Never Enough Thyme

by Juliet MacLeod

  “Freeze!”

  Gordon spun around to face Dean, who’d just come through the employee break room door. McGill and Nichols were behind him. They all had their guns aimed at Gordon, who now had his revolver pointed at Dean’s head. I went numb and hollow inside. Then I saw red as an incandescent rage gripped me. How dare Gordon threaten to take Dean away from me! I’d just found him again. He’d just asked me out for the first time. I’d been waiting for a date with him for almost thirty years. I would not let Gordon just take it all away from me without a fight.

  Without thinking, I rushed forward and slammed the outside of my hand against the big muscle in Gordon’s forearm, knocking the gun onto the floor. I kicked it away, sending it skittering across the boards, where it disappeared beneath a bookshelf.

  McGill and Nichols darted forward and threw Gordon to the ground. Dean holstered his gun and ran to me, enfolding me in his arms and drawing me closer to the registers, getting me out of the deputies’ way so they could arrest Gordon. Nichols cuffed him while McGill read him his rights.

  “Oh, my goodness!” I was panting. I felt like I couldn’t breathe around the lump my heart made in my throat. What had I just done? I’d rushed an armed attacker. Me. A healer without any formal self-defense training. Who even does that? Some kind of lunatic, that’s who. “What... How... Why are you here?” I asked Dean, barely able to form coherent sentences.

  “You called me,” he replied as he let go of me. He nodded to my phone, which was still lying on the floor where I’d dropped it.

  “But I thought the call didn’t go through.”

  “It did. I heard Gordon’s voice, knew you were probably alone in the shop tonight, so I headed over from the station immediately. You weren’t next door, so I took a chance that you were here.”

  “You... You heard everything?”

  He nodded. “His confession, Viki’s part in the blackmail scheme, everything.” He hugged me again. “That was real smart of you, to offer to hear his side of the story. I think it helped distract him from killing you.” His face transformed from an expression of relief to one of thunderous anger. He took me by the shoulders, gripping them with steely fingers, and said in a low, dangerous voice, “If you ever do something as stupid as what you just did with that gun, I swear I will lock you up and melt the key down and have it made into a nail, which I will then pound into the boards covering the cell you’re locked inside. It was stupid, Bryony. Stupid... and brave and quick thinking. Where did you even learn that?”

  “I like Jet Li movies.” I then burst out into tears and clung to Dean’s shirt, pressing my face into his chest. “He was going to kill me! He had a gun, Dean. A gun. And he pointed it at me.” My words dissolved into a flood of crying and blubbering. Dean stood still and held me, stroking his hands up and down my back while I made an utter fool of myself.

  When I had cried myself out, I took a step back and wiped at my face. “Oh, no,” I said, spying a huge damp spot on Dean’s shirt. “I got your nice, clean uniform shirt all wet and snotty.”

  Dean smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s part of my job, ma’am.”

  I laughed and went to retrieve my cell phone. The deputies had taken Gordon out of the shop, and Dean and I were alone. “You’re going to be busy tonight, aren’t you?” I asked. “We’re not going to the dance tonight, are we?”

  “Nope, we still are. McGill and Nichols can handle booking Gordon. I spent $250 on something called a zoot suit that Mark assures me is period appropriate. Adele Vincent told me that it’s an antique. There is no way I’m not wearing it.”

  “Really? You... You still want to go to the dance tonight?”

  “Absolutely. If you’re up for it? If not, I can bring Red Dragon and some movies over. We can just relax tonight.”

  “No. I want to see this zoot suit of yours.” I grinned and sniffled again. “I’ll see you at eight?”

  “Definitely. Where’d you park?”

  “Out back.” Dean nodded and followed me out to my car in the back parking lot. He waited until I left, then got into his own truck and drove off. As I sat at the corner, waiting for the village’s single traffic light to change from red to green, I watched him go in the opposite direction, headed to his house near the lake. I realized suddenly that I’d never been there. I’d been to his family’s huge house located farther up the mountain from mine plenty of times when we were still in high school, but after he moved back from Denver, he’d bought a smaller house on the shore of the lake. I’d never even seen it.

  Jennifer was sitting in her car in the front of my house when I pulled up. “I’m so sorry,” I said when she joined me on the porch. She was carrying a large metal makeup case and had a garment bag slung over her arm.

  “It’s fine. I just got here a few minutes ago.” Jennifer peered at my face and frowned. “Are you okay? Have you been crying?”

  I managed to open my front door without snapping the knob off—my hands were shaking badly, and adrenaline seemed to have made me superhumanly strong. “I had quite a night. Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Forty minutes later, we were both dressed—Jennifer in a royal blue shirtwaist dress, and me in a red A-line dress. I was sitting at my vanity while Jennifer swept my hair into soft waves and curls and pinned it up at the crown of my head. I lined my eyes with some liquid liner then began work on my lips. I’d been holding onto a lipstick the exact shade of my dress in hopes that I’d get to wear it on a date with Dean one day.

  “I can’t believe he just came into the shop like that,” Jennifer said. “He must have been watching you. Maybe he waited until Glynis left without you.”

  “I think you’re right. I’m glad it’s over now. I’m so relieved that Dean caught him.”

  “Your hero,” Jennifer said with a bit of a damsel-in-distress tone. I wrinkled my nose at her and Jennifer laughed. “He swooped in, saved you, caught the bad guy, and still has time to get changed into that suit he and Mark picked up and come get you for the dance. Whatta guy.” She stabbed another handful of bobby pins into my hair, then applied a generous spray of hairspray before stepping back. “What do you think?”

  I glanced into the mirror and gasped. “Oh, my,” I breathed in an astonished voice. “I look like Rita Hayworth!”

  “That’s what I was going for. Scoot over. I gotta get my face and hair ready.”

  I moved to sit down on my bed where Beryl and Lily were lounging and watching the goings on from between half-closed eyelids. I scratched beneath their chins, and the room was filled with their loud, rumbling purrs.

  Finally, just as the doorbell rang at ten minutes before eight o’clock, Jennifer and I were ready. “We look hot,” Jennifer said as we stood side by side, looking at our reflections on the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

  “We kinda do, huh?” I grinned, and we ran for the front door as the bell rang again.

  I opened it and gasped in surprise. Both Mark and Dean were standing on the front porch, dressed in nearly identical suits. Mark’s was dark gray, and Dean’s was dark blue with chalked pinstripes. Both of their trousers were high-waisted, wide-legged, and tight-cuffed, while their coats were long with wide lapels and wide, padded shoulders. Mark wore a watch chain that dangled from his belt to his knee, then back to a side pocket. Both men wore fedoras with white silk hat bands. Dean’s had a red feather in it. The same red as my dress. I cast a suspicious look at Jen, who merely smiled smugly.

  “Oh, my,” I said, turning back to look over the men again. “Hubba hubba.” I waggled my brows lasciviously and leered.

  “Hubba hubba indeed,” Jennifer said, waggling her own brow.

  Mark whistled long and low, and Dean’s brows shot up as they took us in. “You ladies look beautiful,” the sheriff said.

  “Seconded,” said Mark.

  “Come in,” I said, stepping back to let them inside.

  Mark pressed a kiss against Jenn
ifer’s cheek, and Dean smiled at me, no doubt wondering as I was whether it was appropriate for Dean to kiss my cheek, too. We finally settled on an awkward handshake. I caught Jennifer’s smirk and stuck my tongue out at her behind the men’s backs. She gave back just as good.

  “Did you tell Mark what happened tonight?” Jennifer asked Dean.

  “I did.”

  “I can’t believe he just showed up at the shop like that,” Mark said as he helped Jennifer into her wrap. “That’s gutsy. And the way you took him out, Bryony? You’re a mad woman!” There was honest appreciate in Mark’s tone, and I smiled as my cheeks lit up with embarrassment.

  “I figure he’s been watching her since earlier this week,” Dean said. “Probably waiting until she was alone to corner her and ask her all those questions.” He shook his head sadly and settled my wrap on her shoulders.

  “Where has he been hiding out?” I asked as I picked up my bag and herded my friends towards the front door.

  “Some hunting cabin that belonged to his father,” Dean said. “It’s surrounded by forest. It’s where he got the hemlock. His dad told him all about it when Gordon was younger.” Once we were at his truck, he held my door open for me and helped me climb inside.

  “Huh,” I said thoughtfully as I settled in. “And the knife at Viki’s? Was it a crime of passion?”

  Dean chuckled as Mark and Jennifer climbed into the rear seats. “Yes. They were arguing about Viki wanting to tell me what they’d done and how she suspected Gordon of murdering Barry. Gordon grabbed the knife and stabbed her.”

  “Poor Viki,” Jen said. “She wanted to do the right thing at last and paid for it.”

  “Let this be a lesson to us all,” Mark said.

  “Amen,” said Dean. He started up the truck, and we were off, driving through the darkened streets of town towards Alpine Peak at the southern edge of town, where Jakob Jørgensen’s million-dollar mansion was located. The Chronicle’s owner was hosting that night’s dance, as he had every year since SummerFest had begun. Every year had had a unique theme. Last year’s had been the 1920s, and the year before had been Japanese.

  Dean pulled his truck into the half-circle, cobblestone-lined drive and hurried around to help me out of my seat. Mark helped Jennifer down while I took in the mansion’s decorations. The flat roofline had been trimmed with swags of grapevines that had been woven through with ivy and dotted with tiny clusters of night-blooming jasmine flowers. Sparkling fairy lights lined the windows and doors and covered the small pine trees that stood on either side of the walkway leading from the drive to the house’s front door. The house was like something out of a fairy tale. It was so beautiful.

  Dean left his keys with a red-and-white-plaid-vested valet and tucked my arm through his as we walked up to the front door. As it was opened by a doorman wearing the same vest the valet had been wearing, we were hit with a blast of cool air laced with the smell of roasting meat and the sound of a big band playing something rousing and familiar.

  “Is that Glenn Miller?” Mark asked from behind us.

  “I believe so,” Dean answered as he ushered me inside. “A String of Pearls, I believe.”

  The cavernous ballroom of Jakob’s mansion had been transformed into a 1940s-era dance hall. A full orchestra took up the front of the room, sitting on risers that had been arranged in a half-moon shape. The musicians and conductor were all dressed in white tuxedos, and a trio of women dressed in sparkling gowns stood off to the side in front of three mics, swaying in time with the music. Couples dressed much like us were moving around the dance floor in a riot of colors.

  There were some tables scattered to one side of the room, and lining the wall behind them were heavily-laden buffet tables, covered with fruit and vegetable trays, cheeses, hot pasta, finger sandwiches, and all sorts of desserts. There was even a carving station with the choice of either prime rib or roasted turkey breast. Across from the buffet line was a bar that was doing a brisk business. White-jacketed waiters moved through the crowd with trays laden with flutes of champagne or small hors-d'oeuvres.

  “Wow,” I said softly, my eyes wide as I took in the party. “This is something else.”

  “I think Jakob’s outdone himself this year,” Jennifer said. “We’ll see you two later.” She grabbed Mark’s hand and marched him out to the dance floor.

  Dean chuckled and glanced down at me. “Hungry? Thirsty? Want to dance?” His eyes lit up, and he nodded towards one of the tables. “Oh, look. There’s your mom.”

  I looked where Dean had nodded and saw Mom in a pretty rose-pink dress I was pretty sure I’d seen on my grandmother in a photo from 1946. Mom was sitting with Gus Vernon, who was dressed in a very conservative dark gray suit. Mom spotted me and waved at us. I waved back before glancing up at Dean.

  “Dance?” I asked.

  “Sure.” He took my hand and led me out to the dance floor, where he wrapped his arms around me just as the band switched to a slow tune.

  “Oh, I love this song,” I said and stepped closer to Dean.

  “‘Moonlight In Vermont,’” Dean said as he held me closer. We moved slowly across the floor, swaying in time with the beat. At one point, Dean stopped and glanced down. He smiled slowly. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” he said. “Especially after everything that happened earlier.”

  I glanced up and smiled back. “You know, once I saw you in the shop...” I felt heat rising in my cheeks, but blurted out what was on my mind despite the oncoming embarrassment and vulnerability. “When I saw Gordon pointing his gun at you, I just got so mad at him. I mean, I’ve wanted to go out with you since we were sophomores in high school. And you finally asked me out. There was no way I was going to let some lunatic take that away from me.”

  Dean stared at me with a single sandy brow arched. I regretted opening my mouth almost immediately. Then a slow smile bloomed across his handsome features. “Why’d you wait so long?” he asked.

  “You were always with someone else. That cheerleader, then that softball player, then the debate team captain, that actress, the flute player.” I shrugged. “Plus, I thought that if we dated and broke up, our friendship would be ruined. And we were such good friends.”

  “We were. You got me through high school. But that still doesn’t explain why you waited so long to ask me on a date. Our friendship wouldn’t have been ruined.”

  “Well, by the time I figured that out, we had graduated, and I left for Berkeley and met Bill. It just never seemed to be the right time.”

  “Well, it is now. I’m glad we finally got together. And I will always make sure you’re safe, Bryony. You never have to worry about that.” He tightened his embrace and dipped his head to kiss me. And from somewhere very far away, I heard the sound of fireworks and melted into Dean’s arms.

  Turn the page for a sneak-peek at the second

  Sage Wisdom Mystery!

  Mint To Be

  Coming July 2018 to your favorite ebook retailer!

  “Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  I swallowed, a normal, every-day action made more difficult by the parched condition of my throat, as well as by the huge lump in it that I suspected was my heart. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without bursting into tears. I wasn’t on trial, but I was today’s most important witness for the prosecution.

  Judge Harry Bartlett, one of my late father’s closest friends, leaned towards me from his raised bench. He gave me a kind, grandfatherly smile and said, “You have to speak up for the record, Miss Taylor.” He nodded to where the court reporter was seated. “She can only record verbal answers.”

  “Oh,” I said, glancing first at Harry and then at the reporter, an older woman who wore her iron-gray hair in a bun. “I’m sorry,” I said to her. She smiled but didn’t reply. Then I looked back at the bailiff who was standing next to the witness box, the Bible still clutched in one hand. “Yes, I do. Promise,
that is.”

  The bailiff nodded. Harry leaned toward me once more and said, “Thank you, Miss Taylor. You can take your seat.” He looked out at the county prosecutor, an elegant-looking young man in a bespoke suit and shiny black wingtips with white-blond hair that was cut short and neatly styled. “You may begin, Mr. Mott.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Mr. Mott turned to me and smiled with encouragement. He must have known how scared and nervous I was. He moved closer to the witness box and took the pitcher of water from it and poured a glass for me. He nudged the glass closer to me once he’d set it down and nodded at it. “It’s there if you need it,” he said. Then he returned to his spot at the prosecution table and picked up a yellow legal pad.

  I glanced past him into the gallery, where my boyfriend of three months was seated next to my mother, Glynis, and my best friend, Jennifer. Dean, who was not only my boyfriend but the Clear Creek County sheriff as well, gave me a confident smile. My nerves settled when I saw his face and the faces of Mom and Jen. I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and returned my attention to the prosecutor as he began asking me questions. I could do this. Testifying in a murder case was just another day at the office for me. Right.

  “Would you please state your name and address for the record?” Mr. Mott asked.

  “Bryony Elizabeth Taylor. I live at Sage Wisdom Farms, on Saxon Mountain, in Saxon Lake, Colorado.”

  “And what do you do for a living?”

  “I own Sage Wisdom, over on Saxon Avenue. It’s an herbal boutique. We sell health and beauty products made mostly of things I grow on the farm. I’m also a certified medicinal herbalist.”