by Vella Day
I did an about face. Because I was hungry, I headed to the Spellbound Diner. Sure, I could have grabbed some food for free at the Tiki Hut, but I wanted the solace—and, you guessed it, some gossip. Who better to talk to than the owner, Dolly Andrews, one of the five gossip queens of Witch’s Cove?
I already knew that Miriam Daniels wasn’t in the know about Emma Paxton. She thought Morgan’s aunt was dead. There was no way I could come out and ask Pearl—not with her grandson sitting close by. The sheriff already seemed upset with her inability to keep quiet.
The diner it was.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the interior was really cute. Don’t get me wrong. The Tiki Hut Grill was cute too, what with its movie and beach theme, but this small place had a kitschy charm all of its own. It had red leather Naugahyde-covered booths situated along the window, black and white checkered walls, and chrome everywhere else. Only three of the ten booths were occupied. I sat in one as far from the others as possible.
As soon as Dolly spotted me, she rushed over. “My, oh, my. If it isn’t Glinda Goodall. If Fern was dead, she’d be rolling over in her grave. What are you doing here?” The delight in her voice was rather cute.
“I just need a place to think.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Think about what?”
Dolly was a witch, and as such, wouldn’t laugh at my ability to talk to ghosts. I feared though that she’d tell all of Witch’s Cove about the sighting. However, if I had any hope of finding out about this murder, I had to put my embarrassment aside.
“It’s about Floyd Paxton.”
“That old coot?”
No one seemed to like him, but he must have had some redeeming qualities if his nephew frequently helped him out. “Yeah. I heard his nephew was murdered about a week later—shot in the back no less.”
“This is good stuff. Let me get you something, and we can chat. It’s on the house.”
Oh, boy. I probably should say no, but I wanted her information as much as she wanted mine. “A sweet tea and a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato.”
Dolly grinned. “Coming right up.”
I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing talking to Dolly. I almost felt as if I was going behind Aunt Fern’s back. The two used to have a big rivalry—mostly over Uncle Harold—but now it was about who ran the best restaurant. As if Dolly’s ten-booth diner could compete with Aunt Fern’s large restaurant. Not a chance.
Half expecting a call from Drake once his brother explained what was going on, I placed my phone on the table.
One of Dolly’s servers brought over my drink. “Your grilled cheese is coming right up,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks.”
While I waited for my meal, I went over everything that had happened today—from meeting a ghost, telling Aunt Fern about it, and then joining forces with Jaxson, of all people, to find more information. I had to admit Jaxson had been a big help. Not only was he strong enough to keep me out of harm’s way, he didn’t try to take over the investigation. I never expected someone with a chip on his shoulder to let a female take the lead. Though after he was finally found innocent of the liquor store robbery from eleven years ago, his attitude had changed—for the better, I might add.
Dolly placed my grilled cheese on the table and then slipped into the booth across from me. “Spill.”
I had to laugh at her direct approach. “What do you know about Floyd’s wife, who by the way, is living in Phoenix.”
She snapped her fingers. “I knew it.”
I took a bite out of my sandwich and moaned. “This is really good.”
“Thanks. You should eat here more often.”
I smiled. “I’ll think about it.” Or not. Aunt Fern wouldn’t be happy. “Tell me why you knew Emma Paxton wasn’t dead like Miriam Daniels believed.”
Dolly leaned forward. “I think she was having an affair. I mean, who couldn’t blame her? Floyd had issues.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
“He would go off somewhere every month and wouldn’t tell Emma what he was up to.”
I had to think about that for a moment. “Wouldn’t that imply that he was the one who was having the affair?”
“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. I’m not sure.”
So much for that line of inquiry. “Do you know a Joe Delaney?”
“Sure do.”
I waited for Dolly to continue, but she must want me to drag it out of her. That would give her the upper hand. “I heard he was pretty adamant about buying Floyd’s ranch—all one hundred acres of it.”
“I had heard that too.”
Really? Then why hadn’t Aunt Fern known? She was slipping.
“Where does Joe live?” I knew, but I wanted to test her.
Her eyes widened, acting as if everyone knew. “Next door to Floyd, of course. I heard Joe was looking to expand his operation.”
Dolly did seem to know a few things. “What can you tell me about Floyd’s nephew—the one who stood to inherit the farm?”
“Nothing. I never met him. Who will get the farm now that he’s dead?” she asked.
That was the big question. “I don’t know. I read that Floyd has a brother. Do you know anything about him?”
“Just that he lives over in Winston. I don’t think Floyd and Charles got along though.”
Winston was about an hour south of here. “Good to know.”
Dolly sat back. “Why the sudden interest in Floyd?”
“It’s a long story.” I quickly stuffed my face with my sandwich in order to keep from spilling my guts.
“I love long stories.”
Dolly was known for her way-out thinking. She claimed she’d had some out-of-body experiences and had even met an alien once. I finished the first half of my sandwich and washed it down with my drink. As much as I didn’t want to tell her, having another set of eyes and ears would make it easier. “Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“A ghost? Like the way your aunt can see your Uncle Harold?”
“Yes.”
“I have,” she announced with pride.
My pulse soared. “Was your ghost kind of transparent?”
“He was, unless his sister was nearby.”
What did one have to do with the other? “I don’t understand.”
“If a blood relative is near a ghost, the deceased can draw power from that relative. Why are you asking? Have you seen a ghost?”
Dolly seemed safe enough. “Yes, but please don’t tell anyone. It could be harmful to my health.”
“Oh, my.” Dolly made a zipping motion over her lips. “Who did you see?”
I leaned forward. “Morgan Oliver. Emma Paxton’s nephew,” I whispered.
“The one who just died?” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes. I met him this morning. Across the street in the parking lot.”
“What did he say?” she asked bubbling with excitement.
I was pleased she didn’t ask how I was suddenly able to see him. Not only was I rather tired of telling that story, Hazel’s reputation would be ruined if word got out. “Not much, other than someone shot him in the back, and he asked me to help find the killer.”
“You?”
She didn’t have to sound so indignant. “I helped find out who killed Cliff.”
“I did hear you were instrumental in bringing the killer to justice.”
“I was, and now I want to help Morgan. I thought maybe you could ask around about him.”
Dolly smiled. “Why, I’d love to. Nothing like a good murder to get my juices flowing. What does the handsome sheriff have to say about this?”
“He and the sheriff over in Liberty, where Morgan lived, have joined forces.”
“Oh, really? I’ve heard she’s a real looker.” She wiggled her brows.
If Dolly was trying to make me jealous, she failed. “She is pretty.”
“Okay, so what’s our first move?”
Chapter Eight
; We? I waved a hand at Dolly. “There’s nothing we can do for now. In fact, it’s been one dead end after another.” There were a lot of dead ends, but Jaxson and I had made progress. I wasn’t sure I wanted Dolly involved more than asking a few questions. “Floyd was killed by wolves, so his death has been solved. Sure, the sheriff is still investigating who broke into Floyd’s house, but does it really matter now? If the thief was looking for something, he either found it or it wasn’t there in the first place.” I didn’t really mean that. All criminals needed to be brought to justice, but I wanted Dolly to focus on Morgan’s murder.
“What about his nephew? You told Morgan that you’d help. Are you going to give up?” Dolly asked.
Darn. She caught me. If I said I would stop investigating, then Dolly might be the one to find the killer, and I couldn’t have that—for my aunt’s sake, of course. “Jaxson is trying to locate his aunt. She might have some answers.”
“What about talking to Joe?”
I didn’t know him at all, but then an idea struck. I had to return to work tomorrow and really didn’t have the time to run down every lead. “Do you know him very well?”
“Sort of. He comes in here every once in a while.”
“If you really want to help, how about talking to him? The sheriff over in Liberty knows about him. I’m guessing Sheriff Rocker has asked him a few questions too, but you and I both know that people are often skittish around the law.”
“You are so right, Glinda. Let me see what I can do. This is so exciting. But do me a favor.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Don’t tell your aunt. She’ll be so jealous that I’m going to help solve a crime. I don’t need her snooping around too.”
I laughed. “You two are way too competitive.”
“We are that, so can you keep a lid on it?” Dolly asked.
“I’ll do my best.” At least I hoped I could keep my mouth shut. If Dolly was instrumental in helping me solve the crime, I bet my aunt would be the first person Dolly bragged to.
Dolly left to take care of her diner while I finished my meal. Even though she said the meal was on the house, I Ieft enough cash to cover my bill, along with a nice tip.
Since the wine and cheese store sat between Dolly’s diner and the Tiki Hut Grill, I decided to stop in and fill the men in on what Dolly said. When I entered, I was happy to see no customers were there—happy that I could chat with them, not happy no one was at Drake’s store. He claimed that most of the sales happen between dinner time and ten at night. He also said that Friday and Saturday were his big days. Today was only Wednesday.
Drake smiled. “I hear you and my brother had quite the adventure today.”
“That would be an understatement. A failed potion for Iggy, a ghost sighting, and then the search for a killer.”
I waited for Drake to tell me I was crazy, but he didn’t.
“Where did you go after we spoke with Morgan?” Jaxson asked as he entered from the back hallway.
We spoke to the ghost? He couldn’t hear or see him, but I appreciated that Jaxson took me seriously. “I decided to grab a bite to eat at the Spellbound Diner.”
Drake’s eyes sparkled. “Smart. What did Dolly have to say about all this?”
I gave them both the rundown.
“I’ll try to find an address for Charles Paxton too,” Jaxson said.
While I already knew where Joe Delaney lived, I couldn’t be more pleased that he was willing to spend the time to help. “I love that Dolly will pick Joe Delaney’s brain. She can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be.”
The brothers nodded. “No kidding. What are we doing next?” Drake asked.
“You’re helping too?”
“While I have a business to run, I’m always a good sounding board. Besides, I think it’s cool you can talk to a ghost.”
“Thanks.” I remembered what Dolly said. “What we need is for Trevor to help us.”
“What can he do?” Jaxson asked.
“According to Dolly, if the ghost is near a blood relative, Morgan can draw energy from him. That might give Morgan the ability to last a bit longer in his visible form.”
“If that happens, maybe he won’t disappear before we’ve finished asking our questions,” Jaxson said. “If Morgan can feed off of Trevor’s energy, do you think it’s possible that I could see him?”
I doubted that, though I loved how onboard Jaxson was. “We’ll see. Right now, I need a nap. My brain is fried.”
Jaxson nodded. “I’ll let you know what I find out about Emma Paxton’s location, and if I find anything useful about Joe Delaney or Floyd’s brother, Charles.”
“You might as well add in Trevor Whitehall. I’m not positive he is exactly who he says he is.”
Jaxson’s cheer disappeared. “You don’t think he killed his own brother—a brother he only learned existed a few days ago, do you?”
“I’m going to keep an open mind. In the meantime, I’ll check with Sandy Vickers tomorrow to see who stands to inherit the farm now that Floyd and Morgan are dead.”
“She’s a lawyer, right?” Jaxson asked.
“Yes.” I was surprised he didn’t know of her until I remembered that Jaxson had moved away from Witch’s Cove many years ago.
“Why not ask Steve?” Jaxson said. For a moment, he almost sounded jealous, which was totally ridiculous. Drake’s brother always considered me like a little sister.
“I just might.” I gave him a quick smile. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Anytime.”
I left by the beachside door and walked past my parent’s funeral home to the Tiki Hut Grill. When I entered through the side entrance, I peeked into the restaurant. Anna Butler, one of the evening servers, was handling the cash register, which meant Aunt Fern was upstairs. When my aunt needed a break, the servers took their turn checking people out. While the work was easier than waitressing, there were fewer tips.
I trudged upstairs, knowing I’d be grilled by Iggy as soon as I walked through the door. Not wanting to tell the story twice, I knocked on Aunt Fern’s door first.
“Glinda! You’re back. I was worried about you.”
Good to know. I’d already gone over my meeting with Morgan earlier. What she didn’t know was what Jaxson and I learned. “How about I invite Iggy over? I can tell both of you what I learned at the same time.”
“Perfect.”
As I stepped away from Aunt Fern’s door to go to my apartment, my very cute but curious iguana came out of the cat door. He looked up at me with fake innocence as if he wasn’t about to head out and cause trouble. Iggy never liked it when I was gone all day. “Where are you going, young man?” I asked. “Off to see Aimee?”
“I already saw her, and I apologized.”
That surprised me. “And?”
I waited for him to tell me Aimee had accepted his remorse, but he apparently decided to be closed mouthed—a rare condition for him. “Nothing.”
I knew that no amount of prying would do me any good. “I’m about to tell Aunt Fern about my day. Would you like to join us?”
His sour attitude disappeared. “Yes!”
Iggy rushed across the hall and jumped through her cat door before I’d taken a step. I went to Aunt Fern’s apartment, lightly knocked, and opened the door.
“Some sweet tea?” she asked.
“That would be wonderful. I’ve had a stressful day.”
Aunt Fern turned to Iggy. “And for you, my cute little man? Some hibiscus flowers?”
My aunt went to great lengths to make my familiar happy.
“Yes, please,” he said. I swear he was only polite when Aunt Fern was around.
“You spoil him, you know,” I said.
“He’s worth it,” my aunt called from the kitchen.
Naturally, Iggy loved that. He stuck his tongue out at me, and I did the same back to him. Aunt Fern carried out the drinks along with Iggy’s flower on a saucer. She held up a finger. “I
want Harold to hear this.”
“Won’t that tire him?” I asked.
“Yes, but he doesn’t have to be in his full human form if he doesn’t want to be.” She turned toward the bedroom. “Harold? Your niece is here to tell us about her ghost sighting.”
My aunt hadn’t turned around before Uncle Harold materialized. His open arms and warm smile had me jumping to my feet. I’d taken a step when I realized that if I’d tried to hug him, I’d only be grasping at air. Darn.
“Uncle Harold?” Iggy said.
“Yes, it’s Uncle Harold,” I answered. “You can see him?”
“I can. I can. At least sort of,” Iggy said.
It had never occurred to me that he might be able to see a ghost too, but it made sense. He drank the same potion I did. “Uncle Harold, say something to Iggy.”
“How have you been, my boy? You look very handsome.”
My uncle was the best. I knew how much those words meant to my familiar. If Iggy could hear him, he’d answer.
My familiar looked over at me, and I swear he almost turned green. “I’m great, thank you.”
My muscles almost melted. “I can’t believe we all can see you, Uncle Harold.”
“It sure is a relief. It makes it almost okay to be dead.”
I chuckled, thinking he meant that as a joke.
“Tell us what you found out about our dead man.” Aunt Fern must have decided that gossip was more important than our family reunion.
I explained about revealing to Sheriff Rocker that I’d seen a ghost. “He kept focusing on what Morgan Oliver was wearing though.”
“Why of course, dear,” my aunt said.
“Why is that?”
“If you could describe what Morgan Oliver was wearing at the time of his death then he’d have to believe you.”
Wow. I hadn’t considered that. “Uncle Harold. Can you change clothes if you want to?”
“No, my dear.”
“Does that mean Morgan Oliver will have to wear a bloodied white T-shirt for the rest of his time on Earth?” I wasn’t sure if when he crossed over whether his body disappeared or not.