Mulberry Mischief

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Mulberry Mischief Page 17

by Sharon Farrow


  I smiled at his use of the word “we.” Because Kit lived in an apartment, he had suggested the two of us dress in costume on Halloween and hand out candy to the parade of children who would be trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. Not only was that a cozy idea, but both of us planned to march in the Halloween parade later that night, so it also was convenient.

  “I’m mainly giving out M&Ms and peanut butter cups.” I peeked over at him. “Snickers bars, too.”

  He chuckled. “They’ll never get their hands on a single Snickers bar if I’m there.”

  We compared notes on favorite candies. By the time I made the turn onto Leticia’s property, I felt more relaxed. Until I saw the log home in my headlights. The lights also reflected numerous pairs of glowing eyes.

  “As soon as the sheriff and police give the word, I’m sending Aunt Vicki and her volunteers to round up these cats.” I switched off the car.

  The darkness was startling. Since her property was far from town, there were no streetlamps or nearby homes to provide any light. And her house was completely dark.

  I got out of the SUV. The grass rustled with the movements of cats. “You should have left a light on inside. Or turned on the front porch light.”

  “Since I’ve got the key, I’ll do it now.” Kit pulled out his keys.

  When we climbed the steps to her porch, I spotted several shadowy shapes. Shapes that couldn’t be cats since they didn’t move. I bent down. With my eyes now more accustomed to the darkness, I could see they were bags. I picked one up.

  “It looks like one of the bags of dried mulberries.”

  Kit hurried to the front door and unlocked it. A moment later, the porch light went on.

  I gasped. The remaining boxes of mulberries had been ripped open, their contents strewn everywhere. None of the bags had been unsealed. Instead, whoever did this had flung the bags all over the porch. And there was no evidence of claw marks on the bags or boxes, eliminating the cats as the culprits.

  Not that I had suspected the cats. Only the person who feared whatever was in Leticia’s manuscript would have reason to rip open boxes whose labels claimed they were dried mulberries.

  Kit crouched down beside me, his gaze sweeping the length of the porch. “I spoke to the department when I returned today. The officers left the property at two this afternoon. The boxes were taped up at that time. Between now and then, a trespasser has come looking for something. Most likely, the missing manuscript and laptop.”

  “The question is, did they find what they were looking for?”

  “The ghostwriter of the manuscript has already been killed. If this person found the manuscript and computer hidden among the berries, there’s only one thing left to do. Assuming this whole thing is about keeping a murderous secret.”

  “I know.” I felt helpless and worried. “The only other person who needs to be silenced now is Leticia. Maybe it’s a good thing she can’t be found.”

  “You’re wrong.” Kit didn’t look happy. “Keith Sable basically accused you of knowing where the manuscript and laptop are. If he believes that, so do the other Sables.”

  Which meant Leticia might not be the next person silenced. That dubious honor could fall on me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, Abraham Lincoln introduced my Holistic Hints workshop at the conference center. It took me a moment to recognize our local chiropractor beneath the black frock coat, stovepipe hat, and beard. Who knew Dr. Jason Orsini had such a flair for public speaking? Indeed, his introduction to my talk exceeded my expectations.

  Dr. Orsini began his intro by declaiming, “Nine score and nine years ago, Benjamin Lyall founded Oriole Point beneath a grove of mulberry trees.”

  As soon as he said that, I knew my intro was going to be far longer than the Gettysburg Address. My mind wandered as he described my college degree in marketing, my years at the Gourmet Living Network, and the opening of The Berry Basket two years ago. I only hoped he didn’t mention my broken engagement and the murders I had helped solve this past summer.

  I looked out over the room. Despite the early hour, every seat was taken. Aunt Vicki and her boyfriend Joe waved at me from the third row. Denise Redfern sat behind them. Andrew and Oscar were in attendance as well. Although I’d bet Andrew was only here to take a selfie with the host of Hard Bodies, Chad Nixon, who was giving a strength-training workshop in this very room after me.

  Piper stood against the back wall, arms crossed. Her steely expression told me that if anything went wrong today, her response would be nuclear. I noticed added security measures when I arrived an hour ago. Costumed volunteers checked everyone’s bag. A sensible precaution, even if I found it hard to take the situation seriously when a werewolf asked to paw through my tote bag. And I hoped no one dared to dress as a mime. Piper had probably given instructions for all mimes to be shot on sight. If Leticia was as smart as court records suggested, she wouldn’t risk another visit to the health fair.

  Yesterday’s incident had been publicly passed off as a Halloween prank, accompanied by assurances that the guilty party would soon be arrested. I saw throngs of people when I arrived this morning, so few had been dissuaded from coming. Piper must be relieved.

  And I felt relieved that, despite their earlier interest in berries, none of the Sable family were in attendance. Given Keith’s hostile attitude toward me last night, I assumed the entire clan now viewed me as Leticia’s co-conspirator.

  Or their absence could be connected to the pillaged boxes of mulberries we found last night. Maybe one of the Sables had gotten there first. Probably not Keith. He’d left my house only fifteen minutes before Kit and I began our drive out to Leticia’s property. But what if another member of his family had the same thought I did about those boxes? Whoever wanted the manuscript feared its contents. Feared it enough to kill the man who helped write it.

  “And here’s our own Berry Girl, Marlee Jacob!” Dr. Orsini bowed in my direction.

  I acknowledged the scattered applause with a smile, glad to finally be able to get on with this talk. Dean stood off to the side, ready to help with my slide presentation. He looked like he couldn’t wait for it to be over, too.

  “Thank you so much for that delightful introduction, Dr. Orsini.” I took the microphone from him. “And thank you all for coming. To reward everyone for attending such an early workshop, I’ve brought a few berry goodies to pass around. Cranberry mini-muffins, sample bags of elderberry lozenges, and chocolate strawberry teabags.”

  The crowd perked up as volunteers passed out the freebies. I hadn’t intended to bring baked goods, but after yesterday’s panicked debacle, I wanted to make an extra effort for attendees—and Piper. Last night I asked Theo to add a big batch of mini-muffins to his predawn baking schedule, leaving him to decide which berry to flavor it with. I should have known he’d choose cranberry, his favorite berry.

  “Because we are about to enter cold and flu season, let’s start things off with a berry that should be in everyone’s winter medicine cabinet: elderberries.” I held up a bottle of elderberry cough syrup as Dean clicked onto a photo of elderberries and a list of its health benefits.

  “Most people use elderberries to help alleviate coughs and respiratory ailments, but as you can see from the chart, the berries also affect blood pressure, the gastrointestinal system, bone strength, cholesterol, weight loss, and even the quality of your skin.”

  One of the workshop doors opened. A line of Sables marched in.

  “Since I’ve already heard a few sneezes in here, I should explain why elderberries may be of use.” I kept my gaze fixed on the family who took their seats in the back row. “It has long been an herbal remedy, but medical research suggests the anti-inflammatory flavonoids in elderberries help reduce swelling in the mucous membranes.”

  They were all here, even Scarlett. Since the group comprised more than six, I assumed the others were personal assistants, publicists, etc. Piper obviously hadn’t expected the Sables t
o attend this morning. She hurried over to them, exchanging whispers with Ainsley and Patrick.

  “This is why many doctors recommend taking a product that contains elderberry extract as a preventive measure at the first sign of trouble.” Behind me, a slide appeared showing items containing the extract.

  Keith looked as hostile today as he had last night in my living room. Scarlett stifled a yawn. But it was the presence of Cameron and Ingrid Sable I found most unnerving. Even from the length of the room, it felt like they were so focused on me that they had forgotten to blink.

  “I must add that none of the berry products I will talk about should be given to children without a doctor’s consent. That includes elderberries.” I held up a warning finger. “Despite the health benefits of elderberries, the raw berry contains a toxic compound related to cyanide. If you eat raw elderberries or those not properly cooked, you may end up being poisoned.”

  Ingrid and Cameron finally blinked. And their expressions now turned as poisonous as the cyanide I had mentioned.

  The Sables had stopped viewing me as simply a berry expert who might consult with them on future products. After my conversation with Leticia in the vendor room, it was clear they now saw me as her partner in crime. I fought to focus on my talk and the list of berries I had yet to go through. But I couldn’t forget that the last person who helped Leticia was killed with an arrow through the heart.

  Maybe I should start wearing that mulberry bracelet Leticia gave me.

  * * *

  This whole week had not only turned murky and murderous, it was bad for business.

  Sitting before my laptop on the store counter, I opened up my computer file and compared sales figures for the same week last October. We were way down.

  Usually our festivals—and the crowds they attracted—benefited everyone. In warm weather the beach was an even bigger draw. But no one could resist all those celebrities at the conference center. Piper had done her job too well, rustling up reality TV stars, fitness gurus, motivational speakers, even professional athletes. I was stunned to learn two players from the Detroit Tigers were giving sports-injury workshops this afternoon. Small wonder I had had a grand total of three sales since I opened my shop today. Granted, I opened an hour later than usual due to my berry talk, but the first customer didn’t enter my store for another hour after that.

  I looked out over my empty shop. It was too quiet.

  I’d left Minnie at home since Aunt Vicki planned to stop by the house and check up on Panther. She promised to keep the animals company for a while, and let Minnie get more accustomed to the presence of a frisky kitten. Afterward, she and Joe would visit Leticia’s property to check out the feral cat situation. Kit said he would let the department know a visit from Humane Hearts was forthcoming.

  Another downside of the Harvest Health Fair: Rowena’s yoga classes had been canceled for the week. I attended her beach yoga classes five days a week before I came to work. My fellow practitioners and I braved the weather up until the lake breezes turned too brisk in November, when we decamped to her downtown studio. But Rowena had numerous yoga sessions set up at the conference center, far too many for her to also hold any in her own studio. I felt the loss of those daily asanas and stretches.

  At least my berry talk had gone well. People had so many questions, the next workshop was delayed by ten minutes. Dean passed out Berry Basket brochures to everyone and I hoped some of them might decide to visit the shop or order items from my website.

  Bored, I considered updating my website. I had little else to do. Yesterday I sent out emails and texts to my friends still working in television. I explained that I needed to get in touch with Delta Marsh regarding an upcoming production of the Nanny Murder. I didn’t see any point in being coy. Better to let everyone know what I was interested in. And if Delta had contacted Leticia’s cousin about this, there was a chance I might get a response from her.

  My glance fell on the spot where Felix Bonaventure shook raindrops from his umbrella only three days ago. Poor man. Kit told me some basic facts about the writer: forty-five, born and raised in Philadelphia, divorced, no children, two brothers, mother deceased, his father retired and living in Sarasota. How shocked and grief-stricken his family must be. And if no one was arrested for the crime, they would have to deal with the horror of such an injustice.

  I walked over to the door and peeked out. I saw only two people about a block down; both locals. A shame. Lyall Street looked especially charming and colorful this week with all the hay bales, pumpkins, and scarecrows decorating the storefronts.

  Too bad everyone was indoors at the Lyall Center getting autographs from baseball players and having their backs adjusted by a chiropractor dressed as Lincoln.

  A man came out of the post office. Both his trimmed goatee and impeccably tailored suit set him apart from every other Oriole Point resident. As did his British accent and esoteric interests. At the moment, there was no one I would rather speak to than Drake Woodhill.

  I ran inside my shop, grabbed my bag, then locked up, making sure to hang the BE RIGHT BACK sign on the door. Even though Drake had won a bronze medal in track and field twenty years ago, I was confident I could catch up to him.

  As I sprinted across Lyall Street, I yelled, “Drake, wait up!”

  He turned. “Adding ‘please’ to that sentence would make the command more palatable.”

  “Please wait up. I want to ask you something.”

  “I’m not in any hurry. Not until the health fair has folded up its tents and stolen away.” Drake busied himself going through the mail he’d picked up at the post office. “Except for my regular clients, I haven’t had a customer at Gemini Rising for the past two days. Thankfully, I’m holding workshops and readings at the conference center. But I’m not fond of crowds.”

  “Neither am I.” I flashed back to yesterday’s scary stampede. “I assume you’ve heard about the man found on Leticia the Lake Lady’s property.”

  “Every shopkeeper is talking about it. What else do we have to do until business picks up?” Drake finished going through his mail and finally looked up at me. “I’ve been informed you were among the people who discovered the body. You may want to have your chakras readjusted. Along with your priorities.” He gave a droll chuckle. “If you spent more time at The Berry Basket, you might avoid the next grisly discovery.”

  “So says the man not currently in his own store,” I observed. “And since you’re holding bags from Spice Tent and Michigan Mudworks, it looks like you’ve spent a lot of your workday shopping.”

  He smiled. “Touché.”

  “If you’ve heard about the dead man, I assume you also know Leticia is missing.”

  “I hadn’t heard. Given her unusual habits, how do we know she is missing? Perhaps she is simply taking her version of a lakeshore walkabout?”

  “I’m guessing the dead body on her property points to something sinister afoot.”

  “How Holmesian you sound.”

  “No, I sound desperate. I need to figure out where she is. I want to keep her from harm.”

  His expression turned quizzical. “I had no idea you and our curious Lake Lady even knew each other.”

  “And I had no idea she visited your shop last month.”

  Drake narrowed his eyes at me. “How do you know that?”

  “Tess told me. Her studio is right across from your store. Leticia has never visited any shop here, so why did she finally decide to walk into yours?”

  “The same reason most of my customers do. She had need of my services.”

  “Can you be more specific?” I hoped astrologers didn’t have a confidentiality pact, like doctors or priests. “Did she want her chart done?”

  He shook his head. “She was interested in books about Halloween. Don’t look so puzzled. There’s always interest in All Hallows’ Eve at this time of year. People become curious about the holiday’s origin and significance. Leticia required information about the souls of the
dead. She wanted to know if it’s true they return on Halloween.”

  “Do they?” I wasn’t superstitious, but Leticia no doubt was.

  “Yes. The energy veil between our two worlds is at its most porous on Halloween. Those souls with unfinished business find it easier to come back at that time.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You don’t believe any of this. But I have had experience with the Other Side. I know this to be true. And although restless spirits can come back at any time, it is difficult for them. Not on Halloween, however. That night the door is ajar.”

  “Did Leticia buy books on Halloween from you?”

  “Only one that I recall. An out-of-print volume published a century ago. The book focused on the return of the spirits on All Hallows’ Eve and how they can be appeased. She paid cash, which surprised me. It was rather expensive.”

  “I think I know which spirit she wants to appease.”

  “I hope this has nothing to do with the dead man found on her property.” He said, starting to get upset. “I would be loath to think I had sold her a book instructing her on how to appease the spirit of a man she killed. Please tell me I am mistaken.”

  “I don’t believe she had anything to do with Felix Bonaventure’s death,” I reassured him. “But there is someone she might have reason to worry about. A person long since dead.”

  “Are you saying Leticia is a murderer?”

  “I honestly don’t know. My gut says she isn’t.”

  “Oh well, if your gut says so, I guess she’s innocent.”

  “For someone who believes in ghosts, witchcraft, and astrology, you seem far too contemptuous of intuition.”

  He permitted himself a small smile. “Touché again.”

  I looked up in time to see the bell tower across the street strike four. “Cover your ears,” I warned.

  Drake and I did just that as the bell tolled four thunderous times. It took another moment for the echoes to die away. Thank goodness the bell-ringing system was electronic. A human bell ringer would have gone deaf within a week.

 

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