A deranged smile glides over Georgie’s face. “I can affirm that, Bizzy. Many, many times.”
So much for not dating a killer.
Don’t judge me, Bizzy. Georgie narrows her eyes over mine. I have a weakness for men in power. Who could resist the king?
Duly noted.
Elvis rocks back in his Birkenstock sandals—socks with sandals, might I add.
“You know”—he squints out at the ceiling—“that daughter of Emily’s, she never made her dislike for the guy a secret. But pulling the trigger seems a little over the top.” His mouth widens a moment as if a thought were coming to him. “You know, there was a relative of his, a man who had a sinister energy.”
“Colt?” A tiny burst of excitement rockets through me at the thought of being a step ahead in the name game.
He snaps his fingers. “That’s the guy. Whenever he came around, Lad would walk him over to the corner and they would have a private little chat. Always tense. I had to leave the room. I couldn’t stand the—”
“Negative energy?” Georgie gives his ribs a quick tickle.
He nips at her lips with his giant maw as if he were about to swallow her whole.
Elvis blows her a kiss. “I love it when you finish my sentences for me, Gray.”
Gray?
I make wild eyes at Georgie for accepting the murky moniker.
“We’ll see you later, Bizzy.” She hustles the king of hearts over toward the ballroom and I spot a giant bouquet of sage emerging from her tote bag and a lighter.
Good grief. She really is about to burn the whole place down.
I’m about to head that way when I spot a redhead out by the fountain.
Is that Natalie Weiland?
I head on out into the icy air and I do a little quick step over to Jordy out by the bushes.
“Jordy—two things: There’s a leak in room eighteen, and Georgie is about to burn the ballroom down.”
“Geez, Bizzy.” He puts his shears down and flips up his goggles. “A leak and a fire? You wouldn’t happen to have a body you’d like to throw into the mix, would you?” he says it playfully with a wink.
“Watch it, Jordy. It just might be yours.”
He takes off and I head over to the redhead by the fountain just as she’s rising from placing some flowers at the foot of it, in the exact spot where I found Lad Warner lying on his back.
She turns to leave and startles at the sight of me. “Oh, you scared me.”
“Sorry. I can see you were having a private moment. I’m Bizzy. We met that night. You run the bookstore in Seaview, right?”
“I do.” Her eyes widen a moment. “Lad was an old friend. I just felt I needed to say goodbye. If you want, I can take the flowers away.”
“No, please leave them. I completely understand. It’s fine, I promise. And I’m sorry for your loss.”
She sniffs into the wadded tissue in her hand. Her red hair is cut to her shoulders, her face looks pasty and puffy, and her mascara is trailing down her cheeks in muddy tears.
“He was a good man. We spent a lot of time together.” She shrugs. “Dated off and on. But then, who didn’t Lad date?” A tiny laugh bumps through her and her eyes brighten as if she needed just that.
“I’m sure that makes it harder. You knew him a little more intimately than the rest of us.”
“That’s for sure. I’d like to think I knew everything about him, but people can surprise you. His engagement to Emily was certainly a surprise. I guess they were in love.”
“I heard not everyone was in support of their relationship. Someone mentioned Emily’s daughter had it out for him.” A couple of someones.
She blinks my way as if she were surprised I knew.
“Oh, she did,” she’s quick to affirm it. “Between you and me, I think all that anger came from the fact she wanted Lad for herself.”
“What?” I gasp at the thought. “But her mother—”
“Isn’t a very nice person. I heard Lad was showing some interest in Paige first right up until Emily decided she wanted him for herself.”
I hold my breath a moment to digest this. Lad was into Paige first?
“And he chose Emily over Paige,” I say. “Interesting.”
She shakes her head. “Not so interesting when you consider which Carter woman has more money.” Her eyes scour my features for a moment. If only she knew how true that was. “It was nice seeing you again, Bizzy.” She starts to take off, and I don’t feel settled where we left off.
“Natalie? Your bookstore—you wouldn’t happen to have a section on relationships, would you? I’m currently building up the nerve to tell my boyfriend something about my past.”
“Yes, we have a fabulous self-help section. I’m over at the Water’s Edge Bookshop. Stop by anytime. I know all about relationship troubles. I’ll be happy to help you find just the right book.”
I know all about relationship troubles. Heck, I could write a book.
Now could she.
Maybe while I’m grilling Paige, I’ll ask her a few questions about Natalie, too.
I bet she’ll have a few interesting things to say—about a lot of things.
Chapter 8
After hanging out in the café and noshing on one too many raspberry cheesecake bites, I decide to deep dive into my investigation of Paige Carter.
“Where is she, Bizzy?” Georgie asks as she cuddles with Cinnamon. She has Sherlock at her feet, rapt at attention as he watches her dip in and out of her pocket to produce bits of bacon one pinch at a time. Georgie is famous for harboring cured meats in her kaftan.
“I don’t know.” I blow a stray hair out of my eyes. “But I do know she works with the company. Maybe she runs one of the art centers?”
Emmie comes over and leans against the counter with me.
“I don’t care how much free wine they’ll try to lure me out there with”—Emmie shudders as she says it—“I’m not going.”
“Good.” I bump my hip to hers. “Because you’re not invited.”
“Who’s not invited, where?” a deep voice strums from behind, and I spin to find Leo Granger standing there in a red and black buffalo flannel and a pair of worn-out jeans, a far cry from his deputy’s uniform.
Emmie grunts at the sight of him. “You are definitely not invited.”
A smile slithers up his face and—is he flirting with her?
My mouth fall opens. “What’s going on, Leo? You look dressed to thrill.” And it won’t be my best friend you’re thrilling. “Looking for Mayor Woods?” Thrill her. Lord knows she could use something to wipe the scowl from her face.
His brows tweak. “I just had breakfast with Mayor Woods this morning at the Breakfast Bender.”
The Breakfast Bender is a place right up the road on Main Street where they serve pancakes the size of your head.
“Hear that?” Georgie whacks me on the arm. “He’s cheating on you, Biz.”
I’m quick to shake my head. “It sounds to me, Leo was doing me a favor.”
Leo belts out a laugh. “You’re welcome.” He sobers up. “So where are you off to? This has something to do with an investigation, doesn’t it?”
Emmie chortles. “He’s got your number, Bizzy.” She takes off for the register to help a group of customers who just wandered in.
Georgie butts her shoulder to mine. “So where are we off to?”
I look right at Leo. “I want to ask Paige Carter a few questions. Just need to find her first.” I pull out my phone and type in her name along with Carter Art Centers and, sure enough, the entire screen is quickly populated.
“Found her.” Leo nods to his own phone. “She’s teaching a class.” He shoots a wry smile my way. “What do you know? I’d say chances are good there will be wine.”
I click into the same descriptor. “It’s a sculpting class. It starts in less than an hour and a half. It’s all the way in Rose Glen.” I glance at the time. “I think I can make it.”
; Georgie gives Cinnamon a squeeze. “I think we can make it.”
Oh no. Cinnamon is quick to protest. I’d much rather spend the afternoon lounging with Fish. Count me out, Bizzy. But I’ll be happy to discuss the case with you. I miss talking shop with Lad. He may not have been able to communicate with me as you can, but he sure carried on a lively conversation in my presence as if he could.
Leo and I exchange a glance because I’m certain he heard the exchange as well.
“Okay, Cinnamon. You can stay with Fish. But you’ll have to be in the Cottage while I’m away. And as soon as we can, I’d like to dig into those conversations you had with Lad. You never know. Anything might help.”
Sure thing. As long as the killer is arrested. It boils my blood to think someone out there is happy that my Lad is gone. And happy they’ve gotten away with it so far.
“It boils my blood, too,” I say as I scoop Cinnamon into my arms and gift her a kiss on the top of her furry little head. “And that’s exactly why I’m going to hunt down the killer.”
Rose Glen is a quiet, scenic town just a twenty-minute drive from Cider Cove. The Carter Art Center is set in the heart of its rather polished downtown district, sitting on a hill pushed against a dense forest of evergreens.
The building itself is a series of sharp squares with floor-to-ceiling windows that feature giant floating canvases, and every one of them features scenes from the local landscape. The entire state of Maine is an artist’s dream with its dramatic rocky crags, sheer cliffs, white sandy beaches, forests and mountain backroads, not to mention lakes, rivers, and the grand Atlantic that stretches out like a sheet of heavenly blue right into the horizon.
No sooner do Georgie and I get out of the car than a red truck pulls up that I happen to be more than familiar with.
“Good Lord,” I say as I link arms with Georgie as if I were about to float away.
“It’s Leo,” she hisses. “I think he’s onto us, Bizzy.”
“Of course, he’s onto us. We shared our whole strategy with him over raspberry cheesecake bites.”
“Something tells me he wants to find the killer first, and he’s riding on your coattails to do it.”
Leo laughs as he strides our way. “You got me there, Georgie.” He folds his arms across his chest as he looks to me. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. Either you need to rethink heading inside or I need to go in with you.”
“For your own peace of mind?” I’m almost amused by his presence. Almost. Mostly I’m annoyed.
“For Jasper’s. You and I both know he wouldn’t approve.”
Georgie scoffs. “You men and your controlling attitudes. Nobody tells my Bizzy where she can and can’t go. Just because you have a pseudo-limb swinging between your legs doesn’t mean it gives you the right to dictate what women can or can’t do.”
Leo inches his head back a notch. “Nobody is trying to control either of you.” It comes out sweet, tender even. “But Jasper and I work for the law. And as stewards of public safety, we can’t in good conscience send you off into potential danger. Either of you.”
Georgie tosses a hand in the air. “He’s got us there, Bizzy. There’s only one thing left to do.”
“I agree,” I say.
Leo’s left brow arches with curiosity. “Packing it in and heading home?”
A dull laugh brews in my chest. “We’re inviting you to join us. For our protection, of course. Georgie is thinking about expanding into sculpting, and I’m here to support her.”
“Yeah.” Georgie jabs a feisty finger in his direction. Bizzy, you do realize I hate working with clay.
Leo gargles a dark laugh. “You do realize I can read minds.” A wicked grin expands across his face.
“Drats.” Georgie snaps her fingers in a fit of frustration. “Well, come on, hot stuff. We’ve got a killer to catch.”
The three of us head on into the light and airy building with its impossibly high ceiling. We quickly fill out the paperwork and pay the fee to join the sculpting class and head back to the studio where we find Paige helping students get settled into their spaces.
A couple of long tables stretch across the room, and there’s a giant glob of clay as big as my head staked over the workspace in front of each student.
Paige quickly calls for us to each find a free workspace before doing a double take in my direction.
Her blonde hair is pulled back into a pert little ponytail and her face is dusted with powder, right down to her eyelashes giving her a soft look. She’s donned her signature bright pink lipstick and, I’ll admit, it’s a shade I wish I could pull off with ease. When I venture into the deep end of that hue, I look like a crazed teenager who just ravaged a bag of cotton candy. Suffice it to say, it’s not a good look on me. Not a sane look, either.
She doesn’t hesitate striding on over. “I recognize you.” Her affect brightens. “From the inn, right?”
“Oh, that’s right.” My voice hikes a notch and I take a tiny bit of pride in how natural my surprise sounded. “Your family owns these centers, isn’t that right?”
She gives a quick nod. “My mother.” Thank God Lad no longer has his clutches into her. That was a close one. “I help run classes. And, of course, the business will be mine once my mother retires. I’m learning every angle I can. Right down to teaching.” She gives a warm laugh. “I’m an artist at heart, so it’s no stretch.”
“Perfect,” I say. “My friend Georgie works in mosaics, but she’s thinking of branching out.”
Georgie steps forward, a gleeful smile budding on her lips.
“Your mother invited me to try out the studios anytime. And here I am. I brought friends, too.” She gives a cheeky wink. “Say, you wouldn’t be looking for a mosaics teacher, would you? I’ve got a gig doing a city beautification project along Main Street, but that good time won’t last forever, if you know what I mean. We artists have to stick together.”
The woman’s eyes bulge for a moment. “Maybe. I guess when you’re done with the city project, come by and I’ll see if we can work the class in. I think that might actually be fun.”
Georgie gives a wild clap and a cheer. “Woo-hoo!” she bellows so loud, the entire class turns at attention. “You’re looking at a future professor here, kids.” She jabs her elbow toward the class before looking my way. “I’ll go get the three of us a seat. I can’t wait to get my hands dirty.”
Thank God I brought Georgie. She couldn’t have added more authenticity to this outing if she tried. And who knows? She might have scored a job out of the deal.
Leo hitches his head toward Georgie. “I’d better make sure she doesn’t break anything. Or knife someone.” He says that last tidbit under his breath before heading to the rear where Georgie has already wrangled the attention of half the class.
“She’s a bit of a character,” I whisper to Paige. “But she’s one of my favorite characters.”
Paige bubbles with a laugh. “Don’t worry. I love her already. That’s the thing about the art world. You meet the best people. I certainly don’t miss corporate America.”
“Oh? What did you do before this?”
“Inventory for a shipping company down in Seaview. Believe me, it was as tedious as it sounds. But once my mother started dating Lad, I thought I’d better head over and keep an eye on things.”
“Really? What things?”
She makes a face. “The guy was five years younger than me. And don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against May-December romances, but as soon as he put the moves on my mother, I thought something was up.”
My heart thumps wildly. This information is almost as good as an admission of guilt.
I lean in. “Were you right?”
“I think so. Look, I know it doesn’t paint a good picture of me. But Lad was a handsome man. My mother, she’s—a woman who doesn’t like to go out, doesn’t care to hike, or do any of the things Lad liked to do. He basically came in and swept her off her feet. I’m sorry. But I suspected he was a gold d
igger right from the start.” And boy was I ever right. She stares off blankly while shaking her head.
“I bet your suspicions were confirmed.”
She looks up and nods. “My mom had a prenuptial agreement worked out, and there was only one contingency to him signing.”
My lips part as I wait with bated breath. “What was it?”
“He wanted half of all of her assets, liquid and real estate, should she pass away.”
“Oh.” I give a few quick blinks. “Would that be so unreasonable?” I wince because I immediately regret the words as they sail from my mouth.
“Yes, trust me. If it were your mother, it would be entirely unreasonable. My mom and dad built an empire in the art world. And as their only living heir, it steamed me that this—stranger whom she had only known a few months would have an equal footing to my inheritance. I thought it was insane.”
“Did Lad ever sign the agreement?” It’s an easier question than asking if Emily actually agreed to give him half of everything.
“Nope.” She folds her arms across her chest as she shudders. “He was rubbed out before that ever happened. They were all set to go last Tuesday, only Lad never saw last Tuesday.”
Well, there’s a motive for murder if ever there was one.
And rubbed out? That’s a killer’s catchphrase.
“How’s your mother taking all this?”
She closes her eyes a moment. “Hard, I guess.” Not his death, but what she gleaned right before it. But I can’t open that can of worms right now. I promised her I wouldn’t tell a soul. She’s right. It’s humiliating to the core.
She shakes her head my way. “Class should be starting now.”
“Oh right.” Humiliating? Exactly what did Emily glean? “Paige?” I ask, scooting in a notch before my opportunity quickly dissolves. “Did Lad have any enemies that you know about?” Other than yourself, I wanted to add. I have a feeling I won’t have to look too much further for Lad’s killer. Either Paige did it herself or she hired a pro to rub him out. But would a pro really leave their weapon at the scene of the crime?
Murder Bites Page 7