Just Buried

by Addison Moore

  Lucky vocalizes something that sounds eerily like words. Caleb talks about money all the time.

  Misty saunters toward me, and I scoop her up while Fish hops up onto the sofa, landing on the other side of me.

  Misty yowls. McKenna says weddings are expensive. She likes to tease she’s never getting married again.

  “It’s not cheap.” A dull laugh sputters from me. “But I guess it’s only as expensive as you allow it to be.”

  Fish hops next to Misty and the two of them snuggle up, looking far too adorable in the process. Misty’s full gray coat makes her look like a genuine furball with nothing but a pair of bright blue eyes peering out at you.

  Fish mewls. Bizzy and Jasper hardly care about their wedding at all.

  “Fish.” My mouth falls open at the thought. “We do too care. We’ve just been so busy, and well, I sort of think everything is just going to fall together. Besides, there’s really not much more to do.”

  Sherlock brays as if he were laughing. Jasper said just this morning he can’t wait to get married so neither of you would have to worry about the wedding anymore. He says he feels as if his life is about to start.

  “I don’t know if I should coo or boo. But I feel the exact same way. If you would have told me a year ago I’d be marrying the ornery detective who kept threatening to arrest me, I would have laughed. But now my wedding day can’t get here soon enough. And not only will I be gaining a husband, I’ll gain his entire family. He’s got three brothers and a sister. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sane sister.”

  Speaking of which, I hope Macy straightened out that nightmare with her credit card.

  Lucky lets out a howl. Caleb has a brother. My Uncle Zeke. Whenever Caleb has to go out of town, it’s off to Uncle Zeke’s I go. He shares his pizza with me and we stay up late watching the big game.

  I make a face as I stare at my laptop.

  “Uncle Zeke sounds like the equivalent of Auntie Macy, but you’d have to replace the big game with a rom-com.” Or at least that’s where I’m hoping she focuses her viewing pleasure.

  About a half hour drifts by as I surf from one social media site to the next. It seems all three women spent a fair amount of time updating at least a couple of their favorite social media sites before they disappeared. None of them were over-sharers, which is probably a good thing in general but doesn’t do a lot to help considering the fact they’re all out there somewhere unaccounted for.

  It’s not until I fall down the rabbit hole of one of Embry Knight’s posts on do-it-yourself birdhouses, a craft she was making out of popsicle sticks with her daughter, that I note an odd response she left for one of her friends. The friend asked if she would be free for a movie that night and she replied, Sorry, not tonight. I’m hitting the Collective.

  “The Collective,” I say, leaning my head back into the sofa and searching the ceiling. “Why does that sound familiar?” I quickly try to contact the friend she was speaking to—who goes by the name of ReadingMaven—but her account is marked private. “Collective.” I shake my head. “I’ve heard that word somewhere before. Where was it?” The past few days run through my mind in jagged clips, but I come up empty.

  Lucky rises and shakes out his fluffy salt and pepper fur. He’s so strikingly handsome with those bright blue eyes, and his fur reminds me a bit of a tuxedo. He’ll make a perfect groomsman at McKenna’s wedding.

  Bizzy? He lifts his head my way. Did I hear you mention the Collective?

  “Yes.” I sit up straight. “Do you recognize that word?”

  Could I have heard Caleb or McKenna say it?

  Lucky moans. I sure did hear it. In fact, I heard it a lot the last time I visited with Uncle Zeke. He was yelling at someone on the phone and he was very, very angry with that darn Collective. That’s what he called it over and over again. That darned Collective.

  Fish unleashes a sharp meow. What does this mean? Could Zeke be connected to those missing women? He’s not the killer, is he?

  Misty hisses her way. Watch your little pink tongue. McKenna is hoping Zeke will see what a cutie Michaela is and take her out on a date. McKenna thinks they’re a match made in Maine.

  A small laugh thumps through me. “That sounds just like McKenna.” I turn to Lucky. “Do you know who Zeke might have been speaking to during that heated phone call?”

  The fuzzy beast shakes his head. I stole a piece of pizza and took off for the living room to take a nap. I didn’t care to listen in any further.

  “Lucky, where can I find Zeke? Do you know what he does for a living?”

  Misty perks up. I do. McKenna and I just took a trip there a few days ago to drop off some treats. He’s a foreman working on a very important job right here in Cider Cove.

  “A foreman?”

  Lucky barks. He works for Caleb’s construction company.

  “Is McKenna still the project manager?” My fingers twitch over my phone, and without putting too much thought into it, I send her a text.

  Just heard that Reed Construction Company is working right here in Cider Cove! The Cottage Café just so happened to bake too many blondie bars. I’d love to take some over to your crew. Just give me the location and they’re as good as there.

  I hit send as a rush of adrenaline takes over.

  My phone pings before I have a chance to put it down.

  “It’s McKenna,” I say, breathless.

  You are so sweet! They’re just down the street from the inn right there on Main Street. They’re finishing up an addition at the bank. The scaffolding should be coming down today. But if you hurry, you can still catch them.

  “She says if we hurry we can still catch them,” I say. “Let’s hope Zeke Reed has the answers we need about this mysterious Collective. And I’m betting he does.”

  The scaffolding is still mostly in place by the time I hustle my way down Main Street with my furry crew. A bright blue sign up ahead reads Another Proud Project of Reed Construction! And all around it dozens of men in flannels work furiously disassembling the infrastructure just like McKenna predicted.

  Georgie and Juni just so happened to be in the lobby while I was letting Grady and Nessa know where I was headed, and as soon as those ladies heard the words construction site, they made it clear I wouldn’t be heading here alone. Not that I would have been alone to begin with. I’ve got Sherlock and Lucky on leashes—leashes they don’t really need, but were kind enough to comply with the law. Fish and Misty were fast asleep by the time I proposed the idea.

  Juni grunts hard. “Mama, there’s no polite way to do this. All these men are exactly my type, so you best just back off right now.” She flips her hair upside down. It’s blonde with plenty of gray interspersed, and when she flips her tresses back up, she’s got that Einstein look I’m not really sure she was going for.

  Georgie smacks her baby girl on the chest. “Don’t you tell me what to do, Juniper Moonbeam. I’m invoking rest-home rules.”

  “Rest-home rules?” I ask as I look her way.

  “Yup.” Georgie straightens. “If he moves, he’s fair game.”

  I avert my eyes at the thought. But the rule does seem fitting for that environment.

  “Behave, you two,” I whisper as one by one the men all around us turn our way and pause from the work at hand to appraise us.

  A series of catcalls go off, and someone lets out a whistle or two. A few salty words are enthusiastically tossed around, and both Juni and Georgie puff their chests out with pride—either that or they’re gunning for more catcalls.

  I spot Zeke with his auburn hair ablaze in the sunlight as he stands at a worktable strewn with tools. “Zeke!” I say his name cheerily as I head his way and note the fact he looks more than a little bewildered by my presence. “McKenna sent me.” Sort of. “We met the other night at the Country Cottage Inn. I’m the manager there, Bizzy Baker, McKenna’s good friend. And these are my friends.” I look to my right and close my mouth as I spot Juni and G
eorgie already half a dozen construction workers deep. “Never mind. I come bearing sweet treats. The café at the inn had an overload, and I thought I’d bring them over.”

  “Thank you.” He indulges in one, and no sooner do I set the platter down than an entire crowd of grabby hands surrounds the table.

  Zeke steps over to the side, and I follow with the dogs in tow.

  “Lucky?” Zeke is right back to looking confused. “Is that you?”

  Lucky howls. It’s me, Uncle Zeke. He rubs his head along Zeke’s thigh and Zeke gets right to giving him a proper greeting.

  “McKenna came by the inn to help me with a few of my own wedding details and, well, she had an impromptu fitting, so I told her I’d watch Lucky and Misty. Actually, Misty is back at the inn with my own cat. I promise she’s safe and sound.”

  He laughs while squinting into the sun and quickly nods us over a few feet under the shade of a maple tree.

  “I’m guessing she went to Minty’s for the fitting.” He glances past me, his expression growing quickly sober. Minty’s. I hate the sound of the name, let alone what that place represents.

  What it represents? Minty’s is a department store. Maybe he thinks it represents weddings? Is he thinking about Michaela? Or maybe he’s thinking about Bernie. She was certainly thinking about him.

  “Interesting,” I whisper to myself as his eyes latch back to time.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head. “I was just at Minty’s myself. McKenna’s sister works there. She was helping me with a dress. You probably know Michaela. I mean, you’re both in the wedding. Her sister is marrying your brother, you’ll practically be family.”

  His chest bucks with a dry laugh. “I guess you’re right. I didn’t think of it that way.” It feels like yesterday I took Bernie there. She bought her prom dress and I couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around her in it. But if I could go back in time, we’d never step into the hellhole. That was the beginning of the end for us in so many ways.

  Sherlock lets out a soft bark. He’s thinking about Michaela, isn’t he, Bizzy? He’s got that same lovesick look on his face that Jasper used to get when he was thinking about you. He was so very lovesick when the two of you first met. Poor guy couldn’t even sleep.

  Lovesick? Maybe so, but Zeke isn’t thinking about Michaela. He’s thinking about Bernie. And it doesn’t sound as if prom night was so magical.

  I try to rewind the conversation I had with Bernie last night. I distinctly remember her thinking about Zeke. She said—Zeke hated Julian more than anyone I know. He could have easily killed Julian. God knows he promised me he would.

  I step forward and examine Zeke a little more brazenly.

  “Zeke, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds, but that night at the inn—I thought I saw you looking at the woman who was acting as Julian’s assistant. I think her name was Bernie?” He may not have been looking at her, but it doesn’t mean I won’t pull a few tricks out of my bag to navigate this conversation. “You seemed, for a lack of a better word, lovestruck—or perhaps lovesick?”

  He blinks over at me as if hearing those words out loud startled him.

  A dull smile bounces from him. “It was that obvious, huh?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything. It’s not something I’d like to advertise.”

  “Can I ask what happened between the two of you? I mean, if you’ve been keeping it bottled up, it might be good to get it off your chest.”

  “Nothing happened.” His cheek flickers. “That’s the long and short of it.” And how I wish it wasn’t true. “I met Bernie in high school. We dated a bit, graduation came, and I went off to college. She didn’t. When I came home on break, I wanted to pursue something more with her, but it turned out she was taken.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  He glances over his shoulder before leaning in. “Please don’t think less of her, but Bernie was caught up in a relationship with a married man. She had no idea in the beginning, but once she found out, he strung her along. He was older, showered her with money, paid her rent, bought her a crappy secondhand car that hardly sputtered up the street, and promised she’d be the next Mrs. Julian Fletcher as soon as he broke it off with his wife.”

  “Julian Fletcher?” I nearly gag on his name as I say it. “No wonder she looked affronted when he plucked her out of the audience that night.” That conversation I had with Michaela comes back to me. “He and Bernie broke it off, though, right?” Abruptly according to Michaela.

  He nods. “Bernie had enough one day. She wanted out of that nightmare he dragged her into and she wanted him to suffer for it, too. She waited until Julian went to work and then knocked on his front door. She told his wife everything.”

  “That’s pretty brutal.” I shrug. “I guess Julian’s wife wasn’t too thrilled.”

  “She was furious. So was Julian. But after the dust settled from the divorce, he tried to get Bernie back. She wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

  “But she kept the job at the Magic Castle?”

  His lips harden in a knot. “She was no longer his assistant, but she still made her money there. Bernie doesn’t have family. She needed the security.”

  “Surely she could wait tables anywhere.” I shake my head at him.

  “Not necessarily.” He ticks his head to the side as he says it.

  It doesn’t make sense. Sherlock barks.

  No, it doesn’t.

  That name…Bernie—Lucky moans my way—that’s the name he was shouting when he was talking about the Collective.

  I suck in a quick breath as I look to Zeke.

  “Michaela mentioned something the day I was shopping for a dress”—I clear my throat because here goes nothing—“something about Bernie. She mumbled something about a collective, or maybe it was about a collection? But when I asked her about it, she brushed it off. I guess Michaela knows Bernie, too.” Okay, so I just took him around the block, but let’s see if that kicks off a thought that could lead me to some real answers.

  His brows lift a solid inch. Michaela mentioned the Collective to this poor girl? What in the heck was she thinking? Don’t tell me Michaela is in the recruiting game now. That was Julian’s gig. He shakes his head. But I guess someone has to take over now that he’s gone. I hate the damn Collective. I hate that Bernie was so wrapped up in it, addicted to the dollars, the safety net. More than that, I hate that she feels the need to avoid me at every turn because of it.

  “Zeke?” I lean in. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” He snaps out of his trance and tries to laugh it off, but the laugh never quite initiates.

  “Zeke? What do you think this Col—”

  Before I can get the word out, Juni runs my way.

  “Bizzy!” Juni howls so loud you’d think she was being chased by a swarm of bees. “I gotta get back to the inn. My credit card was hacked back at the Magic Castle to the tune of five thousand dollars! I need to call the sheriff’s department. I want this swindler arrested. I want to kill the arse who thought fit to steal from me with my own bare hands.” She stalks over and plucks Georgie from a crowd of beefy construction workers who look rather mesmerized by whatever it is she’s regaling them with. “Come on, Mama. I need you to hold my hand until I can get these charges reversed. I’ve got a financial bone to pick with someone, and I don’t know who to take my aggression out on just yet.”

  They take off in a hurry and Zeke scoffs in their wake.

  “Did she say she got her credit card ripped off at the Magic Castle?” He closes his eyes a moment. “Do yourself a favor and steer clear of that place—especially the bar. I’ve heard dark things.” Like it’s the heart of the Collective. I’d hate to break it to that poor woman, but she didn’t get her credit card stolen. Although, in all fairness, it does seem it was a bit of a misunderstanding. He nods my way. “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for the bro
wnies, Bizzy.” He gives Lucky a quick pat before taking off toward his crew.

  “Blondies,” I call out after him.

  The Magic Castle is the heart of the Collective?

  Hey, wait a minute…

  Didn’t Macy have her credit card swiped at the Magic Castle to the tune of five thousand dollars as well?

  What in the heck is going on?

  I think I have five thousand new reasons to head back to the Magic Castle.

  I’m feeling awfully thirsty for answers—and something tells me I can find them at the bar.

  Chapter 10

  In less than four hours—Juni, Georgie, and I find ourselves standing in the lobby of the Magic Castle. They’ve just opened up for the evening, and I’ve got my credit card ready and raring to go once we get to the bar. I’m more than a bit suspicious as to why both Juni and Macy got theirs stolen here last night, and I’m wondering if there’s some connection to Zeke’s cryptic words.

  “My credit card company is launching an investigation,” Juni huffs as she inches up her lime green skirt. I’m pretty sure it’s made out of vinyl, either that or Saran Wrap, but regardless, she’s got a matching top and matching lime green fishnets to go along with it. Her shoes are a bit more in the turquoise department, but anything goes when it comes to investigative fashion sense.

  “I hope you get your money back,” I say. “Let me do all the talking once we get to the bar.”

  It’s cool inside, dimly lit, and the carpeted floors dampen the sound unnaturally.

  “Are you kidding?” Juni balks at the idea. “I’m not going anywhere near the bar. I may not get my money back.”

  “Me neither.” Georgie shudders and the tiny sequins sewn into her butter yellow kaftan shine like glitter. “It’s bad enough I’m living hoof to mouth. The last thing I need is a ding on my credit score.”

  I blink back at her comments but decide not to engage. Certainly Georgie has a right to care for her credit score. And if she wants to call the attachments at the base of her lower limbs hooves, who am I to stop her? Believe me, I’ve tried to stop Georgie before, and it’s never been pretty.