“Go right ahead.”
Thanks, Bizzy. Sherlock barks as they trot off for the back. Tell Jasper I said hello!
Jasper? Wait, what? Poor Sherlock must think I’m abandoning him in this beautiful barn.
Heck, a part of me demands I abandon myself here as well. I can’t get over how cozy it is.
“Stop by my desk before you leave,” Morgan calls out with a knowing nod before she takes off after them.
“I will,” I say as I head over to the new release table and inhale the sweet scent of yet to be opened hardback novels and hold it in my lungs.
Why must books smell so delicious? And the kicker is, the more they age, the sweeter they get.
My finger bounces over the covers of a few new psychological thrillers. And next to those sit a handful of true crime books. I’ve never been too keen on reading about anything grisly. I’m more of an Agatha Christie girl myself. Heck, my mother might be onto something with those books involving talking pets. Half the time I feel like I’m living in one of those cozy mysteries.
However, I wouldn’t mind if the excitement in my life backed up a tiny bit to just plain cozy. I’m not so thrilled with the idea of people dropping dead at my feet nearly as often as they do.
“Pardon me, miss, but could this be what you’re looking for?” a deep voice says from behind, and just as I’m about to turn around, his familiar cologne engulfs me.
“Jasper?” I whisper with a touch of giddiness in my voice. And sure enough, it’s my tall, caustically handsome, eyes the color of rainwater in July, legal plus one. “What are you doing here?” I quickly wrap my arms around him and land a kiss to his lips.
“Would you believe I was here picking up a little something for you?” His cheeks flex a moment as he lands a book between us.
“No.” I make a face as I take the book from him. “Agatha Christie’s At Bertram’s Hotel.” I nod up at him. “It may as well read At the Country Cottage Inn. I’m starting to feel an awful lot like Miss Marple these days.”
“Does that make me Hercule Poirot?”
“No, it makes you my poor unfortunate husband.” I give his waist a squeeze with my arms and feel his gun pressing up against me. “I’ll ask again nicely this time. What are you really doing here?”
His lips purse as he glances in the direction Morgan took off in.
“I needed to speak with the deceased’s sister. Something that would have been a standard part of my investigation.” But then, this is no standard investigation, is it? Morgan fessed up to her real identity. She mentioned that she knew you had told me as much.
“I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”
“You couldn’t ruin anything if you tried.” His dark brows narrow and he looks that much more comely. I take him in a moment in his dark suit and wool coat and suddenly find myself biting down on my lip to keep the goofy grin blooming over my face. “So? Did you glean anything?”
He takes a quick breath as if he were about to say something but pauses as if he were putting on the brakes.
I do my best to pry into this thoughts but nary a thought is prattling in that head of his—an odd occurrence that I have yet to come upon with this man.
“Wait a minute.” I poke him in the gut and it’s like touching my finger to a concrete wall. “You’re keeping something from me.”
His lips flex a moment, but before he can deny it or not, a puffball full of gray hair bops over wagging a book at us.
“Look no further, you two.” Georgie lands another book in my hands.
“Special Dates for Special Mates?” I read the title written in red over a glossy black cover.
She winks up at Jasper. “You can thank me later. In fact, how about we forget all about those magical brownies I’m serving down at my shop and we can call it even.” She starts to take off. “I’m this close to finding the perfect book club pick for broads like me over sixty-five. Don’t worry, Bizzy. The only animals talking in my books will be the bare-chested insatiable kind.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I say as she disappears back into the stacks. “Now what did you find out?” I ask Jasper. “And no beating about the bush, or this little treasure doesn’t come home with us.” I wave the sultry how-to book Georgie just gave me.
“Boy, you really know how to play hardball. I was looking forward to curling up next to the fire with that.” He gives a sly wink. “It looks like a fun read-along for the both of us.”
Morgan whizzes past us. “I thought you’d like your surprise, Bizzy,” she trills. “Don’t mind me. I’m off to fix the espresso machine. It’s acting up again. Sherlock and Acorn are in the back if you were wondering.”
We watch as she takes off for the café before Jasper takes up my hand.
“Come on. I’ve always been more of a show than tell kind of a guy.” He navigates us to the back where a large maple desk sits to the side with the nameplate Mabel Buttonwood. “Mabel was in charge of the books around here. I’m talking managerial stuff, payroll. Morgan said she participated in the ordering of new merchandise, but other than that she runs the café and makes the baked goods for it as well. I just thought I’d come in and get her thoughts on things. She let me know that her ex is at the top of her suspect list, but she’s not all that convinced he did it either.”
“Sounds wishy-washy. You’d think if someone was going to poison you, you’d have some idea of who was going to do it. You’ll never believe what she told me about Colt.” I quickly relay it all to him in three quickened breaths and he gives a long blink.
“Forgeries, huh? It sounds as if he has a prison sentence hanging over his head. Definitely a good motive for murder. Especially if she was threatening to go to the authorities.”
I suck in a quick breath. “That reminds me of something. The day of the murder, before it ever happened, I saw Colt and Morgan talking—or Mabel as it were. Anyway, Colt had an odd thought. He said, ‘Morgan might think she’s taking me down, but she’s the one that will be coming to an end.’”
Jasper backs up a notch. “That just might be our guy.”
I nod. “He might be, but whatever secret Morgan is keeping of Fern’s, it must be a big one. I’m not buying that whole I wouldn’t support her band thing. Although, I’m not doubting it’s true either. But I get the feeling there’s something deeper there. Anyway, I still need to speak with Hollis Carrington. Colt said she had it out for Morgan, but he wasn’t sure why. He basically heard what I did the day of the murder when Hollis said that Morgan knew how to push her buttons—and that Morgan told her she was going down for good. I’m not sure what Hollis said that day to Mabel, but whatever it was, it really upset her. I heard poor Mabel trying to make sense of it in her mind. She said, ‘Who knew Hollis Carrington had such terrible things to say about my sister?’ Jasper, I think Morgan knows something.” I nod. “She knows a lot of things, and it’s like pulling teeth to get them out of her.”
“I found the same thing. And that’s exactly why I spent half the time we were talking staring at her desk.” He nods to a stack of mail and I step over to it.
An envelope sits on top addressed to Mabel Buttonwood. In the upper left-hand corner, there’s picture of the Liberty Bell drawn over the return address and it catches my eye.
Liberty Inheritance Disputes.
My lips part as I glance up at Jasper.
Acorn and Sherlock head this way barking and jumping, just as happy as can be.
It’s great to be home, Bizzy! Acorn chirps. We should visit more often.
They’ve got biscuits, Bizzy. Sherlock jumps over to Jasper and gets that scratch on the head Jasper always seems to provide. Biscuits that are just for dogs. And the best part? They taste like bacon.
“They got biscuits that taste like bacon.” I nod up at Jasper.
And before he can say a word, Mom yelps at me from the middle of the store with an armful of books and one sweet cat who looks as if she’s about to use my mother’s chest as a springboard.
Fish does just that as she runs right over to me and I scoop her up into my arms.
They’re all out of control, Bizzy. If we don’t leave soon, there won’t be enough books for anyone else.
“They’re buying out the store,” I say to Jasper before nodding back to the envelope we were looking at. “What do you think that means?”
“It might mean that Mabel was trying to dispute their father’s will.”
“Can we get a copy of the will?” I wince. “I feel bad for even asking. And there were just two of them, so you’d think it was an even split.”
He nods. “Probate wills are public record. I can head down to the county courthouse and check out the register of wills.”
“Sounds like we have a hot date, Detective.” I wave the books in my hands at him. “Let’s go pay for these.”
We head for the registers, along with Acorn and Sherlock, and about six different employees all stop Acorn to offer the curly-haired cutie a firm embrace.
Macy trots forward with a tower of books ready to topple from her arms and Jasper quickly comes to the rescue.
Fish meows at the sight. Books must be the people equivalent of catnip. I think I get it now.
“You’re so right,” I whisper into her cold little ear.
“Thanks,” Macy says, shoving the remainder of the books in her arms his way. “Now I can go back and get the rest. I’ll meet you at the register.”
“Geez,” I say, marveling at my sister’s sudden literary appetite. “Wow, that’s a lot of bare-chested men she’s got to plow through.”
“Funny,” Jasper flatlines as we land those paper treasures onto the counter and Morgan comes over to the register.
“I see you found everything,” she teases just as Georgie and my mother head this way.
“Not so fast.” Georgie spills about a dozen more books onto the counter. “I forgot my wallet back at the shop.” She pats Jasper on the shoulder. “How about doing your favorite friend a solid? I’ll send over a fresh tray of my special brownies.”
Brownies are Georgie’s catnip. Fish twitches her whiskers my way.
“You’re not that far off the mark with this one either,” I whisper.
“Brownies?” Jasper’s ear pique at the thought.
“You’re gonna thank me later.” She winks as she trots off to collect Acorn and Sherlock.
“Wait for me, Bizzy,” Mom calls out as she staggers this way with about ten paperbacks in her hands. “I couldn’t decide, so I’m getting them all.” She spills them onto the counter just as Macy comes back with another load of beefy men in her arms.
Macy’s face goes white once she sees all the books strewn across the counter. How much is a paperback again? “You know, I think I’d better grab a cup of coffee before we take off.” She zips out of sight before I can stop her.
“Well, Mom?” I tease. “Why don’t you make a run for it, too?”
“No can do.” She flashes her credit card at Morgan. “It’s a company card I got for my store. Since we’re doing a book club, this is all a write-off for me.”
Morgan quickly scans all the books and Jasper and I marvel at how fast the price tag hits four digits, but Mom doesn’t waver when handing over the plastic.
Morgan runs it through the scanner only to offer my mother a consolatory smile.
“I’m sorry, Ree. This card doesn’t seem to be going through. Do you have another one we can try?”
“Georgie?” Mom doesn’t hesitate looking over at the kaftan lover among us. “Why is our newly issued credit card already smoking?”
Fish ducks. I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact Georgie has been picking up some Fancy Beast for me.
“That’s the surprise I had for you,” Georgie calls out as she takes up Acorn and Sherlock’s leashes. “I just booked the same production company that was at the inn the other day. I had to pay an expediting fee to get to the front of the line, but great news, Prep. They’ll be at the store tomorrow. A half hour live segment, on the most coveted spot on the internet. Get ready for your close-up. And don’t worry. I bought up more ingredients for my special brownies. It’s all a write-off just like you told me.” She waves to Morgan. “I’ll be outside.”
Mom mumbles something about needing fresh air herself as she stalks off in that direction as well.
Jasper hands over his credit card and winces as the transaction goes through without a hitch.
Just our luck.
Morgan loads up two boxes and offers the assistance of a few employees, but Jasper insists on making a couple of trips.
“So will I see you tomorrow at the filming?” I ask, and Morgan takes a deep breath.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it. I’ve got so much to do around here.” Hollis Carrington is the last person I want to spend the afternoon with, at least not any more afternoons than I already have to. “Just to let you know, I’m planning a special tribute to my sister.” She shrugs as she gives a quick look around. “I’m doing one more taping of Murder, Mayhem, and Baking in a few days in her honor. It seems like something Mabel would have done for me.”
“I’m sure she would have. Why don’t you have it at the inn?”
Her mouth contorts as she considers it. “At the same place she died?”
I nod. “In a strange way, that might be healing.”
She hesitates with her answer. “I think you’re right. Okay, we’ll do it then. I’ll get the wheels in motion, and before you even ask, I’ll make sure all of our suspects are front and center. Who knows? That might just be our lucky day.”
“Here’s hoping.” I examine her for a moment. “Anything I should know about Hollis Carrington before I see her at my mother’s shop tomorrow?”
“No.” Her lips twist as she stares vacantly past me. “Not a single thing.” Let’s hope Hollis Carrington doesn’t share a single thing with Bizzy either.
Jasper walks back in and picks up the second box, and we take off into the snowy afternoon. Mom drives everyone else home, and the pets and I hitch a ride with Jasper.
She’s hiding something, Bizzy. I can feel it, Fish mewls.
I nod her way. “Who knew having the victim around to help solve the crime would only complicate things?”
Jasper sheds a short-lived smile my way. “Me.”
“I wish I was that intuitive. I guess I have to loosen up my skills.”
“You’re in luck. I cracked into the book as I was loading it into the car. After a special date with your special mate, you’re going to be plenty loose. Page fifty-three practically mandates it. Have I ever mentioned fifty-three is my favorite number?”
A dark laugh brews in my chest. “No, but suddenly I have a clear visual of what page fifty-three entails.”
Jasper and I head back to our cottage and work our way through that spicy manual.
Turns out, page fifty-three has us both feeling a lot more relaxed.
And yet long into the night my mind drifts back to Morgan Buttonwood.
Morgan, Morgan, what secret could you possibly be hiding now?
And I wonder exactly how deadly that secret might be.
Chapter 10
“Books are hardly consumables,” Mom points out while having her lipstick expertly applied by the makeup artist provided by Hollis Carrington’s production team.
Two Old Broads is filled to the brim with men and women dressed in black, setting up lights, trolleys, and positioning cameras in three different locations.
“They’re actually quite consumable,” I tell her. Jasper and I ate that heated romance how-to book last night as if it were our very last meal.
Fish mewls, Did you know they have a book out for cats? The tabby that came to the inn last week told me so herself. It has pictures of mice darting around the pages and she sits for hours just staring at it. I’d rather like that.
“Ohh,” I squeal. “I’ll pick that up for you right away,” I whisper, kissing the top of her he
ad.
Mom frowns over at me, and the makeup artist misses her upper lip by a mile. Speaking of the staff, Fern Tuttle has been running around like a production assistant with her head chopped off as she struggles to bring order to the chaos while carving out a cozy zone where these two old broads can hock their wares to unsuspecting viewers. But Hollis Carrington is a no-show so far. Hopefully, she’s just running a little late. I’m hoping to speak to the both of them before the day is through.
Mom sighs my way. “Honestly, Bizzy, I talk to my cats, too, but for some reason, you and Fish always seem to be having a two-way conversation going.”
Sherlock barks near her feet. Don’t forget about me.
“Oh you, too.” Mom gives Sherlock a pat on the back with her foot just as the makeup artist finishes up and takes off to spruce up Juni. “What do you think of this madness, Bizzy?”
“I think it’s madness.” I nod. “But hopefully the good kind that will translate into mad money. Any idea of what you’re going to do? What you’re going to talk about?”
“Are you kidding? That would take organization and planning. Something this one is actually allergic to.” She nods as Georgie runs up with a partially depleted tray of her magic brownies.
“Hey, good-lookin’”—Georgie thrusts the platter my way—“nosh on a few of these and I bet you’ll corner that handsome man of yours and demand a reread of that book you plowed through last night.” She offers me a brownie, and as tempted as I am, I’d better stay sharp as a tack if I want to grill Hollis. For some reason, alcohol, and I’m guessing other questionable mind-altering substances, only seem to magnify my supernatural quirk. The last time I found myself a little tipsy I ended up hearing everyone’s thoughts in what felt like a one-mile vicinity. It was a psychotic mess that I want no part in ever again.
“No thanks, Georgie,” I tell her. “How are you feeling? Are you nervous?”
“Are you kidding?” She takes a bite out of one of her brownies, and I won’t lie, it looks baked just the way I like it, a little crunchy on top and a little undercooked where it counts. “I’m mellow as can be. I shared the magic with the crew and they’re as mellow as can be, too. Hear that, Prep?” Georgie tries to entice my mother into gobbling down a few of her magical brownies but to no avail. “Everyone here is mellow except for you. Have a brownie before you sink this ship with that sourpuss of yours. One look into the camera and we may never see another customer again.”
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