by Vella Day
“Uh…I didn’t pay all that much attention. I was kind of in shock talking to a dead person.”
“Could you tell how old he was?” Steve asked.
I searched my memory. “Maybe thirty, thirty-five. I mean, he was dead. Morgan’s skin was a bit pale. That kind of thing can really age a person.”
“Uh-huh.” Steve scribbled down the information. “What else did he say?”
“Not much. Just that his uncle had recently died and left the farm to him.”
“Did he mention that his uncle was Floyd Paxton?” Steve asked.
“No. He disappeared before he could give me a name. I think it was just about the time you showed up.”
“Of course. I must have scared him off.” Steve took notes. “You don’t remember anything about what he was wearing?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “Jeans and a white T-shirt, though the back was plastered in blood.”
“Where was the wound located, exactly?” he asked.
I didn’t see the purpose of this, but I opened my eyes and told him anyway. “Between the shoulder blades.”
More scribbling. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll contact Misty over in Liberty and see what she has to say. The death of Morgan Oliver is her case.”
He really called her Misty? Not Sheriff Whatever? “Thank you.”
And no, I’m not jealous one bit.
While he didn’t promise he’d let me know what he found, I’m sure I’d learn about it one way or the other. If nothing else, Pearl would hear him chatting with the lady sheriff. She would then ask her grandson about Morgan’s death, who in turn would tell one of the other four gossip queens. If not Aunt Fern, then someone else. Hopefully, the gossip would trickle down to my aunt and then to me. I did love a small town.
When I left, I looked over at the Howl at the Moon Wine and Cheese Emporium that Drake Harrison, my best male friend, owned. He’d just gotten the red and white striped awning cleaned, and I had to remember to tell him it looked great.
He was always my sounding board, and right now, I really needed one. Not that Aunt Fern didn’t believe me about my ghost sighting, but she already believed in ghosts.
I crossed the street and entered the shop. Instead of Drake, his brother was there. “Jaxson? You’re back!”
After the whole debacle with him being accused of killing the deputy, Drake’s brother had left town, and I honestly didn’t expect him to return. Ever. I was a bit hurt that Drake never told me that his brother was back. Drake and I shared everything—or so I had believed.
“Yeah. I went home for a couple of weeks, but then Drake said he could really use the help at the store. Apparently, his part time worker, Trace, decided to go back to school and had to cut down on his hours.”
I had heard that—about Trace going back to school, not about Jaxson returning. “I’m very happy for you. Is Drake here?”
Jaxson looked off to the side. “No.”
“When will he be back?”
“Soon.” Jaxson was being rather cryptic. “Can I help you?”
Drake’s brother wasn’t the most unbiased person, but perhaps I could give him the low down without mentioning the part about seeing a ghost. “I’m trying to locate the wife of a man who recently died.” Since Morgan’s uncle was dead, my best bet was to find his aunt.
“Was he a friend of yours?”
“No.” I told him about Floyd being mauled to death by wolves. “The strange part was that his house was ransacked. Wolves wouldn’t do that.”
He chuckled. “I take it you don’t believe in werewolves?”
“Seriously? Not unless I see a person transform into one, I don’t.” Though before today, I didn’t believe in ghosts. “Do you?”
“No! If you weren’t friends with this Floyd guy, why the urge to find the wife?”
He sounded like everyone else. I’d eventually tell Drake about my ghost sighting. Since he’d tell Jaxson, it might be best to explain it to him first hand. “Because I met his nephew and he asked for my help.”
“Then why not ask him for the whereabouts of his aunt?”
I blew out a breath. Since no one was in the store, I told him the whole story about the mix up with the potion—including meeting Aimee, the talking cat—and how I ran into Morgan the ghost. Throughout it all, Jaxson said nothing. “Well? Say something.”
“Drake always said you had a fertile imagination.”
“I would have agreed with you yesterday, but I know what I saw. How else would I know that Morgan Oliver had been shot and killed? He didn’t live in town, so it wasn’t like the rumor mill was up and running here.”
A small smile stole across his lips. Jaxson knew all about gossip. “Did you do any research on the guy to see if he really is dead?”
“I did. And he is. Steve Rocker even confirmed it. The murder case is in the jurisdiction of the next county over, but since Morgan technically owns the Paxton farm now, his death is of interest to our sheriff. Those two are kind of working the case together—or at least that was what I got out of the conversation I had with him. I want to learn more about Morgan, which is why I plan to go over to his house and ask around about him.”
Jaxson clenched his fists. “Are you crazy? Killers don’t like people snooping around the crime scene. It could be dangerous.”
“I don’t know if Morgan’s house is a crime scene. Morgan could have been killed anywhere, though most likely it was near Liberty. If he had been shot near his uncle’s house, Witch’s Cove’s finest would have investigated the murder. Don’t worry. I’m just going to drive by Morgan’s house, not snoop inside. Afterward, I might even stop by the Liberty sheriff’s department to see if they’ll tell me anything.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I appreciated his concern, but I didn’t really know Jaxson all that well. When I was fifteen, he went away to jail for a crime he didn’t commit and only recently returned to Witch’s Cove—once his record was expunged. Since he was Drake’s brother, I probably should accept his offer. “What about the shop?”
“I’ll put the closed sign up. Look, if anything happened to you and I didn’t go, Drake would kill me. Literally.”
Aw. My heart swelled. Drake cared. “Great. Let’s go. I know the dead man’s address. Maybe you should leave a note for Drake, so he doesn’t wonder where you are.”
“You don’t need to tell me what to do,” he snapped.
Ok-kay. That came out a bit too sharp. “Sorry,” I said.
He dragged a hand down his jaw as he exhaled deeply. “No, I’m sorry. In prison, we were told what to do and when to do it. I had a little flashback just then.”
“Duly noted. No giving directions. Got it.”
His smile was brief. “Unless I ask.”
I gave him a thumbs up.
Jaxson called Drake and told him that his brother’s crazy sidekick was at it again, and that he intended to make sure I remained safe. While I couldn’t hear what Drake was saying, he seemed to be agreeing with his brother.
Jaxson disconnected. “Let’s go. I’m driving—and no arguing.”
Darn. That would prevent me from doing something stupid—which I guess was a good thing.
It didn’t take long to find Morgan Oliver’s home two towns over. It was in a small subdivision with each home having a chain-linked fenced-in yard. The owners clearly took pride in their property since the lawns were cut and flowers abounded. I honestly couldn’t imagine Morgan wanting to live on a hundred-acre farm if he had a ton of neighbors in this town. But what did I know? Maybe he planned to sell the place, or perhaps he needed more space. The man could be into motorcycles and want a shed to work on them. Sadly, I had no idea who Morgan Oliver really was.
“I’m parking a few houses away from Morgan’s. We don’t need to draw too much attention to ourselves.” That sounded like someone familiar with the criminal system, and I had no problem with that.
I studied the area. One man, whose house sat next to Morg
an’s, was working on his car in his driveway. On the other side of Morgan’s home was a woman rocking on her porch. No one else was outside.
I nodded to the mechanic. “Let me ask the questions, okay?” I asked. “You can be my muscle.”
“Your muscle?” Jaxson grinned and flexed.
Okay, I have to admit, the guy was built. I laughed at his reaction, maybe a bit too loudly, and the man working on his car looked up. Since he didn’t throw something at us or shoot us a deadly look, we approached him. “Hey there,” I said.
“Can I help you?” He put the wrench he’d been using on the fender. I was happy he’d put the potential weapon away.
“I’m doing a newspaper story about Morgan Oliver’s death. The cops don’t seem to be getting anywhere with the investigation, and I was hoping you might be able to help.” I have no idea why I said that, but thankfully Jaxson didn’t mention that I was just a waitress in Witch’s Cove.
“I’m not sure how. He kept to himself a lot, but he seemed like a good guy. I do know he had an uncle over in Witch’s Cove. He’d go over there a lot to help the guy out after the man’s wife died.”
She died? That wasn’t what the obituary implied, though one of the know-it-all Daniel sisters claimed she was dead—or rather might have been killed.
“That’s nice to hear. Did Morgan have any enemies?”
“No.” The man scratched his jaw. “Wait. I mean, there was a guy. Joe something. After Morgan’s uncle passed away, he came around once. I know, because I heard shouting next door. When I asked Morgan about it later that day, he said the guy wanted to buy his uncle’s farm. When Morgan said he didn’t want to sell, the man wasn’t pleased.”
I hadn’t heard about someone wanting to buy the farm. Our gossip ladies needed to step up their game. “Did Morgan plan to move to Witch’s Cove and live on the farm?”
The car man shrugged. “I couldn’t say. We honestly didn’t see a lot of each other. Besides, he was murdered the next day.”
“In his house?” Jaxson asked.
“I don’t know where it was. I mind my own business.”
That was something he probably wanted us to do. “I appreciate your help, and I’m sorry for your loss.” In all honesty, I don’t know if he cared one way or the other. Having parents in the funeral business, the phrase had been ingrained in my brain since birth.
The man nodded and went back to work on his car. Jaxson and I left and headed toward the woman who lived on the other side of Morgan. As we walked by his white one-story home, a few trees obscured my view, but it looked as if his front door was ajar. I reached out and touched Jaxson’s arm. “Does that door look open to you?”
“I don’t think a ghost can open a door,” Jaxson said with a slight quirk to his smile.
“He can’t. At least I know Uncle Harold can’t.”
He immediately sobered. “Good to know, but that means…”
“Someone else is either in there, was in there, or the wind blew the door open,” I said.
I took one step toward the house when Jaxson grabbed my arm. “That would be a no. You said you wouldn’t snoop. It could be a maid for all we know. Let’s ask the old lady on the porch. She seems to have an eagle eye.”
I had to admit it was nice having someone with me who operated with a clearer head than me, but I don’t know how he figured the porch neighbor knew something. Using all of my constraint, I didn’t head up Morgan’s driveway. “We should at least look in the mailbox,” I said.
“If there is mail, do you plan on giving it to Morgan? It’s probably ads that he can’t take advantage of now or bills. You don’t really believe he can do online banking or write a check, do you?”
I really hadn’t thought through this ghost stuff. “No. I’m hoping he has a next of kin who can take care of this.”
“Do you know who his lawyer is? Or who Floyd Paxton’s lawyer was for that matter?”
“No, but I bet Steve knows.”
“It’s Steve now?” Jaxson asked.
“It’s easier to refer to him by his first name, instead of by Sheriff Rocker. That’s too many syllables.”
Jaxson’s face split into a full-blown smile. “You like him.”
“I wish everyone would stop saying that. We’ve never gone out, and until today, I hadn’t spoken to him since Cliff’s murderer was brought to justice.”
“Okay, I won’t tease you anymore.”
“Thank you.” We reached the house where the elderly woman was sitting in her rocking chair.
When she saw us walk up the drive, she scowled. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want it,” she shouted.
Okay, I hadn’t expected that reaction. “We’re not selling anything. We’re here about Morgan Oliver,” I called back.
Her face softened. I guess that was her way of welcoming us, so we continued up the porch steps but stopped before we came too close.
“What do you want to know?” Her tone was cautious at best.
“Do you know why Morgan’s front door is open?” Jaxson asked.
“No. I mind my own business—or least I have ever since Morgan was murdered. It was such a shame.”
“Did you know him well?” I asked.
“I’d like to think so. He’d bring dinner over every once in a while. We’d eat and maybe even watch a movie together. I sure am going to miss him.”
That was sad. “Did he have any enemies?”
“Morgan? No. He was the nicest guy in the world. Why he would help his uncle at his farm in Witch’s Cove whenever he had the chance.”
“I heard that,” I said. “What about his aunt? I heard she died.” I ignored the fact that the possibly erroneous obituary thought she was still alive.
The old lady leaned forward. “I guess now that Morgan’s uncle is gone, I don’t need to keep it a secret any longer.”
I stepped closer. This could be the key I was looking for. “What secret?”
Chapter Six
“You can tell us anything,” I said. “We want whoever killed Morgan to pay for what he did.”
The porch lady nodded. “His aunt is still alive.”
That meant the Daniel sisters didn’t know everything. “Do you know where she is living?”
“Phoenix.”
Since this woman seemed to have inside knowledge, I wanted to learn as much as I could. “Do you know why she left Witch’s Cove?”
“I’ve never met her, but Morgan said it was because his uncle was keeping secrets from her, and she didn’t like it.”
If that had been me, I might have tried to understand why he withheld information—not run away. But what was done was done. “I’m surprised Morgan helped his aunt’s husband after that, if he was such a bad guy.”
She nodded. “Me too, but Morgan could never say no to anyone in need.”
He sounded like a saint, and people like that often led a double life. She coughed a few times and then wheezed. It was time to leave her in peace. “I appreciate your input. Have a nice day.”
Jaxson’s brows pinched. He must have thought I’d ask more questions, but I’d had enough. I spun around and headed back to the car.
“What was the hurry?” Jaxson asked as he trotted after me.
“I don’t know. I think she’s the one who’s hiding something.”
“Whoa. Can you read minds now?” Jaxson asked as he caught up alongside of me.
“No, but something isn’t right.”
“About what?” Jaxson asked.
“Think of it this way. I’m Drake’s friend, as well as yours, but I’ve known Drake longer.”
“True, but where are you going with this?” he asked.
“Suppose you decided to steal something from Drake, or you beat him up. Because Drake is my friend, I’d stay away from you, even though you didn’t personally harm me.”
“Which means you find it odd that Morgan was nice to his uncle even after he harmed Morgan’s aunt—at least emotionally?”
<
br /> “Yes. If Morgan sided with the uncle, it was because Floyd Paxton didn’t harm or lie to his wife. Instead, she did something to him. People keep secrets, you know.”
“Drake is right. You have a creative mind.”
“Maybe. I need more information. How about we stop at the sheriff’s office to see what we can learn. Our pretense of going is to mention that Morgan’s front door is open,” I said.
“Let’s do it.” We reached Jaxson’s car, and I slid into the passenger seat. Not knowing where the sheriff’s department was located, I opened the Waze app on my phone, found its location, and gave Jaxson directions.
It wasn’t far to the main part of town. My first impression of Liberty was a good one. The one and two-story storefronts were quaint, or should I say downright homey? It looked like the people liked their town to look nice too.
Jaxson parked in front of the sheriff’s department. When we entered the brick building, we asked to speak with the sheriff since she was already working the case with Steve.
“What is this about?” the receptionist asked.
“Morgan Oliver’s murder.”
Her eyes widened. I might have stretched the truth a bit, but she might not know that Morgan’s aunt was still alive and living in Phoenix. It was also possible no one here was aware of the fight Morgan had a day before he was shot. With only having Joe’s first name, it wouldn’t help that much though.
She called the sheriff and then disconnected. “Sheriff Willows will be right out. Can I have your names?”
Both of us supplied the requested information, as well as provided phone numbers.
Before we could sit down, a very pretty brunette with her hair done up in a French twist walked down the hallway wearing a beige body-hugging uniform. “I’m Sheriff Willows. You have information on Morgan Oliver’s murder?” Her tone was professional, yet a bit distant.
“I think so,” I said, hoping I had something useful.
“Come into my office.”
I looked up at Jaxson, wondering if being in a law enforcement office was bothering him considering he might be remembering how Sheriff Duncan had treated him eleven years ago. From his calm outer appearance, it didn’t. Good for him.