by Lena Gregory
It seemed to Cass as if Simone’s talents surpassed her own, so why not just help Amelia herself? Why send her to Cass? “Would you like a reading?”
“I don’t know what I want or need right now.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth.
“That’s okay, Amelia. We don’t have to do an official reading if you’re not comfortable with that. We could just sit and chat.” She had a feeling Amelia needed a friend more than anything else. “When did you speak to Simone?”
She scoffed. “Last night, multiple times during the night, and again this morning. About three times, so far, this morning.”
“And she hasn’t been able to help you?” Either spiritually or as a friend?
“Oh, she helps. It’s just . . .” She sniffed and wiped her swollen red eyes with the tissue. “It’s not the same talking to someone on the phone as it is in person.”
“Simone couldn’t meet with you?”
“She’s not here right now. She had business to attend to on the mainland, and she won’t be back until this evening.”
Now it made perfect sense that Simone had suggested they meet later on tonight. Nothing sinister. Maybe Bee, Luke, and Tank would forgive her for meeting up with Simone at the lighthouse as night fell, after all. Or at least Luke and Tank might. Bee might take some persuading. Cass relaxed a little. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on and I’ll see what I can do to help you?”
Amelia nodded and blew her nose.
Maybe Cass could even help her without having to open herself up to the restless spirits who’d been making her life so difficult of late.
“I’m not really sure what you can do for me, but I’m a wreck.” She paused and looked around the empty shop, then frowned. “Is everything we talk about here private, like a doctor’s office or something?”
Touchy subject. Cass would never repeat anything she was told by a client in confidence. Unless it pertained to something that could harm someone else. Or if Amelia blurted a confession that she or someone she knew had killed Fred. That would be problematic, because she’d be obligated to pass that information on to the police. “I’m not bound by privacy laws like a doctor is, if that’s what you’re asking, but I am discreet, I don’t take notes, and nothing you say here will be passed on as gossip in any way.”
Amelia settled back into the love seat, seemingly satisfied her secrets wouldn’t be the next fuel for the rumor mill. “My emotions are everywhere, hurling up and down like I’m on a roller coaster. So much so that I actually feel nauseas at times, like motion sickness or something.”
Cass sat back, making herself comfortable, inviting Amelia to take her time, to open up.
“I’m grieving because my husband was killed. And yet, he was on his way to being my ex-husband, and I’m so angry with him for cheating on me that I can’t even think straight. So, I can’t grieve because I’m angry, but I can’t be angry because Fred died, killed by someone he must have trusted to have been alone in a room with him.” She sobbed softly. “Or her.”
Since one of Fred’s injuries had been sustained on the back of his head, Cass had imagined someone sneaking up behind him and hitting him rather than having been face-to-face with him. But Amelia was right. If Fred was in the room with his killer, having some sort of discussion, he’d never have thought twice about turning his back on his companion to look out the window. “Do you think Fred’s mistress killed him?”
“You mean one of his mistresses. Apparently there were many.” Her cheeks flared red, and her eyes went cold. She sat up straighter and shook her head. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. One minute I’m crying hysterically because Fred was killed, and the next I’m taken by such rage that I find it difficult to feel anything for him. Even pity.”
There was nothing Cass could say that would ease her pain, especially since some of it stemmed from Amelia’s own sense of guilt about how she was feeling.
“And, sometimes . . .” Amelia lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can’t help thinking, if one of his mistresses did kill him, he got what he deserved.”
She curled into the corner of the couch and sobbed, deep, racking sobs there would be no way to stop before she’d cried herself out. Could be that was just what she needed. Once the emotional dam broke, she might be able to start on the road toward healing.
Cass handed her the box of tissues and moved the wastebasket closer, then sat down beside Amelia and rubbed circles on her back, praying no other customers came in while she was so distraught.
Beast whined and cocked his head, lifting his ears and studying Amelia. After a moment, he lowered his head to his front paws and continued to watch her.
Once Amelia collected herself, and the sobs eased off to soft whimpers, Cass returned to her seat. “Are you feeling better?”
She rested against the seat back. “For now, I guess.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t choose what we feel. In time, you’ll sort the emotions out and come to terms with them. All of them. In the meantime, I can give you a card for a great counselor who’s also a friend of mine.” Amelia probably needed more than Cass could give her. Even if she could manage to get some sort of connection with Fred, she didn’t see what good it would do Amelia.
“Thank you, but I don’t need counseling.” She blew her nose a few times. “What I really need to know is if you can talk to Fred?”
A sensitive topic Cass didn’t have a straightforward answer to. Even if Fred was trying to get through to her, there was no guarantee she could make any sense of what he was trying to say. And she had a feeling, no matter what he might want to say to his wife, it wouldn’t do anything to ease her confusion or her pain. “I haven’t been able to up until now, and not for lack of trying. I’ve reached out a few times.”
Apparently fully spent, Amelia’s tears dried up. “There are rumors you talked to him, that he confided who killed him. Is that true?”
“I’m sorry, but, no. Unfortunately, those are just rumors.” Rumors she needed to get stopped before someone got hurt. “And if I had, I’d have passed that information on to the police immediately so they could investigate properly.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes and pinned Cass with her gaze. “Would you tell me if you had spoken to him?”
“Of course.” While she might not divulge the reason she hadn’t been able to reach him, Cass would never have withheld the information from his wife if she had contacted him.
Amelia stood and threw the last of her tissues in the garbage and hooked her bag onto her arm. She brushed her hair away from her face and sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you, Cass. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, nothing, please. I didn’t do anything but offer a shoulder to cry on. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“Don’t be.” Amelia ran her fingers through her hair and wiped her cheeks and eyes. “I actually got exactly what I needed.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Cass hung her purse over the back of the chair between Luke and Bee as soon as she got to the diner and sat down. “What’s up, guys?”
Luke kissed her cheek. “Hey, beautiful.”
The intensity in his deep blue eyes set her heart all aflutter.
“Hey, that’s my line. Hey, beautiful.” Bee kissed her other cheek with a loud smack.
Her heart warmed, a totally different reaction than Luke’s greeting brought, but no less tender.
“Hi, Tank, Stephanie.” The round table in the back room of the packed diner was large enough for all of them to have plenty of room. Much better than cramming into a booth.
Bee handed her a menu. “I actually just got up a little while ago. I was beat after reading through Kitty’s journal again. Stephanie said you were meeting us here for dinner, so I didn’t bother calling.”
“No problem.” She opened her menu, not really hungry, since her stomach was doing the jig at the thought of her meeting with S
imone. “Did you find out anything new?”
“Nah, the only pages that were missing from the transcribed pages were the ones regarding where to find the treasure. And we already knew about those.” Bee took her menu back and flipped it to the Specials section, then pointed out the hot turkey sandwich. “Chief Rawlins said I could be an official consultant on the case, since I’d already helped with the pirate clothing and again with the journal.”
He beamed with pride, and her appreciation for Chief Rawlins bumped up a notch.
“So, the question now is, who had access to the original journal to know what it contained?” Bee opened a small plastic package of breadsticks from a bowl in the center of the table, then waved one around while he spoke. “And who had access to the transcribed pages and would have known to remove those that might point to a location before Levi gave them to me?”
“Levi had access, that’s for sure.” Stephanie folded her menu and lay it on the table. “As did Fred, who presumably stuck the picture of Levi and Amelia in the folder.”
“Amelia had access too.” Darn, she should have thought of asking Amelia about the envelope’s contents, but the woman had appeared so distraught, Cass hadn’t thought of it.
Cass didn’t repeat anything of Amelia’s visit, since she’d pretty much promised not to. Even though Amelia’s parting comment still haunted her. Had she just needed a good cry, as Cass had originally thought? Or had she come in, either on her own or at Simone’s urging, to find out if Cass had spoken to Fred? And if he’d named his killer.
Luke cleared his throat.
Tank just looked amused.
“What?” Stephanie frowned.
“Nothing.” Luke grinned. “By all means, continue. Who knows? Maybe you’ll save us the trouble of actually having to solve this case.”
Bee laughed.
It was good to see him let his guard down around the two detectives.
The waitress approached and took their orders.
Cass followed Bee’s suggestion and ordered the turkey with mashed potatoes, gravy, coleslaw, and cranberry sauce. It didn’t matter to Cass who solved the case, as long as it got solved soon, before she needed to buy a whole new wardrobe one size bigger. Luckily, the leggings she most often wore stretched. But even they could only go so far. “Any word on Piper’s condition?”
Tank scrubbed his hands over his face. “No, nothing new. She’s still the same.”
“Did you get to question Quincy Yates?”
“Huh.” Luke lifted a brow. “So, this is what it feels like to be on the opposite end of an interrogation.”
Tank laughed.
“You don’t know the half of it. Try being on her suspect list.” Bee winked at Cass, letting her know her momentary lapse had been forgiven, and bit into one of the breadsticks with a crunch.
“Anyway.” She aimed a look at Luke. “Despite you so tactfully trying to avoid the question, did you bring Quince in for questioning?”
“Yeah.” Luke swiped a hand over his goatee. “And afterward we had to let him go.”
“What?” Bee lowered his breadstick to a napkin. “Why?”
“Because we had no just cause to hold him. He swears Piper was already gone when he reached the parking lot, and numerous other witnesses confirmed his statement.”
“Chief Rawlins said he was driving Francesca’s car.” Her red car. “Did Quince say where she is?”
Cass figured they probably had someone keeping an eye on Quincy, but if he’d already done something to hurt Francesca, he probably wouldn’t return to wherever he’d left her. Being that the lighthouse was a hotbed of activity with the police investigation, he’d probably have left her somewhere else.
“No.” Luke’s jaw clenched. “According to Quincy, they’d driven to the diner in her car. When she stormed out, she didn’t bother with the car. Since the keys were in his pocket, he assumed she got a ride with someone, but he didn’t want to leave the car in the lot, so he’s been driving it. We checked his phone log, and he’s made no fewer than a hundred calls to her since.”
“What else did he say?”
Luke leaned in and lowered his voice, though being seated in the back room offered more privacy than being in the main section of the diner. “He admits to giving Fred a warning the day before his death, telling him to leave Francesca alone. But he says he left him alive and well. No one has seen or heard from Francesca, so we can’t ask her, and until we find her, there’s nothing more we can do.”
The waitress arrived with their food, and they all sat back to allow her room. She set Cass’s plate in front of her.
The aroma of gravy brought back a rush of memories from her childhood, of turkey dinners on lazy Sunday afternoons with homemade cheesecake for dessert. Oh, boy, talk about comfort food.
She thought of bringing up her intention to meet Simone at the lighthouse, but if she did, she’d have an army of bodyguards traipsing all over the place with her, and that’s the last thing she needed. Her experience at the keeper’s house had taught her that. No, if she was going to be able to work on selectively listening to only the voices she wanted to hear, she would need to focus one hundred percent of her attention on the task. Unfortunately, that meant she had to go alone.
Throughout the remainder of the meal, they ate silently, each of them working through their own thoughts about the murder and who knew what else.
Luke pushed back from the table and stood, then picked up the check. He kissed Cass’s head. “Tank and I have to go back to work, and I suggest you guys go home, relax, and watch a movie or something.”
Bee stood as well. “Actually, I’m headed to work too. I haven’t worked on my designs at all over the past few days, and I’m trying to come up with a new winter line in time for my fashion show.”
The three of them left together.
Cass had expected Luke and Tank to have to go back to work, but she hadn’t thought it would be that easy to get out from under Bee’s surveillance so she could go to the lighthouse alone. Of course, if anyone knew she was headed up there, it would have been a different story.
“What about you, Stephanie? What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “I have some paperwork to catch up on, so I’ll probably go home and do that while I worry about Tank being out and around.”
A pang of guilt struck Cass, and her resolve to find answers grew stronger. “I’m sorry, Steph, I didn’t mean to cause you more stress.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She stood and placed a tip on the table, then slung her bag over her shoulder. “Better he has a heads-up than walk into a bad situation blind.”
“If that’s even what my vision means. I can’t always tell.” But once she met with Simone, she hoped to be able to find more answers for her.
“I’ll see you later.” She squeezed Cass’s shoulder and walked out.
And with that, Cass was left alone. She got her stuff together and walked out, then paused in the parking lot and took a deep breath. The scent of a coming storm hung thick in the air.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by a crack of lightning. She’d better hurry. The last place she wanted to be caught in a storm was out at the lighthouse. In the dark.
The thought of stopping to pick Bee up ricocheted through her mind a dozen or more times on the way, but she resisted. By the time she pulled into the gravel lot at the lighthouse, she’d already second-guessed herself about a hundred times. But her every instinct was telling her to trust Simone, so she’d listen to her gut. For now.
She parked as close to the lighthouse as she could get, right beside Simone’s Porsche, got out and looked around. With the massive police presence gone, the place seemed way more deserted than she remembered.
Wind tore through the parking lot, whipping Cass’s hair around her face. She hurried toward the lighthouse. Whatever vague bit of sunlight might usually be left at that time of night had been swallowed up by the storm clouds.
The bay had tu
rned a dark and choppy black, spraying the cold salt water each time a wave surged against the jetty. She might have made a huge mistake going out there alone. She pulled out her phone, dialed Bee’s number, and hit Send.
“Cass.” Simone waved from the lighthouse steps.
Too late to change her mind. Besides, Bee was probably already lost in the zone, anyway. Cass disconnected and hurried toward Simone before the storm could unleash a downpour. “Hi, Simone, thank you for meeting me out here. Not the best night for it, though. I’ll understand if you’d rather reschedule.”
“Actually, Cass, I’ve waited a long time to find someone who’d be able to help me, and I’m not about to let a little rain interfere with that.” She strode down the steps and met Cass on the walkway. “If anything, the storm will be helpful.”
“What do you mean?” The memory of what may have happened to Fred when he’d turned his back on someone he might have thought was a friend almost had her turning tail and running.
“Your shield is fine.” The wind tangled her long flowing skirt around her legs. “It’s a filter that eludes you, one that will allow you to determine which voices to listen to. What you need is help creating a filter. And the growing storm will help with that.”
She’d known Simone would understand. “And you know how to create a filter, because you have your own psychic abilities.”
“I do, actually.” She smoothed her long hair back, but the wind lifted it as soon as she let go. “And I’ve mastered them quite well. Unfortunately, they don’t always work the way I need them to.”
Cass could definitely relate to that.
“And in this case, I need to contact someone who was very important to me at one time. There’s nothing worse than having abilities that refuse to cooperate when you have a personal stake in the outcome.”
That’s for sure.
Simone shrugged one slim shoulder. “Anyway, it seems my husband won’t speak to me any more after his death than he would during his life.”
“Excuse me?” Her radar pinged wildly. How could Simone know her husband was dead? According to Bee’s information, which had come from the most accurate source possible, he was simply missing. Cass braced to run.