by R A Muth
“It’s Asher and his mother. Why they do what they do is anyone’s guess. The bigger question is why Thom tolerates--ooh, is that a stepback cupboard? My former mother-in-law has one similar to that, and it’s worth a good bit of money.” I craned my neck for a better look. “It’s like an antique store in here.”
“This makes the job worth it, right?”
“Yeah, it does.” Sliding my new iPad into my tote, I sat the bag near the building to avoid stepping on it and helped Hazel, who was spreading out a tarp over the lawn, which was still damp from the morning fog.
As most of the things in the shed were large pieces of furniture, emptying the shed and cataloging the items went by quickly. We loaded what we could in the back of Hazel’s minivan and made plans to come back for the rest later in the week.
“Do we need to confirm the schedule with Mrs. Sparrows?” I asked as we settled into the heated seat.
“Nah. I’ll shoot Asher an email. He’s the one who asked us to do the job, which makes him our point of contact.” Hazel pulled her phone from the pocket of her apron and frowned. “I missed a bunch of texts from Marci asking if we can meet her at Mocha Joe’s before the séance.”
“Hmm. We have to dump this stuff at the Treasure Trove on the other side of town and then go back to my house to transform me into a gypsy woman. We should have time between the two to stop in for coffee.”
“Girlfriend, we will make time for coffee.” Hazel winked at me before texting the reply to Marci.
A shrill voice called our names, and we turned to see Mrs. Sparrows shuffling toward us, her hands clutching a potted plant in front of her. “Tori dear, here is a little something to help you with your cat.”
“Thank you so much.” I examined the clay pot for some clue as to its contents. What I wanted to say was, but I don’t need any help with my cat.
Mrs. Sparrows tittered. “There’s no label. I created it special.”
“Oh, I was looking for the name of the plant. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything like it.”
“It’s my special hybrid. You won’t find it in any of the nurseries around here. Or anywhere.” She snickered.
“Well, thank you. I’ll take excellent care of it.”
“You girls take care. I’m feeling a little snackish.”
As we drove away, Hazel burst into laughter. “It’s a good thing we didn’t tell her that you have two black thumbs and kill everything you try to grow.”
“Mhmm,” I replied in agreement. “I’m not sure what this is, but until I know if it’s safe for Rune to be around it, I’m going to leave it on my front porch.”
After unloading the van at the thrift store, Hazel and I made a beeline for Mocha Joe's. We had no sooner slid into the same bench on one side of the booth when Ivy put two coffees and a plate of donuts in front of us.
Claiming the opposite seat, the cafe owner asked, "Hi, girls! Got a sec to chat?"
"Sure!" I accepted the coffee and grabbed a warm donut from the plate. Unlike the previous day, when talk of decomposing bodies interrupted my attempt to eat one of the decadent treats, nothing would stand between today's donut and my taste buds. Sugar stuck to my fingertips as I lifted the delectable treat to my mouth and took a generous bite.
Hazel was more hesitant in accepting the proffered plate of pastries. "We're meeting someone here, but we can talk until she arrives. What's up?"
"I hear you two found old Christine Livingston's stinking rotten corpse yesterday." Ivy's eyes gleamed, and she leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table and crossing her wrists. "Is it true she's dead? And if so, then what's going to happen to the beach plum bushes on her property? I'd kill for one of those plants growing along the shore."
Although I slowed my chewing, I continued eating the donut. Hazel looked at me, but I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. How was I supposed to know the answers to her questions? Or if sweet-natured Ivy would have literally killed to obtain one of the plants? Although maybe we could ask Mrs. Livingston herself tonight at the séance.
I stuffed another piece of the donut in my mouth to keep from laughing at the idea of the fake séance conjuring a real spirit. As I chewed, I sobered because, in all seriousness, I hoped and prayed that nothing like that would happen. Still, the beach plum plants seemed to draw an excessive amount of interest. Before I could finish the line of thinking, Hazel's voice pulled me from my inner monologue.
"Allegedly. The authorities have yet to confirm that it's Mrs. Livingston." Hazel took a sip of her coffee. "As for what happens to the bushes, you'd have to ask whoever inherits the property. Why do you care so much about it?"
"Do you like those donuts, girls? Do you want to keep enjoying them with your coffee? Well, the beach plum jam comes from plants that have been growing along the shore since before those first settlers landed at Plymouth Rock in 1715. Sure, you can find them in greenhouses, but the taste is wicked nasty compared to ones you find in the wild." Ivy paused and shook her head. "They're too sweet, or tart, or something. Christine Livingston has been sitting on prime beach plum real estate since she inherited the house from her parents, who got it from their parents. The Livingstons were one of the first families in Cooper's Cove and have owned that land since Nathaniel Cooper founded the town."
"Asher asked after them, too." I popped the last of the donut into my mouth and somehow resisted moaning in delight as I chewed and swallowed.
Ivy’s eyebrows knitted into a straight line across her forehead. "Asher Sparrows? I'd kill before I'd see him get his hands on them.”
Chapter 24
Ivy’s comment shocked me and from Hazel’s expression, I guessed it had the same effect on her as well. Before either of us could say anything, Ivy continued, “Asher has good intentions, but that young man would hand them right over to his mother, and she is one of the most toxic people I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. And before you ask, yes, they're aware of how I feel. I’ve made it so clear that they go out of their way to get baked goods from the Little Dog Diner."
Hazel looked at me, and I wondered what was on her mind. Even if I could have asked her, the bells over the shop's front door jingled to life. I looked up to see Marci craning her neck and waved her over to our booth. Mrs. Benefield and Puff Daddy waltzed in behind her.
At the sound of the tiny dog’s yapping, Ivy stood, making room for Marci to claim the now-vacated seat. Smiling at her new customer, Ivy asked, "Would you like the same kind of coffee as yesterday, or are you ready to try something different?"
Marci leaned back to look at the menu board and asked, "Could I have a vanilla chai latte and a blueberry scone, please?"
"Coming right up, and I'll get you girls some refills after I remind Tori’s neighbor that emotional support animals aren’t service dogs and therefore not allowed in this building." Ivy huffed away to tackle Mrs. Benefield and, presumably, fill our order. I noticed she didn't mention anything about refilling the plate of donuts, a fact my jeans would appreciate.
Once Ivy was out of earshot, Hazel said, "Everything on our end is ready for tonight. What about you? Are your cousins ready to have all the negative vibes removed from the home and property?"
"Oh, yes. I wish you could have seen my cousins' faces when I told them. They were like children presented with the idea of visiting the Owl's Head Transportation Museum." Marci's eyebrows dipped to meet above her nose, and she gave a little smile. "And if you don't mind, I suggest we perform the séance as close as possible to the beach. That was Aunt Christine's favorite spot."
Ivy brought Marci's drink and retreated as Hazel pulled her iPad from its case and opened the séance document I sent her earlier that day. While she and Marci ironed out the final details for tonight's big event, I indulged in another donut.
"So, based on the facts we've uncovered so far, do you two have any idea who might have done it?" Marci asked. "I need you to find out who killed my aunt. Do you have any guesses?"
"No, we don't have any idea,"
Hazel snapped, eliciting a pout from the woman across the table.
With sympathy, I offered, "But a couple of people have mentioned her to us, well, they mentioned her beach plum shrubs to us, if that helps."
Marci leaned in and lowered her voice, "Oh, yeah? Like who mentioned them?"
"Ivy, for one, and then there's Asher's mother," I supplied.
"Asher Sparrows?" Marci's eyes widened a little. "I'm familiar with the name. Mandy Leigh wrote an article about his mother, and another one about his brewery."
"And from what Ivy told us, she's not on good terms with Asher's mother, either." When I caught Hazel staring at me, I took a sip of my drink as an excuse to stop talking.
"That's very interesting." Marci looked over her shoulder at the cafe owner. If Ivy noticed, she didn't bother acknowledging it.
"Well," Hazel sat her coffee mug on the table. "Tori and I need to go get ready for tonight. We'll meet you at the house. You're taking care of inviting the people you feel should attend the séance?"
"Mhmm. I have a few loose ends to tie up, but everything will be ready in time for the big show." Marci assured us.
We made our goodbyes, and I slid out of the booth, following Hazel to the register so we could pay our bill and have our coffee transferred into to-go cups.
"What was up with Ivy?" I asked as soon as Hazel and I secured ourselves into the minivan.
Hazel half-shrugged. "What do you mean, what was up with Ivy?"
"Her interest in the beach plum bushes didn't seem odd?"
"Um, no. Under the circumstances, Ivy's questions seemed legitimate."
She spoke as if I hadn't been sitting right next to her, so I pressed on, "And after Marci got there, she was all radio silence."
"Can you blame her? I doubt I would share information about our future business plans with a total stranger. For Ivy, though, I imagine it's different talking to us. We've been going to Mocha Joe's coffee shop since high school."
"That's a fair point." Maybe I was overthinking things. After all, my amateur sleuthing brain was in overdrive after the events of the past couple of days.
"What was up with you?"
"What do you mean, what was up with me?"
"Giving all those details to Marci. It was like we'd compiled a list of suspects, and you handed it right over."
"Putting together a list of suspects and solving this case so we can get on with our lives isn't a horrible idea." I chewed a hangnail on the side of my thumb and stared out the window.
"Are you nervous about tonight or something?"
"No." My reply came almost before she finished voicing the question. But was I nervous? It wasn't like I had the power to conjure an actual spirit, but before yesterday I hadn't thought stray cats could turn into hot Irishmen, either. Maybe I was nervous, but not for any reason Hazel could guess. Since this wasn't something I could discuss with my bestie, however, I sighed and admitted, "I don't know. Maybe."
"It'll be okay," Hazel reassured me. "After all, Rune and I will both be there with you."
"Thanks, Hazel." I forced a smile, but the truth was, nothing she could say would erase the sense of foreboding that settled over me like an early morning fog hunkering over Blueberry Bay.
By the time Hazel navigated her vehicle into my driveway a few minutes later, I felt no more optimistic than when we had left Mocha Joe's but continued forcing a smile until my cheeks hurt from the effort.
"You've got this!" Hazel encouraged, pumping her fist in the air. Before I could respond, her cell phone chimed to life. After a glance at the screen, she put her index finger to her lips before tapping an icon to accept the incoming call.
Although Hazel putting the phone to her left ear and leaning against the door prevented me from making heads or tails of the conversation, I could still detect Sven's heavy Nordic accent. To avoid eavesdropping, I retrieved my new iPad and took the opportunity to change the settings, starting with the wallpaper. Glad for cloud technology, I swiped through recent photos stored in my Ringo app, landing on the selfie I'd taken with Rune the day before. His eyes sure are green, I thought, gazing at his image with a dreamy sigh.
"Wowza, who is that? Wait, that's your living room. Was he in your house? Are you dating this person? When were you going to tell me, your best friend, about him, Tori?" Hazel's questions continued to come at a rapid pace. Before I could answer one, she'd fire off two more.
How was I supposed to explain this?
Chapter 25
I held out my free hand and gave a nervous laugh. "Whoa! Hold on. You've got my head spinning with all your questions."
When I paused, Hazel huffed and reminded, "I'm waiting."
"Okay, fine. This guy is someone I met recently. There's almost nothing to tell. We're friends, kind of, barely more than acquaintances." I stammered, hoping my vague replies would satisfy her curiosity, at least until after the séance.
"Mhmm, you little she-devil. I can't believe you've kept this hunk a big secret! Don't get me wrong. I love Sven, and he's as handsome as he was in our senior prom photos, but your new man is a dreamboat. Look at you go! And you've been so silent about it."
I grabbed my new houseplant and grinned. "Well, you know how the old saying goes. It's the quiet ones you have to watch."
From the moment we walked into the house, Rune, in his feline form, appeared captivated with Hazel's continued interrogation of me about the new mystery man in my life. Whenever I dodged a question, he stared at me with an intent gaze.
Setting the plant on the top of the entertainment center in my living room, I suggested we start sorting through costume and prop options. After what seemed an eternity, I stood in my living room with Hazel, double-checking that we didn't forget anything.
"Meditation music loaded onto the iPad and a Bluetooth speaker? Check. Candles and utility lighter? Check. Box of salt? Check. Crystal ball? Well, we'll find something." My best friend ticked off the items from the list Rune and I drafted the previous night. "You said you have lavender oil, right?"
"Yep. I've got it in my bag."
"Check!"
"Duffy always hated the smell of it, so I bought a lifetime supply of it after he died," I added.
Hazel's grin fell. "Do you ever miss him?"
"I did a little, right after he died, but the more time that passed, the more I began to enjoy not having him around. That sounds horrible, doesn't it?"
"No, it doesn't! I never saw what you saw in him, and I never wanted anything bad to happen to him, but I always thought you could do better."
Uncomfortable talking about my late husband, and not willing to admit that I agreed with her, I looked around for a diversion. My eyes fell on the gold cape Hazel insisted on using as a replacement for the black lace shawl. Meeting her eyes again, I quipped, "And turning me into Whoopi Goldberg's character from the movie Ghost? Check."
Hazel's laughter broke the serious mood, and she insisted, "Oh, come on. You look fabulous, like a runway model."
Rune nodded from his place in the recliner. Even though he was in his cat form, I imagined his voice saying, "The other lass speaks true, and it keeps ye shoulders covered." Staring at the feline, I let slip an exaggerated sigh.
Hazel looked up from her iPad. "Uh-oh. That sigh can only mean one thing. Someone's on the verge of hangry, right?"
"Well, maybe." Although I wasn't hungry enough to be angry, those donuts were no substitute for lunch. My stomach voiced its agreement with a low gurgle. "Yeah, I guess I am hungry. Would you like leftover Chinese food, or should we order something fresh?"
"Let's order something fresh. Leftover Chinese food never agrees with my acid reflux, and I'm in a pizza mood."
"That's weird how leftover Chinese doesn't agree with you, but pizza does." Over the years, Hazel had many mysterious food-related intolerances that seemed to align perfectly with her personal preferences.
"Right? It must be all of the MSG," she explained.
I glanced at where the cat sa
t in the recliner and sorry I couldn't share it with my little buddy. Maybe I could save him a slice for later. While I wouldn't ever feed human food to a pet, Rune the hot Irishman might enjoy it.
"Having second thoughts about taking the cat with us? Should we go by Kitty City and buy a collar and a leash?" Hazel suggested.
The cat's eyes widened, and he drew back, fangs bared. I scooped him into my arms and held him close before my friend could see his reaction. "He'll be okay. You saw the way he kept at my side before. Even if he should wander off, I'm pretty confident he'll come back if I call for him."
All of a sudden, Rune's purring filled the room, and he snuggled against me. Dang it, Hazel. I wish I could tell you the truth, even if to share with another person about how weird this all is! But it would be too big a distraction right now, and besides, how would I prove it?
As if answering the questions in my mind, Hazel said, "I'll take your word for it. Now let's talk about the wicked important topic. Where are we ordering this pizza?"
"Tony's Authentic Italian-Style Pizzeria!" we answered together. The owner named it after his cousin, a bestselling author who visited the area for a book signing each time a new title in his sci-fi series became available.
An hour later, having devoured most of a large-sized, meat-lovers pizza--half pineapple, half mushroom to satisfy both our favorite toppings--with extra cheese, the alarm on Hazel's iPad chimed.
"Time to head over to the mansion." Hazel grabbed the shopping bag of props. "Are you ready for this?"
I cradled the cat in my arms. "Mhmm, it's now or never. Let's go summon the spirit of one Christine Livingston so the heirs will pay us, and I can keep the lights on for another few months."
"Don't sound so down-in-the-mouth. It'll work out. You'll see." Hazel smiled brightly. "And once everyone arrives, I'll make an excuse to duck out and see if I can find any clues inside the house. I know when Gavin takes his smoke breaks, which gives me the upper hand."