by Lena Gregory
“Is something wrong?” Cass stood as he stalked toward her.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure, but possibly.”
“What happened?” Stephanie rounded the table to stand beside Cass, facing Bee.
“I was in the deli—”
Stephanie narrowed her gaze. “And you didn’t bring coffee?”
Bee waved her off. “I left without buying anything. I ran out of there after I heard the latest gossip.” He looked back and forth between Stephanie and Cass, before finally letting his gaze land on Cass. “Rumor has it, you might know who killed Conrad.”
“What!” Cass and Stephanie shouted in unison. “How . . . what—”
Bee held up a hand. “Isabella was there. She’s been helping out at the hotel with feeding all of the unexpected guests. She worked something out with Henry to provide some meals. It helped him out, and all of the stuff she had prepared didn’t go to waste.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I can’t even think straight.”
“Here.” Cass pulled out a chair. “Sit for a minute.”
“No. I’m fine. I can’t sit yet. Cass. You have to listen. People are saying Joan planned to come ask you who killed Conrad. Then she came in for a private reading. No one knows what you told her, but next thing you know, she turned up dead.”
“So everyone knows she’s dead?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter.” Bee grabbed her by both arms, intensity darkening his deep brown eyes. “Don’t you get it?”
Startled, Cass simply shook her head.
“If Joan was killed it was because the killer thought she knew who he was. And the killer thinks you told her. Who do you think he’ll come after next?”
Laughter erupted before she could stop it.
Bee released her arms. “Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny. I was a wreck all the way over here.”
“I’m sorry, Bee. I wasn’t laughing at you. I just can’t believe all these people think I can just . . .” What was the phrase Donald had used? “Ring up the dead and ask them things. This is getting ridiculous.” She returned to the table and flopped into the chair. “Sit. You may as well get comfortable while we tell you the rest.”
“There’s more?” Bee perched on the edge of a chair, forearms resting on the table.
Stephanie pulled her chair out and sat. “No wonder the store’s been packed all morning.”
They brought Bee up to date on Abigail’s visit.
He frowned. “Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know yet. All of a sudden everyone is asking me to contact the dead. It’s a little unnerving.”
Stephanie lifted a brow. “Uh . . . Cass . . . that’s what you do for a living. Remember?”
Cass tossed Abigail’s card, which was still in her hand, onto the table and laughed. “I guess, but before now I wasn’t all that popular.” She shook her head. “I guess I’m going to have to repeat the séance, but what if nothing happens?”
Stephanie shrugged. “You could always give the Ouija Board a try.”
Bee lurched to his feet.
When Cass shot her a dirty look, Stephanie laughed. She knew full well Cass wouldn’t touch a Ouija Board again. “Sit down, Bee. I’m not using the Ouija Board.”
Stephanie lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just kidding. If nothing happens, nothing happens. Maybe people will think Bee scared him off the last time.”
Bee glared at her and returned to his seat.
“You think?” A small flicker of hope flared.
“Probably not. But what else can you do? If you have the group reading and the séance, no one could possibly ask for their money back, even if nothing happens.”
“Except for the Dobbs’.” Cass lowered her head into her hands.
Bee bristled. “You just tell those crackpots no.”
That sounded good in theory, but the last thing she needed was those two saying she ripped them off. “And what if something does happen?”
“What do you mean?”
The true source of Cass’s apprehension bubbled to the surface. She’d never really talked about how she did what she did with anyone. At least not seriously. The words didn’t come easy. “I don’t know.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ve never really thought about how I do readings or séances. I just notice things and say them. Somehow, it always seems to work out. I’m not sure how I feel about really trying to bring the dead back.”
“Are you scared?” Stephanie asked.
“Maybe a little.”
“Hmm . . .” Stephanie propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Of what exactly?”
Cass took a deep breath then blew it out slowly. “When I left my practice, I wanted to do something that would make people feel good. But I didn’t want any responsibility for anyone else.” She massaged her temples. “This feels an awful lot like responsibility, like people are counting on me to figure out what’s going on.” She shook her head, unable to find words to express her fear of failing and having someone get hurt. “People are dying. And I don’t want to feel responsible for that.”
Stephanie tilted her head and studied Cass. “I think things got a little out of hand this time. In the past, people have sought you out for entertainment, or to feel comforted by the presence of loved ones who’ve passed on. This is different.”
Cass nodded, relieved Stephanie could understand her fears.
Bee had remained unusually quiet through the conversation, and Cass spared him a quick glance. A deep frown marred his features.
When he looked up, he sat back. “And now there’s a killer out there who thinks you can possibly point a finger at him.”
When the chimes sounded, they all jumped.
16
When Cass returned to the table after taking care of her customer, Bee was thoroughly engrossed in something on the laptop screen, with Stephanie staring over his shoulder.
“What are you looking at?”
“Well,” Bee glanced at Stephanie, who nodded, “we have an idea.” Bee rubbed his hands together, obviously eager to share. “You’re going to do the séance.”
“I am?”
“Yup. We’ll announce it tonight at the group reading. We’ll try to have it at the mansion again, but if the police won’t let us in, we’ll do it here or at the hotel. It doesn’t really matter, although it will seem more authentic if you do it at the mansion.”
“Seem?”
“Yup.” Bee gripped her hand in his. “Look, Cass. You’re not charging anyone for the séance. Everyone who paid was present at the first séance. Plus, you did all of the individual readings, and you’ll do the group reading tonight. So, technically, this next one is a freebie.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“Hear me out before you say anything. Part of what you do is entertainment, but there’s another part that’s different. The part where people believe in this driv . . . uh . . . well, you know what I mean. Anyway, we don’t want you to deceive anyone but, let’s be honest, this whole situation is out of control.” He paused to glance at Stephanie. “So we want you to have the séance, but we want to script it.” He winced.
“What do you mean, ‘script it’?” She leaned over to see what he was looking at on the computer. Some kind of chart was up, but she couldn’t make out what it was.
Apparently relieved she hadn’t blown up at the idea, Bee settled more comfortably. “The way I see it, there are a few things we need to let everyone know.” He held up a hand, ticking each point off on his fingers. “One, we need to make it very clear you have no idea who the killer is. That keeps you safe, and it also keeps anyone else you’ve talked to safe. We don’t want the killer targeting everyone you were alone with who has some involvement in t
his case. Let’s face it, anyone at that séance could have been involved, and you were alone with a lot of them today, doing individual readings.”
Cass nodded. “True.” Crap. She hadn’t thought of that. Had she placed everyone in danger by continuing with the readings? Maybe she should heed Tank’s advice and just stay out of the whole thing.
“Okay, that brings me to point number two. At the last séance, you said Buford wanted to reveal a secret someone had. The killer obviously has a secret.” He shrugged and leaned back. “So all we have to do is come up with a believable secret that’s unrelated to the murders.”
“Is that all?” It didn’t really sound all that hard, and it just might work.
“Not exactly.”
She frowned. She knew it sounded too easy.
“Three . . .” He lowered another finger. “We have to figure out who actually killed Conrad and Joan, and why.”
She frowned. They couldn’t possibly think that was a good idea. “Why do we have to do that?”
“Just in case our plan backfires. I mean, this is going to look totally believable. Some people are going to believe you talked to Buford Wellington. It’s not that far a jump to think, eventually, the killer might try to silence you. Just in case you could contact someone else, like maybe Conrad, who presumably knows who killed him. Think of it as insurance.”
Cass struggled to digest it all. Overall, it wasn’t a bad plan. If they could pull it off. “There’s just one thing.”
Bee’s laughter echoed through the shop. “Just one?”
Actually two. The first being Tank told her to keep out of this. But that one didn’t really count. He didn’t specifically say to not have a séance. Right?
“Probably more, but just one I can think of right now.”
“Fair enough. What is it?”
“What happens if Buford actually shows up?”
Bee pressed a splayed hand to his chest. “Bite your tongue if you want my help, sweetheart.”
Cass laughed and shook her head. “All right.” I must be out of my mind. “Where do we start?”
“I guess we start with, how do you do what you do? I have to give you props, what you do sure does look real. But we need to figure out how you do it if we’re going to re-create it and have it look authentic to people who regularly attend your events.”
She’d never put a lot of thought into the how of it before. “I don’t really know. Stuff just kind of comes to me and I say it. How can I make something up when I don’t know what will come to me in the moment?”
“Can you think about it ahead of time?” Stephanie asked. “What if we could get you into the mansion by yourself beforehand and you could see what comes?” She leaned forward on the table.
Hmmm . . . that just might work. “I would feel better doing it that way.” Cass pulled her chair closer to the table, warming to the idea. “You know what would help a lot? If the two of you could help me out at the group reading.”
“Help you do what?” Stephanie asked.
“I need you to notice everything you can about everyone. Who they talk to, who looks nervous, who seems skeptical . . . The more information I have on each person, the easier things come to me.”
Bee clapped his hands together. “Sure. We can do that.”
Excitement sparked. This might just be crazy enough to work. “Okay, so we’ll meet up at my house around lunchtime tomorrow and compare notes.”
“Sounds good. Now, for the hard part.” Rubbing his hands together, Bee leaned over the computer.
“What’s that?”
“Figuring out who had reason to kill Conrad.”
Stephanie reached for the stack of paper.
“Uh . . . uh . . .” Bee swatted her hand away.
“Hey, what was that for?”
He glared pointedly at Cass. “This time, I’m in charge of the suspect list.” He pulled the computer closer. “Now. There’s no way the three of us can watch everyone, so we’re going to have to narrow it down some. Something’s been bothering me all along. If the motivation for Conrad’s murder was money, why stage a suicide? That would stop the life insurance from paying out. Why not stage an accident? Seems it would have been even easier to knock the old boy on the head and give him a shove down the stairs than it would be to haul him up into the rafters. No?”
Hmm . . . Cass hadn’t thought of that.
“Maybe they don’t need the life insurance. Maybe he’s worth enough without it,” Stephanie offered.
Bee started typing. “While I try to figure out Conrad’s net worth, what other reasons could there be for murder?”
Stephanie tapped a pencil against the table, the rhythmic click, click, click making it hard for Cass to concentrate.
She propped her elbows on the table, pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, and worked to block everything out. Why would someone kill? Greed for sure, but Bee was already checking that angle. What else did they know? “Jealousy. Maybe Joan was having an affair and her lover killed Conrad.” She remembered the dark hair on the soap in Conrad’s shower. “Conrad had light hair, yet the soap was covered in dark hair.”
Bee shrugged. “Could be his hair was colored and his body hair was still dark. His brother has dark hair.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“Or maybe Conrad was having an affair with a woman with short dark hair, and Joan found out and killed Conrad out of jealousy?”
Tension gathered at the base of Cass’s neck. She reached to rub it. “But then who killed Joan?”
“Maybe Conrad’s lover?” Stephanie was shaking her head before she even finished the statement. “I find it hard to believe there were two killers.”
“Me too,” Cass agreed. “But there almost had to be two people working together, didn’t there? One person couldn’t have gotten him up onto the rafter.”
Bee pursed his lips. “That doesn’t necessarily mean there are two killers, though. It’s possible one person killed him and another helped stage the suicide.” Bee tapped his pen against his lip. “But I still go back to, why hang him in the cupola?”
“Hey. Wait.” Stephanie sat up straighter. “What was that you said at the séance, Cass? About Buford hanging himself in the cupola? Where did you get that from?”
“I don’t remember. I thought maybe Bee found it in one of the books he brought.”
Bee frowned. “I don’t remember seeing it before the séance. The first I remember hearing Buford hung himself was from Carly Dobbs.”
Had that been the first time Cass had heard the story? No use. She couldn’t remember.
Bee’s low whistle pulled Cass’s attention from thoughts she really didn’t want to contemplate anyway.
“Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here.” He leaned back to allow Cass and Stephanie a better view as he turned the computer toward them and pointed to the screen.
Stephanie gasped. “Is that billions?”
Cass’s mouth fell open.
“Yup. Someone certainly stands to gain a fortune.”
“Yeah, but who?”
“Presumably, Joan. But we have to figure out who her heir is.”
“Okay.” Cass pressed a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “I’m getting a headache, and I have to be able to concentrate tonight.” She stood and stretched her back. A quick glance at the clock above the counter told her it was time to get going. “I’m starved and I have to drop Beast off at home before the reading.”
“You’re going to leave him at the house?” Stephanie’s gaze shot to Beast.
“Alone?” Bee’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
“What else can I do?”
Beast scrambled to his feet as if he knew they were talking about him.
“I don’t understand why he behaves so well here.” She
thought of the three beds he’d already chewed through this week. “Mostly.”
Bee ruffled the big dog’s mane. “Probably because he sits right here with you most of the day. You give him treats, pet him, and pay attention to him. So do your regular customers. It’s leaving him alone that seems to be the biggest problem.”
“Yeah.” Cass sighed. She might have to think about getting that crate Doc Martin suggested when she picked him up. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you home and fed so I’m not late for the reading.”
• • •
“This looks fabulous.” Bee squeezed her arm.
The scent of his aftershave drifted over Cass, bringing a sense of comfort and calm. She could do this, with the help of her friends, despite the nerves churning in her gut. “It does, doesn’t it? They did a great job.”
Stephanie smiled. “It helps that Elaina has been to enough readings to understand the ambiance you like to create.”
Elaina Stevens—Henry’s niece, who worked part-time as a maid at the hotel, in addition to her waitressing job at the diner—had seen to the decorations. She and some friends had done a wonderful job setting things up. Round tables covered with dark blue tablecloths filled the room. Soft lighting enhanced the casual atmosphere, as did white candles in mason jars filled with seashells, set in the center of each table. The soft jazz playing from overhead speakers created a relaxed, soothing mood.
“Maybe I’ll ask her to come in and do the same thing in the shop when we do the regular monthly readings there.” Cass relaxed. She tilted her head from side to side, loosening the knotted muscles in her neck.
“Come on.” Bee took her arm and led her to a table toward the front of the ballroom. “Let’s get your microphone on and tested before the guests start to arrive.”
“I’ll catch up in a little bit. I want to start filling the cases.” Stephanie would remain in the lobby, where Cass had set up a few small display cases, until the reading began, in case anyone wanted to buy crystals or souvenirs. She’d also watch who was coming and going and take notes on their behaviors.
“Thank you.”