Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3

by Shawn McGuire

“I will. Promise.”

  “River and I will be putting primer on the walls today.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  I gave Tavie and the girls goodbye hugs and asked them to keep me up to date on Silence’s progress. Tavie assured me she would. Then Meeka and I rushed over to Flavia’s street.

  Flavia’s witchy-looking cottage was right on the corner. Probably not originally positioned so she could stay on top of her neighbors’ comings and goings, but it worked out that way. The other homes on the street were all different in structure, but all of the exteriors were either stucco with wood trim and thatched roofs or simple dark-stained wood like Flavia’s.

  I parked on the dirt road just before the bridge over the creek and immediately got an idea of what the neighbor lady had been talking about. A group of three guys, led by Brady Higgins, were parading up and down the street, loudly proclaiming that, “The people have had enough. It’s time to take back the village.”

  “What exactly do you mean by that, Brady?” I called out, startling him and causing him to jump.

  The color drained from his face when he saw me, and he stammered, “The village isn’t safe. There’s been too much death.” He looked at the neighbors who had come out onto their front porches. “There’s a dark cloud hanging over us. We all feel it.”

  I couldn’t decide if his words were rehearsed or simply repeated too many times. In particular, I found the phrase “dark cloud” especially notable. It’s exactly the one Sugar used when she told me she thought the drama here was my fault.

  “Tell me,” I moved closer to the trio, “what’s the plan?”

  A frown creased Brady’s forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, most people who are unhappy about something have an idea of what they’d prefer. What’s your plan to blow away this dark cloud?” Flavia, or possibly Sugar, must have put him up to this. Brady wasn’t an activist, just a bored villager looking for a little excitement. After half a minute without a response from him, I said, “Brady, it’s Sunday morning of Thanksgiving weekend. People are spending time with family and trying to relax.”

  Someone from one of the nearby houses called out, “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  Brady set his jaw and pushed his shoulders back. “I have the right to speak my mind.”

  The men with him replied with nods of agreement.

  “You do have the right to your opinions, but you don’t have the right to disturb people this way. Tell you what, why don’t you arrange a village meeting? Laurel will probably let you hold it in The Inn’s dining room. Sugar will surely provide scones and cookies. You can design, print, and hand out flyers. Make sure you put one on the commons’ message board.”

  The more I spoke, the twitchier Brady became.

  “I like this idea,” I continued. “People who share your concerns can gather in one place and discuss a solution. Those who are fine with things as they are won’t be disturbed. Make sure you invite me. I’m more than willing to come and talk to people. I’d like to know what folks are unhappy about.” I paused as though ticking off items on a mental checklist. “It’ll be a lot of work, but you’re clearly passionate about this.”

  Brady took a few steps closer to me and leaned in. “This wasn’t really my idea.”

  “I know that,” I said, matching his confidential tone. “Let me guess, Flavia recruited you to stir the pot, so to speak?”

  He didn’t respond, but he did glance past me, presumably at Flavia’s cottage.

  “Go on home, Brady. You two as well,” I told his friends. “You’re upsetting people.”

  Flavia came storming out of her cottage then. “They have a right—”

  I held a hand out to her. “You’re a little late for that argument. Your neighbors don’t want to be bothered this way. No one cares if you and your group want to discuss problems, just do it in an organized, non-invasive fashion. Call a meeting. Don’t bother people in their homes.”

  “Why is it okay for her to bother people?” Flavia pointed past me with a bony finger. I turned to see Reeva carrying a large wicker basket.

  “She’s not bothering us,” a neighbor called.

  “Of course, I’m not,” Reeva said as she got close to us. “Since I’ve decided to stay in the village permanently, I need to start earning a little money. I’m thinking about opening a business.” She pulled back a black cloth covered with crescent moons and stars to reveal an assortment of chocolates. “Would you care for a sample?”

  “I told you before, you can’t trust her,” Flavia hissed. “She always comes across as the innocent one, but she’s not the victim here. It’s all an act. She probably put something in those candies.”

  I blinked at her. “You’re sounding a little paranoid, Flavia. Why would she do that?”

  “Oh, in the name of the Goddess.” Reeva blindly chose two candies from the basket and shoved them in her mouth and chewed, her cheeks bulging. “If I’d put something in them, would I do that?”

  “Easy enough to deflect a hex off yourself,” Flavia sniffed.

  Reeva laughed. “That’s absurd. I’ve done what I came to do, which was to hand out samples, and I’m leaving now.” She turned to the gathering neighbors. “I’ve got oils and vinegars infusing with herbs. I’ll have samples for you tomorrow.”

  While Flavia followed her sister down the street, continually hurling insults at her, a woman waved me over.

  “See what I mean?” It was the woman who had called me, her deep voice instantly familiar. Although, I had a hard time reconciling it with her plump and petite frame. She introduced herself as LaVonne LeBeau. “If it’s not Flavia having people warn us about the impending doom of the village, it’s her arguing with her sister about . . . anything.”

  “How often does that happen? The arguing, I mean.”

  “Feels like every day lately. Reeva has been bringing around samples of things she’s considering selling in her shop. Today it’s chocolates. The salted caramel is fantastic. Yesterday it was yummy little meat pies that were three bites big. She claims that’s all you need to get a good taste of something. I wanted more than three bites, though. A few days ago, it was just enough premeasured ingredients and instructions to make four spice muffins. Tomorrow, oils and vinegars.” LaVonne smiled and shook her head. “Problem is, the poor dear is good at too many things. She can’t decide what kind of shop to open. Something food-related, for sure. She’s such a talented kitchen witch.”

  I seemed to remember Gran saying in one of her journals that Reeva was good at anything she touched, while Flavia struggled with everything. “Is this why you asked me to come over?”

  She gave an embarrassed smile. “Guess that was a little extreme. We could have confronted Brady on our own. It’s just that Flavia has been so unusual lately, we didn’t know what might happen next.”

  I stopped myself from pointing out that Flavia was always unusual and instead asked, “What’s been going on?”

  “Well, there’s the whole the village is going to hell in a handbasket thing.” LaVonne sighed. “I think that’s crazy talk. I mean, those of us who have been here for any length of time know weird things were going on well before you got here.”

  I nodded my thanks. “How long have you been here?”

  “Twenty-five years. I met my husband in college. We’re both computer programmers. His parents are Wiccan and moved here when he was a toddler. They passed on years ago and left the house to him. I love it here. Weird stuff or not. Besides that, there’s the constant harassment of poor Reeva who’s just trying to find her way. I mean, hasn’t she been through enough? And there’s also the man who’s been hanging around her place.”

  A chill ran through me. “A man? At Flavia’s cottage?”

  Atkins said she let them in. Maybe she had Donovan hidden somewhere or shoved him out the back door when the deputies entered.

  “I don’t know what they’re doing in there,” LaVonne said with a slightly scandalous
tone, “but he’s been here for days. First time I noticed him was Wednesday night. He comes and goes, but I never see them together.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Tall.” She held her arm straight up, her hand hovering about a foot above her head, which put this guy at more than six feet. “He wore a brown leather blazer, and those sunglasses pilots like. Oh, a white Vikings cap.” She curled her lip and flashed me the Packers T-shirt beneath her red fleece jacket.

  This matched Tripp’s description of the man at the station.

  Donovan was staying with Flavia? That actually made sense. I suspected her of colluding with Donovan starting back at the incident with my grandmother.

  I pulled myself back before I headed down that rabbit hole. “Did you see the man’s face at all?”

  LaVonne thought and then shook her head. “No, I never got a look at his face. I only saw him from the side. But his hair was medium-brown. Cut short on the sides but sort of curly on top.” She twirled her fingers near the top of her head.

  Short brown hair? That didn’t fit. Donovan had white hair, always pulled back in a ponytail. Unless he changed it.

  I pushed my shoulders back in a stretch and became very aware of the hag stone on the chain beneath my shirt. Did that mean I was closing in on the truth? Brown hair, leather blazer, aviator glasses. Oh my god.

  “You said you saw him from the side. Did you by any chance notice a scar on his right cheek? It would’ve been fairly long.” I indicated an arching line running from mid-cheekbone to my chin.

  A jagged scar across a smooth plane, according to Lily Grace.

  “Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” LaVonne squeezed her eyes shut, trying to picture him, then shook her head. “Maybe. Do you know this guy?”

  “I might.” But it couldn’t be him. Why would he be in Whispering Pines? Even if he was in the village, why would he be with Flavia?

  I swear, the hag stone was getting warm. Uncomfortably so. I tugged on the chain, pulling out the cluster, and held the stone. On a whim, I raised it to look through the hole the way Mallory did but before I could, a man appeared on Flavia’s front porch. The exact person I’d been thinking of. My ex-partner, Randy Ketchum.

  Chapter 27

  I could hardly believe it. I hadn’t seen Randy in nearly a year. He looked awful. He’d lost probably twenty-five pounds, and he had always looked to me like he could stand to gain five. The weight loss combined with the circles beneath his eyes gave him a skeletal look. Even more upsetting than his presence was that he did not look happy to see me.

  “Ketch? What are you doing here?” I meant specifically Flavia’s house but also the village in general.

  “I’m here for the anniversary. You know what this weekend is, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “It’s been a year already. Can you believe that?”

  “I do know. I’ve been thinking about Frisky a lot.” As we talked about this very personal event, my vision tunneled to just Randy. Flavia and her neighbors seemed to vanish around me.

  “A whole year.” He paced the width of Flavia’s creepy cottage with the same kind of twitchy movements of a crack addict needing a fix.

  “But why are you here?” I asked again, grappling for some sort of solid ground here.

  “To find you, of course. Who better to understand the significance than you?”

  “When did you get here?”

  He shrugged. “A few days ago.”

  “A few days? Why didn’t you come find me?”

  “Guess you could say I’ve been working on a project.”

  He took a white cap from his jacket pocket and tugged it over his head. I froze. My mind didn’t want to accept it, but there was only one explanation—Randy had left the cards and threatened my boyfriend. And me.

  “Ketch, did you leave those envelopes?”

  “You got them?” This excited him, as though he’d been worried maybe I hadn’t. “I know you got the one in the pub Thursday night. I saw you open it.” He laughed and slapped his hand on the porch railing. “The look on your face. I can’t believe you didn’t see me in there. I was sitting two tables away. Sounds like Flavia is right. Your skills are slipping.”

  Nothing about this fit together. He was here because of the anniversary, that much made sense, but how did he end up with Flavia? How did they even know about each other? Had Reed betrayed my confidence?

  No. More likely, Sheriff Brighton had relayed everything I’d said about my position with Madison PD and my partnership with Randy to Flavia. Had she contacted Randy?

  All of that could wait. I needed to focus on the immediate problem.

  “What do you think I did, Ketch?”

  He went from laughing to dead serious in a blink. “You read the third card. You ruined my life. That’s what you did.”

  “But how? What did I do?”

  Then, as though we were old friends who met on the street and were catching up on news, he said, “You remember that Elena and I weren’t doing so good, right?”

  That was an understatement. They were a train wreck. He’d been on the edge over his failing marriage for months and had a huge fight with Elena before coming to work the day he shot Frisky. Elena threatened to leave him, and he was sure she’d be gone before he got home that night. It was a perfect storm kind of day. Frisky’s erratic behavior was the tipping point for him. He should’ve called in sick. Or just not showed up for work at all. That would’ve resulted in a simple disciplinary meeting with Captain Grier.

  “We tried the counseling stuff,” Ketch continued. “That didn’t work. It came down to what she’d been saying all along. She just didn’t want to be a cop’s wife anymore.”

  “Was there someone else?” I cringed as soon as the words were out of my mouth. The last thing I wanted was to escalate the emotions of an already upset man by insinuating his wife had been having an affair.

  “You know, I wondered the same thing.” His expression darkened. “She’s got someone new now but swears there wasn’t anyone before. I believe her. We’re at the point where we don’t need to lie to each other anymore.” I was about to say that was promising news when he added, “If we want to hurt each other, the truth works way better.”

  My heart sunk. He really loved Elena and was crazy about his kids. “Are you officially split up then?”

  “The divorce was final in August. She took the kids but didn’t want the house.” He made a disgusted tsk sound. “I don’t want the house either. Needs more work than I can afford to do to it. Not sure I could even pay off the loan if I sold it as is.” He shrugged. “Half my paycheck goes to Elena every month, so I can’t make my mortgage payments anyway. The bank will likely make the decision on what I get to do with it soon.”

  “Are you still with the department?”

  He looked at me like he couldn’t grasp the question. “You didn’t keep track of your brothers at all after you walked out, did you? Remember how you went into Captain Grier’s office that day, spewing your version of the events, all full of confidence and righteousness?”

  I remembered going into the captain’s office, but it wasn’t due to righteousness. It was because I couldn’t handle the harassment from my so-called brothers anymore. They kept warning me . . . no, threatening me to not say anything, insisting I needed to keep my lips zipped and stand by my partner. In other words, blame everything on Frisky. I went into Captain Grier’s office to quit that day but ended up doing exactly what they’d all warned me not to.

  “Grier called me in the day after you left,” Randy continued, “and recommended that I look for another line of work. He didn’t want to risk the scandal the news of a cop shooting an unarmed woman would bring to the precinct.” He locked his eyes on mine. It was the same threatening look the other cops had been giving me. “Even though my mistake was completely understandable.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he always wore. It would be late May, far too warm for leath
er, and he’d still have that thing on. My gut told me to be on guard. Those pockets were plenty deep enough to hold a handgun.

  “Understandable? Ketch, you knew Frisky as well as I did. You knew she wouldn’t have hurt you. There’s no way she would’ve had a weapon on her. Frisky was the biggest pacifist out there.”

  “Looked to me like she had a weapon.”

  “It was her cell phone.” The memory of those fateful moments was forever burned into the front of my brain. “She had her phone in her hand. She’d been looking at pictures of her brother and her nephew. It was the anniversary of their deaths.”

  One had died that day, the other the next. And now it was the anniversary of hers as well. So damn much unnecessary death.

  “Elena won’t let me see my kids anymore. Not for even an hour on Thanksgiving. Not even in public. She thinks I’ll hurt them.”

  The pained look on his face was heartbreaking. Ketch had been a good man, and a really good cop, who’d gotten off track. The pressure of supporting a family on a cop’s salary got to be too much. I liked Elena, she was a nice woman, but she had champagne and caviar taste.

  Ketch pulled one hand out of his pocket and put it over his eyes, the other still buried deep in the other pocket. When he covered his eyes, I unhooked and removed my gun from its holster. Prepared for whatever might come next.

  “Sounds like you still need some help, Ketch. I know how devastating breakups can be.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He laughed and dropped his hand. His eyes went straight to the weapon at my side. “I heard you broke things off with that whiner Jonah after you quit. Good for you.” He gave me a nod and a wink. “Did you like the picture I took of your new guy? What’s his name? Tripper Bennett?”

  My blood ran cold. “What do you think I did, Ketch? How did I ruin your life?”

  “You’re not listening.” He threw his arm out wide to the side, like a gangster. “I just told you. I lost my job because of you. I’m working at the corner convenience store now making minimum wage because of you. Elena didn’t want to be a cop’s wife anymore, but me losing my job was the last nail in the coffin for her. She took my kids and takes half my teeny tiny paycheck. No wonder she had to hook up with someone else. My support won’t buy squat for our kids.” He paused and then his voice broke when he said, “I can’t support my family. I got no job, no wife, no life, and it’s all because of you.”