by Louise Lynn
Finally, she heard footsteps, and Anthony Ray perked up and moved toward them.
“It’s right around the corner. Over there. I don’t want to look again.” It was Violet.
Hazel let out a breath and hoped Sheriff Cross wouldn’t be angry at her for exposing his niece to a dead body. She knew if Ruth had seen something like that, Esther would’ve gone off.
But then Ruth was only eight and Violet was fifteen.
“Hazel, is this how you found him?” Sheriff Cross said, and a frown pulled heavily at his lips.
She gave him a solemn nod. “I think I’ve already photographed everything. If you see something you want me to take a picture of, let me know.”
He reached over and squeezed her shoulder once, the touch reassuring. It sent a little shiver of butterflies through her stomach. But that did little to calm the bile churning there.
She’d had too much coffee and had spent too long with a dead body.
Not a good combo.
“Looks like his neck has been broken and someone hit him on the head,” Sheriff Cross said, examining the crime scene.
Hazel nodded. “I thought so too. And whoever did it must’ve been strong. He’s been dead for a while. And can you smell that?”
Sheriff Cross looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah it smells awful. Dead bodies—”
Hazel frowned. “I know what dead bodies do after they expire. It’s not that; it’s something floral. It smells good.”
Sheriff Cross furrowed his brow and tentatively sniffed the air. “All I smell is the dead kid. And some kind of awful body spray he must’ve used.”
Hazel shook her head. “I don’t think most teenage boys use flowery body spray, so that’s not it.”
“I smell it,” Violet called from the other side of the hedge. “It’s really strong over here.”
Sheriff Cross frowned again, and Hazel felt a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She fought to keep it at bay. Smiling around a dead body probably wasn’t good form. Especially one so recently discovered.
Sheriff Cross ran his fingers over his smoothly shaven cheeks. “I’ll put that in my notes and see if the deputies can place it. You guys can head back to the Manor and discuss what you think it is. I’ll come by the studio for those photos later.”
Hazel nodded and threw one last glance at the body. “How do you think he ended up here?”
Sheriff Cross chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before answering. He was hesitating. Either he didn’t have an answer, or he didn’t want to say what was on his mind.
Hazel had an idea why.
“Neck broken in the middle of a hedge maze in a rosebush. I don’t think this was a natural fall if you get my meaning,” he said and his blue eyes seemed to darken.
Hazel nodded.
Just like she thought—the boy had been murdered.
Hazel ushered Violet out of the maze and back toward the Manor. She wasn’t sure who the Spring Fling King’s parents were, but she avoided the eyes and ducked back into the deputy’s car.
“You ready to head back to your studio?” Deputy Simmons asked and glanced at Violet, who still stood with Hazel.
Hazel nodded and picked up Anthony Ray. He cuddled into her arms and purred. “Yeah. He did what he was supposed to,” she said and wondered why nobody had searched the hedge maze yet.
Maybe it didn’t seem like the sort of place that kid would go. They’d been focused on the lake since it was the most likely area for accidents.
“Can I go with you? I have literally nothing to do today. And if I stay here, it’s gonna take hours. And I have a book, so I won’t bother you, promise,” Violet said, her eyes wide and pleading.
Hazel couldn’t blame her for not wanting to stick around. She felt the same.
She cast a glance at Deputy Simmons, who shrugged, and she let out a sigh. “Sure. That’s fine with me. But let your uncle know. I don’t want him to think you disappeared too.”
They didn’t return to Hazel’s studio until afternoon, and she slumped inside with Violet on her heels.
Michael started in bewilderment when they entered together.
“Violet, this is my assistant, Michael. Michael this is Sheriff Cross’s niece, Violet. She’s going to be waiting here while her uncle finishes up at the crime scene.”
Michael blinked. “What kind of crime scene? Did they find that missing kid?”
Yup. The news of the missing teen was spreading like wildfire through Cedar Valley—which wasn’t uncommon for a small town. But it was probably aided by the fact that he was a teenager.
Hazel was about to explain, but Violet beat her to it. “He’s dead. Murdered. So gross,” she said and gave an exaggerated shudder.
“What she said. Now, I’m going to sit and go over these crime scene photos, so you should probably–”
“I’ll wait out there,” Violet said and slunk back out into the studio’s foyer.
Hazel glanced at Michael. “Keep an eye on her,” she said and gave him a pleading smile.
Michael nodded and got up to follow.
Looking at the crime scene photos after the fact was almost as bad as being there in person, but she wanted to make sure they were ready to go when Sheriff Cross arrived. That didn’t take long, and while she was busy burning them onto a CD, a few tourists showed up at the Old West studio.
Thankfully, Michael had it under control, and Violet had curled herself into a corner of the display studio and was reading a book.
Hazel peeked in and smiled. If she was that age, she’d have been down at the lakeshore snapping pictures. But everybody had their own hobbies.
“Hey. Your uncle’s not here yet, but I was going to head down the street for lunch. You want to join me?”
Violet blinked and jumped up. “Yes. Uncle Colton never goes out to eat. I don’t know what he’s afraid of.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow. That was something she didn’t know about Sheriff Cross. “Really? He goes out every morning for breakfast.” She pointed at the CATfeinated Café as they headed outside.
Violet gave an exaggerated frown. “Does he? That is so not fair. He never takes me anywhere. He makes me eat cereal in the apartment,” she said and crossed her arms as if it were the greatest affront anyone had ever known.
Hazel decided not to mention that they also chatted nearly every morning. It honestly had never occurred to her the only reason Sheriff Cross would come to the café was for her company. She just assumed he liked sesame bagels and Celia’s coffee as much as Hazel herself did.
Well, she didn’t have any proof that wasn’t the case. He probably had Violet eat at home because teenagers had voracious appetites. Even teenage girls. Hazel remembered a phase she went through in which she could finish off a box of cereal in a day. And it’s not as if a small-town sheriff raked in tons of money.
There were two food options relatively close to Hazel’s studio, and they both stood across the street. One was Esther’s bakery, Let Them Eat Cake and the other the Vietnamese place, Pho Real.
Hazel pointed between them. “Vietnamese or quiche?”
Violet’s wide eyes wandered between them. “Did you guys all get together and give everything in this town an awesome name?”
Hazel chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what the Friday night town meetings are for. To make sure everyone’s shop has a good enough name.”
Violet grinned. “Vietnamese. But I wouldn’t hate going to the bakery either. For dessert.”
Hazel chuckled again. Maybe all teenagers weren’t equally bad. Especially one that had similar good taste.
The mood inside Pho Real was more somber than usual, and Hazel realized that the bad news had infected the entire town by now. Someone must’ve released information about his body, because everyone cast worried glances among themselves, more so than they had when the other murders had taken place in Cedar Valley.
Because this was different.
This was a child.
Well, a
seventeen-year-old child—but still.
After lunch, they headed over to Esther’s bakery, and were greeted with a line much longer than usual.
Hazel raised an eyebrow while Violet went up to the display case and nearly pressed her nose against it. She looked ready to drool over the cupcakes there, and Hazel understood the urge well enough.
“I already have three other orders for brownies to be sent to the Sizemore’s home. I think they’re going to have too many,” Esther said to the lady who stood at the front of the line.
“Well, a cake then.”
The little crease between Esther’s brows sharpened, and Hazel knew that expression on her sister’s face all too well. It meant she was annoyed and trying hard not to show it. Hazel figured she did the same thing, but no one had ever pointed it out to her. Except for Sheriff Cross, of course.
“I’ve had two other orders for cakes. I understand that bereavement food is a kindness, but maybe you’d like to send them a quiche instead,” Esther offered.
The woman, older and in a smart matching sweater set with a khaki skirt, whom Hazel recognized as Barbara Cornwell, the owner of the year-round Christmas shop, nodded. “Fine. The ham and spinach. You think that’s good enough? They lost their son,” she said and shook her head.
Esther swallowed, and Hazel saw how difficult this must be for her. “Yes. It’s awful. But I think the quiche will be nice enough.”
She was probably holding back that they could freeze it for a later time if they wanted. And that there was no way they’d eat three pans of brownies and two cakes, even if they came from Esther’s heavenly bakery.
By the time Hazel made it up there, the rest of the customers had already been helped. At least half of them had wanted to order something for the Sizemore’s. That must’ve been Brandon’s last name.
Hazel remembered hearing it before, but she’d never met them. They were a generation too old for her to be friendly with, and too young for her parents to have been friendly with.
Violet ordered the death by chocolate cupcake and paid for it herself, then curled into a seat with her book. At least she was self-sufficient.
As she did so, Ruth, Hazel’s niece, pranced around the table in her rainbow tutu and peeked at Violet over her book. “What ya reading?”
Violet glanced at the cover then at the eight-year-old girl. “Wuthering Heights,” she said, and began explaining the plot to Ruth. Who, actually seemed to stand still and listen for five minutes.
“I’m assuming you heard about Brandon Sizemore,” Esther said with a heavy sigh and pulled a pink frosted cupcake from behind the display case. She handed it to Hazel without even asking if that’s the one she wanted.
Well, she was right, so Hazel didn’t bother complaining. “Yeah. I heard.”
Esther stared at her, eyes narrowing. “You found the body, didn’t you?”
Hazel clenched her jaw and tried not to think about the twisted neck or the thorns sticking into his skin. Cutting through his cheap tuxedo. Or that awful bloody gash.
“Is it important? It was Anthony Ray, actually. And–”
Before she could finish her sentence, their mother burst into the bakery in a flurry of pink, green, and purple gauzy layers of skirts, sarongs and hopefully, a blouse. Her curly red hair was a halo of frizz.
She made her way right to the counter and completely ignored Hazel, Violet, and Ruth’s presences. “Esther, tell me you’re not planning on baking the entire town’s bereavement sweets. Can’t anybody here manage a casserole on their own?”
“I can’t,” Hazel said.
Their mother waved her hand in the air and pushed up her wireframe glasses. “It’s not that you can’t manage; you just never took the time to bother and learn.”
Hazel bit the inside of her cheek and refrained from saying that she had no need to learn with so many good restaurants and a talented sister so close. Or that her mother wasn’t the world’s greatest cook herself. Because her mother was right. Putting all the strain on Esther’s shoulders wasn’t fair.
“Not everyone. I’ve turned down at least a dozen people since there’s no way I can do all of those orders,” Esther said and frowned at their mother.
“Good. You need to learn to say no and stop trying to please everyone. Now that it’s settled. Have you heard about the poor Sizemore boy?”
Of course she came over to gossip.
“Who do you think found him?” Esther deadpanned.
Their mother turned to face Hazel, her mouth dropped open in shock. Which was either authentic or sarcastic, Hazel couldn’t decide which. “Again? I told you people were going to start asking questions if you keep finding dead bodies.”
Hazel sighed. “It was Anthony Ray who found him, actually. And the sheriff asked me to come help look for the missing boy. It’s not my fault I stumbled across the body.”
“This one wasn’t in your studio, was it?” their mother asked while she bustled behind the counter to grab herself a cupcake.
Esther glowered, but didn’t say anything.
“No. At the Rockwell Manor.”
Her mother nodded, as if bodies were always turning up at the Rockwell Manor.
“Yes. That makes sense. That place has a dark aura. I think it’s cursed, but I need to do a reading on it first. Perhaps get Tess involved,” she said and dug into her cupcake.
Hazel shook her head, and Violet perked up from her table. “Cursed? Why do you think it’s cursed?”
Her mother licked a dab of frosting from her lip and smiled. “Oh. You’re new. What a lovely girl you are. It’s because of all the terrible things that happened at the Manor in the past. A dark presence hangs over the place. Perhaps a ghost of some kind. But, like I said, I’m not exactly sure.”
“Mom,” Hazel said in a warning tone. “It’s not haunted or cursed.”
Esther chewed on her bottom lip. “Actually. And don’t get mad, that almost makes sense. Do you remember what happened at prom?”
Hazel looked between them all. Okay. It was official. Everyone had gone crazy.
Ruth got up and made spooky hand movements. “Grandpa is going to take me there this weekend. If it’s cursed does that mean I can’t go?”
Esther frowned. “We’ll talk about that later. And, if I say this, you have to promise you won’t get scared tonight.”
Ruth nodded, her eyes wide.
“Whose prom?” Hazel asked.
Esther swallowed. “Mine. You didn’t even go to yours. You were in college, so maybe you forgot about this. But the Prom Queen, Emma Reynolds, she drowned that night.”
Hazel stared at her sister for a long minute, expecting her to smile or let on that she was joking.
Esther didn’t.
“That’s nothing more than a coincidence. An old classmate drowns on prom night. Let me guess. She had alcohol in her blood?”
Their mother shook her head. “That’s not the point. The point is, and your father can back me up on this, that house was built by Thomas Rockwell in the early 1900s. They only lived in the house in the summer, due to the winters up here, but they’d only been there for two years when Thomas Rockwell’s wife died of a sudden illness in the house. Ever since then, it’s been the scene of accidents and mysterious deaths. So, this boy dying on the premises isn’t strange at all. Where did they find him?” Her mother blinked behind her glasses.
Hazel scowled. It was all conjecture. She was sure, if she looked up the number of deaths that happened at any other historic building in Cedar Valley—the Cedar Lodge, for example—they’d have a similar number of deaths. But trying to logic her way out of something like this wasn’t going to work. “The hedge maze. Is that especially evil?”
Her mother brushed the crumbs from her chin and shrugged. “Like I said, I have to bring my spirit board and do a reading. It couldn’t hurt.”
“Spirit board? That sounds amazing. Is this your mom?” Violet asked Hazel.
Hazel slowly nodded.
Her mother walked over and held out her hand. “Maureen Hart. And you are?”
Violet beamed and stood to shake. “Violet Cross. My uncle is the sheriff.”
“Oh yes. He thought I was a murderer last month. Good thing we got that all cleared up. Now, I have a good alibi for the Sizemore boy. I was playing bridge with Tess in my shop,” her mother said with a slight twinkle in her eye.
Hazel shook her head. “The sheriff doesn’t think you had anything to do with this, but that reminds me.”
The sheriff hadn’t said anything about suspects since he’d just found the body when Hazel left. However, he’d have to start putting together a list soon. A timeline leading up to Brandon Sizemore’s unfortunate demise. And Hazel had some information that might be crucial. It just hadn’t struck her until now.
“Did you know Jay Turner had a nephew?” she asked her mom. Mostly because her mother knew just about everyone in Cedar Valley. People Hazel had never even heard of.
She assumed it was a hobby, much like spiritualism.
“Yes. But I only saw the boy a few times.”
Esther’s lips thinned, and Hazel turned to her sister. “Okay. What aren’t you saying?”
Esther shrugged and let out a breath. She was the opposite of their mom in that regard. Not a gossip or especially nosy. But if she knew something, she had a hard time keeping quiet. “I just remember his mom. We were in the same class, but she dropped out after she got pregnant. It was kind of a scandal, again, but you were in college. So, you probably don’t remember.”
Hazel nodded, and the knot in her gut tightened. She didn’t repeat what Jay had said about his sister living in a trailer park and doing drugs. No point. Plus, he said he didn’t want it around town, so she had to keep that information from her mother.
She also remembered the reason the sheriff thought her mother was responsible for the last murder in Cedar Valley. It turned out to be completely unrelated. Still, she needed to share more than those crime scene photos with Sheriff Cross once he was done.
Speak of the devil, a few minutes later, the sheriff stepped into the shop. The bell dinged his arrival, and everyone’s face turned in his direction.