by Lena Gregory
“Well, people are saying you tried to revive Fred, but when you couldn’t, you had a conversation with him instead.” She looked so hopeful. “And he told you who killed him.”
Cass hated to dash her dreams but, oh boy, that was not a rumor she could afford to have spreading. Apparently, she hadn’t been as discreet as she’d thought. “I’m sorry, Emma, but I didn’t have a conversation with him, and as far as I know, his cause of death hasn’t been determined as of yet.”
Her hopeful expression fell. “Really?”
“Nope, sorry.” She could give her something, though, and, at the same time, somehow spread a rumor of her own, that Fred had absolutely not uttered one word to her. At least then, if it turned out he was murdered, she’d be out of the spotlight. “The spirits were restless that day, trying to warn me not to go to the lighthouse, but I had a hard time sorting out the message and received it too late. Even if Fred had tried to tell me anything, it would have been muffled by the constant barrage of voices.”
“Really?” She perked right up then and dug into her coffee cake. “Don’t you worry, I promise I’ll make sure everyone in town knows you weren’t able to get any message from Fred by the time the deli closes tonight.”
Chapter Six
Bee barreled through the front door and skidded to a stop, huffing and puffing like he’d sprinted all the way there, just as Emma turned to leave with her gift basket.
Emma stopped short an instant before Bee would have plowed into her and smiled. “Oh, hey, Bee.”
Beast barked once and charged him, but Bee stopped him in his tracks with a stern warning look Cass really needed to master.
“Emma.” He nodded once and straightened his tunic-style shirt, which he’d apparently put on inside out in his hurry to make it out the door, unless, of course, seams and tags on the outside were a new fashion statement he was pursuing. “Good to see you.”
“You too. I’ve gotta run, but I’m sure I’ll see you at the deli later.” She sidestepped him and glanced over her shoulder at Cass. “And don’t you worry, I’ll make sure the right rumors get circulating.”
Bee watched her walk out the door then rounded on Cass. “What was that about? I told you I’d be here.”
“I know, Bee, and I appreciate it—”
“Then what rumors is she talking about?” Red tinged his cheeks, though whether it was from his mad rush down there or his blood boiling over Emma’s comment, Cass couldn’t tell.
“Relax, Bee. Grab a bottle of water while I get Beast out, and then we’ll sit and talk.” After he’d had a few minutes to calm down and collect himself, which she didn’t dare tell him to do, or she’d be in for the attitude of a lifetime.
When she returned with Beast, Bee was pacing the shop from one end to the other. He whirled toward her the instant the door opened. With a quick pet for Beast, he pinned her with a harsh stare. “Okay, Cass, while I appreciate that you didn’t tell me to calm down, because you know that only makes things worse, it’s time for you to explain what’s going on.”
“Sure thing. Have a seat.” She gestured toward the back table.
He sighed but did as she’d asked, leaning his chair to tilt on the two back legs.
She sat across the table from him, looking out over the bay. “First off, it’s not what you think. What Emma was talking about was something completely different from what I called you about.”
Bee just stared at her and held up his hands, the chair wobbling precariously beneath his two-hundred or so pounds—all of it muscle, despite his lack of regular exercise, but still a lot for the two chair legs straining to keep him balanced. “Okay, enough with the drama. You don’t see me being that cryptic when I deliver good gossip, do you?”
He was often more so, but she kept that to herself. She might have been offended at his attitude and snapped back, but she could read the underlying hurt that she’d asked Emma for help instead of him. He should know better, and the fact he didn’t hurt more than annoyed her. Cass didn’t trust easily, but she trusted Bee, and she expected his trust in return. “Emma came in to buy a gift for her mother’s birthday, and while she was here, she told me rumors were spreading that I spoke to Fred at the crime scene and he told me who killed him.”
“Oka—uh . . .” Bee’s eyes went wide, and the chair dropped onto all fours with a loud thump and a creak of protest. “Are you serious?”
“That’s what she said, so I have to assume it’s right. Emma’s information usually is.”
Bee shook his head. “So, Fred was murdered.”
Uh-oh. “No, I mean . . . uh . . .”
“Well, was he or wasn’t he?”
Cass blew out a breath. And that’s how rumors got started. “I don’t know if it’s true, just that it’s a rumor, along with the fact that I talked to him.”
“Did you?”
It seemed weird Bee was suddenly able to accept that not only were there ghosts, but Cass was able to chat them up on a whim. She ignored it. It wasn’t an argument she had time for. “No, though I did try.”
“Who was standing close to you when you tried?”
She closed her eyes. Though some people had ventured onto the rocks, most had stayed back on the sand. When she’d taken over chest compressions, Quincy had backed away and reached for Amelia to keep her from knocking Cass off the jetty. By the time more help had arrived, Bee had already moved Amelia back, and Quincy had returned to hover fairly close by. But had he ever moved away? “When you asked if I needed help, I told you to go to Amelia, remember?”
“Yes. She was trying to see over your shoulder, and I didn’t want her to get a view of . . .” Bee rolled a hand. “Well, you know.”
“Yes, but where was Quincy Yates?”
Bee squinted and scratched his head. “He was standing on the rocks in front of Amelia, whether intentionally trying to block her from seeing her husband or just trying to get a closer look at what was going on, I couldn’t tell.”
“Then he was probably closer than anyone else at the time.” No matter how hard she tried to envision the scene, she couldn’t see who’d been standing on the jetty when she’d bent over Fred. Either she hadn’t seen then, in her rush to help Fred, or she couldn’t remember. Either way, Quincy seemed the most likely candidate. “Do you think he could have overheard my attempt to reach Fred?”
“Possibly. I do remember him watching you try to revive him while I was trying to console Amelia, but then again, so was everyone.” He snapped his fingers. “You know who else was hovering over you on the rocks?”
Cass shook her head, her mind still on Quincy. He was certainly strong enough to have hit Fred over the head and thrown him out the window. But then why try to revive him?
“That nasty tour guide he was dating last year, Piper Bonavich.”
The name jerked Cass’s focus from Quincy.
“She had her hand on Quince’s shoulder to steady herself on the rocks while this year’s fling, that new tour guide, Francesca Harding, stood nearby on the beach glaring at them.”
Cass just stared at him.
He finger-combed his hair, his cheeks blazing red. “What?”
“Seriously? A man was dead, and you noticed all of that?”
Folding his arms across his chest, he snorted. “Well, in my defense, I didn’t know he was dead at the time. Besides, it was hard to miss the tension zinging among the three of them.”
As much as Bee distrusted the police, he’d missed his calling, because he’d have made a great detective. The guy didn’t miss a single detail.
“Anyway.” They’d strayed too far off topic. She needed to refocus, get back to the matter at hand. “If you remember, the spirits were restless that day, battering me so badly I didn’t even understand the message to stay away. And that’s exactly what I told Emma, the rumor she’s promised to spread in place of the other, more dangerous one.”
Bee sulked. “And you trusted her to do that more than me?”
Cas
s sighed, trying to curb some of her frustration. “It’s not that I trusted her more, Bee, it’s just that she came to me with that, and I had another, more important matter to discuss with you.”
He raised a big bushy brow. “Nothing is more important than keeping you safe, Cass.”
And just like that, the bubble of frustration surrounding her burst. She reached across the table to grip his hand. “Thank you for that, Bee. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. But this is important and not something I could trust to just anyone.”
He squeezed her hand, then released it and sat back. She might not have fully absolved herself in his eyes, but at least she was on her way. “A woman named Simone Carlson came into the shop earlier.”
He frowned and shook his head, indicating he didn’t know who she was.
“She’s from out of town, says she’s been in talks with the owner of Bay Island Tours for the past month negotiating a fair price.”
“Fred was selling?” Bee asked.
Apparently, that rumor hadn’t yet circulated. “That’s just it, she said she was in talks with Amelia.”
“Amelia?” Bee stood and started to pace, not the rushed pace he adopted when he was angry, but a smooth, steady, thoughtful pace. Bee in full concentration mode.
“Yup.”
Beast fell into step beside Bee, keeping stride with him back and forth across the shop.
Bee absently laid a hand on the big dog’s head. “Hmm . . .”
“That’s it? Hmm . . . That’s all you’ve got?” For all the drama, Cass had expected something more.
“No, just trying to think.”
“Don’t you find it just a little odd Amelia had the company up for sale before Fred even died?”
“I don’t know.” He paused and propped his hands on his hips. “Fred was adding the paranormal element; maybe he and Amelia had planned to sell, and they were adding it to jack up the price.”
Stumped, Cass stared down at the table. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“So, what’d you think?” Bee’s voice held a note of skepticism she wanted to ignore. “Amelia knew he was going to die?”
It was Cass’s turn to squirm under his sharp stare. That was exactly how it had seemed to her. “Wee-ell . . .”
“Seriously?”
An idea started to form, hesitant at first, hazy, then solidifying. “I don’t know. It just seemed odd to me is all. Haven’t you ever heard something that just didn’t sit right in your gut? Not necessarily for any reason you could put your finger on?”
He flopped back onto the chair, leaned back, rubbed his hands over his face, and yawned. “I don’t know. Maybe, I guess.”
“And Amelia and Levi both suggested Fred might have had something going on the side.” Had he been killed because of it? Very few people knew that answer. Probably only Fred and his killer. And since she couldn’t talk to his killer . . . that only left one option.
Bee sat up straighter and scooted toward the edge of the chair. “They did both imply he was cheating, didn’t they?”
“You were the one who pointed that out to me when we were there.” And it was odd. Amelia had never seemed the type to air her dirty laundry in public. Then again, maybe they’d just happened in at a particularly vulnerable moment.
He was already nodding. “Yes, I did. I thought it weird at the time that they both mentioned it. Huh . . .”
“You were with Amelia right after it happened. How did she act?”
He gave up sitting and pacing and headed to the back counter for coffee, moving from one thing to the next in rapid-fire succession, like a kid who was afraid if he stayed still too long, he’d fall asleep. “I don’t know. Upset, at least at first, probably more shocked than anything, but then she stopped crying and hardened her resolve. I figured she was just trying to wrap her head around what happened.”
“And now?”
Bee took his time preparing his coffee, filled a new mug for Cass, and cut two slices of coffee cake. “Now, I’m not so sure. It seemed once she got over the initial shock, she pulled herself together better than I could have.”
Since Bee tended to run toward the dramatic, they both knew that didn’t mean much.
“But in the end, she seemed to think he jumped.”
“Seriously?” That was the one option Cass hadn’t explored.
He slid her second slice of cake for the day in front of her, set down her coffee mug, then brought his own coffee and cake to the table and sat. “Yeah, at least that’s what she said. She also said maybe he couldn’t live with the guilt anymore.”
“What guilt?”
“She didn’t elaborate, didn’t even allude to his infidelity as she had earlier, but I assumed . . .” He took a bite of cake and moaned. “Oh, this is so good.”
“It is, isn’t it? Gina dropped a few by this morning.” Gina was married to Tony of Tony’s Bakery, and she often dropped off treats for Cass to serve her customers. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, since Cass got to serve delicious, freshly baked treats, and Tony’s got some exposure. Not that the bakery needed any more exposure, as the line often wrapped around the building, especially on Sundays, when they served cannoli balls.
Her stomach growled, but she ignored the cake in favor of the coffee that probably wouldn’t slather ten pounds onto her thighs.
“So, what do you think happened?” Though she’d promised Luke she wouldn’t talk about what she might or might not have seen, she hadn’t promised she wouldn’t ask anyone else what they thought.
“I honestly don’t know. A few moments sooner, and everyone would have been in the room with him. A few moments later, and they’d all have been outside when he fell . . . or whatever . . .” He finished off his cake and pointed to hers with his fork. “Are you going to eat that?”
With a wistful sigh, she pushed the dish toward him.
“Thanks.” He broke off a piece but didn’t take the bite. “As it was, Fred had just dismissed the group of tour guides and, though they’d all scattered, no one had made it outside yet, so no one actually saw him go out the window. Unless . . .” He paused and waited, studying her.
Cass controlled any involuntary reaction. At least she hoped she did. Besides, she hadn’t actually seen him go out the window, probably because she’d been watching the shadow behind him instead.
Bee pounced. “Cass . . . what aren’t you telling me?”
She was saved from having to answer by the tinkle of wind chimes.
“Good morning.” She stood to take care of the two women who’d entered. The sooner they left, the sooner she could work on trying to contact Fred.
Bee laid his fork down on the plate and caught her arm as she passed. “This conversation isn’t over, not by a long shot, but when I finish my cake, I’ll let you get back to work while I make the rounds and see what I can find out. And don’t you worry. While I’m at it, I’ll have a discreet talk with Quincy Yates.”
Chapter Seven
Cass strolled across the diner parking lot with Bee and Stephanie, her mind a million miles away, trying to make sense of the constant, overwhelming chatter every time she tried to reach out to the beyond. After Bee had left, she’d tried to contact Fred, to no avail. Her attempts had left her with a pounding headache and nothing to show for her efforts.
When Bee had called and asked her to meet him and Stephanie at the diner, she’d almost declined, the desire to go home and snuggle with Beast for the night and forget about everything else a physical ache. But she didn’t dare blow him off after the Emma fiasco that morning. As it was, she was on thin ice with him.
As they neared the door, a group of young women hurried up the stairs toward the front entrance.
Bee stepped ahead of Cass and started to reach for the door.
A young woman Cass probably would not have recognized had she not looked Bee up and down then sneered, stopped and waited for him to open the door.
Cass reached out and gripped his a
rm, then smirked at Piper Bonavich. “Hold on a sec, Bee.”
He stepped away from the door and waited at her side while she rummaged through her purse for some imaginary thing that might have caused her to pause.
One of Piper’s companions opened the door, and Piper shot Cass a dirty look before hurrying into the diner with her friends.
Stephanie laughed. “You do know that was really rude, right, Cass?”
She simply shrugged. Petty? Maybe. But she didn’t care; no one got away with treating Bee like that.
Bee leaned down and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear, “You’re forgiven.”
A surge of warmth rushed through her, and most of the tension left her body. She hated being on the outs with Bee. It seemed nothing went right when they were angry with one another, or worse, when one of them hurt the other. But you couldn’t be as close as she and Bee were without hurting each other now and then. The key was in accepting that everyone made mistakes, forgiving each other, and moving past them.
Bee opened the door, then mock bowed as they entered.
Unfortunately, since the place was packed, they couldn’t even ask the hostess for a seat somewhere far away from the group. Instead, they ended up in the booth behind them. At least Piper’s back was to them, so they wouldn’t have to deal with her shooting them dirty looks throughout their meal.
Cass purposely slid into the booth on the side that would put her back to back with Piper. No sense letting Bee overhear any rude comments she might decide to make.
Stephanie sat beside her, leaving Bee the empty seat across from them.
Bee didn’t bother opening his menu. “Do you guys know what you’re having?”
With the dull ache in her head still lingering in the background, Cass didn’t have much of an appetite.
“I’m just going to have grilled cheese with tomato and bacon, maybe fries,” Stephanie said.
“That sounds good. I’ll have the same thing.” If the queasiness in her stomach abated long enough for her to eat. Exhaustion and stress definitely took their toll.