“You look great today, Bizzy.” Her tone is curt and catches me off guard.
“Bizzy!” a female chirps my name from somewhere in this sea of madness, and before we know it, Camila pops up, looking all dolled up as if she were going to prom. And I’m betting she wants to take Morgan as her date so she can shake all of her social media secrets out of her.
“Mabel Buttonwood.” Camila’s chest bucks. “I’m so sorry about your loss. I was your sister’s biggest fan.” She quickly shakes Morgan’s hand. “I’m an up-and-coming vlogger myself. I just hired Hollis to shoot my very first show. I’ve been sort of a hit after I had a brief cameo in another show about a week ago. My life will never be the same. Fame and fortune are just within my grasp, I can see it now. Why don’t I tell you all about what I have planned for the future?” Camila navigates Morgan away, and I’m not too sorry about it. As soon as this taping wraps up, I’d like to have a word with that wily twin myself. Something is off, and I demand she outlines exactly what that might be.
I bump into a body and look up to find Colt Avian smiling down at me.
“Sorry, Bizzy. I swear I wasn’t trying to walk through you.”
“No worries. It’s not usually this crowded in here.” True as gospel. But if it were, I’d be the last to complain. “Colt, can I ask you a question? Did Morgan have any”—I give a quick glance over my shoulder—“psychiatric issues?”
He inches back as if I caught him off guard. “Not that I know of. And believe me, if either of the twins had issues, it would have been Morgan.” He glances out the window at the churning Atlantic. “But at the end of the day, they were both pretty sane.” It was me Morgan tried to stop from spiraling. And in a weird way, she did. I’m bent on living an honest life from here on out. I guess something good came out of us anyway. “Sorry I’m not much help.”
“Well, thank you, anyway,” I say. “I hope you enjoy the tribute.”
“I know I will. And right now, I’m going to enjoy a few of those cookies.” He winks as he takes off for the refreshment table.
At least Colt’s life is on the right trajectory now. I crane my neck for signs of Morgan once again, but instead I see my mother holding Fish while chatting with Juni, Georgie, and Macy by the refreshment table.
Colt doesn’t miss his chance as he walks over to my sister and offers her a snowball.
And there’s that.
Emmie heads this way with Sherlock Bones, Acorn, and Cinnamon by her side.
“Boy”—I say, giving both Acorn and Cinnamon a quick pat—“you really are twins.” I give Sherlock a quick scratch, too. “And you’re a one of a kind guy.”
“Speaking of one-offs.” Emmie leans in. “Those biscuits Georgie gave me yesterday were to die for!”
“Emmie,” I hiss without meaning to. “You ate them? Gah! I’m going to kill Georgie. Those were dog biscuits.”
“I know.” Her lips twist, and there’s more than a twinge of regret in her eyes. “She told me so herself. But I just had to try it and see what she was raving about. It turns out, she was right. They were better than some cookies meant for humans. And don’t worry. After the circus leaves town, I’m going to do my best to replicate the recipe.” She gasps as she looks to the door. “I gotta run.”
She takes off and I glance in the direction she’s zipped off to only to find Mayor Mackenzie Woods coming up on the scene.
Figures.
Emmie and Mack have reignited their friendship and left me in the alone-zone.
I give a quick glance around for Jasper.
He said he’d try to be back before the taping, but that they’re this close to nailing that drug ring, the Backwood Boys in Edison. And since he’s a part of the taskforce, he couldn’t take the afternoon off. He felt terrible about it, too.
In fact, he was so worried about me being in a room full of suspects he teased that I should arm myself with Thor.
Of course, I didn’t.
And after Morgan gave me a look that could kill just a few minutes ago, a part of me wishes I did have an arsenal of rubber bullets on hand and the weaponry to discharge them.
Hollis and Fern come this way with their heads knit together before they look up at me.
“How are you feeling, Bizzy?” Hollis offers a warm smile. “Don’t tell me the nerves have hit.”
“Not yet,” I say. “But I’m sure they’ll find me.” I take Hollis in with her blonde hair pulled back into a whippet of a ponytail. She’s clad in black and looks ever the Hollywood producer. “Thank you for shooting the other day at my mother’s shop. Business has skyrocketed and it hasn’t let up yet.”
“Oh, that’s so great to hear!” She glances back in their direction. “Now let’s get a good word in for your inn. And oddly, business has picked up for me, too. I’ve already got a few regular gigs out of it.” And thankfully, Camila is willing to pay the big bucks. It looks as if my ship isn’t sinking after all. “I’ll see you up front,” she says as she takes off for the kitchen.
Fern steps in with her crimson locks sitting in a topknot. “So? Did you find the dirt you were looking for on Mabel?” she whispers with a touch of glee in her eyes.
I frown over at her because I wasn’t trying to find dirt per se. I was trying to find evidence.
“No dirt,” I tell her. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know what kind of business Morgan had in Edison, do you?”
“Business?” Her clear green eyes widen a notch. “The only business Morgan had was the bookstore.”
“I’m sorry. I meant business as in the errands she was running there. I think she paid a visit to Edison fairly recently, right around the time of the killing, and I just wondered if that had anything to do with the tragedy.”
“Nope, sorry. I’m the one running to Edison all the time to see my boyfriend. She came with me once or twice, but Morgan pretty much hated that place.” The melee around us seems to hit fever pitch as we duck out of the way of a lighting apparatus being lifted overhead. “I’d better get to work. This is going to be one tear-jerker of an episode.” Who knows? I might even shed a few myself.
She takes off and I stand there in the center of this human hurricane wondering why nothing in this case is falling together.
One of the Buttonwood sisters wanted to sell that store. Jasper confirmed that the process had gotten as far as a formal appraisal. Maybe I can have Jasper track down the appraiser? I bet they’d know which sister they were dealing with.
I pull my phone out and the pictures from the accounting register pop up once again. I decide to scroll through them once more and pause when I get to the last month recorded.
Wait a minute. There are five one thousand dollar transactions written out separately from the daily total. And next to that, there’s something scrawled in pencil.
I expand my phone a bit, and I can make out the words used book box.
“Used books?” I whisper. For a thousand pops a box?
Acorn catches my eye from across the way, and something he mentioned the other night comes back to me. He said Mabel and Morgan argued about cooking the very same morning that Morgan asked Mabel to take over for her.
Cooking? As in cooking the books?
The scent of sugary perfume hits me, and I look up to see those rather angry violet eyes staring over at me once again.
“We need to talk,” Morgan says, nodding to the hallway, and I follow her out of the café and into the connecting lobby of the inn. “I know you broke into my store the other night. I have my own security cameras, Bizzy. They may not be fancy enough to alert the authorities to the fact I had trespassers, but they sure alerted me. And I’ve been fuming about it ever since. Start talking.”
“I, uh…” I wince. “Would you believe I had a hankering for a good cozy mystery?”
“No.” Her fists ball up and dig into her hips. “You’ve been looking for reasons to pin this on me. Haven’t you?”
My mouth opens and closes.
“Okay, so
maybe I was,” I snip right back. “But only because you gave me so many reasons to believe it could be true.”
“Like what?” she balks.
“Like the fact you or your sister was looking to sell the store. I found a letter from an attorney who specializes in estate disputes. And I have it on good authority that one of you went as far as hiring an appraiser.”
Her mouth falls open. “Boy, you really are good. But not good enough. Mabel and I hired that attorney together to fight Debra from demanding that we sell the place. And we were forced to hire that appraiser in the event we were forced to buy her out.”
“Who’s Debra?”
“Brenda’s daughter from another marriage.” A heavy sigh falls from her lips. “It was a money grab. Once my sister passed away, Debra called and apologized. She said she wouldn’t come after the store since that was the only thing I had left in the world. Brenda left her cash in a separate will. It was money that Brenda had left over from before she was married to my dad. My sister and I got an even split of everything he had. And we were on the same page regarding all of it. Anything else?” She juts her head my way as if she’s bested me.
“Why did you fake the fact Acorn might have poisoned himself with chocolate? You were the one who was supposed to be here that morning, not Mabel.”
She sucks in a quick breath and her eyes grow wide because she knows for a fact she’s just been caught.
A choking sound emits from her.
I lean in. “Did that little side trip have anything to do with a box of used books maybe?” I tease. “That’s right. I know all about the fact you’ve been cooking your books to the tune of one thousand dollars for a box of old paperbacks.”
“Oh no.” She closes her eyes. I should have told Bizzy everything from the start. Instead, I’ve been covering for Fern, and for what? I should never have let her introduce me to that idiot she’s dating. Helping out a friend, my foot. And here I thought I had taken care of it once and for all that morning.
“Fern?” I glance back toward the café. She has a boyfriend in Edison. Is that who Morgan went to see? It never occurred to me to ask where the money they were washing with those “used books” was coming from.
Was he bringing in the money?
My mind spins as I try to recall all of the conversations I’ve had with that woman.
The Merry Frog bounces through my mind.
The sign boasted that it was owned and operated by Native Americans. That picture of the heart-shaped leaf comes to mind and I gasp.
“Oh no.” I stagger toward the door to the café, and something Fern said to me over a week ago comes back like a punch to the gut. “Fern mentioned that her boyfriend was a member of the Backwood Boys. I thought it was a band. It’s a drug ring, isn’t it?” I look to Morgan and her eyes lock with mine. “It’s true then,” I pant. “And it’s the same drug ring Jasper is working to crack down on.” I quickly shoot him a text to get to the inn because I think I have all the answers we were looking for and then some.
“Bizzy”—Morgan steps in front of me, and I look up to meet with those angry eyes once again—“I think we both know what happened to my sister.”
I take a deep breath. “There’s only one way to confirm it. Jasper is on his way. As soon as he gets here we can—”
“I’m not waiting for Jasper,” she seethes. “I’m not waiting for anyone.” She zips back into the café and I speed right in after her.
It looks as if this tribute is about to have a killer ending—and not one that the killer would have hoped for.
Now to see if we’re right.
Chapter 16
It takes less than a moment for Morgan to navigate Fern Tuttle out of the café and onto the back patio that butts up to the cove. The clouds hang dark and heavy overhead, and in the distance the ocean churns unrelenting, unrepentant, as the icy air sears us from every angle.
Acorn, Sherlock, and Fish all swooped out the door right along with us, and now each one of us is shivering at the edge of our proverbial seats, wondering what will happen next.
Fish yowls and I scoop her into my arms. Which one is the killer, Bizzy? Wait, don’t tell me. I think I’ll sit back and enjoy this little bit of live theater.
Acorn barks. It’s not Morgan. She wouldn’t harm a hair on her sister’s head. She loved her. I loved Mabel, too. If Fern did this, she’ll have me to deal with.
Sherlock lets out a quick bark as well. I’ll be right there with you, he says with a small growl emitting from him as he looks to the redhead before us.
“What’s going on?” Fern looks from Morgan to me with a rife look of concern on her face. That topknot of hers has dislodged, and her hair whips around her face in shards as she hugs herself in an attempt to keep warm. “Oh no, you’re backing out, aren’t you?” Her expression becomes quickly subdued to that of sorrow. “I get it. Morgan was your sister. This is all too soon. The killer is still out there. And you’re probably worried Hollis will be anxious to charge you for this. I’ll take care of everything, Mabel. And I’ll always be there for you. No matter how alone you might feel in this world, know that you will always have me.” Her chest bucks as her eyes glitter with tears. “I mean every last word.”
Sadly, I think she does.
“Fern”—I take a step toward her—“what was happening between you and Morgan before she died? Why were you so upset with her?”
Morgan shoots me a sharp look, but I shake my head her way just slightly, hopeful that she’ll let me run the very last mile of my investigation.
Fern blinks back. “Morgan and I were fine. Just the night before, I stopped by her place with a fresh baked batch of chocolate muffins. We talked and laughed and had a good time as we outlined the show for the next day.”
A choking sound comes from Morgan. “The muffins—they were poisoned, weren’t they?”
Acorn barks. I knew it! I knew those muffins were bad. Morgan tried to pick one up and I knocked it out of her hand.
Fish mewls, Sherlock would have probably let you eat it, Bizzy. And then he would have eaten the rest of them before taking off and looking for bacon.
Would not! Sherlock barks it out quickly. Besides, if anything happened to Bizzy, I don’t think I could stomach to look at bacon again.
I bite my lip to keep from cooing at the sweet sentiment.
“What?” Fern jerks as if Morgan had struck her, or more to the point, as if she had been caught. “Mabel, I think you should go now. I’ll take care of everything on this end.” She looks my way and shakes her head. “We might need to get some help for the poor thing. This sounds an awful lot like paranoia to me.”
“Paranoia?” Morgan balks at the idea. “Try honesty. Come to think of it, I still have those muffins lying around. And thank God I didn’t take a single bite. But you kept begging me to try them. You kept raving about how delicious they were. You said you ate two on the way over in the car. When I offered you one, you said you were too full to take another bite.” She closes in on the woman. “It was all a load of bull.”
Fern turns her head to the side, her eyes still very much pinned on Morgan’s as she attempts to process it all.
“Why are you talking like this, Mabel? You weren’t anywhere near Morgan’s place that afternoon.”
“Because I’m not Mabel,” she hisses, and it feels as if the world, the wind, and all of our hearts come to a standstill.
A strange wheezing sound emits from Fern as her eyes enlarge with horror and her skin turns a deep shade of plum.
“That’s not true.” Her voice begins to shake as she glances my way. “I think you’re right, Bizzy. The other night at Fae Gardens you implied there might be psychiatric issues at play here. I think that’s exactly what we’re witness to.”
“Excuse me?” Morgan grouses as she gives me an incredulous look.
“I had heard rumors.” I shake my head. “I drove to Glimmerspell to ask Fern if she knew anything about them and she said she didn’t.�
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Morgan gives a long blink. “Well then, let me dispel them for you both. From the time my sister, Mabel, was young, she thought she could see imaginary people. It was just a game she played. When she said she could see our dead mother at the Book Barn, my father and our stepmother grew worried. They had her evaluated. That was the end of that. Nothing came of it.” Mabel learned to keep her mouth shut about it. With the exception of me, of course. So what? My sister had a knack for seeing a ghost or two. It’s hardly a reason to discredit her sanity, and I won’t stand around and let Bizzy or Fern do exactly that.
She saw ghosts?
That’s a known trait of some of the transmundane. There are many odd supernatural quirks that fall under the transmundane umbrella, and seeing the dead is very much one of them. I have a friend out in Vermont who happens to be supersensual—and the supersensual see ghosts indeed.
Fern shakes her head. “What’s happening here?” She looks my way. “Bizzy? You’re not buying any of this, are you?”
“I’m afraid I am, Fern. You see, that night after the murder, I received a knock on my door. It was Morgan Buttonwood telling me that she and her sister had switched places for the day and that someone had murdered Mabel thinking it was her. She asked me to step in and help her solve the case.” I glance to Morgan. “And I think we’ve come to the finish line of that case, together.”
“Oh?” Fern looks mildly amused. “So you know who the killer is?”
“Yes,” I say, looking right into Fern Tuttle’s clear green eyes. “It’s you.”
A choking laugh emits from her, but I hold up a finger and stop her cold.
“You wanted Morgan dead, but it had nothing to do with the fact you were hoping Morgan would put in a good word for your band on her show. It’s because your boyfriend Richie—is that what you said his name is? He’s a part of a drug ring known as the Backwood Boys.” My chest rattles with a dull laugh. “I thought it was a bluegrass band, and here it was something far more nefarious than anything I could imagine.”
A Winter Tail of Woe Page 14