by Vella Day
She had a point. “At the very least, I’ll look into self-defense.”
Mom pushed back her chair and stood. “I’d be okay with that.”
It was time to go. “I’m going to check with Drake and Jaxson to see what they’ve learned just as soon as I help you put away these candles.”
“Thank you.” My mom blew them out, and I then helped gather up a few. “Promise me you’ll be careful?” Mom asked. “Asking a lot of questions about a murder can have unforeseen consequences.”
“I will be careful,” I said.
After we finished, I went next door to the Wine and Cheese Emporium. Thankfully, Drake and Jaxson were both there, though Drake was helping a customer in front while Jaxson was unpacking a crate of wine in the storage room in back.
I knocked on the storage room door and then pushed it open. “Hey there,” I said.
Jaxson looked up and smiled. “Hey.”
I stepped into the cramped space. “Did you have the chance to check anyone out?”
“I did. Give me a sec, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Jaxson finished stacking the bottles. He then motioned that we should talk in the main back room. “You’ll never guess what I found out about Emma Paxton.”
“What is it?”
Chapter Ten
“Floyd’s wife was not in Phoenix when either Floyd or her nephew were killed,” Jaxson said.
Knock me over with a huff. “Are you sure?”
“As I’ve mentioned, I can find anything on a computer. You’d be surprised what is public, but for your own safety, I won’t bore you with the details.”
“Where was she? Don’t tell me Witch’s Cove.”
“Close by would be my guess, but I can’t be sure. Shortly before Floyd died, she flew to Florida and rented a car. I called in a favor from a friend who works with highway surveillance. He spotted her rental car heading this way.”
That put a new spin on things. “How long did she rent the car for?”
“She has yet to turn it in.”
I had to grab hold of the counter to keep steady. “We know that Floyd was killed by a wolf or wolves. Unless she can turn into one, she couldn’t have killed him.”
“That’s for you to decide. I’m just the muscle, remember?” He flashed me another smile, but clearly, he was more than that.
“You have a brain too. I tend to jump to too many conclusions, and I need a level-headed person around.”
He laughed. “You think?”
I did not respond to his comment. “Did you get an address in Phoenix for Emma Paxton? Not that she is there.”
Jaxson dug a hand in his pocket and fished out a piece of paper. “I did.”
“You are good!”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have any idea where in Florida she is staying? I’m going to guess that she’s not at Morgan’s house in Liberty. Her neighbors would question what she was doing there,” I said.
“I won’t be able to find her location—at least not legally—but how many hotels are there in Liberty?”
“I suspect not many.” My mind spun from one scenario to another. “If Emma had anything to do with Morgan’s death, she might not appreciate me digging. Hmm. Decisions, decisions. Is there any way to figure out her financial situation?”
“Are you thinking that if she was desperate for cash, she might try to get the farm by knocking off those who stood to inherit it?”
“Possibly, but that’s assuming, she’s even mentioned in the will. That is one more reason to find out what Floyd’s lawyer is willing to share,” I said.
“I will not hack into bank records. Your friend, Steve, might be willing to help you with that.”
Why was Jaxson always picking on our new sheriff? They’d just met last month. “I might.” I needed to change the topic. “Any progress on Floyd’s brother, Charles?”
“Not much, other than I found his address. Turn the paper over. It’s on the back.”
I flipped it over. He lived in Winston, just like Dolly said. “I wonder if Steve has spoken to him?”
Jaxson placed a hand on my wrist. “He might have, but I know you. Please don’t visit Charles alone. Okay? We don’t know if he had anything to do with either death—or at least with Morgan’s.”
“I won’t.” I waved the paper, folded it, and stuffed it in my pocket. “First, I’m going to see what Sandy Vickers has to say about who is next in line to inherit the farm.”
“I doubt she’ll tell you anything—client confidentiality and all,” he said.
“Her client is dead.”
“It doesn’t matter. Morgan’s death is part of an ongoing investigation.”
Maybe being around logical Jaxson wasn’t a plus. “You never know. Sandy might be willing to give me a hint.”
Jaxson chuckled. “What are you going to do? Put a spell on her to get her to talk?”
I smiled. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Listen, if Morgan didn’t have a will, the farm goes to no one. In that case, Floyd’s place will be sold,” Jaxson said.
“Ugh.” Drake was still with his customer in the front of the store, and I didn’t want to disturb him. “I’m going to go. Let me know if you learn anything else.”
“Will do and be careful.”
I wish everyone didn’t treat me like I was going to rush into danger. So what if I often acted first and thought afterward? “Always.”
Not wanting to disturb Drake, I left by the beachside entrance and headed over to the law firm of Stallwart, Leggers, and Vickers situated on Bay Way, right next to the Beachside Gym. It was only about a five-minute walk. While I didn’t have an appointment, I hoped they’d let me slip in between clients.
Once I explained to the receptionist what information I needed, she was able to get me in, though she did inform me that Sandy was legally obligated not to divulge any information about a case. I told her I’d ask anyway.
“Hi,” I said as I entered her office.
“Glinda, how can I help?” Sandy asked.
Sandy was in her mid-fifties with chin length strawberry blonde hair. Her neatly pressed tailored blue suit and peach blouse looked expensive. “Morgan Oliver, Floyd Paxton’s—”
“Nephew. Yes. We’ve met.”
“Good. I am rather upset over his loss.” I said, which was kind of true. “Would it be possible to learn who is next in line to inherit Floyd’s farm? Is it his wife, or his brother, Charles?”
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information. As for the wife, do you know where she is?”
Aha. That question was telling. “I do.”
Sandy leaned back in her chair. “Where?”
I pulled the address from my pocket and handed it to her. It also had Charles’ information on the back. “She lives in Phoenix, though it’s possible she’s already in town.”
“Why do you think that?”
I didn’t want to get Jaxson in trouble. “The rumor mill has it that she came here shortly before Floyd died. I believe she still hasn’t returned her rental car.”
“Interesting. Do you know where she is staying?”
“No. My guess would be in Liberty where Morgan lived. I doubt she’d stay in Witch’s Cove.”
Sandy nodded. “Too many eyes and ears?”
“Absolutely. Is Emma next in line to inherit the farm then?”
“As I said, I can’t say.”
She didn’t need to. I could read between the lines. I pushed back my chair and stood. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
“Do me a favor?” Sandy asked.
“Sure.”
“I’ve heard how you helped find Cliff’s murderer. If you learn anything about Emma’s whereabouts, let me know, okay?”
I smiled. I liked Sandy. “Will do.”
Once I left, I decided to visit our illustrious sheriff. He would appreciate knowing that Emma might be in the area. I also wanted to see if I could get him to do a little digging int
o her financials. Wolves might have killed Floyd, but who was to say someone didn’t have a hand in guiding them to his house? Was my imagination out of control? Time would tell.
As I stepped through the front door of the sheriff’s office, I realized I probably should have grabbed some cookies from the Tiki Hut as it never hurt to spread some summer love.
“Hey, Pearl,” I said with a smile. My gaze lasered straight to Steve’s desk—make that his empty desk. Darn. “Sheriff’s not here?”
“Oh, he’s here. Steve moved into Sheriff Duncan’s old office.”
Interesting. “Does that mean he’s getting a deputy?”
“No news on that yet from the mayor. I hope the council works fast, because my grandson works too hard, and he could use the help.”
He was working with Misty Willows over in Liberty. That constituted help, right? “Is he busy?”
Pearl wiggled her brows. “Not for you, he isn’t. Go on back.”
I wasn’t in the mood for Pearl’s matchmaking. As if Steve would ever be interested in a witch. Sure, I might have had a little crush on him when I was trying to convince him I had some magical talents, but ever since Cliff’s murderer was brought to justice, I hadn’t seen much of him.
I knocked on the closed door. A second later, it opened. “Glinda. This is a surprise. I hope you’re here to tell me you figured out who killed Morgan Oliver?”
I laughed. “Right. In two days.”
“Well, you are a witch after all.”
I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Sheriff Rocker stepped to the side and motioned me in. “What’s this about?”
Thankfully, his tone remained light. In fact, he seemed to take pleasure in my crazy theories. Wanting to change his not-so-great perception of me, I inhaled to compose myself as I sat in the chair across from his desk. “Did you know that Emma Paxton was, and still might be, in Florida?”
“I recently learned that.”
“Oh.”
“What I don’t know is her current location. Do you know where she is?”
“No, but I don’t think she’s here in Witch’s Cove. Someone would have noticed her in the last few weeks. I was thinking maybe she’s staying near Liberty.”
“Misty has been checking, but as of yet, hasn’t found her.”
Misty, Misty, Misty. They seemed to be chummy. “Good.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
The sheriff knew about Joe Delaney, so I saw no reason to mention that I’d spoke with Morgan Oliver again. “Nothing more, though if Emma were to inherit Floyd’s farm in the case of Morgan’s untimely death, maybe she had a hand in killing him.”
Steve huffed out a laugh. “Really? Do you have any proof?”
“No. And that’s where I thought you could help.”
The sheriff tucked in his chin. “Me, how?”
“Get access to her bank records. If she ran out on Floyd, I doubt she’s accumulated a lot of money in the short time she was in Phoenix. She might be desperate for money.” Since he didn’t interrupt me, I went on. “Apparently, she left Floyd because he had secrets. Learn those, and you might find out who robbed him.”
Steve leaned back in his chair. “As a matter of fact, I have investigated her background.”
My pulse soared. “And?”
“And, nothing. I’m not at liberty to discuss it. Remember, this is an ongoing investigation.”
Sheesh. He sounded like Sheriff Misty Willows and Sandy Vickers. “Fine.”
“Anything else I can do for you?” he asked, his lips almost forming a smile.
I doubt he’d tell me, but I had to ask. “Is Charles Paxton a suspect? I heard the two brothers didn’t get along.”
He picked up his pencil and tapped it on the desk. And yes, I know he wasn’t supposed to tell me anything, but deep down, I had the sense he wasn’t ready to dismiss me as a total kook. I brought valuable intel to the table, and he knew it. “I spoke with Charles, but he said he hadn’t seen his brother in months.”
That wasn’t much help. “You believed him?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. I can do nothing without proof.”
That was one nice thing about what I did. No proof needed—just gossip. “Understood. And Joe Delaney? Any proof he was involved?”
“Other than some witnesses claiming he and Floyd’s nephew had a shout out, no. Just so you know, Morgan’s death is not my jurisdiction,” Steve said.
“I know. It’s Misty’s.”
“Yes,” he said. When he crossed his arms over his chest, I figured trying to learn anything else was probably futile.
I lifted my chin. “Keep in touch.”
His smile came out in full force. “As always.”
Before I returned home and was grilled by Iggy, I wanted to do a quick stop at the Spellbound Diner to see if Dolly had learned anything. I also would take advantage of one of her sweet rolls. That and a sweet tea were just what I needed. Today had not been as productive as I’d hoped.
I had to take that back. Jaxson had come through with vital information about Emma. I had met her once a long time ago, and she’d seemed quite timid. Because I was a witch, I had the sense she might tell me things she wouldn’t confide in others.
I stepped inside the diner, ready to learn more.
Chapter Eleven
I hadn’t even taken my seat before Dolly rushed past me and slipped into the booth I was about to claim. I slid in across from her.
“I talked with Joe,” Dolly spat out without even saying hello.
Excitement surged through me. “What did he say?”
“He said that he and Floyd had been friends and that they’d promised each other not to let any big developers take over either of their farms.”
“I didn’t know any developers were interested in that area. It’s a few miles from the beach. However, if Joe bought Floyd’s one-hundred acres and combined it with his spread, it would make that property even more desirable for something—at least in the future.”
“I totally agree, which was why I kept pressing him for the real reason he wanted Floyd’s place.” Dolly leaned back, one brow raised.
Just when I was about to learn something, one of the waitresses rushed over and asked for my order. “I just want a sweet tea and one of those apple pastries. Thanks.” The server nodded and headed back to the kitchen. “If Joe was up to no good, I’m surprised he was willing to even talk to you,” I said.
Dolly smiled and puffed up the back of her hair, the kind of gesture that implied her seventy-year old sexiness appealed to Joe. She might be right too.
“I’m good at getting people to talk.”
That much was true. I’ve seen it in action a few times. “What else?”
“He finally admitted that his great, great grandfather used to own both parcels of land, but that during the depression he was forced to sell half to the Paxtons. Now that Joe is more financially stable, he wants to reunite the two pieces of land.”
“As a tribute to his relatives?”
“Who knows his reasoning.”
“Most likely he figured the land would appreciate. Personally, I would have waited until the property went up for sale.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why I know there is more to the story.” She leaned over. “Joe never was a sentimental guy. I don’t see him wanting to honor anyone but his own pocketbook.”
I chuckled. “I get the sense that Floyd was a little like that too.”
“So true. That’s why I think you need to find out if maybe his great, great grandfather buried something on Floyd’s property. It’s the only thing that makes sense. At first, I thought it might be oil, but I think the ground is too shallow for drilling.”
Not that one could bury oil, nor did I think there was much in Florida other than in the Gulf waters, but I understood what she meant. And here I thought I had a vivid imagination!
; “Maybe he’s interested in mineral rights, assuming there are any underground, though I’m not sure if people even own the land below the ground,” I said. “If the minerals are below Floyd’s one hundred acres, they should be below Joe’s as well since the two properties share a border.”
“You’d have to ask a lawyer about that. All I know is that Joe wasn’t being totally honest with me.” She leaned back. “I can tell these things.”
The server delivered my iced tea and my pastry. “Thanks.” I turned back to Dolly. “That was good sleuthing.”
“I loved it. Let me know if you learn anything or need any more help. You know how much I like to dig.”
“Will do.” That was assuming I wanted all of Witch’s Cove to find out about it.
Once Dolly left to tend to things, I sipped on my tea and let my mind race. Steve wouldn’t care about this tidbit of information since it was all speculation. Aunt Fern, however, might be able to shed some light on the issue. She was friends with the property record keeper who might be willing to give my aunt the name of this great, great, grandfather. From there, I’d let Jaxson do his magic and search on the Internet for answers. This was shaping up to be quite a mystery. I wasn’t so naïve not to consider that his wanting-to-buy-the-property thing had nothing to do with any murder, but I had to try.
I also had to assume that Sheriff Misty Willows had already questioned Joe regarding his whereabouts when Morgan was killed, since she’d been aware of the argument. If Joe had nothing to do with either death, what was his crime? Being a hothead? Ugh. Rabbit holes were not my thing.
After I finished and paid, I returned to the Tiki Hut where Aunt Fern was cashing out someone. When she was finished, I strode up to the counter.
“Glinda, you look excited.”
“I guess I am. I need a favor.”
My aunt’s eyes shone. “Is it about you-know-who?”
I didn’t know whether she meant Morgan Oliver, Jaxson, Steve, or Joe Delaney, but I answered anyway. “Yes.” I briefly discussed what Dolly had told me. “I thought maybe you could contact Luann over in property records and ask her for the name of Joe Delaney’s great, great, grandfather—the one who originally bought the property.”