He gives a few quick barks as if agreeing with me.
Diane pulls him back a notch. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s a bit excited now that he’s seen your cat.”
Another dog runs over, a medium-sized red and white freckled mutt that just so happens to belong to me.
“And this is Sherlock Bones,” I say as Sherlock does his best to stand on his hind legs to get a better look at the curly-haired cutie in Diane’s arms.
Tell her to put him down, Bizzy. Sherlock barks. I’ll show him around the ballroom. Now that I’m the new owner, it’s only right that I give him the official tour.
Fish mewls, Good grief. You are not the owner—Bizzy is. And you’re going to scare the humans if you start darting all over the room. In the event you didn’t notice, these women are all wearing stilts. And if you tip one over, they’ll sue Bizzy and she’ll lose the inn before she’s had it five minutes.
She’s not wrong.
Diane sets Gizmo down, and both dogs scuttle past us with Sherlock leading the charge.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Sherlock won’t leave the room.”
“I’d better make sure of it.” She takes off just as Jasper appears, and both Bobbie and Lacey sigh at the sight of him.
I can’t blame them.
Jasper Wilder is definitely a sigh-worthy sight to behold. He stands well over six feet, has the body of an athlete, muscles for days, eyes the color of a lightning bolt, is the lead homicide investigator down at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department, and he just so happens to be married to me.
“Ladies”—I say with a touch of pride in my voice—“this is my husband, Jasper.”
Bobbie offers up her hand, and he’s quick to shake it. “I could see the look of love in your eyes for your wife as soon as you stepped up. And they say love is dead.” She slaps the casket as she cackles. “Chip?” she calls out, and soon a tall, strapping man with dark curly hair and dark eyes that seem to smile on their own steps up. He’s donned a tuxedo and looks every bit her other half as he slips an arm around her waist. “This is my husband of fourteen years, Chip Buckingham.”
“Oh honey, we know who he is.” Georgie shakes her wrist back and forth. “Hubba hubba. Mister, you’re welcome to leave your shoes under my bed anytime you like.”
Macy laughs. “Nice try, Georgie, but Bobbie and Chip are the power couple of the Perfect Pairing.”
Lacey shrugs. “I’m still waiting for my Mr. Right. But I still have plenty of time to track one down before the big dance coming up on the fourteenth, via our newly minted app.” She wags her phone in the air as she says it. “We’re announcing the matchmaking service tonight.”
Bobbie elbows her bestie. “Way to ruin the surprise.” She starts in on a laugh then stops abruptly as something just over my shoulder catches her eye. “Excuse me.” She takes off, and I follow her with my gaze as she stalks over to a redhead in the requisite black dress and they seem to be having a heated conversation.
A tall man with a beard and light eyes steps into our midst. “Pardon me,” he says as he mumbles something to Chip, and the two of them take off to have a private conversation of their own.
“Well, come on”—Lacey hands Macy, Jasper, and me each a sheet of hot pink paper along with a pen. “Jot down a nasty note to your ex, seal it up in one of these red envelopes, and toss it into the casket. The funeral procession is about to begin.” She takes off, arming everyone around us with those pink sheets and a pen.
Macy gets right to jotting down her deepest, darkest regret. “This is to all those one-night stands who actually wanted to have a relationship with me. Some men just don’t get the meaning of the words I don’t want to know your name.”
“Pfft.” Georgie uses Macy’s back as a hard surface as she starts penning her own letter of regret. “Tell me about it, Toots. This one goes to my least favorite ex.”
“The one who made you dip your foot into a perfectly good cheesecake?” I ask. That was sort of a creepy story. It was clear the man had a foot fetish.
“Warren?” She makes a face. “He and I were like peas and carrots. I was thinking of the one that tried to buy a bunch of synthetic sea glass and pepper it around the cove, hoping I’d lose my mind at what a gold mine I’d found.”
“Aw,” I say. “That seems sweet.”
“More like demented,” she counters. “If I tried to pass off any of that phony rubbish to my customers, I’d lose my integrity in the business world.”
Georgie is an artist who specializes in sea glass mosaics. And recently, and perhaps regrettably, she’s gone into business with my mother. They run a shop down on Main Street called Two Old Broads. My sister thought of the name for them, and it’s been a hit ever since.
Jasper takes a breath. “I’m all done,” he says, folding up his paper and stuffing it into a bright red envelope.
“A love note to Camila?” I tease. Camila Ryder is his ex-fiancée. She’s still very much invested in him, but he buried that relationship long ago as evidenced by that note in his hand, I’m guessing.
“That would be the one,” he says, dropping it in, and I quickly jot something down on a piece of paper and do the same.
Jasper wraps his arms around me. “Who did you write your note to? Jordy?”
I shake my head. “I don’t have any hard feelings toward him. I wrote it to the cheap whiskey that led to that one-day marital disaster, which was never consummated by the way. That whiskey ruined the vow I made to myself to never get divorced.” It’s no secret I was raised in a broken family and hated it. “On the bright side, the vow is back on and you’re stuck with me forever.”
“That makes me the luckiest man alive.” And I plan on getting lucky tonight. Are you on board?
I’m about to tell him exactly how on board I am when I hear the murmurs of something coming from the crowd—an internal voice that seems to be agitated. I can’t tell if it’s coming from a man or a woman. When I’m not near the person, it can all sound a bit androgynous.
Oh, there isn’t a thing they can do to save themselves. This is their last night on this planet. And I promise, it’s going to be a perfectly romantic yet deadly exit.
“Bizzy? Is everything okay?” Jasper does his best to catch my attention as I hold Fish twice as tight in response.
“No,” I whisper as I look out at the crowded room. “I don’t think anything is okay. In fact, I think there might just be a real corpse to go along with this casket.”
Chapter 2
Death is in the air. I can smell it a mile away.
The lights flash and flicker as the music stalls a moment and Bobbie waves from the front of the ballroom, calling for us all to take our seats.
Fish mewls in my arms, I don’t like this, Bizzy. I’d have Jasper call for backup.
“Not a bad idea,” I whisper.
Jasper raises a brow. “So I’m getting lucky?”
“No, not that—but for sure, yes to that.” I make a face at the crowd of women all jockeying to get a seat up front. “Fish thinks you should call for backup.”
“I like how you think, Fish.” Jasper gives the crowd a quick sweep with his eyes. “I’ve already called Leo, and he’s on his way.”
Leo Granger is Jasper’s good friend. He was the best man at our wedding, in fact. But the two of them weren’t always so close. Way back when, Jasper’s ex-fiancée decided she wanted a bite out of Leo, too, and ruined Leo and Jasper’s friendship for a time, not to mention flushing her engagement to Jasper down the toilet simultaneously.
Suffice it to say, Jasper and Leo had a falling-out after that, but about a year ago Leo came to Cider Cove—because of me, actually. It turns out, Leo shares my quirky gift when it comes to reading minds. We’re something called transmundane, and our strange ability is further classified as telesensual. There are other supernatural abilities that fall under the transmundane umbrella, but ours is unique in that it gives us the ability to tune into other people’s private mus
ings. On the downside, there’s no off button.
Aside from Emmie, only a few people know about my strange quirk, and that would be Jasper, Leo, and Georgie. A friend of mine in Vermont is transmundane, too, but her supernatural quirk involves seeing the dead. Believe me, I’ll take a few noisy minds over a renegade ghost any day of the week.
“Let’s find ourselves a seat,” I say as Fish snuggles up next to my neck.
Jasper gives a quick glance to the refreshment table. “How about you save me a seat, and I’ll snatch up a handful of cookies for us to munch on while we watch the show? And I do believe it’s going to be entertaining.”
I nod. “Let’s hope it doesn’t prove to be deadly.”
We break off in two different directions, and I spot an entire line of familiar women seated together near the front, so I head their way.
Mom waves me next to her, and lucky for me there are two empty seats. I set Fish down next to me as I plop into my own chair.
“You get to warm Jasper’s seat for him,” I tell the feisty feline.
Fish rolls her eyes. And you get to make sure no one sits on me while I’m busy warming his seat.
“Touché,” I whisper just as Sherlock Bones joins us and takes a seat by my feet.
Gizmo and Sugar are just at the end of the aisle. He lets out a friendly bark. I told Gizmo all about the stash of bacon in Georgie’s pocket and he’s dying to meet her.
It’s true. The pockets of Georgie’s kaftans have been known to be a veritable carnivore’s delight. I’m sure any dog within a ten-block vicinity can sniff her out of a crowd.
Mom pulls me in for a quick hug. “Bizzy, this is fabulous,” she pants while fanning herself with one of those hot pink fliers they were distributing at the door.
I’ve already scanned them, front and back, and they’re filled with all of Bobbie and Lacey’s social media info on them.
My mother is petite and gorgeous. Her caramel-colored hair is feathered back, circa nineteen eighty-something, and she typically dresses like a preppy as an ode to that totally awesome era, but tonight she’s donned one of those wonky quilt dresses she and Georgie are making a killing off of down at their shop.
And yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like, a large quilt draped over her like a dress—think blanket with a hole in the middle cut out to poke your head through. The strips that comprise the quilt are cut into all sorts of wonky, mostly triangular shapes, with frayed edges to boot, and the quilts are as comfortable as they are adorable. It’s no wonder they’re flying out the door.
I can’t help but notice that Mom’s cheeks are a caustic shade of red and she has sweat beading on her upper lip.
“Mom, are you okay?” I ask, fanning her with my hand in the event she decides to pass out.
“No, I’m not okay. Georgie bamboozled me into rolling myself in quilt batting because she said it would be a great way to advertise. And here she is in a breezy cotton number while I’ve bundled myself in winter bedding.” She turns to scowl at Georgie. “I’m about ready to pass out in the event you were wondering.”
Georgie makes a face. “Not soon enough, Toots.”
Juni leans in from the other side of Georgie.
Juniper Moonbeam is Georgie’s daughter, the one that happened to be my old stepmother for all of five hot minutes. Juni is a hippie biker chick who has a penchant for leather duds and old leathered dudes to match. She did some time at a correctional facility for who knows what, but she’s out now and she’s been wreaking havoc in Cider Cove ever since.
“A funeral, Bizzy!” Juni claps her hands together. “Can you believe it? And not a single body in the casket. I bet it feels as if it’s your lucky day.”
Macy snorts. “Don’t worry about the empty casket, Juni. I’m sure Bizzy will find someone to fill it with before the night is through.”
The four of them share a laugh on my behalf, but I’m not guffawing along with them.
It just so happens there has been a rash of homicides in Cider Cove these past few months, and I may have solved one or two.
Okay, fine. I’ve solved them all, but in Jasper’s defense, he wasn’t too far behind in the investigative effort.
Jasper lands beside me and kindly offers up a cookie to just about every woman in the row as the lights dim a notch and a spotlight falls over the two blondes in charge of these funeral festivities.
Jordy is working the lights for us tonight. He’s not just the handyman, and groundskeeper slash security guard, but he’s the stage crew around here as well. He may not be my husband anymore, but I sure spend every day giving him a list of chores to get done around the inn.
“Welcome!” Bobbie gleams in her pink sparkling gown as she waves to the amped up crowd. “I’m Bobbie Buckingham, and this is the other half of my brain, Lacey Lovelace!”
The crowd loses its collective mind, and soon the women all around me are howling on their feet.
Lacey laughs. “Oh, come on, ladies. We’re just like you—we put our yoga pants on one leg at a time.” Laughter ensues at that one.
“That’s their thing,” Mom whispers my way. “They’re supposed to be super relatable.” She fans herself twice as hard. “What I wouldn’t give to be wearing nothing but yoga pants right about now.”
My mother has never shied away from sharing what she feels, even if what she feels involves partial nudity.
“Ladies—girls”—Bobbie looks to the crowd and laughs—“I can’t believe this turnout! First, I want to thank you all for your continued support.”
Lacey nods. “Thank you for listening and calling into the Perfect Pairing podcasts, where we wax poetic about all matters of the heart! We love to hear what you have to say.”
“That’s right,” Bobbie is quick to agree. “And thank you for coming out to all of our events—especially this one. I’m sure kicking off a month dedicated to romance with a funeral isn’t exactly where you saw things going, but now that you’ve written a goodbye letter to those dead relationships in your past, don’t you feel better?”
The crowd gives an approving roar.
Lacey raises a hand. “And I’d like to go on record that my letter was the first in that casket! Heck, it was so therapeutic, I might just write about six more to the same rotten ex before the night is through. Nothing feels as good as killing off the person who gives you nightmares—except for maybe getting to do it again and again and again.”
The crowd goes wild, and for a second I’m afraid if a single ex walks into the room we’re bound to have a lynching.
Bobbie and Lacey regale the room with stories of embittered past relationships before giving the floor to the crowd while their manager, Diane Regal, runs up and down the aisles with a microphone as the women around us share their war stories. Those spine-chilling relationship horrors serve as cautionary tales to those of us listening. They run the gamut from cheaters to scammers and everything in between.
Finally, the spotlight falls back to the front where Lacey waves to the crowd.
“Now let’s allow those dead relationships to rot in the past where they belong.” She holds a hand out toward her sparkling twin, Bobbie. “From here on out, we want to focus on love.” The women in the room give a collective cheer.
Jasper leans my way. Do you see that guy standing to our left? Isn’t he that guy we met earlier? Bobbie’s husband?
I glance that way, and sure enough, the man with dark curly hair is looking right at me. His mind is filled with nothing but white noise, and I straighten in my seat. As far as mind reading goes, white noise acts as some sort of shut-off valve that clues me in on the fact the person experiencing it is having some serious lascivious thoughts. And in this man’s case, I’d bet good money those thoughts were pinned in my direction.
“I think so.” I clear my throat. “Yup, that’s him. Bobbie’s husband.” That last word comes out with a bit of marked aggression. I can’t help it. I don’t like the idea of being taken advantage of anywhere, let alone in so
meone else’s mind.
Jasper shakes his head and his jaw redefines itself. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know he’s undressing you with his eyes. If there is a body later, you can bet it will be his—and you won’t have to look far for the killer. It will be me.
I make a face at him.
Jasper is teasing just as much as he is serious.
I glance back that way, and that same dark-haired man in a suit that asked to speak to him earlier is standing next to Chip, poking a finger in his chest before stalking off.
Maybe he caught Chip ogling his wife, too? Nothing would surprise me anymore.
“And to all of you—” Lacey grins out at the crowd with what look to be shards glimmering in her eyes. My money is on fake tears. “We want to thank every one of you for participating in our relationship funeral tonight. And as a reward, we want to give you all a free month’s subscription to our new dating app, the Perfect Pairing!” The crowd howls with glee—my mother, Georgie, Juni, and Macy happen to be the loudest and the longest in the howling department. “That’s right!” Lacey shouts, amping up the crowd twice as much as before. “And we expect to see all of you and your shiny new beaus right back here on the night of the fourteenth for an exclusive Perfect Pairing Valentine’s Day soiree. Just bring your tickets from this evening, and you’ll have free admittance, free drinks, free red velvet chocolate chip cookies from the Country Cottage Café, and the freedom to fall in love while you’re at it!”
Emmie catches my eye from the refreshment table and shrugs. I guess they liked the cookies.
I knew we shouldn’t have offered up something so delicious tonight. It was my lousy idea to throw in a few free platters of Emmie’s latest sweet treat. This is what I get for being nice.
“Now”—Lacey takes Bobbie by the hand—“as a special treat and a surprise, my team and I have banded together to honor my best friend, Bobbie Buckingham, this evening.” An elastic smile stretches across her face. “Not only are she and Chip an example of relationship goals for the rest of us, but they’ve never had a honeymoon! So we have a little surprise for the two of you. Chip, why don’t you step on over?”
Sealed with a Hiss Page 2