Sherlock groans, That sounded morbid. Whatever it was, it was something big, Bizzy. Big, I tell you.
I give a slight nod. “It sounds as if you’re not ready to go there. I hope you can find some peace with whatever it was.”
Her eyes glint with tears for the very first time, and I do believe they are all for her. I haven’t seen her shed a single tear for Shelby yet.
“I hope so, too,” she whispers.
I try my hardest to tune into her thoughts, but there’s nothing but arid space—something akin to a vegetative state. Whatever has her riled up, it’s almost as if it has the power to put her into a trance.
“Chelsea, who do you think did this?” Did you do it? I ask the silent question as her eyes meet with mine.
“I don’t know. If it wasn’t Nessa, maybe—maybe it was Carter.” She shrugs as if it were wholly probable.
“Carter?”
“Carter O’Riley.” She nods. “He runs that matchmaking service for men.”
“Oh, that’s right. The dark-haired man. Her ex. He was there that night. In fact, he said something to upset her.” I try my hardest to reflect on him. Wait a minute. He was begging for her to give him a moment of her time—internally at least. A thought comes to me. “Shelby said something to the effect that he could thank her for the best career move he’s made. I think she said something about him cheating on her.” I bring my fingers to my mouth as I realize that she said that last tidbit to herself.
“He did cheat on her—with Ginger. Which was terrible because the four of us were close for a long time. We did everything together, racket ball, sailing, safety courses at the shooting range, cooking classes, yoga.”
“Four of you?”
“Shelby, Ginger, Nessa, and me.” She shrugs into the crowd. “Anyway, Shel and Carter were a train wreck from the beginning. And then she found Luke.” She makes a face. Not that he was any better.
“Carter O’Riley,” I say again, trying my best to remember every detail I might already know about him. “Why would you think Carter had anything to do with this?”
“Please. He was obsessed with Shelby. Everyone knows that. And Shelby still very much had a thing for him. I think if her anger ever had the chance to subside, she’d have gotten back together with him.”
“But she had a new boyfriend.”
Chelsea shakes her head. “Luke blew it. She was ten times as angry with him as she ever was Carter. And whatever set her off, she just found out about it, too. She said she would give me all the gory details later that night—but later that night—Shelby came to an end.”
An owl hoots in the distance and a chill runs down to my bones.
“I’d better get going.” She offers a forlorn smile. “Tell Nessa I said hello.”
God knows I won’t be seeing Nessa again anytime soon. I think I’ll steer clear of a lot of people until the smoke clears. Not that it ever clears with Shelby. Nope. I’ll be living with this nightmare for the rest of my life.
She takes off and I’m left in her wake trying to make sense of the jagged pieces she just laid at my feet.
Shelby’s ex-boyfriend, Carter, was obsessed with her. He wanted her back. Her current boyfriend, Luke, had done something very bad—and Shelby had just found out about it that night. Scout—well, she was humiliated. And Chelsea? She was sworn to secrecy. She said if she told the truth, people would think she were trying to save face and that she would be ruining Shelby’s reputation at the very same time. And, of course, there’s Nessa. Poor Nessa. I wish she never knew them.
I shake my head at it all just as Sherlock jerks the leash in my hand.
He’s here, Bizzy! He’s here! I can smell him. He smells like pine trees and toothpaste!
“Who’s here?” A laugh bubbles from me. I struggle to keep up as Sherlock navigates us through the crowd and straight over toward the haunted hayrides.
No sooner do we get to the front of the line than I see a certain drop-dead gorgeous homicide detective helping someone down from the tractor trailer stacked with bales of hay.
Forever a prince.
A giggle gets trapped in my throat as I speed his way.
I give a wild wave as I try to garner his attention and Sherlock barks and jumps as if doing the same.
Jasper looks this way, his gray eyes flashing in the night like stars before he does a double take. Only he’s not smiling like a loon the way I am.
And then the bigger picture comes in clear as the woman he’s helping down looks my way as well.
Sherlock leads me right into their midst and my feet follow along like a couple of traitors.
“Well, if it isn’t Bizzy Barker.” Camila offers a bemused smile.
It’s the kind of smile that says I’ve bested you. I’ve won. You are the butt of the joke and we’ve already laughed because of it.
It’s the kind of smile that makes my stomach sour, makes me want to turn and run away. The exact kind of smile that both boils my blood and makes me want to cry.
Jasper steps over in haste, and Sherlock goes wild until he’s happily jumping on his owner. But Jasper hardly offers him a quick pat.
“Bizzy, it’s not what it looks like.”
I blink back with surprise. “It’s exactly what it looks like.” I force myself to manufacture a tight smile, but it comes out more of a grimace. “You were having a good time with a friend.” It took everything in me to push those words out. “I’ll see you both at the inn.” I take off so fast, poor Sherlock has to run to keep up with me.
I find Emmie and spill everything in spastic half-sentences on the way to the car.
Emmie doesn’t say I told you so.
She thinks it.
Chapter 7
I couldn’t sleep all night.
Jasper came straight to my door once he got back to the inn, but I kept the lights off and stayed under the covers pretending to be fast asleep. Of course, he called and texted, but I shut my phone off as soon as I saw him and Camila together getting off of the haunted hayride. If it wasn’t apparent before that Camila wants to hit the hay with him, it is now.
As much as I want to be incensed, livid, fit to kill—I’m mostly emotionally wounded from the entire experience. I’ve never been big on either humiliation or rejection, and whether or not he meant to do it, Jasper Wilder doled out a huge helping of both.
The Cottage Café is bustling with tourists and townspeople alike this morning. And each and every one of them is clamoring to order the pumpkin spice mini muffins by the dozens. Not that I could blame them. Emmie and I worked hard to get that special spark in the recipe. She mixed and baked, and I stayed at the far end of the kitchen encouraging her lest I cast an inadvertent pox on the batch at hand. I would give anything if I could bake like Emmie. Baking was my singular obsession for as long as I could remember, and yet I’ve only managed to char or undercook anything I dared to put into an oven. And sometimes when I’m really good, I can do both.
My sweet cat, Fish, sits at the base of the counter as if standing guard over the seaside café. Sherlock Bones stayed out by the front desk with Peanut and Nessa. Those cute pooches put a smile on everyone’s face that sees them. And I’d swear on my life that they’re drumming up more business as well.
Georgie alert. Fish runs right over to the walking, talking human kaftan and Georgie is quick to scoop her up into her arms.
“What can I get for you, Georgie?” A weak smile floats to my lips, something I probably couldn’t have achieved for anyone other than my sweet yet zany friend.
Georgie’s hair is frazzled, her lips are painted a deep shade of pumpkin, and with that long purple and black dress on, she looks as if she’s getting into the spirit of the haunted season.
“Have you ever seen so many people?” she practically mouths the words as she gawks at the crowded café.
“Never,” I say, reaching over to pet Fish. “And I think it has every bit as much to do with the animals than it has to do with those pumpkin spi
ce magic muffins we’re selling out of.”
Fish arches her back and purrs at the thought. I am a showstopper, Bizzy. The dogs aren’t so bad themselves.
Georgie shakes her head as if she heard the tiny cat. “It’s not the pets—and it’s not any dark magic you might be brewing in the kitchen.” She leans in, her eyes expanding wide. “It’s the murder.”
“What?” I squawk without meaning to as I give a nervous glance to the crowd. As the manager of the Country Cottage Inn, it’s my job to make sure this place is looked at in a positive light, and murder isn’t anywhere near the list of things I’d like for this establishment to be known for.
I glance to the stormy looking ocean just beyond the beach out front. Most people who stay at the inn love to buy a cup of hot cider and walk the sandy bay just outside the café. They come for the cozy cottages, the cobbled old-world feel that the grounds offer, the ivy covered walls, the people, the pets—but murder? “I’m sorry. I just can’t wrap my head around it.”
“You don’t have to.” Georgie waves me off. “I’ve heard whispers all up and down Main Street. Now that I’m working on that mural for the city, I’m in the know with all the good and deadly gossip.” Her eyes narrow in on mine. “Speaking of which, a little birdie named Emmie told me you found a certain detective cavorting with a certain ex-girlfriend. I say we shank her, Bizzy. I’ll get her in a dark corner and you come at her with a broken bottle!”
“No, thank you. Trust me, Georgie. She’s not worth prison.” I shoot a look to the corner of the café where Camila sits diligently clacking away at her laptop. I have no idea what she’s doing or why she isn’t at the high school out in Sheffield where she’s supposedly a counselor. I’m beginning to think everything about her is a fraud and the only genuine thing is the fact she wants to steal Jasper. Although, I guess she didn’t have to steal. I’m guessing he went on that haunted hayride willingly. Who knew the only one that would be frightened last night would be me? And I wasn’t even on the darn ride.
“It’s true. Jasper and I are over,” I say it lower than a whisper, but Camila lifts a brow in this direction anyway.
Figures. She’s had her antennae up the entire time. I bet she called in sick today just to hear me say those words. She’s working overtime, all right—to ruin my life.
I haven’t dared to pry into her thoughts. The only time I’m bombarded with unwanted mental musings is when I’m about to pop with stress. And believe you me, with another homicide, an ex-girlfriend, and a mind reading deputy underfoot, I’m just about there.
“What? You and Jasper, over? Just like that?” Georgie looks enraged by the thought. “You can’t just give up. You fight for your man, Bizzy Baker. That woman doesn’t have a ring on her finger. And you don’t stop until you get one.”
I catch a quick glimpse of Camila rolling her eyes and I’m tempted to do the same.
“Besides”—Georgie all but pushes Fish into her chest—“tonight’s the art show out in Seaview. I’m going and so is Macy, and both your mother and your father. Do you want to be the only Baker left out of the equation?”
I make a face. “You forgot my brother. Hux isn’t going either.”
“Okay, do you want to be the only important family member of your family who isn’t present?”
A laugh percolates right out of me just as a dark-haired deputy strolls on in.
“Not this again,” I mutter as he steps up to the counter. “Leo.” I nod over to him. “You remember Georgie.”
Georgie waves me off. “Leo and I have become fast friends. He caught me behind my cottage hammering away at a bag of glass bottles and tried to wrestle me to the ground.”
Leo grimaces. He’s comely, some might say handsome, but I’m not getting suckered into that again. Besides, my compass is still firmly set in a Wilder direction—perhaps unwisely so.
Leo nods to her. “And I want to apologize again, Georgie. By the way, I drove past Main Street and I can see the vision you have for the mural. I can’t wait to see the finished product.”
“Oh, you will, you sly handsome dude. You will.” She gives a flirtatious wink. “Anytime you’re up for another wrestling match, let me know, big boy.” She looks my way. “You’ll be at the art show tonight, Bizzy, because I said so. It’s at seven. We can’t be late. And yes, Detective Baker, that means you’re my ride. You know my night vision is atrocious. I can’t tell the difference between a skunk and oncoming traffic and, believe me, I’ve run across that test one too many times. I’ll see you later.”
I come around the counter and take Fish from her as she takes off.
“Follow me,” I say to Leo as we find a seat near the window.
His lips curl and his dark eyes widen a notch as if he were finally getting what he wanted.
“You said we were transmundane.” I tip my head to the side.
Fish squirms as she struggles to get a better look at him. How can you trust those eyes, Bizzy? It’s clear he’s trying to bewitch you.
Deputy Granger belts out a laugh before reaching over and touching her ear.
“I’m not bewitching anyone.” He nods to me. “And we’re not witches.” He sighs over at Fish. “I’m just like Bizzy. I can hear you. And I think you’re sweet and special. Not all cats are as friendly as you are.”
Fish purrs on cue. Ooh, I like him, Bizzy. Give him an extra piece of bacon, too.
I make a face as I look to Leo. “That’s her way of likening you to a dog. Now extrapolate on that transmundane thing, would you?”
Camila turns around and does a double take in our direction.
Leo follows my gaze and gives a long blink.
“Don’t worry about her,” he says. “And if you’re wondering—the reason I ended it with her was because she thought of Jasper more than she did me.” He leans forward and folds his hands together. “I guess that’s when this gift turns into a curse. It has a way of interfering with every relationship I’ve ever had.”
“Well, if the rumors are true, you took her on even though she was with your best friend. That’s no man’s land as far as unwritten rules go.”
He gives a wry smile. “I’ve always learned my lessons the hard way. I’m not saying it’s my best feature. It turns out, I threw away a lifelong friendship for nothing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you and Jasper can work things out in the future?”
He shrugs “Onto bigger issues at hand. Does anyone in your family have the same ability as you?”
“No. Mayor Woods and I were friends in middle school right up until she pushed me into a whiskey barrel and tried to drown me. Three things happened that day—I became fiercely afraid of both water and confined spaces, I removed Mack Woods from my friend list, and I have been prying into other people’s minds without meaning to ever since.”
“An accident.” He nods. “It’s happened before according to my aunt. But be warned, should you have children they might inherit your ability regardless of the fact. They think it’s some sort of sixth sense inside all of us, but for whatever reason, it flourishes in very few. And you, Bizzy Baker, are among the elite.”
“The transmundane elite.” I nod as I try to take this in. “So, this is some kind of a superpower?”
Fish taps her paw to my chest. I knew you were special, Bizzy. We need to have Georgie fashion a cape for you out of one of her dresses. The pink one with all the gold sparkles! You’ll be Captain Bizzy, and I’ll be your perceptive, yet adorable sidekick.
A small giggle bounces through me. “You are both perceptive and adorable. No cape for me,” I say, landing a quick kiss to Fish’s little pink nose.
Leo tips his head. “I don’t know. Fish might be onto something. I think both you and I can use our powers for good. But before we go there, I want you to know a little bit more of what these powers mean. Yes, we’re transmundane, but we’re further classified as telesensuals, or telepaths. Plainly stated, people who can read the thoughts of others.”
“I do.” He leans in just as a hand falls over his shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?” a deep voice strums and we both look up to find Jasper looking like a deity with diamond eyes, and I can’t help but smile—albeit short-lived.
Leo makes a face at me because obviously he doesn’t agree with my description.
Fish chortles to herself. He looks good and jealous, Bizzy. I think you have him where you want him. Good move. Leo, why don’t we check on those ornery dogs and make sure they haven’t chewed the furniture to matchsticks? It might be a dog’s life, but around here a cat’s duty is never done.
She bounces out of my arms and onto the floor and Leo nods to both Jasper and me as he follows Fish right back into the main hall of the inn.
“Bizzy.” Jasper falls into the seat, his eyes glued to mine. He’s so stunningly handsome my stomach squeezes tightly at the sight of him. Never mind the fact my lips are suddenly having a serious craving for one of his lingering kisses. “I promise you. It’s not what it looked like.” His brows are furrowed and he looks ten times more vexingly handsome now that he’s distressed than he ever has before. So not fair.
I glance over and catch a glimpse of Camila frowning in this direction.
“You’d better hurry with your excuses. Your girlfriend looks as if she’s getting miffed.”
His cheek lifts, no smile. “Would you believe my mother was involved in that mess yesterday?”
My mouth opens for a moment. “Why, yes, I would.” It’s no secret Gwyneth is rooting for Camila to win over Jasper’s heart.
“Good. Because she asked me to meet her at the fair when I got off work. It seemed innocent enough. She invited me to dinner. We had bratwurst.” His brows lift as if the bratwurst were just as much to blame as his mother. “Camila showed up out of the blue, said a quick hello, and took off to stand in line for the hayride. A few minutes later, my mother discovered Camila left her phone on the table—yet suddenly had an emergency.”
Dog Days of Murder (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 2) Page 8