“Hard to do when the lake is frozen over.”
“Yes and no. It’s still there, just in a different form. The trees are always available.”
He placed a hand on my cheek and kissed my forehead. “We all have our own altars.”
“Don’t forget to relight your candle. Gotta get rid of the negativity.”
“I forgot about that. Do you have a holder somewhere I can use?”
“There are candle sticks and hurricanes in the china cabinet in the dining room. Do you want me to get them for you?”
“I’ll do it. You go get some sleep.”
Didn’t have to tell me twice. I dragged myself and Meeka up the attic stairs. I settled her onto her dog cushion in the living area, stopped in the bathroom to change into boxers and a tank top, then flopped down next to Tripp.
He rolled onto his side and threw an arm over me.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. Wasn’t going to happen until you were home and safe. How did it go?”
“Well enough. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
He started to say something else, but I didn’t hear it. My brain had already started sinking toward sleep. The next thing I knew, it was nine in the morning and Meeka was licking my cheek.
I pulled her in for a snuggle and found that Tripp wasn’t in bed with me.
“Tripp? Are you up here?”
The lack of response indicated he was downstairs, probably making breakfast. I snuggled with my dog for a bit, telling her what was going on with the harlequin situation. She lay on her back, spread eagle, while I talked and rubbed her belly. Soon as I stopped rubbing, her little body jerked, and she flipped over onto her feet.
“Time for breakfast?”
Her tail wagged double time.
I traded my boxers for a pair of leggings, added slipper socks, and pulled a sweatshirt on over my tank top. Downstairs, I found Tripp alone at the dinette with a cup of coffee and an outdoor adventure book.
“Are they lost yet?” I tapped the book.
“Deeply. It’s great.” Turned out, Tripp had a lifelong fantasy about being lost in the wilderness alone and having to find his way out. He claimed it started when he read the book Hatchet as a kid.
“Are Dad and Roz still sleeping?”
He set the book down and turned toward me for a good morning kiss. “Rosalyn was passed out on the couch, television still on, when I got down here. I think she thinks I stayed with her all night. She never really acknowledged me when I said I was going to bed last night. Dillon must still be asleep. Sit. I’ll get your breakfast.”
He returned thirty seconds later with a big mug of coffee. A few minutes later, he set a plate filled with scrambled eggs with chorizo and cheese, bacon strips, rustic toast, and half a banana in front of me. Then he placed a glass of orange juice and a jar of apricot preserves next to my plate.
“You’ve given me the entire food pyramid,” I noted.
“My job is to ensure that my people start their day with a proper meal.”
“And you’re very good at your job.”
He sat with me while I ate. We chatted a little and gazed at the snow-covered lake and pines. I loved how no matter what was going on, the pines were a constant. Always there to offer their beauty, protection from storms, and wood for shelter or warmth when necessary.
When I’d eaten my last bite, Tripp took my plate, refilled my mug, and then set a small box on the table next to me. I held my breath but actually felt a sense of relief to find this one addressed to me.
“I wanted you to get some sleep and have a good breakfast,” he explained. “It arrived around eleven last night. The alarm chirped that someone was at the door. By the time I got there, the person was gone, and this was sitting there.”
“Eleven,” I repeated. No wonder he wasn’t asleep when we got home. “Three boxes were delivered last night. He must’ve come here first, then went to The Inn, and then the Barlows’.” I stared blindly at the box on the table, and an idea came to me. “The video feed. Did the doorbell camera capture a picture?”
I desperately wanted proof that this was Donovan. My gut knew he was behind this, but my head needed logical, indisputable proof.
“I thought of that too,” Tripp said. “I checked the feed. Yes, we got an image, and it appeared to have been a man of about Donovan’s size.”
“But?”
“But his head and face were covered.”
Of course. One step ahead again. I poked at the box with my finger. “Suppose I should open it.”
“Might be better to do that before your dad and Rosalyn wake up.”
“Good point.”
I tore into the packaging and found a harlequin that resembled me. Dark-brown bobbed hair, icy-blue eyes, black tunic with a subtle diamond pattern, and diamond-patterned pants with little cargo pockets sewn onto the sides.
“Nice touch.” Tripp pointed at but didn’t touch the tiny gold star on the upper left chest.
I grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the kitchen that Tripp used when slicing spicy peppers and investigated the doll more closely. I checked around the head for bullet holes or ligature marks and the back for any exit wounds.
“There’s nothing wrong with this doll,” I grumbled, still searching.
“I told you before,” Tripp said, “he’s messing with you. It’s obviously you. There’s nothing wrong with it because he’s trying to get into your head.”
“There has to be something.” I removed the little pants and found perfect porcelain legs. Then took off the shirt. I turned to meet Tripp’s gaze. “Told you.”
In the middle of the doll’s chest, approximately over its heart, there was a small black symbol. A lower-case y with an extra-long straight tail, a horizontal line crossing the tail near the bottom. Below the line and to the right of the tail was what looked like a lower-case m. And beneath it all, a lower-case w.
This mark had been on Yasmine’s body when we found her. Gran’s autopsy report indicated there was one in the same place on her, over her heart. They weren’t tattoos but drawn by someone with a black marker after they had died. My guess was, Sheriff Brighton’s body held the same mark.
“That’s the full stop mark.” Tripp’s jaw clenched with anger. “How does he know about that?”
The symbol was from the Theban Alphabet that witches used as an encryption to keep other witches from being able to read their spell books. Full stop. Period. End of sentence. Or in this case, end of a life.
“He knows,” I began, “because Flavia told him. He claimed she drew the mark on both Yasmine and Gran. Flavia admits to nothing. Since it’s hearsay, I can’t do anything with the information.”
Slowly, methodically, I put the doll’s clothes back on, put her back in the box, and set it in my lap.
He stared at me for a few long seconds. “Why aren’t you reacting more? You’re kinda freaking me out, babe.”
“I’m at the end of his list. He’ll keep me around so I can see what he does to everyone else first. Then he’ll come for me.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
I took his hand in mine. “No. My point is, I can’t worry about myself. Six other people’s lives are in danger. My focus has to be on them.” I tapped the box with my free hand. “You said it. He’s messing with me.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Dad and I are meeting with Morgan, Briar, and River at the station this morning. I’ll bring Reed into the group too.”
“My job is to watch Rosalyn again?”
“I know it doesn’t sound important—”
“No, I get it. It is important. We can’t know what Donovan will do. He has to know you’ve figured out what he’s up to. If he thinks you’re getting too close, he could change things up. Going after your sister is a logical assumption.”
Or my boyfriend. I couldn’t think about that right now. If they were toge
ther, they’d be much safer. Donovan was insane but not physically fit. No way would he or could he take on two at once.
“Have you got a plan for keeping her busy?” I asked.
“She has two more rom-coms to go, and I added Titanic to the bottom of the stack this morning.”
I grinned at him. “That’s an extra three hours. You’re brilliant.”
He pushed his shoulders back. “Didn’t even tell you I planned to make brownies. Keto, of course, to fit with her latest eating habits.”
I pulled him in for a long kiss. “Did I mention that I love you?”
“A few times. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.”
“I may leave Meeka here. It’s too cold outside for her, and there really isn’t much for her to do.”
“She makes an excellent vacuum. Have you noticed your sister is a slob?”
“Since the day she was born.” Another item popped up on my to-do list. “Crap. I have to go over to the O’Connors’ this morning. I need to interview April about her altercation with Suzette Thibodeaux Friday night.”
“You don’t want to?”
“I do.” I heard the lack of enthusiasm in my voice. “It’s just that I almost forgot I’ve still got that to deal with. I do need to figure out who did this to Suzette, but preventing new crimes sort of takes precedence over solving one that’s already happened. You know?”
It was almost ten o’clock. April asked me to come over at noon. One of the tips to conducting a successful interview was catching the interviewee off guard. Showing up early was a great way to do that. I wouldn’t rush, but if I got there before noon, I wouldn’t apologize too much.
By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, Dad was downstairs eating chorizo eggs. I called Reed to tell him about the events of the previous night.
“Definitely time to take action,” he agreed.
“I’m going over to talk with April O’Connor. Will you organize everything with the others? I’ll meet you all at the station when I’m done with her.”
“Roger that. See you in a bit, Sheriff.”
Chapter 21
Surprise wasn’t quite the right word to describe the look on April’s face when she found me standing in their entryway. Sutton let me in without warning her first.
“An officer of the law showed up at my door,” he objected when April tried to scold him. “I’m going to do whatever she says.”
“Well,” I corrected, “ask to see a badge first if you don’t know the person.”
“You weren’t supposed to be here for another thirty-five minutes,” April said, still in her pajamas. “Have a seat in the living room. I’ll be right back.”
The O’Connors’ cottage reminded me of The Inn. The ceilings were short with dark-stained wood beams. The walls were plastered instead of drywalled. Rag rugs covered pine floors that creaked and were slightly crooked. Whoever had designed Laurel’s place must have designed this one as well.
April returned wearing a rather snug-fitting hot-pink velour sweat suit. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” I looked at Sutton who had plopped into a chair across from me when his mom left and looked like he planned to stay for a while. “Sutton? I need to talk with your mom now.”
He didn’t move.
“Alone.”
April swatted his knee with the back of her hand. “She’s politely asking you to go away.”
He sighed and rolled out of the chair.
“Never leaves his bedroom. Plays those computer games all day long. You show up, and he avoids his room like the bubonic plague has infested it.”
She was acting like I’d stopped by for a friendly visit. I turned on my fully charged voice recorder and set it on her coffee table. “Well, I imagine it’s not every day his mom is interviewed by the sheriff.”
April’s mouth dropped open, and she quickly clamped it shut again. “You’re right about that. What did you want to ask me about, Sheriff O’Shea?”
“Suzette Thibodeaux in general. Four events regarding Ms. Thibodeaux in particular.” I paused for a moment, watching her reaction. Other than the skin beneath her left eye starting to quiver, she remained motionless. “We might as well do this chronologically.”
April cleared her throat. “All right.”
“Do you recall a conversation you had with LaVonne LeBeau and Lorena Maxwell at Hearth & Cauldron on Thursday?”
She turned her right ear toward me as though waiting for me to say more. “I remember being there with them. We were Reeva’s first students. We had quite a few conversations.”
“About Suzette Thibodeaux?”
“Oh. No, I don’t recall talking about her. I do remember discussing how her nephew Alan was coming to town.”
“At first, yes. Then the three of you started talking about how Suzette was blackmailing some folks in the village.” I paused. She paled. “Do you recall that?”
She chewed on her lips and squinched up her face. “That’s a little fuzzy.”
“Let me refresh your memory.” I pulled the notebook out of my pocket and took the recipe card from between the pages. “See, the conversation caught my attention, and not in a good way if you know what I mean, so I jotted down some notes.” I scanned the card. “Lorena said something about Suzette conning her nephew out of money. You replied that Suzette didn’t need to do that because she had plenty of money due to the telephone sex line she ran out of her cottage.”
April blushed at the word sex. “I don’t believe those were my exact words. I do recall that conversation now, though.”
When she didn’t offer anything further, I added, “Lorena stated that Suzette ran the line years ago and was now blackmailing some of her customers. She then specifically asked if you could verify that.”
Her blush intensified, and she cleared her throat in a very ladylike way. “I recall that as well.”
I waited, but she didn’t say anything more. “April, can you verify if Lorena’s statements were true?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know how I would know anything about that.”
“No? It sounded like Lorena was implying that Suzette was blackmailing someone in your family.” I paused. “Rourke, perhaps.”
“That’s absurd,” she insisted but wouldn’t look at me.
“Is it?” I waited while she squirmed for a more comfortable position in her chair. “Let’s move on to the next event.” She relaxed again as I switched over to my notebook. “Later that afternoon, I ran into you and Alan at the negativity well. Do you recall that?”
“Oh, yes.” She laughed, a happy little trill. “Such a coincidence, running into you twice in one day like that.”
“I actually overheard you and Alan speaking.”
Her voice squeaked as she said, “You did?”
“I did. Any idea what I might’ve heard you say?”
She shook her head slowly. “I can’t imagine.”
“The two of you were talking about Suzette. You told Alan that Suzette claimed she and Rourke had an affair.”
She reddened at the word affair this time and blurted, “Suzette Thibodeaux was a horrible woman, and everyone knew it. She claimed that Rourke had been one of her customers. She told him that she had a ‘little black book’ with all her customers’ names and was planning to release those names if they didn’t offer her payments.”
I tapped my notebook. “You told Alan she wanted five thousand dollars.”
“Yes! First of all, what an awful thing to do, threatening a person’s reputation that way. Second, we don’t have that much money lying around.”
“Do you recall what you told Alan next?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she appeared to be sincerely trying to remember this time. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“Alan wanted you to ignore the threats. He felt his aunt was so sick, she would be dead before she could follow through with her threat. You replied, and I’m quoting because I wrot
e it down, ‘If you don’t get her under control, she may not see the full moon on Saturday.’”
April looked like she was going to throw up.
Without waiting for her to respond, I continued. “Let’s move on to the third event. That would be Friday night at The Inn.” From the notebook, I retrieved the paper I’d jotted notes on while standing in the lobby. “I admit, I came in toward the end of your conversation with Suzette, but what I did hear was quite interesting. Do you need help recalling what you said to her?”
April opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Not even a squeak.
I held the paper in front of me and read, “‘I don’t give a flying fig how sick you are. If you don’t quit harassing my husband, I will come after you.’” I made a face that said, oops, you probably shouldn’t have said that. “If you want additional back up on this one, we can ask Rourke. He was standing right behind you when you said it. Sutton was there, too, but we won’t traumatize him any further over this.”
“And the fourth event?” April asked, clearly wanting this agony to end.
“Suzette Thibodeaux was found dead the next morning.”
April sat up, reenergized now. “And you think I did it?”
“After that escalating chain of events, complete with clear verbal threats, what assumption would you come to?”
She started speaking very quickly. “I know it doesn’t look good, but you have to understand what she’d been putting my family through. Daily phone calls demanding money and threatening to tell everyone if we didn’t give it to her. It was having a serious effect on our marriage and our health. Rourke could barely sleep. I couldn’t stop eating.” She plucked at the fabric of her skintight sweatpants. “These used to be loose.”
I held up a hand to stop her rant. “Did you ever think to call me and report the calls? Extortion, blackmail, in this case, is illegal, you know.”
“She told us if we contacted the authorities, she’d make things worse. Although, I’m not sure how much worse things could have gotten.”
Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3 Page 42