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

by B. T. Alive

  But Rhonda was nodding her head and exhaling theatrical sighs. “Yes, yes… from their vineyard. So sad. I feel almost guilty, I was up there the day before it happened and it was all so abundant… I never would have dreamed there’d be such devastation.”

  “Wait, you’re saying you clipped this before?” I said. “Just for the heck of it?”

  Rhonda looked startled. “Of course. What did you think?”

  I flicked Tina a questioning glance. Tina was standing behind the woman, and she nodded with vigor. Ugh. As far as Tina was concerned, this goofball was totally innocent… she was telling the truth, and she’d just happened to clip a vine as a “keepsake” before the entire vineyard was cut to shreds.

  “I, um,” I hesitated. “I didn’t realize you were a… collector.”

  “I love keepsakes!” Rhonda cried. She fumbled in the folds of her outfit and somehow produced an enormous phone. “Look, I’ve had shelves custom-made. I’ve tried so many organization schemes over the years, but for now I’ve just settled one shelf per year. What do you think?”

  She was shoving the phone in my face, and I got a terrifying glimpse of grids of tiny cubbies, each holding its bit of nondescript detritus, the corpse of a moment long-dead.

  “Years sound good,” I said, trying to look like I just wasn’t noticing her attempts to hand me the device. “So, ah, I guess you must know Lee and Dante?”

  “Yes, but I just keep meeting new people. In this lovely town,” she said. She swiped her phone, squinting at her photos. “Oh! I know just where I’ll put her.” She pointed a pudgy finger at the tea tag. “Natisha belongs with her fellow Gemini.”

  “You got tea at Natisha’s and you… saved the tag?” I said.

  “Oh yes,” Rhonda said, with a reminiscent smile. “We had a lovely conversation, but I hated to ask her to let her hair down. I hate to be a burden. Elaine, on the other hand, was an easy snip.”

  “You got that off Elaine?” I said. Now that she mentioned it, that bristly bunch of hair on the table did look like it’d come straight from Elaine’s unkempt mane. Somehow, knowing who it belonged to made it almost more creepy, as if a ghostly Elaine might shimmer through the wall, wailing after her lost lock.

  Or maybe Rhonda might light a black candle and start chanting some hex over the hair to make Elaine a ghost…

  About then, I realized that Rhonda was watching me, staring hard with her eyes agleam.

  “By the way,” she said, “who are you?”

  “Um,” I opined, taken aback.

  “This is Summer!” Tina said brightly, skipping around Rhonda to interpose between us. “She’s my cousin; she lives here at the Inn.”

  “Awww! Cute!” Rhonda cried. “You two are adorable,” she cooed, like we were two matching puppies. “Oh, you’ve got to let me take you home. Summer?”

  And she whipped out a gleaming pair of steel scissors.

  “Whoa, what?” I said, shying away from the long blades.

  “Your hair’s so gorgeous. I hardly ever see that natural red,” Rhonda said. “I know it’s impulsive, but Tina will tell you, that’s just me. You don’t mind, do you? Just a snip?”

  “I… uh…”

  “You can cut it yourself, of course,” she said. “I can see where you might get freaked out, some strange little woman rushing at you with a pair of blades. Ha!” She laughed, punctuating the rushing bit with a playful jab in my direction that was way too fricking damn close. “Here,” she said, and she grabbed the blades herself and offered me the handle.

  “You know, I’m flattered—”

  “Please?” she said. “Please? Don’t make me beg—”

  “I don’t even know you, woman! Geez!” I snapped.

  Rhonda froze, crestfallen.

  I looked away from her shocked, piggy little face, trying to figure out if I’d been too harsh. Nothing wrong with boundaries, right? There was no way I owed some random stranger a piece of me.

  And yet, I couldn’t deny what I’d heard in my voice. A simple ‘no’ was one thing; contempt was another.

  Well, the woman made my skin crawl. I’d tried to be nice, tried to hide it. Apparently that wasn’t sustainable.

  “May I?” said Tina. Gently she took the scissors, then she made a quick snip. She handed back the blades and the generous lock, which was so black and glossy it belonged in a fairy tale.

  But she shook out her mane and smiled, and I couldn’t even see where she’d made the cut.

  “Thank you,” said Rhonda, with a sudden solemnity that was, perhaps, the most bizarre moment yet with this strange little woman.

  Had she really been dating Dante Radcliff? Could we even take her seriously as a suspect? In short, what the heck was this woman’s deal?

  “Sorry,” I said, floundering to get us back onto some kind of normal footing. “I have this thing about blades—”

  “I think you should go,” Rhonda said. “Now.”

  “But—”

  “You too, my dear,” she said, laying a hand on Tina’s arm. “That was such a lovely gesture. I’d hate for you to spoil the memory.”

  “But Ms. Cameron—” I said.

  “Ms. Cameron!” she said, with a bitter little titter, talking to Tina and not even looking at me as she began to shoo us toward the door. “I know I may be a couple years older than you girls, but Rhonda is just fine.”

  “Rhonda,” I said, talking fast as I backed toward the door. “Please, as a favor to Tina, if you saw or heard anything unusual last night—”

  “Last night?” she snapped. Now she did look at me, eyeing me with a sudden flare of angry suspicion. “Is that what you’re here for? Snooping around, assuming the worst—oh, that’s why you were so interested in my poor little remnant vine!”

  She sniffed, bustled us both out into the hall with a final firm gesture, and turned to Tina with an expression of motherly concern. “She may be your cousin, Tina, but don’t let her douse your light. You can’t be too careful in the company you keep.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I said. “Well, at this rate, she’s going to be hanging out in prison.”

  But Rhonda was just sweeping shut her door with a dramatic flourish. It slammed hard.

  Then there was a fumbling. It clicked back open, just wide enough for to jut out her face and glare my way.

  “What exactly do you mean?” she demanded.

  “I’d have thought you’d have heard,” I said. “Tina was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now some people think she pushed him. People like Lee.”

  At the name Lee, Rhonda clenched the edge of the door, and her face flickered with some strong emotion. I couldn’t parse it, but beside me, Tina gasped.

  “You’re… scared,” Tina said, in wonder. “Of Lee?”

  Rhonda gripped the door harder, and beneath the soft sagginess of her jowls, her jaw set in a firm line.

  “Rhonda, please,” I said. “If there’s anything you can tell us…” I hesitated, then decided to take the risk. In a low voice, I said, “You know Tina and Dante had a history?”

  I was pretty sure that this wasn’t much of a confidence. Anyone in Wonder Springs over the age of twelve or so had probably already tried to tell her the story ever since she got here for the wedding. But it’s the thought that counts.

  “Is that so?” she said, with a gracious pretense at surprise. Then her face went grim again, and she eyed Tina. She worked her jaw, struggling with some awful inner choice, and then finally groaned.

  “All right,” she said, her voice low. “You didn’t hear this from me.”

  She actually leaned out into the hallway and looked both ways, as if Lee’s spies might be lurking in a doorway. It occurred to me that we could have had plenty of privacy right in her room, but part of her seemed to be enjoying getting to whisper her secret through the crack. She was like a kid who never stopped playing make-believe, which might have been kind of charming if you didn’t also feel like she never stopped watching herself for
mental selfies.

  “I can tell you this,” she stage-whispered. “Lee Lannon was married at least once before.”

  “Really?” I said, trying to look suitably impressed. I mean, Lee was a beautiful woman, and she wasn’t exactly young enough to be new to the dating scene.

  “I knew her husband. From work.” Her eyes went soft and tender, and she allowed herself a tiny sigh. “Gary Lannon. Sweetest man you ever saw. What happened to him was just so sad.”

  “Happened… to him?” I said.

  “There were… whispers around the office…” She dropped her voice still further, forcing Tina and I to lean in so close I could smell the tang of her breath mint, a thin veil over the moist, hot, composty effluence that rose from the depths of her mouth. “People said he was having an affair.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That is sad. I guess.”

  Rhonda looked wistful, misting over with her memories. “There was even a police investigation.”

  “What?” I said. “For an affair?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. She eyed Tina, and said the next sentence with real concern. “The woman Lee thought he was seeing? His secretary? Lee attacked her.”

  “Like, physically?” I said.

  Rhonda nodded. The fear in her eyes had darkened again, and when she spoke, it was nearly a croak.

  “And Gary wound up dead.”

  Chapter 19

  As Tina and I walked away down the hall, I tried to make sense of what we’d just heard.

  “Do you really think Lee could have killed her first husband out of jealousy?” I asked Tina.

  Tina shrugged. “I’ve only spoken to her once or twice. I didn’t get a sense of anything that crazy… but she was pretty obsessed with the wedding. And Dante.”

  “I wish Rhonda’d told us how the husband actually died,” I said. We’d pressed her for details, but she’d refused to say more, shutting herself in with a final dramatic slam. “Wait. She said there was a police investigation, right? That’s exactly the kind of thing that the sheriff could check into.”

  Tina nodded. “If he’s not already.”

  “We’ll tell him anyway,” I said, hoping he hadn’t gotten that far. It really wouldn’t hurt to remind the guy how often he needed our help. “But let’s finish here first. Who’s next?”

  Tina checked the email on her phone. “That’s it.”

  “What? What do you mean? There’s no one else? He just had those three guests? Rhonda and the Shains?”

  “No, but it’s not that long a list,” she said. She showed me the phone screen, with the cc’d list of names and email addresses clustered at the top. “There’s Frannie on there, and Glynis—neither of those are exes. So that just leaves Rhonda, the Shains, Fiona… and me. See?”

  “Fiona,” I said, a heavy dread settling in my stomach. “I wasn’t even thinking about her. But she’s the obvious choice.”

  “Fiona?” Tina cried. “Oh my gosh, no. She’s got her… issues but she would never… are you sure she was really even with him?”

  “Of course she was!” I snapped. “He was Mr. Telempath, and she’s all about feelings.”

  Tina flinched, hurt.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that. Fiona’s into her own feelings; if she ever had an empathy blast and had to know how someone else felt, I think her head might explode.”

  “Fiona’s great,” Tina said stoutly. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “I wonder if you could make an empathy gun,” I mused. “Like a ranged weapon.”

  “They’re called ‘stories’,” Tina said. “And maybe I should tell you a few about Fiona.”

  “Tina—” I snapped, and then I caught myself. We were walking alone in a quiet Inn hall, but I still lowered my voice. “Fiona told me herself that she cut those vines.”

  “What?” Tina looked shocked.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “She was nearly raging out… honestly, I’m not sure she’s stable.”

  “I’ve known her my whole life,” Tina said. “She’s got a good heart.”

  “I’m sure she did as a kid,” I said. “But now she’s got a good way with a knife. Did you actually see what she did to those vines?”

  “I’m not saying that’s okay,” she said. “But that’s really different from… you know…”

  Her voice faltered. She stopped walking, leaned against the wainscotting, and put a hand on her forehead, covering her face.

  “Hey,” I said, gently. With great care, I reached over and gave her back a little rub, carefully keeping my hand low on the cloth, far from her neck or arms. Even with this precaution, a faint hint of a crackle tingled through the shirt to my skin. “You want to take a break? I’m a big jerk; this dude’s a total stranger to me. No, worse—all I can see in him is how much he hurt you. But I keep on forgetting how this all must feel for you.”

  “It’s not just him,” Tina said. She wiped her eyes, and then took a shuddering sigh. “That part’s not even real yet. I didn’t actually see it, you know? Just the empty bridge. But Fiona…” Her face creased with emotional pain. “She really told you she did that?”

  I nodded.

  “She was always so awesome,” Tina said. “Cade’s way older sister.”

  “I can imagine looking up to her as a kid,” I said. “Those older siblings of your friends… she must have seemed like a goddess.”

  “Yes! Exactly,” Tina said.

  “I totally understand,” I said.

  But what I also understood was that now Tina had more than one reason for this whole thing to make her an emotional wreck. First her high school crush/fiance, and now her teen idol was getting sucked into the vortex too? What a mess.

  If Fiona was guilty, could I really expect that Tina would be able to pick it up? Even an empath must sometimes have denial.

  And Cade wouldn’t exactly be super thrilled either. Not to mention his (and her) dad, Sheriff Jake.

  Sure, the sheriff had been hard enough on Cade back when his son had been a suspect. So he might be an ally if Fiona was the one… or it might be a whole other story with Daddy’s Little Princess.

  Especially if this murder could be written off as an accident.

  That would leave Fiona wild and free… emphasis on the wild.

  With both my closest friends convinced that she was innocent.

  Even if she also happened to hate my guts and want Cade and I to break up.

  Great.

  On the other hand… I wasn’t exactly unbiased myself. The woman had come out of nowhere and threatened to torpedo my relationship; I couldn’t deny that I might breathe a bit more easily if she were pickling in a maximum security prison.

  I flashed back to that moment in the barn when Cade had told us both that Dante had drowned. How had she reacted? What was my gut sense?

  Like she was just as shocked as I was.

  Tina frowned. “What is it? You’re… freaking out.”

  I forced a smile. “Maybe we both need a break. Did you even sleep last night? There’s no way the sheriff’s going to let any of these people leave town until at least they find the… find him. We can rest up, see if anything happens today, and make a plan tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow morning’s the memorial service,” Tina said, her voice flat. “Grandma told me when I was getting breakfast.”

  “Tomorrow? Already?” I said. “They’re not even sure—”

  “Lee is,” Tina said. “I guess she’d even been trying to teach him to swim…” She winced, almost like she was empathically feeling his last frantic moments through time. Or maybe she was just imagining Lee’s private mental hell. “Lee’s decided that the people he most would have wanted present are already here in town.”

  “That’s it?” I said. “No family, no one else?”

  “He never talked about his family, even when we were together,” Tina said. With a chill, I noted the casual way she said together… like it had been an amicable separation
of two adults last month, not the traumatic breakup of a near-marriage seven years ago. “I don’t know, maybe they’ll have another funeral later. I just know that there’s a service tomorrow morning, while everyone’s in town. Glynis is handling it all.”

  “Come for the wedding, stay for the funeral,” I said.

  Tina didn’t look amused.

  “Sorry,” I said. “So do you want to get there early? Make sure you can sense everyone’s first feelings when they walk in?”

  “Oh,” she said, nonplussed. “I wasn’t planning on… investigating. And I don’t know whether you’d be actually invited. It sounds like it’s going to be super private.”

  “You’re invited,” I snapped. “And Lee thinks you killed him.”

  Tina flinched again, and I castigated myself for being such a jerk. I just could not force myself to remember that she might truly be grieving for this jackass… I’d think I understood, and then find myself right back to assuming she must be mainly relieved that the world had one less predator.

  “I’m sure Lee’s thinking a lot of things,” Tina said, tightly. “But she must have told Glynis to invite everyone from the wedding, because Grandma even passed along a real, paper invitation that Glynis had dropped off.”

  “That’s Glynis Beverley,” I said. “Great. I can be your plus-one.”

  Tina frowned and crossed her arms. “It’s a funeral, Summer.”

  “And they invited the killer,” I said. “Don’t you want to know who?”

  Tina looked uncertain. “Of course,” she muttered.

  But I had a sharp, sudden sense that I might be facing this killer alone.

  Chapter 20

  The Wonder Springs Funeral Home was a graceful brick building on a side street that had, perhaps, more than its fair share of flower boxes in the windows, spilling out a riotous cascade of brilliant blooms. Glynis Beverley was a splendid apotheosis of British decorum and taste, but she had inherited the family funeral business from generations of more dour Beverleys, and you got the sense that her heart was really more in the wedding planner gig.

  As Tina and I approached the entrance the next morning for the memorial service, I reflected that, for once, the weather was obligingly matching the somber mood. While the storm that had been threatening for days still hadn’t hit, the sky was a solid, morbid gray, low and flat and oppressive as the lid of a coffin. Scattered rain fell in a cold autumn drizzle, seeping into the back of my neck with a skeletal chill.