Wild Secrets (A Wilder Witch Mystery Book 3)

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Wild Secrets (A Wilder Witch Mystery Book 3) Page 9

by Jade Wolfe


  Lavinia shivered.

  Sage laughed.

  I realized she was touching the back of Lavinia’s neck over and over. The poor woman must be freezing. I tore my glare away from Sage, mustered a small smile, and asked, “Would you like to go to the living room where it’s warmer?”

  She nodded, relief evident on her face.

  “Something about this room always gave me the willies,” I said with a little laugh.

  “I know what you mean - I feel it too,” she said. “Like ghosts are here.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked.

  She laughed. “I’d be smart to say no, but there are too many unexplained things in the world, aren’t there?”

  “True.” I fell a little behind and let Lavinia lead the way. Then, when she wasn’t looking, I turned on Sage. “Get out of here,” I hissed.

  “Why?” She grinned. “This is fun.”

  I shooed her with a hand. “Go harass somebody else. This woman just lost her husband.”

  “Ooh, he’s the one in the web, right?”

  “Yes. She doesn’t know that. Get out.”

  “You can’t tell me to get out of my own house,” she argued, crossing her arms.

  “Yes I can. It’s not yours anymore. Stop causing trouble.”

  “What are you gonna do? Call the police?”

  “Nope - but I’ll make one.”

  That confused her.

  “If you don’t leave right now, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make sure Jason gets into any police academy he wants.” I was actually going to do that anyway, but she didn’t need to know that yet.

  She gave me a murderous look and disappeared.

  I blew out my breath and went through the door behind Lavinia.

  She was standing near the doorway, staring at me with her head cocked. “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

  “Nobody.” I smiled. “Well, myself.”

  “You told yourself to get out?”

  “Figure of speech,”I muttered.

  She didn’t move. “You’re an odd one, aren’t you” she asked finally.

  I shifted from one foot to the other and silently cursed Sage for putting me in this situation. “Usually.”

  She considered me for another moment, then nodded once and turned toward the fireplace. A small blaze sprang up there, making both of us gasp.

  “What on earth?” she asked.

  I caught smoky movement from the corner of my eye. Sage. “Sorry about that. Gas fireplace.”

  “I’ve never seen a fireplace that lights itself.”

  I thought fast. “It’s, uh, on a timer.”

  She checked her watch, a silver, expensive looking thing. “You’ve got it set to three-eighteen in the afternoon?”

  “My dad, not me.” I sat down in one of the wingback chairs and indicated that she take the other one.

  I valiantly tried to change the subject. “So, what’s so bad that you were thinking about jumping off a bridge?”

  She chuckled. “It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? Like a cartoon.”

  “It’s not ridiculous, not if you need help,” I said, leaning forward. “I’d like to help if I can, Lavinia.”

  “You can’t help me - not unless you know who killed my husband.” She put her tea cup down on the small table between the chairs and turned to me. “I want to go home,” she said. “I want to put poor Jasper to rest. I want to get away from this place. I want to never see Bess Gabriel again.”

  I studied her face, trying again to imagine her hiring a contract killer. She wasn’t dumb, and she wasn’t a pushover, but I still didn’t get the impression that she was capable of such a terrible thing.

  But that only left Pete, and he didn’t have a motive.

  That we knew about.

  “Lavinia, was there any reason why Pete might have killed Jasper?” I asked.

  “She sighed. “I’ve been over all of this in my head,” she said. “I can’t think of anything.”

  “Nothing at all? No arguments? No reason to think that Jasper was going to fire Pete or anything like that?”

  “No. I told you...” She paused. “Other than a possible fight over Bess, of all things, they were fine. Pete depended on Jasper for his paycheck.”

  “Would they fight over Bess? They’ve worked together for a long time, right?”

  “Since the beginning. Pete has been loyal, as far as I know.”

  I sighed, frustrated. I was running out of questions to ask. I sat up straighter and looked her in the eye. “Lavinia, did you hire a hit man to kill your husband?”

  She looked away. “You know, I would be insulted if I didn’t know you were trying to help.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, but I had to ask.”

  She waved a hand. “Like I said, I know you’re trying to help. You’re looking in the wrong place, though. Bess Gabriel is the killer you want. She had to have done this.”

  “The killer was a man,” I said quietly. I had no idea if that information was a secret or not. “Definitely.”

  She considered this. “Have you asked Bess if she hired a hit man?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t talked with her yet.”

  Lavinia was quiet for a minute. “I bet the police around here just love you,” she said, sarcasm heavy in her tone.

  I laughed. “Well, I do tend to get in the way,” I said. “I like to call it helping.”

  “So you’ve helped before?”

  “I’ve solved two murders in the last year.” I didn’t feel proud of it, it was just a fact.

  She turned to face me again. “We’ve been here nearly a week, and I don’t want to ever set foot in Wilder again. I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars to solve this one,” she said.

  I almost laughed. “Oh, no ma’am. My dad was a fan of Jasper’s work. I’m going to solve this one for free.”

  She nodded and went quiet for a few minutes. “Well,” she said finally, “If you won’t take money, how about this - I have three of Jasper’s unpublished manuscripts. Would your dad like to read them before I send them to the publisher?”

  “Oh, wow! He’d be thrilled.” I couldn’t help but grin. This was shaping up to be Dad’s best birthday ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lavinia spent the rest of our conversation asking about my life here in Wilder. I was pretty sure she didn’t know what to make of someone who wanted to live here on purpose. I didn’t much blame her. She asked about my dad, and Dante, and the house. When she started asking about ghosts again, I offered to drive her back to the hotel.

  After she was safely inside, I thought about our conversation for a minute, then mentally crossed her off the list of suspects. First of all, she didn’t fit the rune clues - she didn’t appear to be at all selfish, and there was no indication that she was delayed, other than wanting to get home. That was completely understandable. Also, I couldn’t explain it, but when I tried to match her up with the three clues - selfish, delays, and lock - it just didn’t feel right. She wasn’t the killer, and deep down I knew it, no matter what Dante said.

  I just had to find the real killer to prove it.

  It wasn’t like we didn’t have any clues - we did. We had the runes, and we had a pool of suspects. It was just a process of elimination, right? I’d already ruled out Lavinia. That left Pete and Bess.

  And William.

  I’d forgotten about him. I didn’t really think he would do such a thing as kill an author, but he wasn’t exactly stable. I knew that from experience.

  But kill someone? Surely not.

  He had invited Jasper to come, and he could have gone into the library if they knew each other. If he planned to kill Jasper, he could even have locked the door behind him when he entered, then left through the back door.

  But then, Pete could have done the exact same thing. Why would I pick on William and not Pete?

  I felt an urgency as I drove toward home, for Lavi
nia’s sake. I was missing something, I knew it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Whatever it was, Dante was missing it, too.

  We worked best as a team, Dante and I, but now that there was pressure for me to keep my nose out of police business I couldn’t help but notice that there was a bit of strain between us. I felt bad for him - not bad enough to back off, but bad - and I was also irritated at both Ben and Dad for causing it.

  OK, I could kind of see why Ben might not want me to get involved. It was his police department, after all. He paid men to handle these sorts of things.

  Except that I knew the real reason why - his ego couldn’t take the hit of me solving another murder. Well...ha! Too bad, Benny. I was on the case.

  I giggled at that.

  Dad...well, I could see Dad’s point of view, too. He was worried about me. I had gotten into major trouble the last time I tried to hunt down a killer. But I was all right, and a murderer was behind bars, so I still felt pretty proud of myself. I would just have to have a talk with him, that was all. Father to daughter. This town was mine, like it or not, and according to Sage it was at least partly my job to keep it safe. I was pretty sure she meant keeping our sorcerer in the ground, but murderers were no better than sorcerers.

  On the way home, I stopped by the hardware store and picked up stain for my bookshelf. Then I went to the drugstore to get Dad a birthday card.

  I was there when the commotion started out front.

  Standing on tiptoe to look outside the drugstore’s windows, I saw Pete Shoemaker’s head across the street, in front of the courthouse. He was standing on the courthouse steps, talking a mile a minute, but I couldn’t see who he was talking to. I put down my things and went to the front doors.

  News crews. The street was full of them. Since I’d come in from the hotel and parked at the back of the lot, I hadn’t seen them on my way in, but they were certainly here now, making a mess of traffic with their vans. Reporters circled Pete and kept stabbing microphones his way.

  This was interesting. I headed that way.

  The crowd got noisier the closer I got, and more and more people were showing up to see what was going on. I saw Pastor Reese and his wife, Bagly, and even Ben Bridges was there. I watched Ben for a moment, wondering if he was there to disperse the people, but he seemed content to just stand there and listen. I walked his way.

  He glanced up and frowned when he saw me. “Don’t worry,” I said when I got close enough, “I’m not here to cause you trouble.” I nodded toward Pete. “What’s going on?”

  Ben hesitated like he didn’t want to tell me, then said, “He said he had an announcement to make.”

  Uh-oh. Was Pete going public with complaints about how the force wasn’t solving Jasper’s murder? I hoped not. I didn’t care if Ben got into trouble, but a complaint like this would look bad for the whole department.

  When the questions slowed to a lull, Pete held up both hands to quiet everyone. I was pretty sure he was wearing the same wrinkled suit that he’d been wearing the morning of Jasper’s death, although that didn’t surprise me much. Living in a hotel was difficult.

  The reporters got quiet.

  “I’m here to answer any questions you may have regarding the death of Jasper Davenport - a great author and, more importantly, my very good friend. I must say that he will be missed.”

  “How did Davenport die?” A female reporter asked. I thought I recognized her as one of the regional news anchors.

  “He was murdered in cold blood,” Pete replied.

  “Has the killer been caught?” someone else asked.

  “Not yet.” Pete’s eyes slid toward Ben. “But I’m confident that the police are doing their best to bring this horrible person to justice.”

  Ben nodded to himself and turned to go, but the reporters had noticed the attention. They headed our way like a swarm of ants.

  I stepped back to watch. Ben’s face turned red and he crossed his arms again. “This is an ongoing investigation,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the frenzy of questions being shouted his way. “I won’t comment at this time.”

  With a final glance at me and a darker, more menacing look in Pete’s direction, he got into his car and left.

  The reporter crowd shifted back toward Pete and asked the normal questions - how old was he, where was Mrs. Davenport, and so on. I was about ready to go back into the store when a new voice piped up. “Mr. Shoemaker, is it true that you stand to make a fortune on Jasper Davenport’s book sales now that he’s gone?”

  I practically fell over. What was this guy saying?

  Pete looked completely befuddled, but just like in the library that morning, I got the distinct impression that he was simply acting. Something about his actions didn’t ring true. “No, sir. With Davenport gone, there won’t be any more royalties. That’s how the publishing industry works. Do your research next time.”

  He turned away, and the reporter didn’t offer any follow-up questions.

  I had a few, though. If there was even a small chance that Pete would benefit from Jasper’s death, we needed to know. I cleared my throat. I didn’t have a microphone to wave, but I was loud when I used my outside voice. “Mr. Shoemaker, regardless of how the industry works, does your specific contract with Davenport grant you any monetary rewards in case of his death?”

  He was turning as red as Ben had earlier, even though the autumn breeze was cool. “No,” he snapped. His gaze moved over the crowd - he hadn’t seen who asked the question. Finally, with pure disgust written on his face, he turned and went into the courthouse. Someone followed him, and I realized that it was the man in the suit - the one he’d been speaking with earlier. Hmm.

  I wanted to follow them, but there were too many people in the way, crowding the glass courthouse doors, trying to get in one last question before Pete disappeared inside. It would have taken me an hour to wade through the crowd, and by then Pete most likely would have ducked out the rear doors.

  That gave me an idea, though.

  Stepping back and navigating my way out of the clutch of people, I followed the sidewalk to the edge of the building. Peeking around the corner, I saw a big SUV sitting on the street. It looked expensive and out of place in our little town, and something told me that it belonged to the man in the suit. I smiled and headed that way, trying to look like a casual pedestrian so the reporters behind me wouldn’t figure out what I was up to and chase after me.

  I got to the SUV at the same time as Pete. He saw me and hesitated, then pressed his lips into a thin line and headed my way. He probably figured his other alternative - facing the sharks out front again - was worse.

  “Mr. Shoemaker I said, meeting him just as he reached for the door handle of the SUV.

  He stopped. “Yes? What?” He narrowed his eyes and studied me, like he was trying to remember where he’d seen me before. I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d been with the police that morning. He’d most likely clam up and run.

  “Mr. Shoemaker, did you kill Jasper Davenport?”

  He blinked and cocked his head. “I’m sorry...what?”

  “Did you kill Jasper Davenport?” I spoke more slowly.

  “Are you a cop?” the man in the suit asked.

  I barely glanced at him. “No.” I was keeping my eye on Pete’s reaction.

  He looked at the man in the suit - who was definitely a lawyer, he had that weaselly air about him. The man grinned. Pete grinned back at him. “Are you just...asking me, point blank?” Amusement lightened his voice.

  “I am, yes.”

  “Do you think I’d tell you?”

  I shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

  “No, I didn’t kill Jasper. He was a good friend to me, as well as a coworker.”

  “Don’t you mean boss?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “What?”

  “Wouldn’t he be your boss, if your job depended on him?”

  “I work for Carter Public Relations Group
, not Jasper Davenport,” he huffed. “Please get your facts straight.”

  I looked at him and tried to come up with more questions, since he seemed willing to talk, but I couldn’t think of much. “What will you do now that Jasper is gone? I heard that this account was your only one.”

  “Where did you hear that?” he asked.

  “Is it true?”

  “That’s none of your business, ma’am.”

  “I know. I’m asking anyway.” I smiled sweetly at him, which wasn’t easy. Some small voice inside me still insisted that Pete Shoemaker had killed Jasper. I wasn’t sure how all the piece fit, not yet, but I would figure it out eventually. Somehow.

  “So you think I would just admit that I killed Jasper, and then proceed to answer your other questions?’ he asked.

  “Maybe. It was worth a shot.”

  He shook his head, and the man in the suit laughed. “Lady, you’re nuts.”

  “What has that got to do with anything?” I asked him. Then I turned to the man in the suit. “Who are you exactly?”

  “I’m Jasper Davenport’s lawyer, he answered. “And you have no right to question us.”

  Pete smirked, and that irritated me. He turned without saying any more and climbed into the SUV. The man in the suit gave me one last, bemused look and went around to the other side.

  I stood there until they backed out of the space and drove away, down the street toward the hotel.

  “You think he did it?” Sage appeared at my elbow.

  I jumped, then realized it was her. “Uh...yes, I do think he did it.”

  “Didn’t that Dante boy tell you to stop asking people that question?”

  “Yes,” I muttered.

  She laughed. “Good girl. Never do what a man tells you to do just because he tells you.”

  “What?”

  “Makes them too proud of themselves. It’s not good for them.”

  I squinted her way. In the afternoon light she was a bit shimmery and hard to see. “What are you talking about?”

  “Men.” She leaned in close. “Try to keep up.”

  “What does that have to do with Jasper Davenport’s murder?”

  “Nothing at all. I was done talking about that. Like I said, try to keep up.”

 

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