Original Secrets: A Whispering Pines Mystery, Book 3

by Shawn McGuire

  “I’m fine.” I narrowed my eyes at her and held up the cone. “I thought I asked for one scoop.”

  “Did you?” Honey tapped her ears. “I don’t always hear so well.”

  “Right,” I smiled and headed for the door. “Remember to plug-in that walkie-talkie. I hope you never need to use it.”

  I sat on a bench between the sweet shop and Shoppe Mystique to eat my ice cream and give Meeka some water. She was okay with lavender but didn’t care for lemon so wasn’t interested in the ice cream. As I ate, my mind fired off one question after another: A murder near Whispering Pines’ inception? Who was the victim? Why were they killed? Who was the killer? Was it somehow related to Gran’s death?

  “Jayne?”

  I looked over my right shoulder to see Morgan standing on her front porch looking quizzically at me.

  “You’re so deep in thought. Did you even notice the people greeting you?”

  I looked at the crowd that had just walked past me, gave a little wave, and turned back to Morgan. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course. Come on in.”

  I shoved the last bite of cone into my mouth and followed her inside. I handed the walkie-talkie unit to Willow, Morgan’s long and lanky assistant, and gave her instructions to plug it in and set it to channel six. Then I asked Morgan, “You’re sure this is a good time?”

  She gestured around the shop. My gaze skittered over the cases loaded with bottles of dried herbs and flowers; a table full of Morgan’s handmade lotions and beauty potions; the racks of candles, crystals, and stones; more racks of oils, incense, amulets, and talismans. Among all that were a handful of shoppers.

  “We usually get a lull in traffic at this time of day,” Morgan explained. “We’ll get another little rush just before dinner, but for the most part, our business is done for the day. Come into the reading room with me.”

  I followed her to the small, cozy room at the back of the shop, off the main sales area. The room was big enough for only the stone fireplace on one wall, two wingback chairs flanking it, a small coffee table set on a braided rug in the middle of the floor, and the worn velvet loveseat that was my preferred place to sit. On the wall opposite the fireplace were bookshelves, behind which was Morgan’s hidden altar room where she created personalized charm bags or witch balls for her customers.

  In an attempt to try something different, I sat on one of the wingback chairs. That lasted for approximately five seconds before I moved across to my usual spot on the loveseat. Funny, this put me in a position to have people sneak up behind me. That was never okay anywhere else. Why was it okay here?

  “How come no one is ever in this room?” Maybe that was it.

  “This room is almost always full.” Morgan winked. “Maybe it just knows when you need it.”

  She waited patiently, hands resting in her lap, as I sat for a minute with my eyes closed. I breathed deeply, taking in the aroma that came from the dozens and dozens of dried plant bundles hanging from the rafters all around the shop. I never understood why all the different scents didn’t overwhelm. Instead, they combined into the aromatic version of a hug.

  “Did something new come up regarding the man you rescued from the lake the other day?” Morgan asked. “Is that what you were thinking about outside?”

  I shook my head and debated about making a cup of tea from the shop’s complimentary tea stand. The “Chill Out” blend always helped settle my mind. “I was a little in shock over something Sugar just told me.”

  Morgan sighed and shook her head. “Goddess bless her, she means well, but Sugar’s words are often double sided. What did she tell you this time?”

  The first time Sugar’s words had upset me was when the village council voted me in as sheriff. Sugar was one who had voted against me, but not, she claimed, because she didn’t have confidence in my law enforcement.

  “Remember during the vote,” I began, “she told me that she didn’t want me getting messed up in the muck?”

  “I remember well.”

  “Did you know that part of ‘the muck’ is that there was a murder in the village decades ago? I’m not sure when exactly, but Sugar said that she was a little girl at the time.”

  “I didn’t know.” Morgan sat forward and looked as shocked as I felt. “If that is the case, my mother must know about it. She was here from the start.”

  Literally from the start. Morgan’s grandmother, Dulcie Barlow, and Morgan’s mother, Briar, were the first two people my grandmother let come here.

  “I think I’m going to meet your grandma today.” I laughed at the confused look on her face and told her about finding the journals. “So far, she’s talked mostly about the joys and struggles of moving to undeveloped land. I’m at the point where Gran needs landscaping help.”

  “It’s a safe bet that means she contacted my grandmother. At the risk of sounding arrogant, my skills as a green witch are good, but they’re nothing compared to what Grandma Dulcie knew.”

  “Don’t they say that the teacher always holds back a little from the student?”

  “Possibly. I prefer to think it’s a matter of getting a good foundation and then learning as you go.” A distant, fond smile brightened Morgan’s face. Surely, remembering times with Grandma Dulcie. Then she blinked her heavily black-lined eyes and returned to me. “Is that why you look so tired today? You were up reading all night?”

  “Last night, I was up all night searching the attic for the journals. On the plus side, the attic is better organized now. Tonight, I’ll be up reading.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea? It might perk you up.”

  “Your tea doesn’t have caffeine. I need the strong stuff today.” I patted the walkie-talkie unit next to me on the loveseat. “There’s a reason I saved Violet for last.”

  “I’ll understand if you say no,” Morgan began, “but I’d love to look at those journals sometime.”

  “I almost forgot, I found photo albums, too. There is one raven-haired beauty in those pictures that has to be Grandma Dulcie. She looks just like you. I’ll bring those over for sure.”

  Morgan placed her hands palms together and inclined her head in a little bow of thanks.

  “Speaking of the journals,” I said, “I’m itching to get back to them. You’ll ask Briar if she remembers a murder forty-some years ago?”

  “I’ll ask her tonight. I’m surprised she never told me before. You know she prefers that we do our research first before she fills in with her knowledge. She’ll probably tell me she remembers the death and leave it at that. She’s such a tease.”

  I left Shoppe Mystique, popped in to Ye Olde Bean Grinder to drop off the walkie-talkie, and left with an extra-large mocha with an extra-espresso shot and a bag of dog biscuits. Meeka and I returned to the station to find Reed at his desk reading on his computer and both jail cells occupied.

  “What’s going on here?”

  “They were fighting over a canoe at the Marina.” Reed said of the two men as he rubbed his red eyes. “Couldn’t tell you why that was something worth throwing punches over. There were plenty of boats on the racks. I brought them in to chill out for a while.”

  The first thought that entered my head was great, more paperwork. Then I realized I now had a deputy who seemed very interested in learning all the rules and regulations of law enforcement.

  “Did you ever do the paperwork for Sheriff Brighton?” I asked him.

  Reed lit up like a kid being offered an early Christmas present. “Never. The only thing I got to do with paperwork was file it.”

  I waved a hand over my shoulder as I walked into my office. “Follow me. This sounds like the perfect time for a lesson.”

  Chapter 14

  Reed was at his desk, happily filling out the paperwork that I passed off to him. Since both jail cells were in use, Meeka couldn’t crawl beneath her favorite cot and had to find another napping spot. She chose beneath my desk at my feet. As she softly snored, I returned to the jou
rnals.

  Dulcie and I met approximately eighteen months before Keven and I bought the property up here. I’ll never forget that day; it was one of the most inspiring of my life. We had both attended a seminar at a new garden center in Oconomowoc. At that point, the only thing I knew about gardening was how to buy plants. This was still five or so years before hippies had taken over the country, so bra-less Dulcie with her bare feet and wild hair stood out like a rose in a weed patch in the crowd of women wearing shirtdresses and sweater sets.

  I was drawn to Dulcie the moment I got there. All I wanted was to be in the aura she projected, so I chose the closest seat to her I could get. We learned about plant zones and how to properly prepare the soil and why it was important to put shade-loving plants in shady areas instead of bright sunshine. I didn’t even know that there were shade plants and sunny plants at that time.

  Dulcie and I had chatted throughout the morning’s seminar, and once it was done, I asked if she wanted to go get coffee with me. She accepted immediately, and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking about plants and politics. I never considered myself uneducated or uninformed, but I felt like such an ingénue in her presence. In a good way, she sparked something to life in me. When Dulcie hinted at this religion she recently started following, I knew we were going to have to get together again very soon.

  “How about tomorrow?” she asked in this gorgeous throaty voice.

  I swear, it was like I was having an affair, not that I would ever do that to my Keven, but I lay awake all night that night in anticipation of getting together with her again the next morning. Keven knew something was going on and was happily surprised when I told him I’d made a new friend.

  Gran went on to describe their meeting at the same café again the next day. I swear, if I closed my eyes it was like I was sitting right there with them. And the way Dulcie explained Wicca to Gran sounded like an echo in my ears.

  “People don’t understand us,” Morgan had told me the day I re-met her two months ago. “Most think that we worship the devil, perform human sacrifices, and dance naked in the moonlight. That’s not at all true. Well, some dance naked, but that’s entirely personal preference. If a comparison helps, Wicca is similar to Native American spirituality in that both revere nature and its gifts. That’s a very simplistic explanation, but this was the discussion our grandmothers had.”

  If she only knew how right she was. The comparison to Native American spirituality was exactly what Gran wrote in her journal. Like Morgan and I had, Gran and Dulcie became close very quickly.

  It didn’t take long for me to realize that Wicca just made sense to me. Dulcie called herself a green witch. This means she has a connection to plants and nature, not that she can perform hocus pocus like a magician. The more time I spent with her and the more she explained her religion, the more it felt like the right path for me. I always wondered why I felt so much calmer, so ready to take on my day, so much more like myself after a day outside. Seems I have a connection to nature I never fully appreciated.

  “Sheriff?”

  I looked up from the book on my desk to see Reed standing in my doorway. “Yes?”

  He pointed behind him, in the direction of the cells. “These guys have calmed down. I don’t think they’re going to cause any more trouble. I’m going to let them go, okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Give them the standard warning about how we’ll ticket them if they do it again.”

  He paused, then stood a little taller, a little prouder. “Okay.”

  He’d probably expected me to handle the release process. For an offense more severe than fighting in public, I would have. If Reed really wanted to be of help to me, he could handle these little things.

  “It’s almost time to close up shop,” he added. “After I have a little chat with them, I’m going to head on home.”

  “Be sure to take your walkie-talkie. Unfortunately, as a department of two, especially during tourist season, we’re never really off duty. Keep it with you at all times.”

  “Will do. Good night, Sheriff.”

  I gave him a little salute and returned to the journal.

  My desire to be outside and connect with the natural world turned quickly from an interest into an obsession. Keven saw it. He could tell the days when I was able to spend time in the park with Dillon versus the days when we were trapped inside the house. When I told him that I wanted to move somewhere we could be surrounded by nature all the time instead of the constant buzz of the city, he didn’t argue. The only thing he cautioned me about was that there would be many times when I would be alone with our little boy. Keven had to travel for work, I knew that. I told him that wouldn’t be a problem because we would soon have plenty of children for Dillon to play with and keep me company. I couldn’t imagine anything more joyful than a big house full of family.

  That dream never happened. My dad was an only child. Why?

  Today, nearly a year to the day since we broke ground here, I called Dulcie and told her I needed help with landscaping. She didn’t hesitate. She’ll be here in two days and is bringing her little girl, Briar. I’m not sure who’s more excited, me or Dillon.

  I looked away from the journal to find Meeka sitting at my side. She whined pitifully at me.

  “Is it dinner time? How long have I been sitting here?”

  A quick glance out the windows showed me that it was getting dark. I’d completely lost track of time and had probably missed dinner again. Didn’t Tripp say this morning that he’d make something tonight? Because I said I’d be home in time. I gathered together the journals, turned off my desk light, and the overhead light in the main room.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here and hurry home. I think I’m in trouble with Tripp, too.”

  She didn’t hesitate. She raced to the back door and as soon as I had opened it, she ran to the Cherokee. I’d barely gotten the back open when she leapt inside and went directly to her crate. Poor dog. She really was hungry.

  A few minutes later, we pulled to a stop in front of the garage next to Tripp’s rusty old F-350. I let Meeka out of the back, looked toward Tripp’s popup, and spotted a Porta-Potty in my yard.

  Chapter 15

  As I stood there, staring at the portable toilet set up near Tripp’s popup, I noted that the house was dark, but the lights were on in the trailer. Tripp was probably watching movies. One of the crew members sold him a laptop for a ridiculously low price—something about warning his son that he’d get rid of it if his grades kept falling. Not only was Tripp learning about some new technology that had hit the world while he’d been off the grid for the last few years, he also discovered Netflix. And Hulu. And a few other streaming apps.

  Meeka appeared at my feet and gave me a short, crisp bark. A sound that clearly meant, the dog is hungry. She trotted toward the boathouse, stopping every ten feet to look back and give another warning yip.

  “I’m coming.”

  After giving her a generous helping of food, she’d waited so patiently while I read today, I took the time to change out of my uniform and into a pair of lightweight pajama pants and a tank top.

  “Tripp?” I called from outside his popup. “Are you in there?”

  The trailer shook a little, presumably as he crawled out of his bed in the pop-out section tucked into the tree line. A beam of light stabbed the darkness from between the curtains as he peeked out at me.

  “Jayne?”

  “Who else?”

  “Don’t know, can’t see you. It’s dark out there.” A moment later the door opened, and he came out. “Another long day.”

  “Yeah. Totally my fault this time. I got distracted by journals.” I hung my head in mock-shame while Tripp chuckled, but not a lot. “Why is there a portable toilet in the yard?”

  “Remember I told you not to say anything about the schedule?”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Exactly, uh-oh.” He led me over to the folding chairs next to the trailer, and we sat. “
The guys took out the old sinks, tubs, and toilets this morning. As the day went along, this nasty sewer smell started filling the house. We plugged up all the drain openings in every bathroom the best we could, but we’ll need to leave the windows open until this is fixed.”

  “Until what’s fixed? What happened?”

  “Turns out there’s a break in the septic line.”

  “How did you figure that out?”

  “They have a camera that we snaked through the line.” Tripp got up, reached inside his trailer, and pulled out a two-foot-long flashlight. He directed the beam of light at a trio of safety cones set up between the side of the house and the trees. Then he traced the light from the house through the yard. “The line runs out toward the trees and then angles downward underground to the septic tank about halfway into the front yard.”

  “What does this mean? And before you start the full Septic Systems 101 workshop, I understand what a septic system does.”

  “It means that the guys are going to show up tomorrow with heavy equipment, dig out the earth around the septic line from the house to the tank, and we’ll go from there. Won’t know the full damage until we open it all up.”

  “Don’t hold back, tell me everything. I’m going to have to call Mom in the morning and let her know.”

  “Well, since we’ll have it all dug up, it only makes sense to replace the entire line. It’s more than fifty years old, after all. Hopefully the tank is still okay.”

  “That makes sense. Do we have an estimate on cost?”

  “Ten.”

  Sometimes Tripp gave more information than any human being could ever need. And then there were times, like this, when minimalism ruled. “I’m pretty sure you don’t mean ten dollars.”