by Lena Gregory
“Do you really know who killed them?”
Jay nodded. He looked her directly in the eye. “Ellie did.”
20
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Cass groaned. What now? She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head. There wasn’t a single part of her body that wasn’t sore.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Go away.
The front door slammed, and she jerked upright in the bed, pulling the blanket to her chest. Footsteps strode quickly down the hallway. Ah jeez . . .
Her bedroom door swung open, and Cass pulled the blanket over her head.
“That ain’t gonna save you, sweetie.”
The cover was torn from her head to reveal six feet of irate Bee.
She held her hands up as if to ward him off. “I can explain.”
“You have exactly thirty seconds. Make them count.”
A tear tracked down his cheek, and Cass sighed. “I’m sorry, Bee.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?” He swiped the tear away and flopped onto the bed next to her. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I saw that text message?”
If the rumpled condition of his clothes and the wild hair were any indication, he’d been downright terrified. Guilt stuck in her throat.
He looked over at her for the first time and sucked in a breath. “What happened to your face? Did he hurt you?”
She quickly shook her head. “No. I fell.”
Bee eyed her suspiciously. “You fell?”
“No. I really did fall. I was running and slid in the gravel.”
“Well, you just about gave me a heart attack.” His hand fluttered dramatically to his chest.
Cass bit the inside of her cheek. “You’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You’re darn right you weren’t thinking. How could you run out in the middle of the night, to probably the most deserted area of the island, to meet someone you think might be a killer—or at least a body dumper? Someone who already threatened you once?”
“I know, Bee. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to make sure someone knew where I was in case . . . well . . . in case.” Cass rolled over and hugged him. “I really am sorry.”
Bee pulled her into his arm and hugged her back. The tightness of his grip told her how worried he’d really been.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Now what?
Before she had a chance to move, Stephanie stood in the doorway. She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. Isn’t this cozy? Something I oughta know?”
Cass sat up, and Bee scooted back to rest against the headboard.
“Come on in. May as well join us.”
Stephanie laughed. “I’m not sure Tank would take that too well.” She crossed the room, sat down on the bed, and tucked her legs beneath her. “So . . . to what do I owe the pleasure of Bee’s frantic phone call at ten in the morning? And should I even ask what happened to your face?” She squinted at Cass.
Cass scrubbed her hands over her face. Ugh . . . ouch. “I got a phone call at three this morning.”
“Okay. I’ll bite. From whom?”
“Jay Callahan.”
The amusement in Stephanie’s eyes turned instantly to worry. “And?”
“He wanted me to meet him at Bay Pointe.”
“I’d love to think you said no, but from the urgency of Bee’s phone call and the condition of your face, I’m guessing that’s not the case.”
Cass shook her head. “I did find out a few things, though.”
Bee snorted. “Nothing worth risking your life for.”
Cass reached over and squeezed his hand. “The body I saw Jay dump in his car? Turns out it was only a carpet.”
“You saw it?”
Hmmm . . . “Well.” She frowned. “Not exactly. I saw the package, though. I just didn’t see what was inside it.”
“So what makes you think it was a carpet?” Bee’s voice was starting to rise. Never a good sign.
Cass fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. This had made so much more sense in a dark parking lot, in the early hours of the morning, with adrenaline coursing through her system. “He told me it was.”
Bee surged to his feet. “Oh well, then. It must be true, because everyone knows killers don’t lie.”
Cass glanced at Stephanie for help, but she only shook her head.
Bee paced back and forth across the bedroom. “And what else did he have to say?”
“Remember the blonde he was running around with all weekend?”
Bee paused.
“He was fooling around with her.”
After a huge eye-roll, Bee resumed his pacing.
“She was also the body that turned up on the beach.”
“Are you kidding me?” Bee’s stare went from one of complete aggravation with her, to total astonishment.
“Could I make this stuff up?”
He shrugged. “Probably, but why would you?”
Stephanie chimed in. “Maybe to keep you from having another hissy fit.”
Bee grabbed a pillow and threw it at her, then waved her off. “What else?”
Cass swallowed hard. All signs of good humor fled in an instant, and her tone turned serious. “He also said Ellie killed them.”
“What?” Bee hit a perfect high note.
“That’s ridiculous.” Stephanie waved a hand dismissively. “There’s no way that timid little mouse killed anyone.”
Bee jumped in. “Jay probably killed them, and now he’s trying to pin it on poor Ellie.”
“Why would she kill her own mother?” Stephanie asked.
Cass pressed her hands to the sides of her head and tried to sort through Bee’s and Stephanie’s questions as well as her own. “Jay said Ellie lost it when she found out Marge knew he was having an affair. They had a big blowout over it when Marge went to the house to reprimand Ellie for seeing me. Marge screamed at her that she didn’t need a psychic to tell her Jay was running around. If she couldn’t open her eyes and see it, anyone in town could tell her about it.”
“So how would Marge have ended up in the theater?”
“Jay wasn’t sure. He thinks Ellie went to the theater early Saturday morning looking for me to confirm what Marge told her. He said the exchange on Friday night was really heated, and he thinks it exploded on Saturday. So Ellie shot her.”
“Did Ellie ever strike you as being that unstable?” Stephanie’s question didn’t seem argumentative, just curious.
Cass looked at Bee, who flung his hands up in a How would I know? gesture.
“Ellie was childlike.” Cass shook her head. She tried to set aside her friendship with Ellie and view it from the perspective of the psychiatrist she was trained to be. “She was emotionally abused for years, first by her mother, then by her husband. The husband whom she viewed as her savior for getting her out of her mother’s house and basically keeping Marge from having complete control over her life. The husband she looked up to and admired and trusted.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t say I think it’s out of the question. But . . . I just don’t know.”
* * *
Cass stood under the spray and moaned as the hot water worked to loosen her stiff muscles. She winced each time it ran over the cuts on her face and hands. She hadn’t even realized how scraped up her hands were until the hot water hit them. She blanked her mind and allowed herself a few moments of peace.
It wasn’t long before chaos interrupted her peace and quiet. Her mind betrayed her, jumping frantically from one thought to the next. She had to get organized, had to sort through the details she knew and try to make sense of what was going on. Stephanie was pushing her to tell Tank about the carpet in Jay’s truck, saying he could have rolled a body in the carpet to dispose of it
. Since Cass hadn’t seen the carpet opened, she couldn’t really argue. For all she knew it was soaked through with blood.
She sighed and turned off the faucet. No sense wasting time. She obviously wasn’t going to relax. She climbed out of the tub, dried herself off, and grabbed her robe from the hook. Once she’d put it on and tied the belt, she opened the door to release some of the steam and wiped off the mirror with a towel. She studied her reflection with a critical eye. Great.
Since most tourists flocked to the island on the weekends, she always opened the shop on Saturdays and Sundays. Because of that, Mystical Musings was closed on Wednesdays, so that wasn’t an issue, but she still had to make it to rehearsal. Her heart sank at the thought of going out to dinner with Luke afterward, her face crisscrossed with cuts and scratches. Oh well. Nothing else I can do.
She pulled a tray of makeup from a drawer. She placed it on the counter, opened the big lid, and set it aside. If she used only a little, it should work to cover the bruise, but not leave her looking like a clown.
She leaned closer to the mirror and dabbed a small amount of concealer on each of the small scratches along her cheek and a little heavier amount on the bruise above her eye. She then covered her face and neck with foundation. A little strategically placed eye shadow should draw any attention from whatever bruising still showed through.
There wasn’t much she could do with the large scrape on her chin, but at least she no longer looked like she’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight champion. She applied the rest of her makeup, taking extra care to be gentle on the tender spots. Finally, she glossed her lips and stood back. There. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.
She tossed the makeup back into the tray and placed it back in the drawer. With that done, she went to feed Beast. She opened the back door and let him out to run in the fenced yard. She leaned against the doorjamb, arms wrapped around her for warmth. Dark clouds rumbled with the threat of rain. She’d let Beast run off some of his energy for a few minutes before it started.
She pushed away from the jamb and moved to the counter, keeping an eye on Beast through the window over the sink. She eyed the Keurig carousel but passed it up in favor of herbal tea. Hmm . . . peach, I think. She didn’t want caffeine. She needed something soothing. She filled the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. Another rumble of thunder rattled the windows. She went to the back door and called for Beast.
He bolted through the door as the first fat drops of rain hit the deck. She stood watching the brewing storm and inhaled deeply. There was nothing like a thunderstorm on the island. It was, in a strange way, comforting and befitting her somber mood. If she sat on the front porch, she could watch the churning waters of the bay. The whistle of the teakettle pulled her from her reverie. She shut the door and went to the cupboard, dropped two tea bags in an oversized mug, and poured hot water over it. She set the mug on the table, went to the office, grabbed a stack of printer paper and a box of colored pencils, and returned to the table. Beast settled beside her with a bone. Hmm . . . I could maybe get used to this. When she reached to pet him, he snuggled his big head against her hand. “Yup. I could definitely get used to having you around.”
Okay, now. May as well put the quiet time to use. She’d promised Bee she’d draw some designs for the stage and runway decorations. Flowers. She started to sketch. Hesitantly at first, not really sure how she wanted to put it together. Flowers were the key, but they had to complement Bee’s dress designs.
Random thoughts drifted in and out of her mind while she sketched, erased, adjusted . . .
Where was Ellie? Had she killed her mother and Jay’s lover and then taken off? It didn’t seem to be a likely scenario, but she supposed stranger things had happened.
She erased three potted plants and drew them farther apart, centering the podium between two of them.
It seemed more likely Jay killed Marge, his lover, and Ellie. Would Ellie’s body be the next to turn up?
21
Cass pushed the sketches to the side and set a blank piece of paper in front of her. She drew a red circle in the center and wrote Marge in black. She studied the name for a few minutes before adding a straight line out toward the top. She drew another circle attached to the top of the line and wrote Ellie. On the line between the two circles, she wrote abusive relationship. She added another spoke partway around Marge’s name with another circle at the end with Jay written in black. On the line she put competition for control of Ellie. She thought about it for a minute and added lover? She drew a line connecting Ellie’s and Jay’s circles.
She moved the pencil a little farther around Marge’s name and added a spoke with the word argument on it and attached a circle that said lover. It wasn’t a thought she really wanted to contemplate, but if she were to be thorough . . . she drew a line between the circles marked Jay and lover. She added one and the same? She now had two small triangles. One with Jay, Marge, and Ellie at the points, the other with Jay, Marge, and lover at the points.
She studied the diagram. She also had a big triangle with Ellie, Jay, and lover at the points and Marge along the center of the bottom line. How did they all connect?
For the sake of fairness, she added two more spokes and two more circles. She reluctantly added Bee’s name to one with family history on the line, and Luke’s name to the other. Hmm . . . What to put on Luke’s line? As far as she could tell, he had no connection to Marge. But, he was on the board. She added the words stranger, gun, and board of directors to Luke’s line.
She studied the diagram again. Okay. Now. Who can I eliminate?
No one.
She tried to think. There had to be a way to eliminate someone from the diagram. She studied the names. Maybe she needed to think about the whole thing in a different way. Alibis. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? Whose whereabouts could she confirm for Friday night and Saturday morning?
Did Bee have an alibi for Friday night? That would eliminate him completely . . . or at least make it highly unlikely he could have committed the crime. She held the red pencil over his name, ready to put an X through it. He’d been at rehearsal until eleven. Her heart sank. He’d dropped her off and gone home to work on some of the dresses. Alone.
She glanced at the other names briefly, but she had no way to know where they were during the time in question. Her heart soared a little, though. At least now she had a direction to follow. Maybe she could even clear Bee completely.
The back door opened.
Cass quickly piled the scenery sketches on top of the diagram.
“Boy, you really want to earn the wrath of Bee, huh?” Stephanie wiped her feet dry and shook some of the rain from her jacket.
“What are you talking about?” Cass glanced at the clock, her mind still racing through murder suspects. It took a minute to register. “Oh no!”
“Hurry up. He’s going to kill you if we’re late again.”
“Me? You’re late, too.”
“Yeah, but I’m only late because you weren’t ready.” She smirked and leaned a hip against the counter.
“Well, I was sketching the scenery, so at least I was working on the show.” Cass dumped the forgotten tea in a to-go cup and popped it in the microwave. She grabbed the stack of sketches and dumped them in her bag with a handful of colored pencils. She ran to the front closet for a jacket and ran back to the kitchen just as the timer on the microwave dinged.
Beast jumped to his feet.
“Sorry, boy. Not this time. If you’re a good boy and don’t eat any of the furniture, we’ll go for a run on the beach tomorrow.” She scanned the room quickly to make sure nothing too important was lying around. “Okay. Let’s go.” She grabbed the tea, slapped a top on it, threw her bag over her shoulder, and ran out the door.
She was soaked by the time she reached the car. Ugh . . .
Stephanie didn’t waste any time shifting in
to reverse and backing down the driveway. “Do you want to close the gate?”
“Nah. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it later.” The last thing Cass wanted to do was get back out in the rain. “Besides, we were supposed to be at Dreamweaver for alterations five minutes ago. If we’re any later, Bee’s going to have a tantrum.” She glanced over at Stephanie. “Have you talked to Tank?”
“Not since this morning. Why?”
Cass sipped her tea. “Did he say anything new about the investigation?”
Stephanie didn’t take her eyes off the road, the heavy downpour limiting visibility. “He said the same caliber gun was used to kill Marge and the woman on the beach.”
Did that help point to the killer in any way? Not really. “Did they think someone else killed her?”
“Not really.” Stephanie turned up the windshield wipers.
Cass took another sip of the warm tea, then rested her head back against the seat. “Did he say if they have any suspects?”
“You mean other than you?”
Cass lifted her head and shot her a look, but when Stephanie glanced over at Cass her eyes were filled with humor. She’s only teasing. When did I get so sensitive? Jeez, I’m no better than Bee. Cass laughed.
Stephanie frowned but kept her attention on the road. “Are you all right?”
Cass sighed. “I have no idea.”
* * *
One of the models stood on a small platform surrounded on three sides by mirrors, and Bee was already making adjustments to the gown she wore. Cass slid in quietly and headed toward the rack of dresses. If she could grab her dress and get to the dressing room, maybe he wouldn’t even notice she was late. She dropped her bag on a chair and grabbed the red dress from the rack.
“Ahem.”
Uh-oh.
“Nice of you to join us.” Bee’s voice held a note of frustration but seemed half-amused as well.
“Sorry, I . . . uh . . .”
“Hey. Don’t pick on Cass. She was working on the scenery for the show and lost track of time.”