by Mollie Bryan
His chin tilted up, and he smiled. “Yes?”
“Hi. Do you remember me? We met in the cemetery. I’m the person who—”
He held up his hand. “Yes, I remember you. Of course.”
She glanced at the girl. Daughter? “The police are looking for you. They came to my house. They want to talk with you again.”
His left eyebrow rose. “I’ve already talked with them. I don’t understand.” He shrugged. “But whatever. I’ll see what they need. Thanks for telling me.”
“Sure,” she said and moved along. A tingle traveled up her spine. She stopped and turned. “Is this your daughter? She’s lovely.”
The girl laughed.
“No,” he said.
“Thank you,” the girl replied.
“Would you two like to visit the B & B?”
“Oh, yes!” The girl said. “I’m Peggy, by the way.”
“Great. We’ve got an amazing cake!”
The man fidgeted. “What about our walk, Peggy?”
He was up to no good. Dread washed over Viv.
“Let’s have cake and then go for a walk?” Peggy said.
He appeared to consider it. “I’ll tell you what. I’m not a dessert man. But why don’t you enjoy the cake. I’ll catch up with you later. Evidently, I need to stop at the police station.”
Viv’s stomach settled. She had no idea what he was up to, and she was certain he wasn’t heading to the police, but at least she was getting him away from Peggy. She’d find out more from the girl as they were eating cake. And she’d call the police to tell them he’s still in town. Happy Spring Fling, dude.
Chapter 13
When they arrived at the B & B, the reception was in full swing.
“What an amazing place,” Peggy said, awestruck.
“It’s my aunt’s place. I’m just here to help. I’m a game designer,’’ Viv told her as she led her to the conservatory.
“You mean like Monopoly?”
“No, computer games. Like Bella’s Victorian Grimoire.”
Peggy’s blue eyes lit up. Bingo! “Did you design that?”
“No, do you play it?
“Everybody does!”
“There you are,” Aunt Libby came up to them. “Do you mind taking over cake duties for a few minutes? Who do we have here?” She scanned Peggy.
“This is Peggy. We just met. She was walking along with the man who helped me that day in the cemetery. I asked them for cake. She took me up on it.”
Libby’s eyebrows shot up. She grabbed Viv and hugged her. “Should I call the police?” she whispered. Viv whispered a yes. Aunt Libby extended her hand. “So very nice to meet you, Peggy. Please have a piece of cake.”
She exited the room and Viv took her place at the cake table. Slices of cake were ready on plates on the table. “Which kind do you want?”
“The chocolate, please,” Peggy said.
A small crowd huddled in the conservatory, eating their cake and oohing and ahhing over the beauty of the place. Viv’s heart refused to calm. Here was Peggy, who had just been with the man the police are looking for in connection with the murder. Viv didn’t quite know how to behave. She wasn’t a hugger, but she wanted to wrap her arms around Peggy and tell her not to walk off alone with men old enough to be her father.
“How do you know that man, the one you were walking with?” Viv finally said, after slicing and placing a few chunks of cake onto plates and handing one to a lady who stopped by the table.
“That’s Mr. Paul. He works at my high school. He’s a substitute teacher.” She shoved in more cake.
Viv’s stomach waved. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I ran into him at the parade. Nice man. He bought me a soda.”
If he was a substitute teacher for the local school, why were the police having such a hard time finding him?
“Does he live in town?” Viv asked.
“I don’t think so. He talks about a farm a lot. I think he’s a farmer.”
There was nothing odd about that. Many of the local farmers had second or third jobs. But it seemed odd for a farmer to be away early in the morning to teach school. Things didn’t add up.
“This cake is so delicious,” Peggy added.
“Aunt Libby is a fabulous baker. She went to culinary school.”
“Very cool,” Peggy said and finished her cake. “I better get going. I told my mom I’d meet her at eleven.”
At least that sounded safe. Viv served more cake, then noticed Peggy heading out to the garden with a man. Her stomach twisted. So much for going to see her mom. Was that Mr. Paul? But then the man turned slightly, and she could see it was Officer Willoughby. Whew. Thank goodness he’d responded so quickly to Aunt Libby’s call.
Aunt Libby entered the room and circled around through the small groups of people, chatting with them, thanking them for visiting. Once again, for a flash of a moment, Viv felt as if she’d stepped back in time. But it wasn’t as weird as what happened to her in that church. She supposed that had been some kind of strange dream. Then another group entered the conservatory, so Viv couldn’t allow herself to dream right now. She needed to focus and find Eliza’s killer.
Later, after the Spring Fling was over, Viv peeled herself out of the Victorian dress and corset. Were women expected to function in these things? The dress was heavy; it made a noise when she walked, and what if she needed to run or something? Nah. Not for the first time, she was glad she was alive now, instead of then, and she couldn’t understand people enamored with the Victorian age. Or the Civil War, for that matter. The clothing was uncomfortable.
But as she slipped off her lover’s eye pendant, she gave the Victorians credit for their sense of the macabre.
Her phone buzzed. She answered. “Hello.”
“Hi, Viv. It’s me, Willa.”
“What’s up.” Viv sat on the bed with her phone in her hand and reached for her laptop, setting it on the bed.
“Have you looked at what I sent you?”
Viv propped up the pillows behind her, leaned back. “Nah, we had this big Spring Fling town celebration, and I haven’t checked my email in a few hours. Why?”
“I’ve been investigating. All the items your girl found suggest she was performing the ritual.”
“Makes sense.”
Willa breathed into the phone. “Looks like there may be something she ingested. I mean, if she followed the ritual to a T, then she would’ve drunk the Spirit Potion.”
Viv’s heart raced. “What was in it?”
“It’s hard to believe anybody goes to this trouble for a game. The herbs are to be gathered at sunrise a week before the ritual. Then they’re supposed to brew them the next day and let them sit for the entire week. On the face of it, none of the herbs should be harmful. Herbs like mint, thyme, and dandelion.”
Viv ticked the items off in her head. None of those were poisonous. “That must not be what killed her.”
“But what did? Can you get a copy of the autopsy report?”
“They only give those to family, I should think,” Viv said.
Willa breathed into the phone again. “Seriously? Come on Viv. I know you better than that.”
Well.
“I’ve gone straight. I’m not hacking anymore.”
“Okay, whatever. We hacked for a good cause, remember. Look, I’ve got to go. But try to find out exactly what killed her. You said she looked like she was sleeping. It wasn’t as if she was attacked, right?”
“Right,” Viv said, struggling to follow the thread of conversation after the word hacking. Her heart was racing, palms sweating, and her fingers itched for her keyboard. Despite herself, Viv missed the thrill of hacking. Before she went straight, she’d worked with Willa to give many students deep discounts on tuition and medical expenses—ones their high-priced universities hadn’t intended to provide. At the time, she’d felt okay about it. The schools had charged a king’s ransom. But now Viv wasn’t sure the end justified the m
eans. And she used to be so certain.
After they hung up, Viv slid her laptop onto the nightstand. No computer for her. Not tonight. She wished she’d gotten a chance to speak with Willoughby, but she was busy serving cake and the next thing she knew he was gone. She needed to rest and touch base with the police tomorrow about Peggy.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Viv padded downstairs and almost ran into Aunt Libby, who was delivering more clean towels to the Rose Room. “More?” Viv mouthed, and Libby nodded.
What on earth were they doing with the towels?
When Viv walked into the room, a stack of pancakes greeted her with their luscious scent. A pang of guilt shot through her—she should’ve gotten up earlier to help her aunt. The B & B guests were already making demands, breakfast was over, and Aunt Libby had saved her a few delicious pancakes.
Viv downed her coffee and pancakes, stood, and took her plates to the sink to rinse.
“Good morning,” Aunt Libby said as she walked in the room. One eyebrow shot up. “You ate quickly.”
“Yeah, I guess I was hungry and I’ve got a full schedule today.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I want to help you clean up after breakfast, and then I will take a walk to the police station. I also want to call the game designer.”
Aunt Libby waved her hand. “Breakfast cleanup is done, my dear. It’s almost eleven. You slept way in, and I didn’t want to disturb you. You worked hard yesterday.”
Viv, stunned that she slept so long, opened the dishwasher and slid her plate and cup inside.
“Why are you going to the police?” Aunt Libby’s eyes slanted and her hands went to her hips.
“I wanted to check about Peggy and see what that was all about.” Viv leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ve a feeling that man was up to no good.”
“It’s not kind to accuse people of things without proof, Viv.”
“I know that, but something is off about him. Why didn’t he know the cops were looking for him? Why couldn’t the cops find him?” Questions came tumbling out of her. “And what’s his interest in Peggy?”
“Could be perfectly innocent,” Libby said. “Maybe the officer wrote the number down wrong.”
“I hope so,” Viv started to leave the room, then turned. “Do you know anything about Eliza’s cause of death?”
“Someone poisoned her.”
Viv’s heart sped up. “What kind of poison?”
Aunt Libby shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Viv didn’t know if she’d tell Libby she’d been talking with Willa, who was probably Libby’s least favorite person on the planet. According to Libby, Willa was the world’s worst influence on Viv. But Viv didn’t blame Willa. She had her own mind. “It might help us find the killer.”
“The police are working on that,” Aunt Libby clipped.
“It’s just that the game has this ritual...and the ritual included the objects I saw by Eliza’s body. And there’s a potion to drink. If Eliza was performing the ritual, then nobody killed her. She killed herself by drinking the potion.”
Aunt Libby stiffened. “What was in this potion?”
“Many herbs.”
Aunt Libby’s eyes widened. “What herbs?”
“Mint, thyme, dandelion, nettle, and St. John’s wort.”
“Sounds pretty innocuous. Except for the St. John’s wort, which if taken in substantial amounts can harm you. Do you have the recipe?”
“Upstairs on my computer,” Viv replied. She’d only gotten a chance to glance at it last night before falling into bed.
“Okay then, let’s take a look,” Aunt Libby said.
Just then the phone rang, and Aunt Libby answered it. Viv stood idly by until Libby waved her off, mouthing, “Later,” to her.
Viv exited the B & B, stepping out into a warm, sunny day. The streets were still teeming with people. It was a very busy weekend for Victoria Town. Viv walked down the stone path and opened the gate to the sidewalk and street.
She wasn’t on display anymore, like she’d been yesterday in her Victorian dress, waving and smiling, but she still felt like it as she walked along. She walked by Fans & Feathers, Eliza’s grandmother’s shop, and noticed it was open. Odd. She’d not expected that to be the case at all. People were streaming in and out of the shop, bags, and packages in their arms. Viv sped inside and blinked a few times. The store was a feast for the senses. A gluttonous one at that—pink, greens, and purples. She wrinkled her nose.
“May I help you?” a woman behind the counter asked. Viv didn’t recognize her.
“I’m a friend of the family and when I saw the store open...”
The woman’s pasty smile faded. “I’m a friend, too. This weekend is so important to the business. I stepped in. Can I help you with something?”
Viv studied her. The woman’s eyes were puffy and circled in black. She’d definitely been crying. “No, I’m just...”
“I know. There are no words. Losing a child... I just can’t...” the woman said.
Viv hadn’t thought of Eliza being a child. But she was someone’s child, wasn’t she? Her stomach knotted. She’d been so focused on the game and solving the murder that she hadn’t thought about what this was doing to Eliza’s family. She’d also been focused on getting over discovering her, the shock of it, and she hadn’t thought of anybody else. Shame swept through her.
A knot formed in Viv’s stomach. “Do you know what happened?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m betting it had something to do with that weird boyfriend,”
Boyfriend? “That right. What was his name, again?”
“Kyle Cranston,” she said, then turned to ring out the next customer.
“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Viv said, immediately feeling like it was a stupid thing to say. What could she do to ease the pain of losing a friend, a daughter, and a granddaughter?
“Thank you,” the woman said, looking behind Viv at a customer coming up. Viv stepped aside, heading out of the shop, trying to erase the fans and feather and colors out of her head. Oy. Now, if she could just get to the police station without tripping over her legs, bumping into a tourist, or discovering another dead body.
Chapter 14
“You want to talk with whom?” The woman behind the desk asked.
“Officer Willoughby,” Viv repeated.
The woman, a loud breather, snorted. What was that about? “Okay. Just a minute.”
She picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons. Viv could hear the phone ringing through.
“Willoughby,” the voice on the other end said.
“I’ve got someone here to see you, a young woman. Her name is Viv Barton.”
Pause.
“I’ll be right there.”
She hung up the phone and looked back up at Viv with pursed lips. “He’ll be right here.”
Was Viv imagining things—or did this woman dislike her? Or maybe it was Willoughby she didn’t like?
“Please have a seat,” the woman said, tight-lipped.
“Okay.” Afraid to say another word because of the strange vibes she was getting from the receptionist, Viv sat and waited a few minutes before Willoughby came bounding into the room, hand extended.
“Ms. Barton,” he said.
Viv stood, shook his hand.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m checking to see how things went with Peggy and that man,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”
“What? I’m the person who called you about it. Well, my aunt did for me.”
“I know,” he said. “Just know that it’s fine. And we appreciated your lead.”
Viv stood dumbfounded. “Okay. So Peggy’s fine?”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
Her stomach unknotted, and she hadn’t even realized it was tight. “Okay,” she said, supposing that was the most important issue. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Sure thing.” He glanced at the receptionist. She glared back.
Oh, it was him the woman didn’t like. Viv tried not to smile—something was going on between them—good or bad—or both.
She walked out of the station into the busier-than-usual streets of Victoria Town.
Out of habit, she walked toward the cemetery. Then, when she spotted the ornate iron fence, it gave her pause. Not today. She turned the corner and sauntered toward Cee Cee’s House of Chocolate for a cup of hot chocolate—and to look up Kyle Cranston on her smart phone.
Viv swung the door open, and the warm chocolate scent filled her senses. She ordered a cup of french hot chocolate and browsed the chocolate counter and chocolate cookbooks. She wandered over to the community bulletin board. Someone was looking for a lead singer in a band. Another person has a 1989 Dodge for sale. A new yoga group was forming. And someone was offering Bella’s Grimoire Potion for a limited time. Whoa. Wait. This person was selling the very potion she’d been seeking. Maybe it was the potion that Eliza drank. She took the notice off the board and shoved it in her purse.
Her first thought was to take it to the police station. But then she remembered the how weirdly she’d been treated and thought she’d just call this number herself.
“Viv!” The chocolatier called, sliding a steaming, thick, dark, real hot chocolate toward her.
“That’s me!” She waved her hand. Yes, she’d call the potion person. But first things first.
Viv made herself comfortable at the small cafe table and drew in the scent as a group of girls entered the establishment, spilling giggles. She was never a giggler—and never hung out with them. Still, she thought it cute, at least for a while.
She searched for Kyle Cranston on her phone. There was his Facebook page. She read over the page. According to his last post, he was in Florida. Of course, he could be fabricating that. Viv clicked over to Instagram. He was still in Florida three days ago, showing off his photos of the beach. She struck him from her list.
She lifted her cup to her lips and blew on the chocolate. The first time she had it, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. This was not like any hot chocolate she’d ever tasted. The chocolatier explained that it was real chocolate melted in cream. That was it. Chocolate and cream. She sipped from the cup, allowing the smooth, rich flavor to fill her senses. The flavor spoke of dark sensuous nights of mystery.