Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3

by Shawn McGuire

  “Why?”

  “The anniversary of the shooting . . . You’re aware of what I’m talking about?”

  Reed gave a crisp nod. “I am.”

  “Of course you are.” Randy glared at me again.

  “Let me guess,” Reed began. “The anniversary was coming up and things were getting worse and worse for you. You decided Sheriff O’Shea was causing all your problems, so you needed to cut off the head of the snake.”

  “Snake.” Randy chuckled. “Perfect way to put it.”

  “You said the anniversary brought you here. What happened when you arrived in the village?”

  “Ms. Reed said there was only one coffee shop here and that she’d meet me there. I was to come in, ask about finding the sheriff, and she would initiate contact with me.”

  It’s like they were playing spy games. Stranger comes to town, orders a coffee, says the code word “sheriff,” and chaos ensues.

  “How did you end up staying at her place?” Reed asked. “Was that the plan all along?”

  “No. When we met at the coffee shop, she said if I had nowhere else to stay, I could stay in her guest room. You’d have to ask her why. I planned to stay at the hotel at the edge of town.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d save some money and take her up on her offer.”

  Even if we got an explanation from Flavia for why she’d invited him into her home, it would surely only make sense to her.

  “By the way,” Randy continued, “Ms. Reed had no knowledge of what I was planning to do. She only knew that I was coming to the village to see O’Shea. She didn’t know about the cards or my plans for Mr. Bennett.”

  I didn’t know if he would’ve hurt Tripp or not, but my blood ran cold. Either way, I’d heard enough. If I stayed in the room any longer, I’d do something I’d get in trouble for.

  I waited in my office for Deputy Atkins to return, for the third time in two days, to take yet another criminal away from Whispering Pines. I thanked him and promised to not call him again for at least twenty-four hours.

  “I’m just glad we got the guy,” he said. “This guy was your partner?”

  I nodded. That made two people in a row I thought I could trust who had betrayed me.

  “You okay?”

  “As okay as I can be,” I answered.

  Once they’d left, I was ready to go home. Reed had different plans, though.

  “I’m going to hang out here for a bit and catch up on the things I’ve ignored for the last month.”

  “It’s been slow. You haven’t missed much.”

  Embarrassed, he avoided looking at me as he said, “I’ll be heading back to Green Bay when I finish here. Classes start again tomorrow. I won’t be back for a couple weeks since I made so much progress on my cottage, but I’ve got a long break for Yule. I promise to be available whenever you need me.”

  “Good. You may want to talk with your mother and aunt at some point too.”

  He nodded but didn’t otherwise acknowledge the advice.

  Meeka and I left Reed to do his thing. I put out a call via walkie-talkie asking if anyone knew where Lily Grace was. That led me to the massive deck behind Grapes, Grains, and Grub to take care of one last bit of business before heading home.

  “Isn’t it a little chilly to be sitting outside?” I asked the teen.

  She was settled into what Maeve called The Love Nest, a raised platform at the very back of the deck that was only big enough for two people. She was once again staring intently at her laptop.

  “It wasn’t bad when the sun was shining on me.” She pointed at the outdoor heater standing next to her. “I convinced Maeve to let me drag that out here. I was trying to find someplace I could be alone that also had internet connection.”

  “Sorry. You’re still looking at veterinary schools?”

  “I am. Don’t tell anyone, but I think I’m going to do like Jola did and go to school, then come back here once I have my degree. Igor might be ready to retire from the circus by then.”

  “I like that idea. But you do come from a long line of fortune tellers. Don’t you think they’ll know about your plan before you tell them?”

  She sighed. “That’s always a possibility. Did you want something?”

  I sat across from her. “I need you to contact someone for me.”

  “Like a séance?”

  “However you do it.” As Reed was booking Ketch, it became clear to me how I needed to resolve this issue in my life. It wasn’t Ketch I needed to close the loop with. It never was. “Her name is Frisky Fox. I need to ask for her forgiveness.”

  Lily Grace closed her laptop and placed her hands on the table, palms up. I placed my hands over hers, and a few minutes later, I had Frisky’s response.

  “She says,” Lily Grace began in her trance voice, “that you don’t need her forgiveness. She never held you responsible. She says you need to forgive yourself.”

  That would be a lot harder. The Frisky loop was almost closed, and at least now I knew which direction to head in to seal it completely. Sometimes that was half the battle.

  ~~~

  As I pulled into my spot next to the garage, I was surprised to find River sitting on the front porch. He was lounging in a pair of paint-splattered black khakis and black canvas work jacket, enjoying the trees and cool air.

  “Where’s Tripp?” I asked.

  “We completed our daily task an hour ago, and he requested a reprieve from manual labor for the remainder of the day.”

  “What’s he doing? Is he inside?”

  “He was inside last I knew. What he’s doing, I cannot say. He did mention taking a short walk along the lakeshore so he may be out for a stroll.” River patted the Adirondack chair next to him. “Please, sit with me a moment.” As I did, he said, “Morgan has requested that the three of us join her and Briar for dinner this evening. We are welcome at any time, but I wish to speak with you before we go.”

  “This sounds serious.” As I settled into the chair and covered my legs with the blanket River offered me, Meeka ran laps around the football-field-sized front yard.

  “Serious only in that I am concerned about you, Proprietress. You’ve had a great deal placed on your shoulders, have you not?”

  The last thing I expected was a guidance pep talk from River Carr. Equally unexpected were the tears that suddenly started streaming down my face. Humiliated, I tried to wipe them away, but they wouldn’t stop. “Sorry.”

  “There is no need to apologize.” He touched the back of my hand resting on the chair’s arm with the tips of his fingers. “Perhaps expressing these burdens will help.”

  Like Tavie, there was something about him that made me want to do exactly that, to tell him about my burdens. The melodic soothing baritone of his voice, his calm manner, the intensity of his dark eyes, it was all so hypnotic. Unlike Tavie, I didn’t feel the need to hold back with him.

  “I’m just trying to do my job. Everything started out fine here. I was able to solve the murders of Yasmine Long and the two carnies up at the circus. Since then, though, it feels like with every step forward, something drags me back two. And now some of the villagers are turning against me. If it’s not problems with tourists, it’s ghosts from my own life coming back to haunt me. And the fact that Tripp and I are—” I paused to get control over my suddenly quivering voice. “The fact that we’re fighting makes everything harder. I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re not exactly getting along.”

  “It’s been difficult not to since I reside in your house.” He touched my hand again, to make sure he had my attention this time. “If it is any consolation, he is equally distressed by this turn of events.”

  I nodded and looked across the yard at the towering pines. “I feel like I was brought to this village for a reason. You know? Of course you do. You were too. I thought I knew what that purpose was, but I seem to be failing at everything I try. The one thing I’ve always been able to depend on is my instinct, but that seems to be failing me too. That lea
ves me with no idea what to believe. I mean, what if I’ve been wrong all along? Maybe my purpose was simply to come and get the house ready for sale like my parents wanted me to. Maybe Whispering Pines is meant to dissolve.”

  “Lady Jayne—”

  “River, please.” Even his chivalrous formality was stressing me lately. “Just Jayne.”

  “Very well. Jayne, I agree with you. I also believe you were summoned to this village for a purpose. That means you are fully qualified to fulfill that purpose.” He paused to let that sink in. “The burdens upon you may be many, but they would not even be placed upon you if you were not capable of managing them.”

  In a very Whispering Pines sort of way, that made all kinds of sense.

  “Oftentimes,” he continued, “just as we feel we are coming to the conclusion of a task, we find there is still far more to do or something altogether new to accomplish.”

  “A speedbump?” At his confused look, I explained, “Briar says that just when we think the road is clear, the Universe tosses in a speedbump.”

  He considered this and nodded. “A fine way of looking at it. Rest assured, I have yet to see a speedbump so tall as to be impassable. And I drive a car with very low ground clearance.”

  I laughed at that. It felt good. “So suck it up and keep moving forward?”

  He winked, his dark eyes gleaming. “Suck it up, Proprietress.”

  We watched Meeka drag herself back to the house. Her non-stop laps had finally worn her out.

  “River?”

  “Yes, Jayne.”

  “I think you were summoned here to do more than be with Morgan.”

  He looked pleased with this. “Are you implying I have offered comfort?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m implying.”

  “Most excellent.”

  Suddenly, a night with the Barlows sounded like exactly what I needed.

  “I’m going to go change out of my uniform,” I told him. “I’ll be ready for a night with the witches in a few minutes.”

  “Very well. I will locate Tripp.” He opened the front door for me, and as our paths diverged at the stairway, he said, “I nearly forgot. You are to wear something warm.”

  ~~~

  Before we left, I gave Tripp the ten-minute recap on everything that had happened over the last few days. I started with how I arrested the three vigilantes, moved on to why I stayed at the station to sketch last night, and blew him away by explaining that Randy was the one who’d been delivering the envelopes.

  “Everything,” I concluded, “to my knowledge, is back under control. The only issue is Flavia, but she’s always an issue and not a direct threat.”

  At least I was pretty sure she wasn’t a threat. She convinced others to do her dirty work.

  Tripp sat without speaking on the foot of our bed the entire time, taking in every word. I waited a few seconds to see if he’d respond, but he remained mute.

  “We can talk about this later if you want,” I offered and waited for some kind of a response. “Have you got anything to say before we go?”

  With hands folded in his lap, he looked up at me. “How did you decide on sketching for a hobby?”

  I burst out laughing and then started crying.

  He jumped to his feet and hugged me. “We’ll talk more. I have a lot of questions, but for now, I’m glad you were able to wrap things up.” He leaned back to look at my tear-streaked face. “Are you okay?”

  “Shook up. Shocked to be threatened by someone else I knew and trusted. I’ll be okay, though.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m fine. Always am. Let’s go do something normal.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Normal? You remember that we’re going to the Barlows’, right?”

  Chapter 30

  Meeka started whining when I slowed the Cherokee as we pulled up to Morgan and Briar’s cottage. She was prancing her paws to be let out when I opened the back door.

  “Little excited to see Pitch?” I teased.

  She barked and pushed on the cage with her head.

  “Okay, go play.”

  She burst out when the door was halfway open. Barking excitedly, she ran to the edge of the yard and slid between the bare bushes that lined the massive Barlow garden.

  River knocked on the front door, and we were greeted first by Morgan and then by the mouthwatering aroma of Briar’s cooking.

  “Blessed be,” Morgan greeted. “Come on in. Mama says dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

  She offered us chalices of mulled cranberry cider, patting her growing baby belly and assuring us it was alcohol-free when she sipped some herself.

  “We want you to keep your wits about you tonight,” Briar said, stirring at a cauldron of something bubbling on the stove. “Therefore, no booze.”

  Tripp and I looked at each other, and he asked me, “Why do I think we’re being set up for something?”

  “Because you know the Barlows well?” I suggested.

  Waving off our offer to assist with dinner, Morgan asked if River and Tripp would help with something in the atrium.

  I could see myself spending all winter in that room if I lived here. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in sunlight that promised to keep the room warm and cozy even on the chilliest days. Maybe they’d let me come sit here and practice sketching. Between that and testing out the loom at The Twisty Skein, spring and the accompanying flood of tourists would be here before I knew it.

  As we entered the atrium, I immediately noticed dozens of plants in pots gathered on the heavy wood table that served as both a potting station and altar.

  “Wow,” Tripp said. “Impressive collection.”

  “Mama has a special touch with her potted beauties.” Morgan smiled at the display. “She likes to gather the bloomers in one spot.”

  “Lady Briar has a special touch with everything,” River said, his gaze locked on Morgan.

  Already glowing from pregnancy hormones, the blush on Morgan’s cheeks from his words made her even more beautiful.

  She pointed out a Christmas cactus covered in orange-red blossoms. A shamrock plant with deep-purple triangular leaves and tiny five-petaled pink flowers with white centers.

  “Are these African violets?” Tripp inspected a collection of plants with velvety leaves and clusters of purple, pink, purple and white, or pink and white flowers. When Morgan nodded, he said, “Thought so. My aunt grows African violets. She has a huge bay window full of nothing but them.”

  At his nostalgic expression, I made a mental note to remind him to invite them for a visit. Other than a dozen or so bookings between now and New Year’s, we had plenty of time to entertain.

  “We need these two large potted trees to be placed onto plant dollies,” Morgan explained. “They always seem to want to be someplace other than where we put them. This way, we can move them easily.”

  While Tripp and River took care of that, I asked her, “What’s going on?”

  “I’m pregnant and not supposed to lift heavy items.”

  “Not the plants. This whole evening. Why are we supposed to keep our wits about us? And don’t think I haven’t noticed the full moon.”

  “Isn’t it glorious.” She clasped her hands together, her multitude of silver rings clicking as she did.

  “You’re ignoring my question.”

  “Answers will come in due time.” At my impatient expression, she added, “Relax and enjoy the evening, Jayne. Mama has prepared French onion soup, pot roast with carrots and mashed potatoes, and individual molten lava cakes for dessert.”

  My mouth watered a little. “Sounds like comfort food.”

  Morgan gave a happy sigh. “You’ll love it.”

  And we did. The soup broth was salty, and the Gruyere cheese on top gooey. The meat fork tender. The little warm cakes rich and decadent.

  “Most excellent meal, Lady Briar.” River pushed back from the table once we were all finished. “Allow Tripp and me to clean up.”
r />   Tripp started gathering dishes. “I’ll be needing that soup recipe. If you’re willing to share, that is.”

  “I could be persuaded.” Briar tapped her cheek and tilted it up to Tripp for a kiss. Grinning and satisfied with her payment, she said, “I’ll jot it down for you.”

  As the guys washed the dishes, Briar copied the soup recipe onto a card and then dozed in a comfy wingback chair next to the kitchen fireplace. Meeka lay on the floor by her feet snoring contently while Pitch preened his feathers.

  “Will you answer my question now?” I asked.

  “Soon,” Morgan replied and sipped more cider. “Deputy Atkins stopped by Shoppe Mystique looking for Donovan. That’s very distressing. How did it turn out? And what happened with the stabbing? I haven’t heard the latest on Silence.”

  Reluctantly, not wanting to break the cozy mood of the evening, I told her we thought it might have been Donovan because of the man in Duluth, but that it ended up being Randy causing all the problems.

  Morgan frowned throughout my retelling but breathed a sigh of relief when I told her Silence would likely be fine. By then, the kitchen was back to its normal spotless condition, and Morgan woke Briar from her nap.

  “Everyone, grab your coats,” Briar instructed as she took her own heavy cloak from a peg by the back door.

  “We’re going to the garden?” I asked. “It’s cold outside.”

  “That’s why you need your coat,” Morgan said, wrapping her own thick black cape around her shoulders and securing the deep-purple frog closure at her neck.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Tripp asked River.

  “Indeed, I do. We’re going out to the garden,” River answered and smirked.

  Outside, we found a ten foot in diameter circle of stones near the fire pit where Morgan and Briar sat on chilly nights. Within seconds, River had a fire crackling in the pit. Between the flames and the full moon, the garden was so well lit I could have read a novel.

  “Jayne and Tripp,” Briar began, “come stand next to the circle.”

  “Do you know what they’re up to?” Tripp asked me.