Yet, even now, a couple of years later, the memory of that dress I’d chosen so long ago to bury the man I’d adored stole my breath before I straightened and focused on a getting a shower.
And my laptop.
Because, you know, there’s a crime I need to stick my nose into.
But I’m just going to take a quick peek and then I’m staying out of it and letting the police do their jobs.
I swear.
* * * *
I clicked around aimlessly on Abby’s website for her store, Natural Solutions, as I sat at the counter of the Smoke and Petrol with Jessica Fletcher next to me. I figured I’d just pass the time while we waited out the lull until the afternoon rush for lunch.
Nothing more, honest.
It can’t hurt, right? I mean, I did find her along with Cappie. The least I could do was learn a bit about her so when it came time to pay my respects to her family, I’d know a little about who she’d been as a person.
As I got comfortable at the scarred counter covered with goodies from the local bakery and candy shop, the scent of freshly smoked brisket wafting to my nose, I kept half an eye on the door and the other half on Abby’s site.
The site was full of sparkling apothecary bottles, recipes for home remedies for all manner of minor issues made from natural herbs and spices, and all sorts of herbs I’d never heard of.
I’m not sure why I thought her website would help me see something I hadn’t seen at the crime scene, or jog my memory with a clue. I didn’t know Abby that well. We’d say hello in passing, smile and nod, but we sure didn’t move in the same circles.
She was into the metaphysical and I was into science and facts. Now, that’s not to say I don’t believe an oregano leaf or whatever can’t heal what ails you, but I lean more toward a good physician and a prescription before I think about turning to an herbal remedy—despite how she’d helped Mom.
I clicked on a tab labeled “weekly meetings with other like-minded herbalists and homeopaths”. Seems Abby held meetings at her store once a week for those who sought help outside traditional western medicine.
As I read the short paragraph on spiritual healings, Buddhism, astral projection, and paranormal happenings as points of conversation the group discussed, I found myself intrigued. Abby was clearly more than just a homeopath. She was into ghosts and all things having to do with the paranormal.
Most especially, vampires…
A chill coursed up my spine but I shook it off.
Again, this was another something to consider, taking into account the way she’d been found. I mean, she did have marks on her neck and a spooky chalice near her body. Maybe she had a vampire club just like those zombie hunters had. I’d read only a little about people who believed in vampires and actually practiced some of their alleged habits.
I looked to Jessica, dressed in one of her favorite purple boas and a matching tutu Mom had made her. “How do you feel about vampires, Jess? Misunderstood by society, glorified and worshipped by teens, or just plain evil?”
Jess stopped eating her orange and cocked her tiny head at me, her tail twitching as she chirped her unintelligible answer before she popped another piece of fruit in her mouth.
“What’cha doin’, Lemon?”
My head popped up and my heart jumped in my chest. I hadn’t even heard the bells on the door ring, I was so immersed in Abby’s site. But suddenly my BFF was there, coming around the counter to see what I was up to.
I prepared to close my laptop in guilt, but she held up a hand. “Don’t bother to try and hide what you’re doing. I already heard all about poor Abby Hoffer in the koi pond.”
I winced. Here comes the lecture about minding my own P’s and Q’s. “I was just curious about her—”
“No, no. Stop hiding.” Coco pulled off her summery floral scarf and tossed it on the counter in a cloud of vanilla perfume as she came to take a seat beside me, kicking off her wedge sandals. “There’s no stopping you from poking around. I’m not even going to try this time. All I ask is that you stay safe and keep anything you come upon a little quieter than the last time. Please. I like my brains on the inside.”
Coco was referring to our run-in with Myron’s killer. She’d been banged up pretty bad from the tussle, not to mention having a gun stuck in her face. I couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did, but I had to wonder what had made her change her mind about me investigating. All she’d done during the last case was beat me up and lecture me over my interest in finding Myron’s killer.
I rolled up the sleeves of my light flannel shirt and pushed my glasses back along the bridge of my nose. “I’m actually going to stay out of it. I got us in some hot water the last time. I won’t take that risk again. But I have to ask, why the sudden change of heart here?”
She leaned forward with her elbows on the counter as Jess enveloped her in one of her special monkey hugs. Her dark hair swung forward at her chin when she looked at me with warmth and understanding in her eyes.
“I’m going to say something that makes you incredibly uncomfortable, but I’m saying it out of love. Remember that, would you?”
“Is this going to be like the time you told me you were telling me something out of love, and my butt looked big in the new jeans I bought without any fashion help from you? Because, I’ll tell you, Coco, you devastated me. I was so proud I’d found those jeans and you shot me down. Like an arrow right here.” I pointed to my chest and grinned at her.
She smiled and shook her head, her eyes holding a touch of sadness. “I never said your butt looked big. I said it didn’t bring out the best of your butt. And what I have to say is more like a splash of reality.”
“Okay, tell me,” I murmured.
“I’m starting to think this investigating thing is some kind of weird therapy for you, my friend. Wait. Maybe weird’s the wrong word. Alternative seems better. Anyway, it’s almost like if you figure out a crime, it’ll somehow make up for not finding Troy’s killer. You spent weeks, months poring over the crime scene pictures and evidence and testimony from witnesses, trying to piece together who’d want to kill a great guy like Troy. It got ugly for a while. There was a time I didn’t think you were going to eat another bite of food unless I was there, force-feeding it to you. You didn’t shower. You hardly slept. You obsessed and scared us all half to death.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but there was really nothing to protest. Coco was right, and if she hadn’t made me come home to Fig, I’d probably still be in Seattle, obsessing. So, I stayed silent, and really heard how hard that time had been for not just her, but everyone around me.
“And I want you to know, I get it. I totally get it, Lemon. I hate it for you, but I get it. I get you and your grief, and if it helps you finally work through it and move forward to dabble in this, I’m in.”
I stiffened, passing Jessica another piece of fruit, but I couldn’t deny she was probably right, if we were going to get analytical about it.
And the thought caught me right in the feels. Right in the back of my throat where it burned and ached.
“I miss him so much…every day,” I whispered, finding it unbearable to breathe for a moment from the sudden stab of longing for a man so wonderful.
Gosh, it felt good to say that out loud. I hadn’t in a very long time, but it rambled out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Coco grabbed my hand and smiled, her green eyes shiny. “I know you do, Lemon. We do, too. He was a great guy and a terrific lawyer.”
Troy had been a great guy. The greatest, and as if it weren’t enough, being a great guy, he’d been a greater prosecuting attorney, and I’d fallen wildly in love with him. Troy Merrill was everything all girls hope for when they think about finding the man of their dreams. Smart, funny, considerate, chivalrous in a time when most of us think chivalry is dead. And I can’t forget handsome in the quirkiest of ways—from his dark blond hair to his horn-rimmed glasses and his crooked smile.
A tear s
lipped down my cheek as I remembered his face, the scent of his aftershave, and Jess, sensing distress, positioned herself in front of me, gripping my cheeks with her small hands. I gave her a quick squeeze and handed her another section of orange, inhaling deeply and shaking off my melancholy.
“It’s going to get easier, you know,” Coco reminded me, chucking me under the chin. “Day by day, little by little. And one day, it won’t ache as much. It’ll always be there, Lemon. But the pain will dull and you’ll remember more good than…than that day.”
I closed my eyes and shut down more tears. “I sure hope so, Coco. I really do.” I did hope one day I wouldn’t remember Troy the way I’d last seen him, sprawled out on the floor of our apartment, blood everywhere…
I wanted to remember him proposing to me at our favorite sushi food cart, his eyes laughing, his kisses soft and sweet; or him cooking in our apartment, an apron with ruffles secured around his waist, which he insisted on wearing because my mother had given it to him for Christmas.
But the memory of him dead was the one that seemed to stick, and it wouldn’t dull no matter what I did.
Coco nudged my shoulder with hers. “Tell me what happened this morning. How ironic I should find Lemon Layne in the middle of yet another murder investigation. In her backyard, no less.”
I scrolled some more of the site, keeping my eyes on the screen so as not to see Coco’s sympathetic gaze as she changed the subject. She knew my limits, and I was grateful she knew me so well.
“Have they officially called it a murder? Hashtag asking for a friend,” I joked.
“Nope, but how many people take a nap in a koi pond all dressed up like that?”
“How’d you know she was dressed up?”
“I work at the coroner’s office. I see things.”
“Did you hear things?”
“Still hashtag asking for a friend?”
I looked at anything but her and chuckled. “Maybe.”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Sherlock. Just because I’ve given you carte blanche from my lecturing, doesn’t mean I can share confidential information. Also, I didn’t hear a single thing. So there’s that.”
I laughed then shook my head. “I don’t get it, Coco. The way she was left right there, her head resting against the koi pond, was just plain strange. It was like someone set her there with that weird chalice and left—almost as if it were planned. Honestly, she looked exactly like she was sleeping.”
Coco shuddered, putting her hand to her throat. “How awful for her and you and poor Cappie. She was such a nice lady, too. I used the face cream she had at the store like it was my religion. Loved that stuff. She made it herself. It did wonders for my dry skin. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill her.”
“Me either,” I said distractedly as I happened to catch one of the photographs under the tab on Abby’s site labeled “weekly meetings”.
“Cappie’s all over Fig telling everyone it’s vampires, you know. He’s got the tourists all atwitter about it. Described the marks on her neck and everything. Did she have marks on her neck?”
“She did, and even I have to admit if I were the kind who believed, they did look like vampire teeth marks. I know it’s crazy, but I saw them with my own two eyes.”
“And the cup of blood? He said there was some old-looking cup with blood in it right by Abby’s body.”
“You mean this one?” I swiveled the laptop toward Coco and pointed to the picture of a man I didn’t recognize holding a cup that looked exactly like the one Abby had near her body.
The gentleman was smiling, holding the cup up as though he were saluting someone. A pleasant-enough looking guy with a round face, soft, doughy skin and gentle blue eyes. He had a full head of red hair, making him stand out amongst the rest of the people in the picture because he was a male ginger. Might make it easier to identify him. I clicked print in order to make a copy of his picture to ask around about him—see if maybe he was a local.
Coco gasped and tapped the screen with a pale pink nail. “Is that it? Looks like it came right off a movie set a la Bela Lugosi’s Dracula.”
It sort of did. Definitely an unusual piece, but did it belong to Abby or the guy in the picture?
“It sure looks like it. Which means, I need to find out who this guy is and what he knows about this chalice.”
My friend raised a single eyebrow. “I thought you were staying out of it? Hashtag fat chance,” she teased.
I gave her a sheepish glance. “Hashtag don’t know how to stop myself.”
We both laughed as the bells on the door signaled a customer, making me grateful I’d remembered to bring the brisket in to keep in the warmer. The lunch rush would begin any minute.
A man loped up to the counter, his shorts with a wavy pattern on them a total mismatch for the green plaid shirt he wore. His sandals clopped, slapping against the tile floor as he approached us.
I put on my customer smile and asked, “Can I help you?”
He smiled back quite pleasantly, his youthful face tanned from a day spent in the sun. “I sure hope so. You the lady who saw the dead lady bitten by a vampire?”
I groaned.
Waylan Caprice, I’m going to kill you!
~
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About Dakota
Dakota Cassidy is a USA Today bestselling author with over thirty books. She writes laugh-out-loud cozy mysteries, romantic comedy, grab-some-ice erotic romance, hot and sexy alpha males, paranormal shifters, contemporary kick-ass women, and more.
Dakota was invited by Bravo TV to be the Bravoholic for a week, wherein she snarked the hell out of all the Bravo shows. She received a starred review from Publishers Weekly for Talk Dirty to Me, won a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Kiss and Hell, along with many review site recommended reads and reviewer top pick awards.
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Nun of Your Business Mysteries, a Contemporary Cozy Mystery Series
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Hit and Nun (Nun of Your Business Mysteries Book 2) Page 23