“Macy is your sister?” His entire body relaxes as I nod. “No kidding? She was just telling me that she had two overprotective siblings.” The word she used was nosy, but I wouldn’t disparage Bizzy over a wayward remark. “We were talking about family and it was an aside.”
“That sounds exactly like something she would say.” I make a face over at her. “But when she mentioned she was thinking about heading to Big Bear to clear her head, well, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I guess she put me in the mood for a day of snow-play in the mountains. You’re really lucky to work here and soak in the sheer beauty this place offers.”
“I am. And believe me, I know it. Some people get cabin fever being on the mountain, but that’s never been me. Morgan liked it, too.” Lord knows I’d better say a thing or two about her or this woman’s antennae will start to go up.
“Morgan seemed like a fun person. How long were the two of you together?”
“Too long.” He sheds an easy laugh. “We were at the end of the road and we both knew it. We had been through a lot. We emerged, but things were never the same.”
“Oh right. I had heard about her father and stepmother passing.”
His eyes harden over mine a moment too long. “Did she tell you?” He ticks his head to the side and I suddenly feel the need to bolt.
“Tell me what?” I give a few measure blinks.
“No offense, but I have an uncanny knack to decipher when someone is feigning something. It’s fine. That whole story about me cutting the brakes on Mr. Buttonwood’s car is basically an urban legend at this point.” He folds his arms across his enormous chest and scowls at the gingerbread house. “I didn’t do it. I wasn’t even on the mountain that day. I have receipts as they say. I was at a managerial meeting out in Clifford. But Mr. Buttonwood was having trouble with his car. He wasn’t sure what was going on, so he turned it over to the local mechanic. That’s all on record, of course. The mechanic told him the brake pads needed to be replaced soon, and well, the rest is history. I don’t know what exactly caused the brakes to cut out, but that’s what I do know.”
“How did Morgan take it?”
He sighs as he stares off in a daze. “She wasn’t too broken up about her stepmother, or her stepmonster as she called her. But she was distraught beyond belief about her father.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know how Mabel is holding on now with Morgan gone. She and Morgan ran the Haunted Book Barn together. Not to disparage Mabel, but it was Morgan who was the brains of the organization. I mean, Mabel can keep the lights on, but it was always Morgan who came up with the innovative stuff to keep those tourist dollars rolling in. The place used to be called the Book Barn, but Morgan thought if she could pass it off as haunted that people would come out in droves and she was right. Brenda, that was the stepmother, she took advantage of it and tried to sell the store from under the girls. And well, accidents happen.” Well-timed accidents that Morgan didn’t mind trying to pin on me.
My eyes widen a moment. Why do I get the feeling Morgan might have had something to do with this?
He nods my way as if he heard my inner musing.
“Brenda was supposed to come up this way on her own that weekend,” he continues. “Morgan asked her to pick up some signed copies I had gotten ahold of. Just a few days prior, I had a thriller writers’ retreat here at the chalet, and I purchased a bunch of signed copies for the girls to resell. Anyway, Morgan’s dad ended up tagging along, too.” He slaps the back of his neck as he takes a deep breath.
Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Did Morgan send Brenda up here on some sort of a death mission?
“Colt,” I practically whisper his name. “I talked to Fern after the tragedy happened. She mentioned that you and Morgan were hiding something, a secret of some sort?” She didn’t, but I can’t come right out and ask why his very much alive ex-girlfriend was acting cagey at the thought of divulging some deep, dark secret of his. Not to mention the secret she has regarding Fern. But I’ll tackle that one in a moment.
“A secret?” He gives a forced chuckle. Why in the world would Morgan tell Fern? Maybe she hinted at it. She promised me she wouldn’t say a word. And to think I felt an enormous release, a weight off my shoulders once I saw Morgan lying there dead. I felt terrible about it, but still. And now I’ve got Fern to deal with? He lets out a heavy sigh. And what about this woman? She’s like a pit bull who won’t release. Morgan was telling me all about her the night before the taping. Hey? Maybe Morgan told Fern something stupid like the fact we did some naked night skiing. Stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I’ll be lucky if I can have kids one day. But then, Morgan was all about getting wild.
I lean my ear his way. “Fern mentioned it had something to do with night skiing?”
“Oh that!” He bellows out a laugh of relief, and I can feel the tension melting between us. “Let’s just say there weren’t many clothes involved. And it’s nothing I would recommend.”
“Duly noted. How about Fern? Does she have any secrets?”
His head inches back as if he just came upon a fire. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. That’s the kind of stuff you do serious time in prison for regardless if you did the deed. I’m pretty sure just having knowledge of it is dangerous.
“Nope.” He shakes his head emphatically. “I don’t know anything about Fern.”
“I see.” And I see exactly how it is. These people are rife with secrets. “I guess you’ve heard by now. Morgan’s death was no accident.”
Here we go. Break a leg, boy. Something tells me I’m going to need all the broken limbs I can get with this one.
A choking sound emits from my throat and I can’t help it. I’m dying to see his acting skills.
“I heard.” He nods. “Her sister stopped by a little earlier and told me they found poison in her water bottle. Traces of something or other. I can’t remember. Anyway, that’s terrifying to think someone had it out for her.” His lips dance side to side. “Look, I won’t lie. I’m nervous as heck that you might think I had something to do with this. I’ll tell you point-blank I didn’t do it. I’ll take a lie detector test. Anything that needs to be done. I just want all of this behind me. I spent all of last year under the suspicion of clipping her father’s brakes even though I wasn’t in town. And now I feel like I’m going to have Morgan’s death hanging over me for the rest of my life.” There. It felt good to get that out there. That was a heck of a lot easier than trying to pretend as if the thought didn’t rattle me.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m hoping this case buttons up quickly. Once they arrest the killer, you can live the rest of your life as a free man. Who do you think could have done something like this?”
“I honestly don’t know anyone who could be capable of doing something like that. But I do know for a fact someone had it out for Morgan.”
“Who?” My eyes practically bug out as I ask.
“The woman who headed up the production that day, Hollis Carrington. I don’t know what was going on between the two of them, but I heard Hollis telling one of her crewmembers that it was going to be the last time she worked with that diva. She said Morgan knew how to push her buttons, but that it was all going to end.”
A breath hitches in my throat. I distinctly heard Hollis think to herself that very same thing about Morgan pushing her buttons.
I nod up at Colt. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’d better finish up the tour. We’re snowshoeing our way around the periphery of the building. You should come along. It’s the best part.”
Sure enough, we trek on out, strap on snowshoes, and walk the entire periphery of the Big Bear Resort Chalet while Colt fills us in on more than a few fascinating facts.
Georgie huffs and puffs between Jasper and me. “I’m going back to the chalet to get some hot cocoa in my body to defrost my bones.” She leans in close. “Not to mention get some of that hot security guard who looks like Santa Claus. I’d play the part of Mrs. Nort
h Pole any time of year for a hot toddy like that.” She squints over at Jasper. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She waves us off. “I’m kidding. Do it.” She points my way. “Word to the wise: if you jump back into the truck and sit on the heater, the frozen parts thaw out pretty quickly.”
“Duly noted,” I say as the entire tour heads back into the chalet and Jasper and I trek off to the woods and share a few heated kisses that could melt every glacier on the planet.
“Are you ready to see my wild side, Detective Wilder?” The words stutter from my chattering teeth.
“How about I buy you a cup of hot cocoa and you save that wild side for when we get home? I’ll start a fire and you can wow me with your Cancun beach moves.”
“Prepare to have your socks knocked off.”
“What about the rest of my clothes?”
“What do you think this is, amateur hour?” I bite down playfully on my lip. “I’ll take care of the rest of your clothes myself.”
We load up on hot cocoa and I tell Jasper and Georgie everything I learned while talking to Colt.
The secrets seem to be stacking up, and so do the bodies.
I wonder where Morgan fits into all of this.
And something tells me she’ll be the last to tell me.
Who knew having the victim present to help solve the crime would make things only that much harder?
Someone has some explaining to do, and I have a feeling I’ll have to excavate it from the entire lot of them the hard way.
Mabel Buttonwood’s case seems to be full of surprises.
Here’s hoping the killer doesn’t have a surprise on the horizon for me, too.
Chapter 8
After Jasper and I came home last night we thawed out together by way of some imaginative friction on both our parts.
Who knew the things I picked up on in Cancun ages ago would be the gift that kept on giving? And full disclosure, I didn’t learn any of those tricks firsthand. I lived vicariously through my girlfriends. They played the part of coital contortionists while I read books by the pool. There happened to be a stray cat I befriended, and that was about as wild as I got. Until last night.
Suffice it to say, I sent Jasper off with a smile on his groggy face this morning.
Once he left for work, I took care of what I needed to at the inn then came back and leashed both Acorn and Sherlock, and put Fish in that front facing carrier I wear over my chest.
It’s icy out. Another storm is getting ready to dump some more snow all over our corner of Maine, not exactly ideal dog walking conditions, but none of my furry friends seem to mind.
I texted Morgan and told her we needed to talk, and she let me know she was running an errand at the florist on Main Street so we decided to bump into one another, accidentally on purpose, in just a few minutes.
And as soon as Emmie heard I was headed off to walk the dogs, she leashed up Cinnamon and decided to join me.
Our world received a fresh dusting of snow last night. There’s not a speck of green left on the pines or any of the trees that line Main Street. The sidewalks and even the streets look as if someone shook confectioner’s sugar all over them. The businesses are all lit up with warm glows, and the twinkle lights outlining the shop windows give this stretch of our cozy town a magical appeal. Down the street at the Italian-Asian fusion restaurant called A Fork in the Road it looks as if the front window is boarded up. That’s unfortunate.
“So why isn’t Gatsby here?” I ask as the pooches charge off ahead of us as far as our leashes will allow. Both Emmie and I are bundled in navy wool coats, powder blue scarfs, hats, and gloves. We’ve played this jinxed game with our wardrobe so many times in our lives I often thought she was the mind reader. But the most important accouterment she has with her is that box of freshly baked sweet treats tucked in her arms. We thought we’d stop off and pay a visit to my mother and Georgie at their shop while we were out, thus the cookie treats, but in hindsight we should have brought one for ourselves.
“Gatsby took one look outside at the weather and he wasn’t having it.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’ll be honest, I think he’s actually jealous of Cinnamon’s relationship with Acorn. I think he sees some serious competition on the horizon and he’s sick over it.”
“Now that’s that saddest thing I’ve heard,” I moan at the thought. “I wouldn’t have pegged golden retrievers as the jealous type. But then, look at those two, they’re thick as thieves.” I nod up ahead where Cinnamon and Acorn seem to be happily barking away at one another carrying on a steady conversation while Sherlock Bones joins in once in a while. And all three of them look exceptionally thrilled to be out and about in the elements today.
Fish pokes her head out of the cat carrier. What in the world are they gabbing about, Bizzy? I keep hearing the words mother’s milk and teat. Don’t tell me Cinnamon is in the puppy way.
“What?” I gasp as I quickly relay it to Emmie. “You don’t think Cinnamon is pregnant, do you?”
She grimaces a moment. “Well, she’s not fixed. And Gatsby has been known to get frisky. Turns out, he’s not fixed either.”
Fish yowls, What if the pups belong to Acorn? Oh, I think we’ve got a paternity kerfuffle to deal with. Who knew Cinnamon would prove to be such a vampy tramp? I bet the rover rumor mill is already churning. The things Sherlock reports back make my tail curl. Dogs can be such gossips.
“Fish is wondering if the pups belong to Acorn.” I shrug over at Emmie as I say it.
“All right.” Emmie stops cold and pulls Cinnamon back and I do the same with Sherlock and Acorn. “Cin, are you knocked up? If you are, I’m not mad. I’d just like to know who the daddy is.”
Cinnamon barks and it sounds like a laugh. If I am, it’s news to me.
I shake my head over at my bestie to put her heart at ease.
Emmie’s mouth falls open as she pats her curly-haired cutie on the head. “Then what’s all this talk about mother’s milk and teats? You about gave me a heart attack.”
I can explain. Acorn gives a friendly bark. We know why we thought we looked so familiar to one another. Cinnamon and I were a part of the same litter. We were just reminiscing on those early days we slept and ate to our hearts’ content.
Fish mewls, Some things never change.
I gasp hard at the revelation. “Emmie, Cinnamon and Acorn are brother and sister!”
“What?” She gives a rather joyous squawk as she pulls them both in for a hug. “I knew I loved you the moment we met.” Emmie dusts Acorn’s face with kisses. “Oh, you are never getting away from us again. We’re going to have play dates forever, no matter where you end up.” She sucks in a quick breath as she straightens. “Hey? If Morgan’s sister is really allergic to Acorn, why don’t you let her know that I’ll gladly take him. I would just love it. I mean, I don’t know how Leo would feel about having another dog in the house, but there are just some things I don’t care to ask him. Who in the world could not love that face?” Her phone bleats and she glances at the screen and winces.
I lean over and see that it’s Mackenzie Woods who just sent the text, but before I can read it, Emmie slaps the phone to her chest.
“I’m sorry, Bizzy. You know I don’t like keeping things from you, but Mack has been talking to me about a rather private issue. This will just take a second.” She backtracks about ten feet and a river of words begs to choke from me.
What in the world could Mackenzie Woods need to confer with my bestie about?
And a private issue? I won’t lie. I’m feeling a twinge of jealousy over the fact Mack is trying to rekindle a friendship with Emmie.
As high school as it sounds, Emmie is my best friend and I’m not willing to share that status with anyone let alone Mackenzie Woods. Sure, we were the three musketeers for a while there, and yes, I tried to forgive her after that near drowning incident, but once Mack went on to steal all of my boyfriends, I grew tired of her games and so did Emmie.
“Bizzy?” a
light voice calls from across the way and I turn to see Morgan Buttonwood doing her best impersonation of her far more demure sister Mabel as she crosses the street and makes her way over. She has a pink wool cap pressed over her dark hair, her makeup is low-key, and she’s wrapped in a long black puffer coat looking about as cozy as can be. “Oh, Acorn!” She falls over both Cinnamon and Acorn at the very same time and Sherlock barks up at her. “You get in here, too, Sherlock.” She gives them all a quick pat and scratch before rising to her feet and heading my way. “I guess I shouldn’t go too crazy in the event someone picks up on the fact I’m ignoring my allergies, or my sister’s as it were. Thank you for taking such great care of my baby.” She blinks tears from her eyes. “I know who Sherlock Bones is, but who is this precious Acorn look-alike?”
“It’s my best friend Emmie’s dog. In fact, we’re pretty sure Cinnamon and Acorn came from the same litter.”
Her mouth falls open. “I guess it could be. I picked up Acorn from a local breeder in Rose Glen.” Her lips cinch. “So how did it go yesterday with Colt? Do you think he did it?”
I blow out a breath and a white plume sails from my lips.
“I don’t know. You tell me. Both he and Fern have secrets and they both alluded to the fact.”
That friendly demeanor of hers quickly dissipates. “Did you get the impression Colt did this to my sister? You have good instincts, Bizzy. I trust them.”
“You’re right,” I say as I glance over at Emmie. “I do have good instincts, Morgan. And right now, my instincts tell me you’re the one who’s hindering this case. If you know the secrets Colt and Fern are keeping, just tell them to me. I can piece together motives a heck of a lot faster if I have all the information.”
A Winter Tail of Woe Page 7