Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3

by Shawn McGuire

  “I guess. The Yule log is still burning. Morgan or Briar can relight the candle from the log’s flame.”

  Right when I was ready for us to step in and break things up, Laurel appeared with Emery and Jagger, the bouncer from Grapes, Grains, and Grub. Laurel, who wasn’t a physically big woman, took over the room.

  Reed put his hand over his mouth and murmured through his fingers, “Oh, they’re in trouble now. She enlisted the big gun.”

  “They are in trouble. Emery has mad pinching skills.” I pinched my thumb and first two fingers together.

  “I meant Jagger,” Reed said, confused.

  I laughed. Reed had never witnessed Emery’s crazy kyusho-jitsu pressure point takedown technique.

  “I warned you.” Laurel’s voice was reminiscent of every stern teacher and frazzled mother I’d ever heard. She pointed at the door. “All of you, get out. People in the other room have started asking what’s going on out here. I will not let a few random idiots ruin this night for the rest of the community.” She positioned Jagger between the Thibodeauxes and the mob. “Jagger will stand right here while Emery takes you one by one to the coatroom. You will then leave quietly and immediately.” She took a deep cleansing breath and in a lighter tone added, “When the sun rises tomorrow, this will all be forgotten.”

  She looked pointedly at the villagers who had shrunk a little like naughty children having suffered a scolding for the ages. She turned to leave and spotted Reed and me hovering in the corner.

  Reed stood straight. “Uh-oh.”

  Laurel strode over to us. “And here we have village law enforcement hanging out watching the show.”

  “You told us you were handling these things tonight,” I objected, shifting on my aching feet. “We were ready to react if necessary.”

  She softened again. “Why can’t we just have a nice evening?”

  “Laurel,” Reed began, “it’s been a great evening until this, and it’s only eleven o’clock. There are still nine hours until sunrise.”

  Nine hours? These heels were definitely coming off. I could practically hear the thick cozy socks tucked into my boots in the coatroom calling me.

  “Ten minutes,” said an elevated male voice across the room.

  The three of us looked to see Alan addressing Nina. He looked ready to explode.

  “All I want you to do is stand here,” he continued.

  “And do what?” Nina asked. “Defend her from these people?”

  Alan propped his hands on his hips and dropped his head back in frustration. “I need to step away for a bit and get myself together. I don’t want her to be alone. Everyone else is leaving. Give me ten minutes.”

  Nina and Suzette glared at each other in mutual dislike.

  “Fine,” Nina agreed. “But I want to leave after this.”

  “We don’t have a choice.” Alan shot a nasty look at his aunt’s back. “We’ve been kicked out, remember?”

  “If Suzette turns up dead,” Laurel told us, “you’ll have one hell of a time figuring out who hated her enough to pull the trigger.” She glanced at the front desk. “Oh, good Goddess, the candle is out. I need to find Morgan. We need to get that thing relit.”

  She hadn’t said a word about the broken hurricane glass all over the desk. After living here for seven months, I understood the importance of rituals to this community, but was a candle really that big of a deal?

  Laurel left in search of Morgan, and Reed said, “She’s right, you know.”

  I was about to ask if he meant the candle or who among the mob of people who’d been crowded in here would be guilty of Suzette’s death when Rosalyn entered the lobby.

  “Here you two are. Sugar and Honey brought out eggnog cheesecake and warm gingerbread with whipped cream. Thought you might like some.”

  She hadn’t been talking to me. At least that’s what I deduced from the slow blink she gave Reed. My gut twisted a little. Was she honestly flirting with my deputy? What could possibly go sideways with that?

  “Go,” I told Reed. “Jagger and Emery seem to have this under control, but I’ll hang out until everyone’s gone.”

  When only Suzette and Nina were left in the lobby, I chuckled to myself as the unlikely crowd control duo of Jagger & Emery high-fived each other and returned to the party. And then, as if the last twenty minutes hadn’t already been interesting enough, Suzette crooked a finger at Nina to come closer.

  Nina glanced around—looking for Alan?—before crouching next to Suzette’s side and balancing herself by placing one hand on the arm of the wheelchair. Suzette grabbed her free hand and pulled her in close. From the wince of pain on Nina’s face, Suzette still had a little strength left in those skeletal hands and was squeezing hard. As Suzette spoke, softly enough that I couldn’t hear, Nina paled.

  A touch to my lower back made me jump.

  “Cheesecake and gingerbread?” Tripp stood behind me, his eyes gleaming like an excited kid.

  I was curious about what was going on with the two women, but I was off duty tonight. Mostly. I hooked my arm with Tripp’s. “I’d love some. And more wassail.”

  We got our plates of dessert—a piece of both desserts for each of us and two mugs of wassail—and chose seats at a table in the slightly less crowded dining room. About a third of the villagers had called it a night early. The rest were in it for the long haul. I’d heard a rumor that a karaoke machine was coming out at two o’clock. Before we could take a bite, Laurel announced a mini ceremony to relight the Yule candle. All of the witches gathered in a circle and gave a blessing of some kind, easing minds and restoring the jovial atmosphere.

  At this point, it was time to extinguish the Yule log so it could be kept to light next year’s log. As Morgan approached the fireplace, River objected.

  “You, my lady, are not reaching into a box of fire.” River plucked at one of the long, flowing bell sleeves of Morgan’s gown. He held out his hand for the bowl of whatever powder she was going to use to put out the flames. “Allow me.”

  “This isn’t how it’s done. It really should be Mama’s job to put it out since she lit it.” Morgan pointed at the overstuffed armchair next to the fireplace Jagger had carried in for Briar. “Our Crone is out cold, however, so I will stand in her place.”

  “Lady Briar has sleeves identical to yours. I would not permit her to perform this task either.” River gently took the bowl from her hands. “In certain situations, it is acceptable for rituals to be altered slightly.”

  She took a step closer and bumped her belly gently against him. “You are altering a great number of things in my life.”

  He gave her a look so smoldering, Tripp and I had to turn away. Giggling, we dug into our desserts.

  “Well, if it isn’t Sheriff O’Shea.”

  I looked up to see a mountain of a man in a slightly rumpled and thirty years out of style suit standing before us. “Willie! I was hoping you’d come tonight. I wanted to talk to you about something. Have a seat.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” The big man sat, leaving two chairs between us.

  “Did you just get here?” Tripp asked, indicating the heaping plate of food Willie set on the table in front of him.

  “No, sir. Been here all night. Having a little snack. Gotta have sustenance if you’re going to party with the Wiccans all night.” He removed a flask from his coat pocket and added some of whatever was in it to his own mug of wassail. When he offered to add to ours, both Tripp and I pushed our mugs toward him. “Now, what did I do that the sheriff wants to give me a talking to?”

  “It’s not a talking-to,” I assured.

  Tripp took a sip of his now high-octane punch and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What did you put in here? It’s really good.”

  “Hard cider,” Willie said, holding the flask out so Tripp could take a pure sip. “Make it myself.”

  “You brew your own cider?”

  Uh-oh. Like me, Tripp was looking for a hobby to keep him entertained over t
he next four months. I envisioned a cider-making setup in our basement soon.

  “Make my own ale too.” Willie loaded his fork with three mini meatballs and shoved them into his mouth.

  Tripp leaned forward, hands clasped and resting on the table. “Will you teach me? I could come up to your cabin.”

  Willie froze mid-chew. I’d been to his cabin, it was amazing, but Willie didn’t allow just anyone up there. He finished chewing. “I’ll need to think on that one a while.”

  I changed the subject and asked him about making a sign for Pine Time. This Willie was eager to help with. Seemed even the village’s most reclusive resident needed something to do over the winter. The three of us sketched out rough designs on napkins. When things really started coming together, we got some paper from the front desk. An hour or so later, we had a solid plan.

  Willie nodded, happy with his new project. “Won’t be able to put it in place permanently until the ground thaws in the spring. I’ll come up with something temporary until then.”

  The rest of the night was far more laidback and fun. We made our own little charm and herb-filled candles. Then we made Yule smudge sticks out of pine, balsam, and cedar—all of which had been blessed by Morgan before assembly. Next, we moved onto a table with a lineup of cauldrons filled with dried ingredients.

  “Would you like to make Yule incense?” Briar, awake now and irritated that Morgan hadn’t woken her to extinguish the Yule log, handed us each small mortars and pestles for the assembly.

  “Of course we would,” Tripp agreed.

  Briar laid a finger on each cauldron as we took out the proper pinches. “Two-parts Juniper berries, two-parts mugwort, one-part cedar, one-part pine needles.” She waited for us to do that much. “One-part dried mistletoe, one-part laurel leaves, one-half-part cinnamon, one-half-part rosemary.” She made a swirling motion with her hand. “Now grind it all together until you have a fine powder. You can burn it on a charcoal disk or toss it in a fire to release the aroma.”

  As I ground my ingredients, I saw that Dad and the Pack—less Flavia, who hadn’t made an appearance tonight—had taken over a corner of the dining room next to the fireplace. They were talking and laughing and seemed to be having a grand time. This made me happy for numerous reasons. First, because he had reunited with his old friends. Second, it meant he might be learning to love Whispering Pines again. Or at least being okay with it.

  A few hours later, the sun slowly started to rise, bringing the longest night of the year to an end. Four inches of new snow had fallen overnight. The clouds had cleared, though, and a glorious sunrise greeted us.

  “A positive sign if ever I’ve seen one,” River said, his arm around Morgan.

  “Does it mean,” Tripp asked, “we don’t have to worry that the candle went out, or that River extinguished the log?”

  “We’ll be fine.” I looked at my dad who had joined us at the windows.

  He gave a tired but happy smile. “I can’t speak for the village, but after flying here from Turkey and then staying up for a full night, I may never get back to normal.”

  With the Midwinter Celebration complete, the village services crew got to work clearing the snow from the commons area and along the Fairy Path so we could all go home. As we waited for them to finish, Laurel and Emery handed out the gifts still beneath the Yule tree that had not been claimed. Not everyone got one, which was understood. These were gifts the givers gave because the recipients had done something special for them over the past year. The only rule was that only the recipient’s name could be on the gift, not the giver’s. They were to be anonymous blessings from one neighbor to another and were to be opened at home.

  I received a few and was shocked when Laurel read the tag on a box six inches long by four inches wide wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a string.

  “Dillon O’Shea.”

  Dad was speechless as he took the box from her.

  By the time we got back to the house, we were all exhausted. We agreed to take a three-hour nap, no more or we’d be too rested to fall asleep at our regular bedtime, and then reassemble for lunch and to open the villager gifts. Although we’d eaten so much at The Inn none of us would likely be hungry for lunch.

  Naturally, this was when a voice came over my walkie talkie.

  “Sheriff? This is Deputy Reed. Over.”

  I sighed. A sheriff was never really off duty. “Hey, Reed. What’s up?”

  “We’ve got a problem. Suzette Thibodeaux is dead. Over.”

  Chapter 11

  The first thought that entered my overtired brain was, she’s not dead. She just looks like she is. The second thought was, that’s not funny, Jayne. I sobered. Her nephew, her only family member to have any contact with her, was with her for Yule. She got to speak her mind to the villagers who had made her life difficult. Maybe last night was her last hurrah. Many times, people took care of important, unfinished business before surrendering to an illness. Was that what happened?

  “Sheriff O’Shea?” Reed asked over the walkie talkie. “Are you there? Over.”

  “Yes, sorry, I’m here. The body is at the Thibodeaux residence?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Over.”

  “Is that where you are now?”

  “I was on my way home when I got the call. I’ll get the van and meet you there. Do you want me to call Dr. Bundy? Over.”

  “What were her wishes upon death?”

  “I don’t know. Over.”

  “I’m sure she had arrangements in place for this. Her chosen funeral home will come for her body. We can contact them for Alan. We’ll talk with him when we get there.”

  “All right. You should know that Laurel called me about this. She said LaVonne LeBeau found Ms. Thibodeaux. Ms. LeBeau thought you might still be at The Inn so called over there. She talked to Laurel, and Laurel called for one of us on the talkie.” Reed paused before continuing. His voice was strained when he did. “I guess Ms. LeBeau found her outside on the patio behind the house. She says Ms. Thibodeaux froze to death.” Pause. “Over.”

  Outside? I was shocked that Alan and Nina brought her to The Inn last night. The temperature had been hovering near the single digits when we got there and was probably close to or even below zero by the time the Thibodeauxes left. There was no way Suzette would have chosen to sit outside last night. Although, it was remotely possible that if she knew it was her final night, she might have gone out to gaze at the nearly full moon. To the best of my knowledge, she wasn’t a practicing Wiccan, but she did have some interest in the religion. Did she go outside on her own? Did she ask Alan to help her onto the patio? And then he, what, left her out there? Had someone else taken her outside without her consent?

  “Well,” I responded, my brain still spinning, “that makes this an entirely different situation. Yes, call Dr. Bundy. I’ll meet you there shortly.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Over and out.”

  “Sorry, Dad. Rosalyn. I’m going to have to go over to the scene.”

  “That’s okay.” Rosalyn dismissed my apology with a yawn.

  “You do what you need to do,” Dad said, a look of pride on his face. He’d never seen Sheriff Jayne in action before. “We were all about to take naps anyway. What about you? Will you be able to work properly on so little sleep?”

  I smiled at his concern. “As soon as I get to her house, I’ll be fueled by adrenaline. I’ll be fine until I get back here.”

  Tripp followed me upstairs to our apartment. While I changed out of my party outfit and pulled on cargo pants and my uniform shirt, he made me a mug of extra-strong coffee in our little kitchenette.

  “You’re quiet,” he noted. “What are you thinking?”

  I’d already shifted to cop mode and was removing my tools one by one from the basket on the dresser and putting them into their appropriate cargo pocket. I used to lay everything out in a neat row at the end of the day. Tripp said I was hogging all the dresser space and scrounged up a basket from somewhere in
the house to corral my gear. It worked okay, but I was used to going down the line and robotically putting items in their pockets. Now I had to think about what went where. Another adjustment to sharing a space with someone.

  “I’m thinking we might have a problem.” I told him my thoughts on why or how Suzette could have ended up outside on a below-freezing night.

  His expression slackened with every possibility I presented. “I see your concern.”

  I shrugged into my shoulder holster and took my 9mm out of its case in my nightstand drawer.

  Meeka appeared at the top of the steps then. She must’ve sensed it was K-9 time.

  “Be safe.” Tripp kissed my forehead.

  “Always.”

  ~~~

  I pulled up to Suzette’s house and parked on the street behind the station’s van. Reed had waited in the van and got out when he saw us. As we walked up the driveway and across the sidewalk, LaVonne LeBeau burst out of the front door looking shell-shocked, Alan right behind her.

  “She’s on the patio out back,” Alan said when we got close to the front porch.

  “We’ll find her,” Reed assured him. “We’ll look back there first, and then one of us will come in and talk to you.”

  “You found her?” I confirmed with LaVonne who rushed over and immediately began relaying her version of events. I held up a hand. “Stop. Please. I’d like to look at the scene first and get an unbiased view of things.”

  “Okay.” She took a half-step back and deflated a bit. “That makes sense.”

  “I’d like you to go back to your house.” I didn’t want her and Alan sharing stories while we investigated. Although, after being here together for thirty minutes or more, they’d probably already shared plenty. “Is your husband home?”

  “No. He went to Rhinelander to do some Christmas shopping. He’s Wiccan, I’m not. We celebrate both holidays.” She stopped talking suddenly and shoved her hands deep into the pocket of her shin-length puffy down coat. LaVonne talked with her hands, and the pockets seemed to be a way to silence herself. “I’m babbling. You couldn’t care less about what we do for the holidays. I’m just so upset about finding Suzette.”