by Bailey Cates
“Ohmagod. Jake hated Tucker. Do you think he could have killed Tucker because he stole from their clients? Or maybe Tucker stole from Jake!”
My eyebrows knit. “I don’t know. Maybe. He didn’t seem to know Tucker was dead, but if there was an altercation where Jake pushed him and he fell, Jake might not have realized he’d killed him.”
I looked over and saw Rori had grown pale. “Why do you think Tucker gave you that music box?”
“He said he wanted to apologize.”
I thought of Steve’s apology to me in the dark of the predawn bakery. It had been genuine, heartfelt, even poignant. However, thinking back to Tucker’s apology to Rori, his had been anything but. He’d seemed much more concerned with the cars that were passing on the street behind him.
Almost as if someone was following him.
The music box had been in his pocket, sure. But what if he hadn’t planned to give it to Rori? What if he’d foisted it on her for the afternoon, perhaps for safekeeping, always intending to get it back? Could he have counted on her not throwing it away or breaking it? Maybe not for long, not the way she felt about him. But if my line of thinking was correct, he had counted on being able to convince her to give it back that very night. And he’d been right.
His timing was just off.
“Maybe Tucker took the music box because he thought I’d like it.”
I finished buckling my seat belt and turned to look at her. “You make thievery sound like some big romantic gesture.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it was. For him.”
“Where’s the music box now?”
“In my room at home.”
“I don’t know what the deal is with that thing, but I want you to hide it as soon as you get back.” I wracked my brain. “Put it in the freezer, at the back. It may be worthless as Hudson Prater said, but someone was looking for something like it in his store.” A blond man, he’d said. Jake Gibson? “I want to talk to Quinn and see if he’s found out anything on his end.”
She sighed and leaned against the headrest. “Okay.”
* * *
* * *
I dropped Rori off at Wisteria House and started back to the Honeybee. Then I changed my mind and pulled the car over to call Cookie. When she answered, I asked, “Do you think you could find out if a house is for sale?” She’d been selling residential real estate for months now.
“Probably. What’s the address?”
“Um, I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you. There was an estate sale there a month or so ago, and the family is getting it ready for the market. The family name is Wiggins.”
Cookie laughed. “You’re hilarious.”
“Why?”
“Because you know the family’s name. Katie, just look up the address online.”
I rubbed my face. “Duh. My brain is full of too many things.”
“I’m supposed to be the one with brain fog, honey. It’s eight-eleven Toro Street.”
“You found it that fast?”
“I’m at my computer. You want me to give you directions?” I could tell she was teasing.
“Thanks. I think I still know how to use a GPS. I’ll see you later.” I hung up and fed the address into my phone.
My intention had been to drive by, but when I saw the man mowing the lawn out front and the woman carting a cardboard box out the front door, I pulled to the curb. As I did so, I realized I was probably about to lie to these nice people.
Like, a lot.
Maybe they’re not that nice. Maybe they killed Tucker because he stole their worthless music box.
The thought didn’t provide much comfort, but I got out of the car anyway.
The man shut off the mower as I approached. The woman stowed the box in the back of the small hatchback in the driveway and turned toward me. Her fingers combed through a shock of blond hair that looked like she’d been doing a lot of that today. Her face was drawn, which accented the crow’s-feet around her eyes.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi.”
“This is the Wiggins place, right?”
“Yes.” She sounded tired. “This was our daddy’s place. I’m Waverly Wiggins. This is my older brother, Zane.”
He’d left the mower sitting in the middle of the yard and walked over. His yellow hair stuck out in all directions from under his baseball hat. “Help you?”
“Well, maybe. You sure look like you’re busy. I was a little surprised to find you here. Thought the place might be up for sale already.”
“We’re getting there,” Waverly said. Her voice was breathy. “It’s a lot of hard work.”
“I thought the estate sales company did the cleanup afterward. At least the cleanup of the stuff in the house.” I pointed vaguely toward the box.
Zane glowered. “They’re supposed to. We fired them.”
“Oh?”
“You interested in buying our daddy’s house?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not. I was wondering about that estate sales company. We’re thinking of moving my aunt to a senior living apartment complex, and we’ll need some help going through all her stuff.”
Sorry, Lucy.
“All I have to say is, don’t use Gibson. They’re crooks. They’ll steal your stuff.”
I opened my mouth to say more, but Zane wasn’t interested. He turned without another word and went back to his mower.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Waverly. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“You had no way of knowing. But Zane’s right. Daddy left us something we really needed, but we found out what it was after we’d already brought Gibson in. Daddy was in hospice by then. When we came to get it, it was gone.”
“Oh, dear. Can you sue for something like that?”
“It’s probably too late.” Weariness rolled off her as she looked at the house. “Selling our family home will help a little, but Daddy’s medical bills were horrible. It’s bad enough that I have two kids in college, and Zane has one.” She rubbed her face, then seemed to come back to herself.
“Listen to me, going on and on to a perfect stranger. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said gently. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”
Her eyes followed her brother as he crisscrossed the yard. “Well, we’re sure tired of hearing each other worry about it.” Her gaze returned to me. “There’s another estate company in town. If only we’d chosen them, everything would have been all right. You should use them for your aunt’s treasures.”
“What did the Gibsons take, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She shook her head. “It was a little music box. Played some Disney song. A silly looking little thing in the shape of a birdhouse, but it would have made all the difference in our lives.”
My heart sped up. She was talking about Rori’s music box, all right.
“But now it’s too late?” I asked.
She sighed. “It might be. We’ve looked all over town for it, in case the Gibsons took it to a pawn shop or antique store. That kind of thing. No luck, though.”
So it had been Zane in Hudson Prater’s store.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said, thoroughly puzzled on one hand, and determined to help this poor woman on the other. Maybe Quinn could x-ray the music box. There had to be something about it that made it such a treasure. Something that had gotten Tucker Abbott killed?
At some point very soon, Rori needed to give the box back to its rightful owners. I’d talk to Quinn first, and then I’d tell Rori what I’d learned when I went over to Wisteria House in a couple hours.
“Sure. Good luck.” Waverly turned and walked back to the house.
I went back to my car, casting a glance over my shoulder. The house was a mid-range ranch. Nice, but nothing that would bring in really big bucks. It soun
ded like the Wigginses were in severe financial straits. How could the music box help them out of the jam Waverly had just described?
And what would they do to get it back? From the seat of my car, I sent out tendrils of intuition to try and sense any magical power coming from either Wiggins or the house itself. There was a bit, but nothing unusual. Magic was everywhere, after all. I certainly didn’t feel anything like the magical signature I’d felt in Tucker’s motel room.
But witches could mask their power. Could Waverly be more than she appeared? Or Zane?
Chapter 18
It was a few minutes after noon when I got back, and the Honeybee was hopping. While I’d been out, the caterer had called to confirm the menu for the wedding. I’d considered trying to do it all from the Honeybee kitchen, but Lucy had quite rightfully talked me out of it. It was enough that we were creating the tiered cupcake wedding cake in-house, seven kinds of cupcakes and all. So as soon as the lunch rush settled down, I sequestered myself in the office and returned the call of the woman Bianca had recommended.
Fifteen minutes later we’d run through all the options, and I’d confirmed the menu items we’d chosen when Declan and I had dragged Lucy and Ben to the tasting session. We’d decided on classic pimiento cheese with crudités and crackers, peach Caprese salad, three kinds of sliders—fried chicken and biscuit, pulled pork, and beef brisket—melon ball and mint salad, bite-sized hush puppies, fried green tomatoes with lemony aioli, tons of herbed grilled vegetables, and plenty of lemonade and sweet tea.
My stomach growled after we’d finished talking about all the delectable food choices. “And the wine will be provided by Bianca at Moon Grapes,” I finished.
As I hung up, I remembered my self-satisfaction when I’d thought I was done with the wedding planning, and anxiety stabbed through my solar plexus as I once again thought about our lack of wedding officiant. The previous evening, I’d been fine with leaving it all up to Declan, but in the light of day I felt a new urgency to know who was going to marry us in a few days.
I started to text him, then gave up and called.
“Hey, darlin’,” he answered. “I’m caravanning with Mother and my sisters to pick everyone up at the airport. Camille and John coordinated their flight to meet Lauren and Evan in Atlanta, and they’re all coming in on the same plane. We should be at the house in about an hour or so.”
“Oh, good. I’ll be over to see everyone this afternoon. In the meantime, I was kind of wondering . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I know you said you’re handling it and all, but I’m starting to wonder if I have to wait until the actual wedding to find out who’s going to marry us.” I took a breath. “Darlin’.”
He laughed. “Go talk to Ben. He’ll tell you all about it.”
“Ben knows?” Relief whooshed through me. “Oh, thank you. I don’t know what you did or what strings you pulled, but thank you.”
I heard Rori laugh in the background.
“I think you’re going to love it,” he said. “I know I do. We’ll see you later at the house, okay? Gotta run. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” But he was already gone.
I went out and put on my apron, then tapped my foot impatiently by the coffee counter while Ben took his time creating a fancy leaf in the foam on top of a cappuccino. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and a grin tugged at his lips. When he was finally finished, he handed the mug to the waiting customer and turned to me.
“Did you need something, Katie?” The grin was full-fledged now.
“Declan said you’d tell me who he found to marry us on Saturday.”
“Did he now?”
“Stop teasing me.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you. I sure hope you like who we came up with.” His eyes twinkled.
“Uncle Ben!”
He held up his palm to me. “Okay, okay.” His hand dropped. “It’s me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m going to marry you and Declan.”
It took a few seconds for it to sink in, but then I flung myself at him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Oh, Ben! That’s fantastic. I can’t think of anyone I’d want more than you.”
“It will be an honor, honey.”
I stepped back. “But Mrs. Standish said you have to be a judge or a member of the clergy?”
Still grinning, he said, “In the last two days, I have become an ordained minister in the Church of Life, and then I had to check in with the probate court to make sure I was listed as the officiant on your marriage license. As of this morning, it’s all set!”
“So that’s what you’ve been up to.” I was smiling so hard, my cheeks were starting to cramp.
“I take it he told you,” Lucy said from behind me.
I whirled to find her leaning against the counter with a knowing look on her face. “You knew all along?”
She laughed. “Of course.” Then she gave me a hug. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
My head bobbed in agreement. “Even better than Judge Matthews.” I turned to my uncle. “Thank you, Ben.”
His eyes danced with pleasure. “You’re most welcome.”
* * *
* * *
I started to text Detective Quinn about what Rori and I had learned from the Gibsons and my visit to Zane and Waverly Wiggins, but then stopped. It was too complicated to convey in text, and besides, I wanted to gauge his reaction when I filled him in. The last time we’d spoken, Quinn had practically hung up on me.
Could he still be upset because of my crack at the motel about not having a great track record when it came to murder suspects? Ugh. I definitely need to talk to him face-to-face.
I considered, then found the nonemergency number for the precinct where Quinn worked. Two rings later, I was asking if Detective Quinn was in his office. They said he was and asked me to wait while they transferred me. I quickly thanked them and said I’d have to call back later.
“Mungo, let’s take a ride,” I said. Declan’s sisters and their families would all be at Wisteria House in about an hour. If I hurried, I’d have time to chat with Quinn before then.
My familiar obligingly hopped into my tote, and I slung it over one shoulder.
I went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Leaving Bianca’s earrings in a freezer that anyone could come in and open seemed a little sketchy. Not that anyone would do such a thing, but still. I grabbed the jewelry box and zipped it into the deep side pocket next to Mungo in my tote bag.
My familiar’s nose jerked up, and a moment later the scent of bacon suddenly filled the air.
“Lucy?”
“Over here,” she answered.
I followed her voice to the other side of the central oven and found her frying bacon on the griddle top. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Prepping for tomorrow’s daily special.” She reached over and shoved the recipe she was following toward me. “Peanut butter bacon cookies.”
“Holy smokes,” I said. “These look amazing. Sweet and savory at its best.” I looked up from under my eyebrows. “And for the special additions?”
“As if bacon wasn’t magical all on its own,” she teased. “But I’m thinking of dusting them with a bit of cardamom sugar. What do you think?”
“The flavor profile should work, as long as the spice is subtle. But isn’t cardamom for lust?”
“It can be,” she said. “But I’ll focus on its ability to relax the body and clarify the mind.”
“Well, I was going to try one of those cookies anyway, but now I will for sure.” I made a face. “I could use a little clarity and relaxation.”
Lucy put down the tongs she’d been using to turn the bacon. “What’s wrong, honey? Or is it the wedding jitters?”
“No, not that. It’s only that I have a lot on my plate. The
wedding, Rori’s ex being murdered, Steve . . .” I trailed off.
My aunt’s eyebrows rose. “Steve?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I quickly peered around to make sure Ben was still out front. When I was sure he couldn’t overhear, I told Lucy about his visit that morning. “I guess an apology was in order,” I said when I’d finished. “Since he came by yesterday to try to convince me I was rushing into marrying Declan.”
Lucy frowned and turned the bacon on the griddle again. “That poor boy.”
“He’s anything but poor.”
“I wasn’t talking about his money,” she said, laying down the tongs again and turning to face me. “I really do believe Steve Dawes is in love with you.”
“He’s done some pretty crazy things to prove it,” I mumbled.
“He really has, hasn’t he?” she said, ignoring my sarcasm. “Are you going to tell Declan?”
“Someday,” I said. “After—”
“Tell Declan what?” Ben asked, coming around the corner.
“Oh,” I said, scrambling to cover. The last thing I needed was Ben getting involved. “Um, tell Declan how hard it was to write my vows. I don’t want him to know I struggled.”
“Oh, I bet Declan struggled as much as you did. In fact, I know it,” Ben said with a wink.
“I won’t tell him you told me,” I said with a smile. “Listen, Tucker Abbott had a ruby ring that seems to be missing. I need to go talk to Quinn about it. Do you mind if I take off a few minutes earlier than I’d planned? I can drop by the precinct on my way to welcome the rest of Declan’s family to town.”
Lucy looked away so Ben couldn’t see the smile on her face. “Fine with me, dear.”
“Sure, hon,” my uncle said. “We’re a well-oiled machine around here.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Ben.”
Though I wasn’t sure I liked how well the machine seemed to run without me.
Pushing that thought aside, I strode toward the front door. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that made me stop and turn around. I hadn’t been mistaken.