Nyle had his issues, sure. But he was a saint compared to Lionel.”

  “What? How?” I said. “What is Lionel, a mass murderer?”

  Mercedes scowled. Too late, I remembered that, oh yeah, she’d been engaged to Saint Nyle. Oops.

  “Everyone knows Nyle could be abrasive,” she said. “But Lionel? Lionel was the Older Brother from Hell.”

  “Oh no!” Tina said. She winced, and I wondered what she was feeling from Mercedes.

  “Oh yes,” Mercedes said. “Lionel was already five when Nyle was born, and he practically tortured the kid from the time he was a baby.”

  “You mean, like… physically?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Mercedes snapped. “Just someone pounding into his head, over and over and over, from before he could even talk, that no one would ever love him, and he’d be better off dead.”

  “He said that?”

  “Every single day.”

  I felt sick. As much as it had hurt me to be alone, with no mom or siblings and barely a father, I’d never imagined a life with a family who loathed me.

  I imagined a cute little three-year-old Nyle (at that age, even Nyle would have been cute), running to show his older brother a picture he’d scrawled, and Lionel scowling, checking to see if their mom was around, then starting to whisper…

  Wait, what was happening? Was I actually feeling sympathy? For Nyle?

  Mercedes kept talking. “Of course Nyle grew up all obsessed with success. Except that unlike some people, he used his money to help.”

  My fleeting sympathy vanished. “Nyle?” I scoffed. “That guy’s idea of leaving a tip was to toss down his business card.”

  Mercedes bristled. “I know for a fact that his hipster cousin Bryce owed him a huge pile of cash.”

  My memory flashed the guy with the glasses and the black turtleneck, mansplaining to Kitty over her laptop. “Nyle loaned him money?” I said. “For that stupid app startup?”

  “It didn’t start as a loan,” Mercedes said. “First he coughed up big bucks for multiple rounds of ‘investment’. He was just trying to help the kid; he never expected to see a dime. He only finally made a loan so Bryce would stop asking for more. Not that it worked.”

  I was stunned. Nyle? A supportive relative? He was old enough to be Bryce’s uncle, but still… Nyle?

  I glanced at Tina, but she was stone-faced, visibly hiding some strong emotion I couldn’t guess. She seemed to be draining her energy just trying to look calm.

  “Did you tell the cops all this?” I said. “I mean, if Bryce owed him all that money—”

  Mercedes scoffed. “That guy couldn’t even organize his sock drawer,” she said. “No way he could pull off… this.”

  Her face crumpled, but she mastered herself. She looked grim, and weary. I wondered how her strange entanglement with these brothers had ever started… and if she’d ever dreamed, in her worst nightmare, that it could end like this.

  And then, perched on Tina’s hand, Keenan squawked a single word.

  “GUITAR.”

  Guitar? I thought. Great, the parrot had a random streak.

  Then I saw Mercedes.

  She had blanched; her cheeks were chalky white. Her teeth were clenched, as if she were in pain, and she had fixed the bird with a wild glare, like it was some kind of demon.

  “He must think you’re a rock star,” I said, trying to keep it light. “Do you play guitar?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, ice cold. The talkative, grief-stricken Mercedes of ten seconds ago had vanished. It was eerie. “I work with the city government.”

  “Really?” I blurted. I barely managed not to add a comment about her pink hair.

  “That’s great!” Tina cut in. “And you must be absolutely exhausted.”

  “Yes,” Mercedes said.

  I’d never thought that government work was all that, ah, taxing (sorry), but Tina tugged my sleeve and started backing toward the door. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do,” she gushed. “We’d be happy to move you to another room for free.”

  “Thanks,” Mercedes said, still watching Keegan with a wary eye. “I was hoping to leave tonight, but that sheriff is telling us all we need to stay in town.”

  “Not for long, I’m sure!” Tina said cheerily, as she pulled the door shut behind us. “Get some rest!”

  Then she sprang off down the hall.

  “What was that about?” I demanded, as I sprinted to keep up.

  “Couldn’t you tell?” Tina said, over her shoulder. “She wasn’t grieving.”

  “She wasn’t? Why?”

  Tina stopped running, and she leaned on a corner. Her dark eyes were wide, and she was panting like she’d run a hundred-yard dash.

  “Because she hated him.”

  Chapter 19

  “Mercedes hated Nyle?” I said. “But she was defending him… she was going to marry him.”

  “I know,” Tina said. “It’s horrible.”

  “So was all that stuff about Nyle just lies?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Tina said. “I don’t think so. But I couldn’t tell. The hate was too hot, and the fear… and then when Keegan said guitar, she just flipped. It was too much; I had to get out of there. Sorry.”

  “No worries,” I said.

  “Really need that shield,” chirped Keegan.

  “Keegan!” I snapped.

  But Tina laughed. The tension eased… I noticed the delicate pink blooms twining on the hallway’s Victorian wallpaper, and smelled the faint scent of strawberry. Seriously, if you ever manage to get bored in the Inn, just look around.

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s true. This empathy thing might be a problem if you need to bolt whenever things get interesting.”

  “I know,” she said. “She was just so… terrified.”

  “And you don’t know why?”

  She shook her head. “All I get are feelings. Mostly.”

  “Great,” I said. I eyed the parrot. “And even though you seem to get a constant stream of updates from my mind, that was all you got from her, just one word? Guitar?”

  “Hungry,” chirped Keegan.

  I sighed. “I am hungry. And my cat could probably use a snack too. Let’s grab some food and talk this over in my room.”

  Downstairs, I waited outside the dining room while Tina made a quick raid on the kitchen.

  Considering Grandma’s insistence that I keep my suspect face far away from the Inn’s dining experience, I was feeling anxious even hanging around at the door. It didn’t help that Tina had handed me Keegan.

  “Stupid parrot!” he chirped, squirming and flapping and clawing my hand. He was heavier and stronger than I’d expected, and yes, parrot claws are sharp. “Hurry, Tina!” he cried. “Help!”

  “Is she hurting that bird?” said a teenage boy.

  I craned my head around the flailing Keegan. The boy who’d spoken was a beanpole with a dark shaggy boy-band haircut, frowning at me like a judgmental mop.

  Beside him, a girl who had to be his sister, or at least yet another Pritchett, looked up from her phone. Her black hair flopped in almost the same cut as her brother’s, except longer; I was mildly surprised she could see anything under those low bangs.

  “Oh no, he’s fine,” I said, as the claws pinched the skin between my finger and thumb.

  “Ouch! Ouch!” Keegan chirped. “Hurting me!”

  “Cool,” said the girl. “It talks.” And she hoisted up her phone with its giant camera eye.

  “Oh, hey, um…” I said, remembering Tina’s fears of Keegan getting spirited away by some ambitious neuroscientist. I turned to try to shield the
parrot with my body.

  “Stupid kids!” Keegan chirped.

  “He just called you stupid!” the boy said, and he cracked up.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “Oh no, we just trained him to say that,” I lied. “He does all these tricks.”

  “Get a haircut,” Keegan chirped.

  The boy quit laughing, and the girl snorted.

  “You too,” Keegan chirped.

  The girl flipped her bangs out of her face, and for the first time, she fixed us both with a careful stare.

  “Hilarious, huh?” I said, eyeing the camera. Desperately, I tried to keep my mind completely empty. I failed.

  “Big marshmallow man,” Keegan chirped.

  The teens looked confused.

  I should have been relieved that they hadn’t caught the movie reference. The last thing we needed were two camera-happy Pritchetts knowing we had a mind-reading parrot.

  But had kids these days really never seen the original Ghostbusters? Way to make me feel super old.

  Just then, Tina finally slipped out, and we beat a hasty retreat. As we speed-walked away, I caught a glimpse of them watching us go, both pairs of eyes following our every step.

  At last we turned a corner, and we rushed up to the sanctuary of my room, where we nearly crashed into Sheriff Jake.

  Yes. Sheriff Jake was freaking in my bedroom. He was crouched by a window, nostrils flaring as he noisily sniffed around between the wall and the nightstand by my bed.

  “What are you doing here?” I screeched. “I swear, if I have to walk in on one more old dude creeping around my room—”

  “I have a warrant, Ms. Sassafras,” he said, utterly unruffled. In fact, his eyes were bright, and he looked, if anything, happy to see me.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “You can’t just walk in and search my room!”

  “I already did,” he said, and he held up a clear plastic evidence bag.

  At the bottom of the bag lay a small glass vial.

  Tina gasped.

  “I’m screwed,” Keegan chirped.

  “That’s not mine,” I said, as calmly as I could. “What is it?”

  He smiled. “Well now, I believe that’s the sixty-four-thousand dollar question. But my hunch, Ms. Sassafras, is poison. The poison you used to murder Nyle Pritchett.”

  I gaped.

  His smile died. “Naturally, we’ll have to run a few tests,” he said. “I’m sure I can count on you to stay close by?”

  I nodded, dazed.

  “Run!” Keegan cried.

  The sheriff narrowed his gaze.

  My mind was racing, jabbering with panic. But it all came down to two simple facts.

  One: the second those tests came back, I was done. Arrested. On track for conviction for murder. That gave me, like, a day. Two at the most.

  Two: the real killer had thought to plant the poison in my room.

  The murderer was after me.

  Part III

  Chapter 20

  So, I admit, I kind of freaked out.

  On the outside, I semi kept it together. “You’re not serious, right?” I said, giving the sheriff my best thoughtful, intelligent, confident frown. “If I really had killed someone, why would I save the poison?”

  “I wouldn’t presume to know,” he said. “Maybe you had plans for other victims.”

  “Maybe someone planted it,” I said, the edge of panic creeping into my voice. “Isn’t that an option?”

  “Not possible,” he said. “No one’s been in this room since yesterday besides you, Tina, and the feline.” He nodded at the cat bed, where Mr. Charm was, of course, managing to nap through this entire crisis.

  “How can you say no one?” I said. “The door wasn’t even locked; I left it open for my cat.”

  He frowned. “If anyone had walked in here…” he said, and his nostrils flared as wide as quarters, “… I’d know.”

  At that point, I decided.

  Wonder Springs might have been super cute, but between the mind-reading parrot, the heart-reading hottie Tina with dibs on my irrational crush, and a local murderer determined to torpedo my life, this last little icing of a snuffling sheriff who was somehow also a dog was just one touch too much. I had to get out of this town. Right now.

  “Bye!” Keegan chirped.

  “Ms. Sassafras?” the sheriff asked, cocking a wary eyebrow. The creep could probably smell my fear. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all,” I said, and I grabbed my purse and my cat and I ran.

  “Summer, wait!” Tina cried behind me, but I was already halfway down the hall.

  As I whipped around the corner, I could hear Tina arguing with Sheriff Jake, but their voices were muddled, and I wasn’t going to wait to catch the details. I slammed onto the spiral stairway and leapt my way down, taking the groaning old steps two and three at a time, nearly toppling except for my hand gripping and sliding on the smooth wooden rail. My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest, and all I could think was, Get out. Get in your car and just drive. Anywhere.

  I was terrified I’d run into Grandma, or another Pritchett, or even Vladik the chef, but I made it right out to the parking lot and dove into my car. When I touched the wheel, it felt like it had been weeks since I’d had that surge of power and freedom. The Inn was their world, but this was mine. I was a grownup, I had a car, and I could go wherever I wanted.

  I hit the ignition, lurched out of the parking lot, drove three-quarters of a block… and the engine died.

  “What?” I yelled.

  Mr. Charm, who’d landed in the passenger seat somehow still asleep, finally jolted and cracked open one eye.

  “You are kidding me!” I shouted. “I’m out of gas?”

  I was. I tried three more times, but the needle was sunk past “E”, and the engine wouldn’t budge.

  No gas. Of course not. I’d driven half the day to get here, and I hadn’t even started with a full tank. And even assuming I could find a station in walking distance that would lend me a gas can, I wasn’t going to get far on forty-seven cents.

  I was trapped.

  And that’s when I started to shake.

  First my hands, then my chest, then down to my thighs. My pulse was exploding. I was gasping for breath, but each short, shallow pant only made me feel more paralyzed.

  In some tiny, rational corner of my mind, I managed to ask, Is this a panic attack? Is this what they feel like?

  I didn’t get panic attacks. Ever. Yes, I had reasons to be fearful just now, but this was overwhelming.

  Was I dying?

  What would happen if I died, right here in my car?

  Would some tourist find me first? Would she take a photo, promising herself she’d never post it online, but then sharing it with so many “friends” that eventually my corpse went viral? Would someone at least get my beloved cat safely back to Grandma?

  My dear cat… my one true friend. With a huge effort, I reached toward the passenger seat and clutched Mr. Charm for what could be a final hug.

  At the soft, warm touch of his fur, something crackled.

  It was like a static shock, but faint, just above the surface of my skin. It reminded me of the jolt I get when I do the Touch, except that I barely felt it. Mr. Charm must have taken the brunt.

  But he didn’t seem to notice. He just curled up on my lap, then gently licked my hand.

  Then I realized. The panic was utterly gone.

  What… had just happened?

  I sat there stroking my cat, letting the rumble of his purr soothe me back into my skin.

  That sudden, mind-crushing terror had felt like… an attack.

  Oh, crud. Was that a thing? Psychic attacks?

  Why not? If the parrot could read minds and Tina could read hearts… what other secret powers were festering in Wonder Springs?

  Then I remembered how dear old “eccentric” Uncle Barnaby with his wizard hat had “welcomed” me to Wonder Springs. A single c
ommand — “SLEEP” — and I had freaking gone to sleep.

  What if someone else could make me feel far worse?

  “Fantastic,” I said. “Am I in some kind of war zone for psychic assault? From an enemy I don’t even know?”

  Mr. Charm licked his paw. I took that as a circumspect maybe.

  Then I brightened. “But think about this, Charm. When you touched me, the attack vanished. Instantly. You’re like a Feline Psychic Protection Unit!”

  Mr. Charm yawned. He is occasionally modest.

  “Seriously!” I said. “That, or else I’m finally losing my mind.”

  No comment from the cat on that one.

  “Okay. One crisis at a time,” I said. “I can ask the others later about psychic attacks, right? First, I’ve got to figure out this murder. If the killer’s planting evidence in my room, maybe that’s a good sign. Like he’s feeling the pressure. Don’t you think?”

  Mr. Charm closed his eyes, and he settled even more heavily into my lap. He was falling asleep again. Of course.

  “Hey!” I said. “Come on, let’s take a walk. I’ve got all these clues bouncing around in my head, I’ve got to sort them out.”

  I got out, cradling the cat in one arm. But as soon as I closed up the car, Mr. Charm squirmed, leapt to the ground, and trotted off toward the Inn porch.

  “Charm? Wait!” I called. “What if I need you?”

  He flicked his tail in a farewell wave.

  Great. I braced myself for another panic attack, but nothing came. Hmm. Maybe Mr. Charm had some kind of sense when the psychic coast was clear.

  Or, maybe he thought he’d done more than enough owner care for one day, and he wanted back in to his cozy bed. Whatever, cat. I could do this myself.

  It was time to take a stroll through Wonder Springs. Find a place where I could think hard, figure out the mystery, and catch this killer.

  Before the killer made the next move.

  Chapter 21

  As I walked onto the cobblestones of the main street, the evening sun was bathing everything in a golden glow. The pretty shops along either side glistened, the tree blossoms shone like clouds of tiny stars, and the people walking were backlit with halos like angels.