by J A Whiting
Bob looked back and shook his head. “I just, this minute, remembered it.”
Angie was so distracted by the thoughts running through her head that she jumped when Josh approached and touched her shoulder. She whirled around and saw him standing next to her, with a warm smile on his face, his eyes kind and caring. All worry dropped away and Angie’s muscles relaxed as Josh bent and kissed her lips. They walked arm and arm to the resort dining room and sat at a table near the windows where they talked and mooned over one another. Candlelight flickered over their faces.
By the end of the evening, Angie felt as light as a feather. She hummed as she unlocked the back door of the Victorian and sashayed into the kitchen, with thoughts of Josh dancing in her head.
Courtney stood in the middle of the kitchen holding a spoon in the air in front of Ellie who was seated on a stool at the center island. “Go ahead, try again.”
“I just can’t do it.” Ellie hung her head and her long, blonde hair fell over her face.
Angie’s eyes went wide.
Courtney heard Angie come in, but didn’t turn to look at her sister. Her arm was outstretched dangling the teaspoon from her fingers. “What’s cookin’, Sis?”
“I’m about to ask you two that same question. What’s going on?”
“Go ahead.” Courtney urged Ellie to try again.
Ellie leaned against the counter with her chin in her hand. “We’ve been practicing for a few days, but I can’t do anything.”
“Like what? Eat from a spoon that’s located twenty feet from you?” Angie smiled and sat down next to her sister.
Courtney lowered her arm. “She just has to believe in herself.”
Lifting her head, Ellie groaned. “How did I ever make that bullet soft? How did I bend that gun barrel into a pretzel? Did that even happen?” In a previous investigation, Ellie was instrumental in saving her sisters and Mr. Finch by using her mind to make a bullet as soft as a marshmallow and twist the barrel of a gun like it was rubber. She had never done anything like that before or since.
“I’m surprised that you’re talking about what you did, let alone attempting to practice your skills.” Angie was amazed that Ellie was practicing because the whole thing had always frightened her.
Ellie’s blue eyes were serious. “With all the trouble that’s happened over these past months, I thought what I could do might come in handy again someday and that I should be ready. Not that I want to do anything. It scares me. It’s just that I worry about all of you.”
Angie rubbed her sister’s arm. “I think Courtney might be right. Maybe your fear overrides your ability. Like the stupid static is overriding our abilities to understand clues and sense what people have done.”
Euclid and Circe trilled from their perch on top of the refrigerator.
Angie looked up at them and she experienced a moment of clarity. “Huh.” A slow smile spread over her face. “I wonder. The bad stuff that’s been happening, has it weighed us down? Has it made us deaf to the things that float on the air that we can usually pick up on?”
Courtney’s eyes widened with excitement. “You haven’t baked anything for us for ages. Bake something. Think positive thoughts while you mix. Clear out the heaviness around us from all the bad things we’ve had to deal with lately. And then, let’s take what you bake down to Robin’s Point. We’ll eat it there where Nana’s cottage used to be.”
“A picnic in the dark.” Ellie smiled as she pulled out a mixing bowl, flour, and measuring cups and piled the things on the island. She halted. “What do you want to make?”
“I haven’t agreed to bake yet.” Angie laughed as she opened the pantry closet, lifted her apron from a hook, and slipped it over her head.
Mr. Finch came into the kitchen from the back of the house and saw Angie in her apron. “Well, it looks to me like you’ve made up your mind to bake something. What treat are you making, Miss Angie?”
Angie pulled her hair into a high ponytail and washed her hands in the sink. She turned around and folded her arms over her chest, thinking. Angie had the ability to transfer intentions into what she baked which would then influence the thoughts or feelings of whoever ate the treats. She tapped her fingers on her upper arm. “It needs to be something sweet, but light.” She looked at the people in the kitchen. “How about a blueberry-lemon tart?”
“That’s perfect.” Jenna came in from the hallway with Tom following her. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“What’s the occasion?” Tom carried two empty mugs. He and Jenna had been sipping coffee while rocking on the front porch watching the tourists streaming by on the sidewalk in front of the Victorian.
Courtney explained while Angie went about measuring and mixing. Tom, Jenna, Mr. Finch, Courtney, and Ellie each took a stool at the counter to watch Angie bake. The two cats each kept an eye on the proceedings from high on the fridge.
Angie lifted her eyes from the bowl in front of her to see the audience gathered along the opposite side of the center island and she let out a chuckle. “Maybe I should sell tickets to my performance.”
Chapter 22
It was midnight when Tom, the four sisters, and the two cats sat down on the blanket that Courtney had spread on the lawn at Robin’s Point at the edge of the bluff looking out over the sea. Stars twinkled overhead and a silver path of moonlight streamed over the surface of the ocean and seemed to end at the foot of the cliff.
Tom unfolded a lawn chair for Mr. Finch, and Ellie placed the picnic basket on the edge of the blanket. The girls removed the blueberry-lemon tart, dessert plates, forks, napkins, a silver cake knife and server, and a bottle of champagne that they remembered they had in the refrigerator. They didn’t want to bother packing champagne flutes so they took along small plastic cups. Not very elegant, Ellie told the group, but they’d do.
Jenna brought two metal lanterns with a candle in each one. She lit them and placed the lanterns in the middle of the blanket. Angie cut the tart and passed around the plates while Tom popped the champagne and filled the cups.
“We should do this more often.” Courtney handed Mr. Finch a cup.
When everyone was served and settled, Ellie suggested a toast. She looked over at Mr. Finch. “Will you do the honors? We need something positive and upbeat.”
“That is quite easy to do.” Finch cleared his throat. “As I’ve said many times, I feel like the best part of my life started when I came to Sweet Cove and met all of you.”
Courtney interrupted. “Don’t forget about Betty Hayes.” She winked at Finch.
Finch nodded, and though no one could see, just thinking of Betty caused a blush to tinge the older man’s cheeks. He continued with the toast. “And despite our run-ins with the criminal element, I have witnessed honor, friendship, love, and goodness in the people, and felines, around me. I am truly blessed.” He raised his plastic glass. “To all of you, my friends.”
“Here, here.” Tom tapped his cup against Mr. Finch’s.
“Well done, Mr. Finch.” Ellie’s eyes were moist.
Everyone dug into the tart. Even the cats had plates in front of them and they eagerly gobbled the tasty treat.
“I feel better already. Lighter, happier.” Courtney sighed and lay back on the grass. “I feel the thrumming. It’s good.” Five minutes later, she sprang up. “Let’s test to see if our love-fest here with the dessert cleared away the static and negative vibrations from our past investigations that were interfering with our powers.” Courtney reached for the spoon she had used, licked it clean, and then held it out to her side. She looked across the darkness at Ellie. “Do something to the spoon.”
Ellie frowned and her shoulders drooped. “I’m afraid.”
Mr. Finch requested that the spoon be passed to him. “There’s nothing to fear, Miss Ellie. You use your powers for good.” He rested the spoon on his knee. “Close your eyes. Take slow, deep breaths. Imagine the spoon is as light as a feather floating in the ether.”
Ellie cl
osed her eyes. Even in the feeble light of the lanterns, the group could see her tense muscles go loose with each deep breath. Sitting cross-legged on the blanket, her upper body started to rock ever so slightly. Angie could feel the thrumming in her veins, pulsing in time to Ellie’s swaying motion. She made eye contact with Courtney who gave her sister a slight nod and a smile. Two full minutes passed. Nothing happened.
Angie was about to speak, when the spoon on Mr. Finch’s knee began to tremble. Everyone’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. Euclid and Circe stared at the utensil.
Slowly, the quivering spoon lifted an inch above Finch’s knee and hovered for a moment in the air, until it sputtered and fell to the blanket.
Courtney whooped. Angie’s mouth dropped open. The cats trilled and Euclid jumped onto Ellie’s lap and licked her cheek as spontaneous applause broke out.
Ellie blinked her eyes. A giggle escaped from her throat. “I did it?”
Everyone hugged her and offered congratulations.
“Just keep practicing.” Courtney gave Ellie a bear hug. “Just think how you’ll freak out Jack Ford with that trick someday.”
Ellie paled at the thought of revealing the Roseland secrets to her boyfriend. She knew that, one of these days, a long conversation was in store. She hoped that Jack would be able to accept the news of her family’s skills as well as Tom had when Jenna told him. She pushed the worry from her mind as a second round of champagne was passed around the group in celebration.
***
It was after two in the morning when the six humans and two cats stumbled out of Ellie’s van in the driveway of the Victorian. Tom kissed Jenna goodnight and got into his truck to drive home. Mr. Finch had been dropped at his house and Courtney walked him to his front door. Ellie, Jenna, and Courtney dragged themselves up to their rooms and two of the sisters would not be pleased when the early morning alarms sounded.
Angie didn’t feel tired so she decided to make a cup of tea before following her sisters up to bed. She put the kettle on and started to rinse off the dessert plates from their late-night picnic when she glanced out the window and noticed movement in the moonlight in the backyard near the pergola. She turned the sink faucet off and squinted through the window glass trying to see the person sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs under the trellises. Angie backed over to the stove and turned off the burner, and then she headed out the back door.
She glided with soft footsteps over the walkway that led to the patio under the pergola. “Can’t sleep?”
Bethany Winston jerked with surprise. “I didn’t hear you. Why are you still up?”
“I had something I had to do.” Angie settled in the chair opposite Bethany. “I’ve been thinking.”
Bethany looked over at Angie. “That I’m the killer?”
Angie waited to see if the thrumming would start and contradict her feeling that Bethany was innocent, but there was no warning pulsing. “I don’t think you’re the one who killed Nelson.” Angie could see a look of relief pass over Bethany’s face.
“Then who do you think did it?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Angie pushed her hair behind her ears. A sudden sense of fatigue washed over her and she let out a small sigh. “I was at the bar at the resort recently. I had a talk with the bartender.”
Bethany listened with interest.
“The bartender met Nelson about an hour before he was killed.”
Bethany winced at the mention of Nelson’s murder.
“Nelson came back to the bar after he and your father had been there a bit earlier. He struck up a conversation with the bartender. The bartender recalled something that Nelson said to him.”
Bethany leaned forward. “What was it?”
“Nelson said he didn’t want to hurt you. He said he didn’t want to marry you any more than you wanted to marry him. He implied that he wasn’t going to go through with the marriage.”
Bethany’s mouth dropped open. “Nelson said that?”
“If you two didn’t marry, who would that hurt?”
Bethany tilted her head in thought. “Well, it would hurt his run for the Senate, so it would hurt Kim, for one.”
“Why Kim?”
“Kim was going to be his campaign manager, and if he won the race, she was to be his Chief of Staff. She had plenty of experience handling Nelson and that was going to continue in Washington.”
“Who else?”
“It would hurt Nelson’s brother and sister, Geoffrey and Georgia. They had plans for Nelson in the Senate. Nelson was going to be their puppet.” Bethany shook her head in disgust.
“What about Geoffrey? What do you think of him?”
“He makes me uncomfortable. I don’t trust him. He wants to be head of the family company and he isn’t subtle about it.”
“I talked to Georgia at the remembrance. She seemed odd.”
“Georgia? Really? She must have been drunk when you talked to her. She loves her wine, but she usually knows when and where it’s appropriate to drink. That woman is shrewd, controlling, and highly intelligent. The company’s success is because of her, despite what Geoffrey would like people to think. Geoffrey doesn’t have a chance against Georgia as top-dog of Rider Financial.”
“What about you? If Nelson called off the wedding, would it have hurt you?”
The corners of Bethany’s mouth turned up. “No. It would have made me happy. It does make me happy. Nelson was about to call off the wedding.” She let out a chuckle. “He was about to stand up for something he wanted. Finally.”
A thought ran through Angie’s mind. And that’s why he’s dead.
Chapter 23
An unmarked police van pulled into a parking space under a streetlight in the utility lot of the Sweet Cove resort. Chief Martin emerged from the driver’s seat and opened the back, side door of the vehicle. Courtney jumped out and turned back to help Mr. Finch as he awkwardly stepped down from the van. Jenna, Angie, Euclid and Circe exited from the other side. Ellie made the decision to remain at the Victorian, claiming the B and B guests might need her.
This particular parking lot was used by the resort staff and delivery vehicles and was usually full during the day, but late in the evening, there were only several cars and a few trucks scattered around the spaces.
Chief Martin was dressed in chinos and a button-down shirt. Angie couldn’t remember ever seeing him out of uniform. He chose the unmarked police van, civilian clothes, and the time of night to return to the murder scene with the Roseland sisters and Mr. Finch so as not to call attention to their visit. The chief led the way. “We can follow this walkway for a while and then branch off to the right. We’ll end up at the luxury bungalows. You okay to walk a bit, Mr. Finch?”
“I’m not fast, but I can walk for some distance,” Finch assured the chief.
Courtney held Finch’s elbow and carried a flashlight in her other hand to provide better lighting as they moved along the stone walkways in the darkness. The cats walked slightly in front of them and Angie and Jenna carried up the rear.
Anticipation pinged in Angie’s chest and her shoulder muscles tightened. She took a sideways glance at her sister wondering if she was experiencing any nervousness or worry.
The group wound around the resort grounds past shade trees, ornamental bushes and grasses, and flowers planted in beds and potted in containers. Subtle, decorative lighting enhanced the loveliness of the landscaping. Private bungalows were tucked here and there in the lush section of the resort. Angie knew that some of the cottages had private pools in the small fenced gardens behind the structures. Guests in this part of the resort could even request a personal butler to see to their needs.
Angie’s stomach tightened as they approached the darkened crime scene bungalow. She tried to breathe slowly and evenly. The chief removed a key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, and pushed the door open. He entered first and flicked the light switch to illuminate the room.
Everyone stepped into the elegant liv
ing space and the chief closed the door. The blinds had already been drawn to block out the curious gazes of passersby.
“So.” The chief explained the layout to Mr. Finch since this was his first time in the cottage. The cats listened intently as the chief spoke about where and how Nelson Rider’s body was found. “I have some other information to share when you are finished in here. I don’t want to say anything that might influence what you … ah, sense.”
Jenna looked at the chief. “Were you able to bring the gun for Mr. Finch to touch?”
“The weapon cannot be removed from the evidence locker. I’m trying to gain access for you, Mr. Finch. It might take some time.” The chief shoved his hands into his back pockets and shifted his eyes about the room. “I guess I’ll go sit over by the door.” He picked up a small wooden chair from next to the desk and carried it over to the front door, where he placed it, and sat down heavily.
The amateur sleuths stared at each for a few moments and then Angie made a suggestion. “Why don’t we each walk around and try to pick up on anything.” The others nodded and each one turned in a different direction. The cats had already begun to pad about the space.
Jenna was drawn to the bedroom where she’d had a vision of a shadow the last time they inspected the premises. The linens had been removed from the bed and the mattress stood in the room, empty and bare. Something about the lonely scene caused grief to stick in Jenna’s throat. She shook herself and took soft steps over to the bed. She placed her hand gingerly on the mattress, and waited.
Angie and Courtney walked slowly around the living room. Mr. Finch moved to the dining section of the bungalow. A good-sized table and six chairs stood in the center of the area. There was a decorative rug of muted colors on the floor under the dining table. Three windows looked out over the back garden and the small pool. A chandelier hung down from the ceiling. Mr. Finch shuffled around the perimeter of the table, running his hand over the wood’s smooth finish.
Hearing a strange buzzing in her ears, Angie stopped beside the gas fireplace. The edges of her vision darkened and she pressed her fingers to her eyes. Flickers of light in the shape of lightning bolts zipped in her field of vision. She wondered if it was the beginning of a migraine and she groaned inwardly for not bringing headache meds with her. Everything seemed draped in fog. Her hearing became muffled.