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

by B. T. Alive

  You might already know this, but whenever I make skin-to-skin contact, I wipe a person’s short-term memory. Everything in the last few minutes. Gone.

  That might sound pretty cool. And if you want to, say, make a nice old man forget that you showed him a crazy overpriced purse, it’s great.

  But most of the time, the Touch was exceedingly inconvenient. I couldn’t control it. Sometimes I could amp it up, but I couldn’t turn it off.

  Which meant that my default rule was: never touch anyone. Not a great recipe for social connection.

  Plus, the Touch could be extremely painful. Usually, only I would feel the jolt, but sometimes it was both of us. If I pushed it, it was more of a Psychic Zap; I’d even knocked people unconscious.

  Which, okay, that did occasionally come in handy.

  But if I didn’t learn to control the Touch, I was never going to live a normal life.

  Anyway, when I touched Mr. Wilson’s leathery old skin now, I only felt a slight shock, like the static zap of a doorknob after you walk across the carpet.

  Which was a major relief.

  He was shaking his head, looking dazed. He swept his gaze around the shop, eyeing the racks of purses as if seeing them for the first time.

  I whisked the cherry red temptress out of sight. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain his cash spread out on the counter, though. The wallet was sitting there too; maybe I could shove it all back in while he looked away?

  Then he turned toward the front window, staring out at the darkening twilight.

  I couldn’t make out what he was staring at… some flurry of feathers?… but his eyes were watering again. Man, this guy was a crier.

  He whipped back toward me and gripped my arm.

  My first thought was: Good thing I’m wearing long sleeves. Moments like this were why I had to dress defensively, all the time. Even in the broiling Virginia summer, which was way more hot and humid than I was used to up north.

  But my second thought was: Why is this old guy grabbing my arm and staring like he’s seeing a ghost?

  Then he croaked out words in an eerie sing-song chant.

  A storm draws near, a darkened heart,

  Greed can tear a town apart.

  “Excuse me?” I said. I tried to sound calm, but my arm was trembling.

  Did he have some psychic power or something? In the past, the pain of the Touch shock had seemed to increase if the person had their own psychic abilities, or even just psychic potential. With this guy, I’d barely felt a thing.

  On the other hand, it’s not like I really had any idea how this Touch thing worked.

  Then again, maybe Mr. Wilson was just a crazy old man with a flair for spontaneous rhyme. Who was clutching my arm.

  With surprising strength.

  He was still staring past me, through me. He hadn’t answered, so I tugged to get my arm free.

  He gripped harder, so hard that I grunted in pain, and his eyes focused on me with a gimlet stare.

  “Mr. Wilson?” I gasped. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s going to tear apart Wonder Springs! This place is a freaking postcard!”

  He spoke again, chanting low.

  Gold inflames a heart with lust,

  Murder lurks in one you trust.

  “Murder?” I demanded.

  “Yes,” he croaked, and he gripped my hand.

  Which, of course, wiped his memory again.

  The jolt also hurt me rather a lot this time; repeating the Touch too quickly always hurts more.

  But as Mr. Wilson looked dazed, and he released me to steady himself against the counter, I could finally see what he’d been watching through the front window.

  The sight made me wince.

  In a shadowed alley, between two shops on the far side of the cobblestones, a crowd of vultures were pecking each other over the body of a dead rabbit.

  “Mr. Wilson?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

  Still leaning on the counter, he stared blankly at a purse display. I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me.

  “Mr. Wilson!” I said. “You said that someone I trust is going to commit murder!”

  The front door opened, and a tall, lean man wearing brown work corduroys and a loose, linen, embroidered shirt stepped inside from the night.

  “Summer? Everything okay?” said Cade, with a flash of his killer smile.

  Chapter 2

  It occurs to me that if you missed reading my first book, you don’t really know Cade yet, and you might be jumping to all these crazy conclusions about this handsome, mysterious stranger. (And also me, for being so smitten.)

  Trust me: I know I’d only known the guy for a couple of months, but I had every reason to believe that his heart was solid gold.

  My family here in Wonder Springs had known him since he was a kid. My sweet cousin Tina was one of his best friends. And the guy spent all day caring for trees in this gorgeous orchard just beyond Main Street. In the weeks that we’d been dating, I’d felt like I’d never known a man who was so gentle and kind.

  All that said… this old man trancing with a rhymey murder prophecy had definitely creeped me right out.

  Before I’d moved to Wonder Springs, I might have shrugged it off. But I’d already met at least one person whom I’d seen predict the future. What if Mr. Wilson was number two?

  So in that first moment of seeing Cade arrive, I felt the same flash of feeling you probably did. I saw a strange man I was expected to trust, and I wondered what was lurking in his heart.

  “Is that Mr. Wilson?” Cade said, hurrying in. “Is he all right? What happened?”

  The concern in his voice made my fears vanish. My trust flooded back, and I felt warm and safe. If anyone was going to be getting all murderous, it sure as heck wouldn’t be Cade.

  Just some other person I thought I could trust. Great.

  “He’s fine, I just had to touch him,” I said. “Help me get him outside before he tries to buy another purse.”

  Cade eyed the emptied wallet on the counter. “Great customer service,” he said, with a twitch of a smile. But he carefully took Mr. Wilson by the shoulders and guided him to the door.

  I scooped the man’s cash into his brick of a wallet and slipped it back into his pocket as Cade walked him outside. (When you’ve got the Touch, the “reverse pickpocket” move is a critical lifetime skill.)

  “You sure he’s all right?” Cade said quietly, as he eased the old man onto a wrought-iron bench on the cobblestones. “He seems kind of glazed.”

  “He’ll come around,” I said, also keeping my voice low. The nearest pedestrians were at least a block away, chatting and laughing and preoccupied in the night, but both Cade and I never forgot the risk of exposure. Even in cozy little Wonder Springs. “Let’s just wait to make sure he’s okay.”

  “Wish I could,” Cade said.

  “What?” I said, but the dread and disappointment were already spiking in my gut. “Oh no—”

  “I’m sorry,” Cade said. He frowned, regretful and contrite. “She’s really bad tonight, I’ve got to get back. At least I was able to get away to cancel in person.” He smiled. “Maybe it’s a perk that we can’t text.”

  “Did you tell her what you were canceling?” I said. “Or with whom?”

  “Summer, please,” he said. “Can we try tomorrow night? I heard the ice cream place has three new flavors. Although, one might not count… it involves kale…”

  “Cade, I won’t even be here, remember? I’m doing that free seminar to kick off my sales course!”

  As I mentioned earlier, much as I loved small-town life, the money side was proving difficult. What better way to augment my scant income than to share my hard-won expertise in sales? All I had to do was impress a few local small business owners with my free class, and they’d pay me top dollar to learn more on how to improve their sales.

  (Or, I might totally fail to get a single student, thus ironically proving that I had lost my very ability
to sell. Or earn a decent living.)

  But… one personal crisis at a time. For the moment, my not-yet-boyfriend was ditching me at the last-minute whim of his boss, Una. Again.

  Oh, also, he lived with her. In the Graves ancestral mansion at the orchard’s heart. Only to save on rent, of course.

  And he was already walking away.

  “I’ll meet you after your class!” he called.

  “Really?” I called back. “You sure?”

  But he waved like he hadn’t heard, and he turned away.

  I wanted to run after him and hash this out once and for all, but I couldn’t just ditch Mr. Wilson here on a bench. The old man looked to be a couple notches up from catatonic, blinking and staring and softly muttering.

  I reassured myself that the Touch had never done any permanent damage. He was going to be fine. Wasn’t he?

  He was. It just took a good fifteen minutes. By the time he finally turned to me with a quizzical look, I felt like I’d been pacing outside an Intensive Care Unit for hours.

  “Mr. Wilson?” I blurted. “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He looked around at the cozy lights of Main Street with a satisfied air, apparently assuming he’d chosen this bench himself and just drifted off in thought. I’m always amazed at how easily the brain explains its “momentary” lapses in attention.

  Usually, I’d be the first to support the illusion. But not this time. Not quite.

  “Mr. Wilson,” I said, with a confidential air. “I’ve heard that you’re something of a poet.”

  The old man stiffened, and he squinted into wary slits. “I don’t know how you’d hear that,” he said stoutly. “Never touch the stuff.”

  “You sure?” I said. “Ever heard this one?”

  A storm draws near, a darkened heart,

  Greed can tear a town apart.…

  I trailed off, because he had visibly relaxed.

  “Never heard it in my life,” he said cheerfully. “Listen, sugar, I don’t suppose you could let me sneak into your store for five minutes, could you? It’s my grandbaby’s thirteenth birthday—”

  “No,” I snapped. “We’re closed, and even if we weren’t, we are multiple time zones out of your price range.”

  I admit, I was a little frustrated. The dude had gone and dropped this possible prophecy of imminent murder, and then managed to erase his own memory of what the heck he was talking about.

  Still, I hadn’t meant to be quite so harsh.

  But before I could apologize, Mr. Wilson glowered. Those squinty eyes shot daggers, and his default smile twisted into a grimace of rage. His gnarled hands clenched into fists.

  I stepped back, stunned… and wondering whether that prophecy he’d dropped was going to turn out to be self-fulfilling.

  But the moment passed, and without a word, he huffed off down the street into darkness.

  I considered what to do next.

  In theory, my smartest move was to head up the street to the Inn, the centuries-old architectural gem which was not only the pride and joy of Wonder Springs but also the most likely place to find my Grandma, who owned and ran the place.

  Although Grandma Meredith could be a bit… prickly? authoritative?… and I hadn’t known her any longer than anyone else around here, she was probably the wisest (and definitely the oldest) psychic I knew. If anyone could tease out whether the local fix-it guy had really predicted a murder (and whether we could do anything to stop it), it was Grandma.

  Oh, also, she could see the future.

  I mean, sort of. Sometimes. But I really had seen it for myself, because she’d dreamed a glimpse of an attempted murder. We’d guessed the victim wrong at first, but I’d figured it out in time to save a woman from a falling tree. (Long story.)

  So, going right up to see Grandma would have been smart.

  But…

  I was still seething over Cade ditching me for his middle-aged boss. Waiting around for Mr. Wilson to recover had only given me time to ruminate.

  Seriously, Cade and I had been going out for casual dates around town for weeks now, and he hadn’t even told her.

  I hadn’t been up to his house. Una and I had never even officially met.

  Sure, if she wasn’t around, Cade was the sweetest guy you could wish for. And the woman was something of a recluse, so it’s not like we ran into her when we lingered over tea at Namaste With Natisha (our local tea-shop-slash-yoga-studio) or even when we took our long walks of soul-searching conversation meandering through the orchard itself.

  But Una still always came first.

  Wonder Springs had this cute monthly tradition, Classic Movie Night, and most everyone would get all dressed up and gather at the renovated theater. Last month, since Cade and I had barely started dating, I’d been totally fine when he’d said that he’d be going with Una. He’d said it was their little tradition, they’d been going for years… and besides, Una Graves was old enough to be his mom.

  So I’d gone with Tina and Grandma, expecting to say hi and meet his boss. Instead, he’d acted like I wasn’t even there.

  No joke. It was like some force field had kept us half a room apart. I couldn’t even catch his eye.

  When I’d asked about it later, he’d been all apologetic and said that she’d been having a rough night, that it wouldn’t have been good to meet her in one of her “moods”.

  I’d accepted that then, but now we’d had a whole month and I still hadn’t met the woman. Movie night was coming up again in two days, and we hadn’t even talked about it. As if it were totally normal for his “boss” to demand his presence whenever she pleased, and for all of us to pretend that I didn’t exist.

  Tonight wasn’t the first time he’d canceled our plans at the last second because Una was having a “bad night”. And unless I made a move, it wouldn’t be the last.

  I think the sting that night was especially deep because I’d been so excited to tell him my big news.

  For weeks, both Cade and I had expertly avoided the minor relationship wrinkle that if we were ever to touch, even once, he’d get a memory wipe, and possibly a jolt of pain.

  By some unspoken agreement, we didn’t even quasi-touch, like risking a side hug with my protective long sleeves. Why he was so super cautious? Had he dated other psychics like me? Had things gone horribly wrong? Just one more thing we hadn’t talked about yet.

  Cade was a master of acting like it wasn’t even an issue. But let’s face it: long-term relationship prospects had been looking pretty grim.

  Until a chance comment from my Aunt Helen.

  “Why do you think we’re training you?” she’d said, smiling at me with those wide eyes over her first coffee of what would be a long night. Like her daughter Tina, Helen was an “empath”; she could feel people’s emotions. Unlike her daughter, she was a consummate master. She could sense people’s struggles from miles away, especially at night.

  So despite the shock of what she’d said next, I’d believed her with absolute trust.

  “Of course you can learn to block the Touch.”

  Nine little words. The answer to a lifetime of longing.

  But Cade didn’t even know. Because of Una.

  In that moment, standing out on the cobblestones in the cool summer night, I decided something.

  I was a grown woman, and I could end this avoidant nonsense. I could introduce myself to Una right now.

  As I imagined marching up and banging on her front door, a tremor of apprehension roiled in my chest. Though I’d only seen her from a distance, the woman looked formidable.

  But I smothered my fear and strode down the street.

  I’d have to face Una sooner or later. Really, what was the worst that could happen?

  Turned out, the cost would be higher than I could imagine.

  Chapter 3

  Even in the night, a few locals were lingering and talking along Main Street, and they greeted me with smiles and waved as I hustled past. N
ormally I loved this, but tonight, I knew the slightest distraction might vaporize my resolve.

  The way to Una’s orchard lay through another alley between two shops. As I emerged from the alley and reached the mulched path, I was struck, despite my dread, by the beauty of the trees.

  In the glows and shadows of the moonlit night, they seemed to spread wide their branches, leaved in deep summer green, like grave, shimmering dryads opening their arms in welcome. And the lush forest scents of earth and growth, infused in the still air cooled by the shade, began to soothe me into calm.

  Until I saw the stranger.

  He was tall, and broad-shouldered, and hidden in shadows, and my first thought when I saw him was to run the hell away.

  Sure, the quasi-prophecy had pinned the coming murder on some person I’d “trust”, but that didn’t make strange men in the woods any safer.

  But then I thought, No way. Cade loved this orchard. I couldn’t let some creep wander in here at will.

  I dug into my massive purse. No, I still hadn’t cleaned it out, but at least the bleach spatters hadn’t stained it too badly.

  (Oh, sorry… if you didn’t read that first book, you have no idea what I’m talking about. I really will try to keep those references to a minimum. No worries, I survived the bleach attack. Obviously.)

  I pulled out my car keys and slipped the keys through my fingers. I’m no street fighter, but I’m pretty religious about my workouts, and I have enough upper body strength to do some damage.

  “Hey, you!” I bellowed, and forty feet away, the guy jolted. “What are you doing here?” I called. “It’s private property!”

  The man held his hands up in deprecation, and he strode toward me quicker than I liked.

  “Private property?” he called, and his voice had the smarmy confidence of a dude who could do no wrong. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

  “There’s a huge sign,” I snapped.

  I nodded at the giant “NO TRESPASSING” billboard posted a few feet from where I stood. This was a recent development, new since I’d first arrived here a couple of months back. Technically, I was ignoring it myself.