“Really? What kind of colorful life?”
“I think she was initially hired as his personal assistant while he was still married to the last Mrs. Sweet. He’s had quite the collection of wives. It was actually Ember who helped her get the position.”
“They were friends?”
“More like acquaintances on the party scene.” My guess is Ember wanted someone new to manipulate and found her victim in Marigold.
Manipulate for the sake of manipulation? I’m guessing there’s more to the story.
He shakes his head. “And, of course, there’s Willow Taylor.” His mind flits to white noise—a sure sign his thoughts just took a dive for the naughty. If there is one bright spot in this unique ability of mine, it’s the fact that I’m blocked from witnessing any depraved indelicate thoughts a person might be having. It’s mostly men that I encounter the white noise phenomenon around, which is the equivalent to snow on a television set. And to be truthful, Jordy is the man I see it in most. Usually that happens after a beautiful woman walks past him at the inn. Even though Jordy and I had a short-lived marriage, nothing physical has ever happened between us, and I’m glad to say we came away with our friendship intact after that whole Vegas debacle.
“What about Willow?” I ask. “Hey, you don’t think she was capable of poisoning Ember, do you?”
He holds up his hands. “I’ll be the last person to accuse anyone of anything.” That’s one way to keep my hands clean. Stay out of the drama. And how I wish I had stayed out of the drama with Laurel.
Who the heck is Laurel? Is that a nickname he had for Ember? Wait a minute. Marigold mentioned Laurel just yesterday, internally at least.
Before another question can brew in my mind, Georgie and Juni appear at my side like the unstoppable hurricanes they are.
“How’d you like the show, Councilman?” Juni asks, looking every bit like the tough chick she is, clad in leather.
“We’re the ones with the sign.” Georgie gives an enthusiastic nod while wearing one of her wonky quilts over her body like a bathrobe. “And you’ve got blood on your hands, mister.” She gives a wonky wink just as Jasper runs up winded.
Sorry. He wraps an arm around my waist. I tried to stop them.
I shrug up at him. I think at this point we both know they’re unstoppable.
Flint belts out a belly laugh. “You’re my first hecklers.” He offers both Juni and Georgie a warm smile. “What is it you’re after?” I would have asked, what makes you think I have blood on my hands? But I’m afraid I know the answer to that. And I very much have blood on my hands.
I squeeze the life out of Jasper’s waist, and my hand accidentally forms around the butt of his gun, causing him to jerk in reflex.
Juni wags a finger at the councilman in front of us. “You’re not here to stop free enterprise, are you?”
“Yeah.” Georgie shakes a fist at him. “We spoke with the landlord who owns the dirt under Suds and Illuminations, and he said he can’t let the poor girl who got stuck with the soapy bag out of the lease. He said to take it up with the city council.”
Jasper groans. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.” He glances to Georgie. “The city council has been cooperating with the sheriff’s department. They just need an all-clear from me. I’ll get on that, Georgie. I can assure you Councilman Butler has nothing to do with it whatsoever.” He nods to the councilman in question. “Nice to see you again, Flint. I’m here with my wife.” He nods my way. “The inn she runs is taking part in the Founders’ Day festivities.”
“Ah!” Flint tips his head back. So my arrest isn’t imminent after all. He chuckles to himself, and oddly it sounds as if it comes out more playful than it does worrisome. “Any word on the case?”
“No.” Jasper bears hard into Flint Butler’s eyes as if they were having a showdown. “Like I said that first day we met, if you have anything that might help the investigation, I’m just a phone call away.”
“You bet.” He glances to the crowd. “I think I’d better mingle. I’ll see you all at the concert at the cove.” He gets two steps away before Macy accosts him with her donuts.
“I see you’ve escaped my sister’s clutches.” Macy shoots me a quick look before handing him a donut.
He offers a smile way. “It’s always a pleasure,” he calls out. But having Laurel creep back to the forefront of my mind was anything but. And just like Ember, Laurel Crabtree is out of my life—and everyone else’s life for good.
My muscles go rigid as I try to absorb his thoughts.
“What’s the matter?” Jasper pulls me in close while Juni and Georgie get busy passing out fliers and shouting Wonky quilts half off at the concert at the cove! “Is it Georgie?”
“No.” My chest heaves as thoughts of what Flint Butler might be capable of swirl through my mind. “I think I know who the killer is. And I don’t think Ember Sweet was their first victim.”
Chapter 11
November ushers in the first inklings of winter. It seems as if fall is always anxious for an early release as the air grows increasingly icy. The sky is dark with purple and red tinged clouds, but thankfully there is no rain in the forecast today. However, there is something ominous and brooding in the air. It’s almost as if the weather were in on something I’m not privy to yet.
Jasper and I spent the last few days researching Laurel Crabtree, and for the most part, we found her via a few social media posts that she was included in. Her own social media footprint is nonexistent. We’re stumped as to who she is and where she might be. The only thing I know for sure is that she’s a pretty brunette, mid-to-late twenties, with light serious eyes and was once somehow linked to Flint Butler.
It’s the day of the concert at the cove, and the warm-up band for Sugar Shack already has the crowd shaking what it’s got, down on the sand.
Fish and Sherlock are darting around from one end of the cove to the other, and I’ve got the trio of kittens in a papoose strapped to my chest. I’ll admit, they’ve been warming me nicely.
Jasper had an emergency at the office but said he’d try to be here in plenty of time to see Sugar Shack perform. But Georgie, Juni, and my mother have not been tardy. They showed up in the wee hours of the morning and reserved a space for themselves near the stage. As soon as the first few bodies trickled in, cold, hard cash was being thrust their way in exchange for their wonky quilts. And just like that, those wonky quilts have quickly become a fad that no one at this concert seems able to resist.
The wind is glacial, the crowd is thick, and everyone seems to have a drink in hand, mostly hot apple cider sold at the refreshment table. The free donuts Emmie set out have already disappeared, and she’s busy whipping up batch after batch and sending them out in a steady stream.
Thankfully, the town is footing the bill for those, so the inn won’t have to worry about going bankrupt by way of donuts. Although, they’re so delicious they would have been worth any fiscal challenge they could have brought on.
The Country Cottage Café is selling both hot and cold meals in a booth we’ve set up just outside of the café, and there’s a long line of people looking to fill their hungry bellies. Jordy is manning the grill, and the air is scented with the barbeque chicken and steak. And every last one of my senses insists I head in that direction, but as fate or my bad luck would have it, Mackenzie is coming my way.
“Mayor Woods.” I pull a tight smile as Mack comes at me with her orange wool suit. The jacket is cut to accentuate her figure, and I can see a pair of dark-brown boots peering from her pants. Even though I’ve come to understand that Mackenzie pushed me into that whiskey barrel all those years ago on a dare—from my own brother no less—I still can’t help but pin the blame of my telesensual abilities on her smug shoulders. “Nice turnout today.”
“It could be better.” She sniffs as she looks to the crowd. “But I suppose there’s still time.” She pokes her finger to my chest. “I just spoke to Jordy. He says the inn is
officially haunted. What’s with this poltergeist business, Bizzy? The last thing I need is you turning this town into a paranormal ghost hunter circus.”
My lips invert a moment. “There’s no ghost,” I’m quick to offer up the false assurance. “Some books were scattered on the floor in the lending library, and there were handprints on the windows in the spa that look as if they were smeared with blood. It was nothing but childish pranks.” Three different guests reported seeing a woman walking the halls in a glowing white gown in the middle of the night, moaning and repeating the words you’ll be sorry. That was disconcerting, but there’s no reason to bring that up to Mackenzie. Jordy set up security cameras this morning, so if there is a ghost, or a living troublemaker, we’ll be sure to catch them either way.
“It had better be nothing. You’re not permitted for ghosts.”
“I didn’t realize you were in charge of building and safety for the other side.” It would figure Mackenzie wants power in both this life and the next.
“I’m everywhere, Baker.”
“Wilder,” I correct.
“Whatever.” She cranes her neck as she scans the crowd.
“Looking for your next victim?” I smear a smile her way, and she glowers twice as hard.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that a dig of some sort due to the fact I’m seeing your brother? You don’t think we’re serious, do you?” I suppose if she knew I was looking for Elliot, she would change her tune. Although, if she saw me with Elliot, it would also prove her point. Oh, never mind. She’s got me all confused and for no good reason. I swear I lose IQ points just standing next to Bizzy Baker, and I don’t care if she is married. Who would have thought a nitwit like Bizzy would have beaten me to the altar? And because she wanted to, not because she had to.
I suck in a breath at the insult.
And who is this Elliot she’s looking for—whom she admitted was about to prove my point? Even though that wasn’t the point I was getting at. I was making a dig at the fact she liked to suck the blood straight from the necks of her enemies. I’ve long suspected she sleeps upside down in a closet.
A trio of meows comes from my papoose and all three kittens poke their heads out at once.
Is this the killer? Pumpkin, the one with a pink dot on her nose, twitches her whiskers.
Spice, the one in the middle with extra-long fur on her ears, recoils at the sight of Mackenzie. Oh, she’s a witch! I’d recognize one anywhere. She jerks her head my way. Sherlock Bones has been telling us all about her.
A soft laugh strums from me, and Mack makes a sour face at the trio of cuteness on hand. Figures. Not only is she looking to cheat on my poor brother with some man named Elliot, but she can’t stand to be around anything as adorable as these kittens. It probably diminishes her witchy powers if she stagnates too long in their presence.
“What are you mewling at?” she snaps at the three of them.
“Rumor has it, they were wondering if you were a witch.”
A dark smile curves on her lips. It doesn’t shock me that Mackenzie sees this as a compliment.
Her attention is abruptly hijacked as she stares hard to my left.
There he is. It’s go time. I’ve only got twenty minutes before Huxley shows up. Elliot and I will need to get right down to business.
She starts to take off, and I step in front of her.
“Where are you off to so quickly?” And more importantly, who is this Elliot character?
She takes a moment to glower at me. “Unlike you, I’m off to make sure the townspeople are having a good time.” And boy, am I ever about to have a good time.
She zips into the crowd, and I’ve lost her in the tangle of bodies that has congregated out on the sand.
“How do you like that?” I whisper as I give Cookie a quick scratch on the head. “I think Mackenzie Woods might just be two-timing my brother. I always knew they’d be a flash in the pan, but I had no idea this is how it would go down. Poor Hux.”
Little Cookie mewls, Do you think she’ll kill him?
“No, no.” I give her a kiss on her furry little forehead. “Not every human has a tendency to commit murder.”
“I’m going to kill you,” a female voice declares from behind, and I turn to find Macy chasing Georgie in my direction. Macy looks cozy in a winter white cable knit sweater over jeans. Admiring my sister’s wardrobe has long since been a pastime of mine, but her autumn wardrobe in particular has made me crave a shopping spree or two. And, of course, Georgie is wearing a bright orange kaftan with a matching wonky quilt cinched around her neck.
“And I stand corrected,” I mutter to the tiny tots nestled against my chest. “What’s happening?” I ask just as Georgie grabs ahold of me and uses my body as a shield.
Macy charges forward as Georgie moans directly into my ear.
“Quick, Bizzy, give me a kitten,” Georgie says while scooping Pumpkin right out of my papoose while all three kittens yowl for help. “You wouldn’t attack a woman holding a kitten, would you, Macy?”
My sister sheds a growl. “Only if I could attack the kitten first.”
And on that note, Pumpkin does her best to scramble out of Georgie’s hands.
I give up! Pumpkin screeches. Oh, put me back in the alley where I’ll have to hunt live rats for my meals. Humans are far too brutal for me to handle.
I make a face. Fish may have told them the horror stories of what might have happened if Sherlock didn’t discover them, and oddly, they rather liked the idea of hunting for rats. I can’t blame them. They’re hardwired to give chase to a rat now and again.
Macy lunges our way and I hold a hand out, separating Macy from the wonky quilt that looks as if it can land a 747.
“What’s going on, Macy?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know.
Cookie stands up straight as she lands her front paws over the edge of the papoose.
Macy? Cookie chirps. Oh, Pumpkin, you’re in so much trouble. Fish told us just last night that Macy makes a meal out of men. If she eats men, you can bet she’ll eat a kitten as an appetizer.
Pumpkin belts out a roar worthy of a lion, and I snatch her back from Georgie and tuck her into the carrier once again.
“Now”—I look to the warring women before me—“do I need to call the sheriff’s department to mediate, or should I cut out the middle man and call the men with the big nets?”
“Funny.” Macy gives Georgie a sour look. “I just had three men—two of which were missing teeth, one of which had two black eyes—come up to me and ask if my screen name at the Dating Not Waiting website was Macy-gives-chasey. And do you know what I discovered?”
I lean in. “That you’d rather wait and never date again?”
She inches back, looking affronted at the thought. “You really don’t know me, do you, Bizzy?”
I motion for her to get on with it. “What did you learn?”
“That this one”—she jabs a finger at Georgie and nearly pokes her eye out from over my shoulder—“created a profile at some app for seniors, and apparently men who swear I was very, very interested in them are coming out of the woodwork. And it’s all your fault, Georgie!”
Georgie tosses her hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know they all liked country music?”
“Because that was on your list of favorite music!” Macy riots over at her.
“Ignore the men, Macy,” I tell her. “You have men hitting on you on a daily basis. Georgie, please don’t use Macy’s picture as your avatar anymore.”
“Fine.” Georgie pulls her phone out and snaps a picture of me.
“Hey!” I shout as I try to snatch the phone from her, but she holds it out of my grasp.
Macy gives a husky laugh. “It doesn’t feel so good now that the profile is on the other face, does it, Bizzy?”
“No, it doesn’t,” I say as I inadvertently give the kittens a jostle as I try to snatch the phone again to no avail. “Speaking of men, Macy, how are things g
oing between you and Flint?”
Pumpkin sniffs in Macy’s direction. What happened to Hunter? She didn’t eat him, did she?
Cookie mewls, Of course, she did. He was nice and kind. I bet she had him for dessert.
Macy swings her hips. “Flint and I just so happen to be going out later this evening. He’s taking me out on a mystery date that he promised would be out of this world.”
“And there you go,” Georgie grunts. “See there, kids?” She leans toward the kittens as she says it. “Auntie Macy gets to have all the fun with the men. Ask me how many men have proposed to take me out on a mystery date? Exactly goose egg.” She holds her hand up in the shape of an O. “Teach me your ways, Macy. Now that I’m rolling in dough, I’m willing to ante up to become your pupil. I’ll cut my hair, dye it blonde, and get a whole new leather wardrobe just to do whatever it takes to land a man like the one you’ve got.”
I snort at the thought. “The one she’s got just might be a killer. Macy, what do you know about this guy? He’s a councilman, so what? He was two-timing Ember with you. That shows he has a terrible moral compass.”
Macy tosses her head back. “I never asked for monogamy.”
My mouth falls open. “Macy, you’re going to lose him how you got him.”
She gives a hard blink. “What part of I hate monogamy don’t you understand? I’ll probably be the one to introduce him to his next Mrs. Right Now.”
Georgie raises her hand. “I volunteer as dating tribute!”
Now it’s me groaning. “Macy, have you ever heard him mention a woman by the name of Laurel Crabtree?”
“No.” Her lids hood a notch. “I don’t know how you and Jasper like to spend your alone time, but we don’t mention other men or women.”
Georgie shakes her head my way. “Who knew Bizzy would turn out to be the kinkier of the Baker sisters?”
“Oh hush,” I say. “Macy, I’m serious. Has he ever mentioned Ember?”
A Frightening Fangs-giving Page 11