by January Bain
I returned her smile, praying the improvement to her health continued. “Maybe. Glad you’re feeling better.”
Tulip drew my attention by stabbing a fingernail determinedly into my shoulder blade.
“Ow. For heaven’s sake, Tulip. What is it?”
She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Emma needs to talk to you. She’s in the kitchen and she looks really upset.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Helen, I’ve got some cookies to see to.”
“Sure, dear. I’ll bake bread tomorrow and deliver it to you in the afternoon.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
I hurried after Tulip. Now what?
Emma looked upset when I rushed to her side, her gray eyes huge and bloodshot in her elfin face. Her red curls were haphazardly pinned up in a bun and her clothes were wrinkled as though she’d slept in them for days.
I hugged her, careful not to pull any readings out of her. Emma was my best bud and I respected her way too much to ever accuse her of anything nefarious. Like the Mountie said, I didn’t have murder in me. Well, that went double for my sensitive friend.
“What’s going on, Emma?”
“No one will do the eulogy for my aunt. No one cared about her. No one.” Fresh tears threatened.
“I’m sorry. Everyone deserves a decent send-off.”
“Will you do it, Charm?”
“What? Me? Are you sure I’m the right person? I mean, considering the way she died and all.” I couldn’t say it out loud, that I was under suspicion.
“Phhht. I know you had nothing to do with that. You’ll prove it. Or that new Mountie boyfriend of yours.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Just a guy working a murder case.”
“Have you found anything out yet? Any leads?”
“I’m working on it. That is, when that Mountie will let me.” I rolled my eyes.
“He sure has taken a liking to you.”
“It’s not like that. He keeps following me around, trying to keep me from learning what I need to, to solve the case. I could resolve the whole thing in no time left to my devices.”
“I know you could. Anything I can do?”
“No, I’ll sort it through. You’ve got enough on your plate. When is the funeral?”
“Not until late next week, at the earliest. I have to wait for the body to be released.”
I nodded, biting my lip.
“Thanks, Charm, for doing this.”
“Hey, you’d do the same for me.” A final hug and she left through the back door. I didn’t blame her for avoiding all the women I could still hear milling about in the front part of the café.
I sighed. What was I going to say about Emma’s auntie that wasn’t an out-and-out lie? Ah, Granny Toogood, of course. She’d lend a hand in writing it. But all that could wait, while solving the crime could not. I checked the time. Nine-thirty p.m. Still early. I’d ruled out Helen and Fred, and of course Emma. That still left Sean and Boyd. And I had just the ticket for seeing Christine and Sean if I hurried. The house speciality, triple chocolate brownies.
Picking up another small box of dainties, I dashed from the kitchen and hurried to my jeep. If I was lucky, I could catch them at home. But as I trawled past their large two-storey brick house, it was dark, just the porch lights on for when someone did come home. So, where had they gone? Friday night meant either the Boots & Lace, which I didn’t figure Christine would appreciate, or visiting friends, which meant I would be out of luck. Best-case scenario, maybe they’d split up for the night and Sean had gone drinking.
The boot-stomping music spilling out onto the street from the honky-tonk suggested the crowd was in fine form tonight. I had no idea what I would find unfolding in the dancehall, but I took a deep breath and entered anyway. The press of heat and bodies and the aroma of popcorn and beer stirred my blood.
Darcy gave me a nod and came right over to the bar rail, where I’d managed to squeeze in between the regulars.
“Have you seen Sean Blackmore here tonight?”
He pointed to his left. “What you want to see him for, sweetheart?” His look suggested I could do a whole lot better.
“I need to see the man about a jar of jam.”
Darcy’s eyebrows near crawled up his forehead and he gave me a lopsided grin.
I took the beer he offered me and wormed my way over in the direction Darcy had pointed out, ducking and diving elbows and raised drink glasses. The crowd was mostly men tonight and I got my fair share of male attention since the stage act looked to be on break at the moment.
Oh, brother. Someone had beaten me to it. Constable Ace Collins sat just as nice as could be across the table from Sean Blackmore. And judging from their expressions, they were getting along just fine.
Dare I interrupt? Duh. And I knew just what to do. The crowded space was about perfect.
I pushed past another pair of drunken revelers, finally making my way to Sean’s side of the table. Sidling up nice and tight to his barstool, I laid my hand on Sean’s shoulder. He started, giving me an up-and-down look.
“Charm, what a pleasure. Sit on my lap if you like. All the chairs are taken. My gain, though.”
“Thanks, I don’t mind standing.”
Ace’s sharp look could have cut through glass. Really. Closer to literally than figuratively. Just sayin’.
“Miss McCall.” He gave me a cool nod of acknowledgment.
I left my hand on Sean’s shoulder, hoping Ace would get the point and ask the right questions. The sense of being on the same team came as a surprise, thundercloud expressions aside.
Sean patted my hand, then played a bit with my fingers. I managed to keep from gagging.
“So, Sean and I were just discussing winter activities.”
“Hmm. You like to ice fish or skidoo?” I raised my eyebrows at Ace.
“Well, all I’m hoping for is to solve the mystery of who laced your jam with cyanide before the snow flies.”
Sean shifted in his seat at the mention of Mrs. Hurst’s unfortunate demise. I held on and closed my eyes, trying to tap into what he was envisioning. He was handing her a thick stack of money. Twenties, judging by the color. And quite recently. What on earth for?
“Before the snow flies, eh. You’re sounding like a true northerner already, Constable,” Sean said, wiggling his forefinger under my hand and tracing circles in my palm, in the age-old gesture of a man interested in being more than just being friends. Too much. I yanked my hand away.
The bank deposits from the folder I’d nabbed came to mind. Okay. Time to see a woman about my suspicions.
“Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I gotta run.”
“But, sugar, we were just getting reacquainted. The night’s young. Stay. Have another beer,” Sean said with a pretend pout and an expansive gesture with his arms.
Was that a growl? I gave Ace a quick glance, but other than the scowl, he looked the same. I frowned, certain I’d heard something out of the ordinary.
“Sorry, another time. But thank you for the offer.” I turned and made a beeline for the door. Or as much as one as I could manage through the horde of drunken, but happy, revellers. The sounds of raunchy music drew my attention before I could make it all the way out, and I turned toward them. A half-clad smiling female came prancing her way along the front edge of the stage my sister usually sang on, a come-hither look in her eyes as she licked her lips, signaling her intentions.
Hmm, how very thoughtful of Darcy to have put up a temporary steel pole for dancing and swinging capriciously on. Hope it holds. I watched the stripper reach for it, making me wince. I’d seen a lot of insta-poles fall from the ceiling at the exact wrong second, sending dancers on their keisters. It was a popular category on YouTube.
I finally made the street and took in a deep breath of fresh air. The full moon hung low and added its usual aura of mystery to the night. About now, what I wouldn’t have given for a tourist’s ride to the moon. Anything to take my mind
off the insanity residing in Snowy Lake.
Shirley, Boyd’s administrative assistant, was running full tilt down the street toward me. The look on her face told me the truth before she spoke. Something bad was in the wind.
“Charm, oh my goodness, something’s happened to Boyd.” Almost out of breath, she stopped and grabbed her sides.
I took her by the arms and made her look at me. “What, Shirley? What happened?”
“He’s dead. In his office. Just now. I think he choked on one of your brownies. It’s all down his shirt front and everything.” She shuddered with horror.
“No!” My mind went blank with shock.
Chapter Twelve
“I have to find the new Mountie,” Shirley said, trying to pull away from me.
I let her go and slumped back against the rough brick side of the building, barely feeling it digging into my back. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. This would ruin us. Ruin me. But it made no sense. I’d used proper methods and perfect ingredients that I trusted. Placed the Kismet Spell. Where could I have gone wrong?
Shirley came out with Ace in tow not thirty seconds later, a small crowd streaming behind them. He nodded at me and moved closer as he caught my expression. “You okay, Charm? You look pale.”
I waved my arms about. “Go. See to Boyd.”
He called someone over. “Ivana will take you home.”
“Okay, whatever.”
Ivana took my arm, for once not accusing me of anything. “I get you to home.”
I didn’t struggle but let her lead me back to the Tea & Tarot, the moon taunting me all the way.
“What happened—not good, my friend. I make some coffee. We talk,” she said, opening the back door of the café and turning on the kitchen lights. She bustled about getting the coffee on as I slumped down on a chair. The aroma of the fragrant brew coming out of the instant Bunn machine triggered something primal. The strong smell of almond roast in Boyd’s office earlier. Is it possible?
I stood up, electrified by the idea.
“I have to go.”
Ivana looked at me, alarmed. “Charm, that no good for—”
I raced out of the back door, cutting her off mid-sentence. I ran all the way to Boyd’s Wheels, my lungs burning by time I made the car lot. A small crowd had beaten me to the punch, standing around the doorway. I pushed past them and reached the showroom without anyone stopping me.
Ace looked up as I entered Boyd’s office, his expression changing when he caught sight of me standing there, wheezing and out of breath.
“Charm, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Check the coffee pods. I noticed a strong odor of bitter almond earlier when I dropped off his favorite brownies.” I studiously avoided looking at Boyd.
Ace frowned, his voice stern enough to freeze water into perfect ice cubes. “I will. Now you have to leave, or I will arrest you, Miss McCall. You’re interfering with a crime scene.”
At the mention of the word ‘crime’, my eyeballs seemed to take on a life of their own, pulling me towards the body of Boyd slumped in his office chair. Ace stepped in front of him, obscuring the body from view. But I had caught sight of him for a split second, and the blue tinge to Boyd’s face gave the game away. Cyanide symptom. Chocolate frosting was smeared down his shirt front, leaving no doubt that he’d eaten some. Oh boy. Two murders in two days. What was Snowy Lake coming to? My nerves twitched, reminding me I would once more be a suspect. And this time, I’d bet my hiney I’d be called in for questioning.
I stumbled out of the room, not certain where I was headed. Just anywhere away from having death shoved in my face seemed a good idea.
“Charm. Are you okay?” Sean Blackmore put his arm around my shoulders, leading me away. “Let’s get you home.”
I didn’t object to the help. Home. Yes. It was a good thing Sean was holding me up, my legs were as malleable as dough, ready to fold to the floor at a moment’s notice.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. The full moon was still visible in the Northern sky when we made our way outside, but right then, it looked different to me, as if it was saying, ‘I told you so’. It was strange, thinking the moon could talk. Maybe I’m in shock?
Sean led me to his vehicle, oozing platitudes. “You poor thing. What you need is a drink. I’ll stop by the vendor and pick us up a six pack.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Tonight, you do. Do you good.”
He tucked me into the passenger side seat then hurried around to the driver’s door.
Get out! A voice shouted in my ear.
A shiver of dread shot through me. No. Going anywhere with Sean Blackmore was a bad idea. I went to open the passenger-side door, but it was locked.
Sean slipped into the driver’s seat and buckled the seatbelt. The smell of peppermint wafted in the air.
“No, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll walk home. I need the fresh air to clear my head.” I jerked at the locked door again, nearly yanking the handle off in my frustration. “Unlock the door, Sean, or I’m warning you, I’ll scream.”
“Relax, Charm. You’re exhausted, overly emotional. Sit back and I’ll drive you home. I’m just trying to be a friend here.”
“I don’t need any more friends. Listen, Sean, I’m not kidding around, unlock the door!”
“For crying out loud,” he half-shouted, giving me a look of barely controlled rage. “I was just trying to help you. I wasn’t good enough in high school to date you, and apparently, I’m not good enough now to help see you home safely. And half the town is now watching us have an argument.” He slanted his head at the interested crowd observing us from not fifty feet away, still clustered around Boyd’s Wheels showroom.
He was right. I’d never given him the time of day. And with so many residents of the town knowing my whereabouts, I couldn’t be safer. Right?
“Sorry. I guess I overreacted. Such a shock seeing Boyd dead and all.”
“Apology accepted.” His mercurial mood change was discombobulating.
“But take me straight home. I don’t drink and I don’t intend to start. Deal?”
“Sure. Whatever you say, Charm.”
Still leery, and ready to drop-kick Sean with one of my defensive moves at a moment’s notice, I waited for him to pull into the alley behind the Tea & Tarot.
Unbuckling, I turned to offer my thanks, but he was suddenly right in my personal space.
He reached out and ran a finger down my cheek, making me cringe. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to get you alone, Miss McCall? For years and years. The only woman I’ve never been able to charm.” He chuckled at his non-joke.
“Was Mrs. Hurst blackmailing anyone else in town, do you know?” I threw out a line complete with accompanying fishhook.
His hand dropped away, his expression tightening, the street lamp near our business turning his skin an ominous gray.
“What do you know about that? Did she have something on you too?”
Bingo. “How many people do you suppose she was blackmailing?”
“I have no idea. Not me, that’s for sure.” He turned his head away.
“Then who?”
“You should stay out of things that don’t concern you. But I do know that Boyd hated her guts. Always going on about how she was sucking him dry. Getting a new vehicle each year for next to nothing.”
“What did Mrs. Hurst have on Boyd?”
“No idea—he wouldn’t say. How about that drink? We can talk more, get to know each other better.” He’d regained some of his color along with the bluster.
“I’ll take a rain check. I’m bushed. Thanks for the ride.” I went to open the door of his Lexus and found it still locked.
“The door.” I added steel to my tone.
“Ah, sure.” He pressed the unlocking mechanism, and I scrambled out.
“You’ve been a big help, Sean. Oh, have you shared any of this with our new Mountie?”
“The stuff
about Boyd? No. Why? I only told you because we’re friends.”
And because I wormed it out of you.
“Well, he’ll be asking. It does fall under a lawman’s purview.”
“None of any outsider’s business.” The chill in his voice hinted at more animosity than the situation called for. Or maybe it was just a guy thing. Hot Mountie moving in on his supposed territory. Eww.
“Thanks again.” I shut the passenger door and waited for him to drive away.
Exhaustion overrode any other concerns, forcing my weary feet to walk the short distance into the café then up the back stairs to my suite. It had been the longest day of my life. Ever. I face-planted on the bed fully dressed, intending to rest for a few minutes to gather myself. I woke instead to bright sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows, Ling Ling curled up at my feet, a white puffball. My awesome guard cat.
“Hey, baby Ling Ling, you finally showed up. Don’t worry. I won’t mention anything about you know who. Deal?”
She got up and stretched, moving up the bed to butt her head under my hand, insisting on her morning rubdown. I worked her head absently, scratching behind her ears, her favorite spot, letting my mind drift. The likely motive for the first crime. Blackmail. But why Boyd? His death made no sense—he was one of the people being blackmailed. Unless he knew something about the crime, was in on it in some way and was considered the weakest link? Threatened to tell someone. Sean knew more than he was saying. Though I found him creepy, it wasn’t grounds for accusing him of murder. And he and Boyd were friends. Hard to believe he’d murder a friend. Now, Mrs. Hurst. Maybe. The thought that there might have been two murders chilled me to the bone.
Or maybe Boyd had committed suicide the same way he’d might have poisoned Mrs. Hurst—some kind of bizarre twist of punishment and guilt? Nah, that didn’t set right at all. Well, then, that only left Sean as the suspect. The realization made my head reel. Had I been in a vehicle with a murderer last night? But there’s no way he killed his best friend, right? I just couldn’t quite put all the pieces together.