A KILLER TAIL

COUNTRY COTTAGE MYSTERIES 7

ADDISON MOORE

BELLAMY BLOOM

CONTENTS

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Book Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Recipe Country Cottage Café

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Acknowledgments

About the Authors

Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom

This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

All Rights Reserved.

This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom

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BOOK DESCRIPTION

The Country Cottage Inn is known for its hospitality. Leaving can be murder.

My name is Bizzy Baker, and I can read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but most of the time, and believe me when I say, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

The local bookshop in Cider Cove is hosting a murder mystery party and everyone in attendance is having a killer good time—right up until a body turns up. It doesn’t help that I just announced that I was the perpetrator. It doesn’t help that the entire town thinks I just might be the killer. I have to clear my good name, and most importantly, I need to track down the real killer before another homicide takes place, namely mine.

Bizzy Baker runs the Country Cottage Inn, has the ability to pry into the darkest recesses of both the human and animal mind, and has just stumbled upon a body. With the help of her kitten, Fish, a mutt named Sherlock Bones, and an ornery yet dangerously good-looking homicide detective, Bizzy is determined to find the killer.

Cider Cove, Maine is the premier destination for fun and relaxation. But when a body turns up, it’s the premier destination for murder.

CHAPTER 1

M y name is Bizzy Baker, and I read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but it happens, and believe me when I say, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Like now for instance.

Look at this tall drink of water. My mother shakes her head, her eyes thirsty for more of what she sees. I might just have to slip him my number later.

Ugh. There are some people’s minds I wish I never had to tune into, and my mother just so happens to be at the top of the list. It’s not always a gift to inadvertently pry into other people’s private musings, especially the lusty, private musings of the woman who gave birth to me.

“Wyatt Sanders.” The tall drink of water in question holds out a hand, and I quickly shake it as the chunky ring on his forefinger gives me a slight pinch. I glance down and note it looks like a class ring, a thick gold band with a black stone with some sort of silver etching over it. “I’m the owner here.” He grins proudly. “Welcome to Killer Books, where every novel is murderously good.” His dark hair frames his friendly face, and those ocean blue eyes of his look as if they’re penetrating your soul. There’s something about him that makes you believe he’s genuinely interested in you, and according to that look on my mother’s face, she’s taking his interest in her to a whole other level.

“Bizzy Baker,” I say in an effort to break the spell he’s inadvertently casting on my mother. “I manage the Country Cottage Inn at the end of the road just above the cove. This is my mother, Ree Baker.” I frown her way, hoping she’ll pick up on my disapproving cues.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she coos right at him. “I just love a classic whodunit.” She laughs as if it were the punch line to a joke, and I can’t help but note she’s blushing. My mother is as strong as she is svelte. Her feathered hair is a throwback from the eighties and so is that popped-collar preppy look she loves to perpetuate. But that’s one hundred percent her style, and to me it’s sort of iconic, just the way she is. My mother had to raise my sister, brother, and me pretty much on her own. Our father was far too busy chasing skirts, although he was still vaguely on the sidelines of our lives. He’s a great guy nonetheless, sort of a man-child, the quintessential boy who never grew up, so in that vein my mother had to be the firm and strong one for her restless brood.

“A classic whodunit?” Wyatt leans toward my mother an inch too close. “Upstairs, make a right, second bookshelf over, you’ll find my favorite section. Some say Miss Marple is Agatha Christie’s best work, but I’m a fan of Hercule Poirot.”

“Ohh,” Mom moans as if that was some flirtation come-on he just doled out, and since stranger things have happened, I’m not entirely discounting it. “I’m a Hercule Poirot fan myself. I’d better go check them out.”

His smile widens. “There’s a glass case in the middle of the room that contains a first print run of The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Her finest work if you ask me. Holler if you need any help at all.”

“Listen for the sound of my voice.” Mom winks before traipsing up the stairs, and I stave off the urge to vomit. Watching my mother work it on a Friday night isn’t what I call an excellent start to the weekend.

Wyatt gives a wistful shake of the head. Now that’s one lady with a nice rack of—

“Books!” The word jolts out of me. I can’t demonize the man for having thoughts, but I can sure do my best to intercept them, especially when my mother’s books are in the bounds.

His brows pinch as he looks back my way. “Yes, books.”

“Do you really have a first print run of an Agatha Christie novel? That must be worth a ton of money.”

“Maybe not a ton of money but a significant amount. My grandfather left it to me in his will. We shared a love of great mysteries. And I just don’t have it in my heart to sell it. I’m hoping to pass it down to my own grandchildren one day as well.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, taking a quick glance at the place. Killer Books is a shop that specializes in mysteries, and I’m sure all of them are great.

The walls and ceiling are painted a flat black with tiny sparkles adhered to the ceiling that make you feel as if you’ve just stepped into a portal that leads to a strange, perhaps alternate, universe. There is a myriad of tables set around the periphery of the room, and each of them has a neat display of the latest mystery offerings as well as a handful of classics. There’s a refreshment table to the right where a couple of coffee urns expel their luscious aromas and, of course, the sweet treats provided by the Country Cottage Café.

Tonight, we’re here to shine the spotlight on Killer Books’ one-year anniversary in Cider Cove. And to celebrate the fact, they’ve called in the entire town and are hosting a murder mystery party right here in the bookshop.

I turn back to Wyatt. “So are you ready for this evening?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” He chuckles. “I see you inspecting the ceiling. Those are rhinestones. My girlfriend and I spent hours adhering them to the walls and ceiling ourselves. I was hoping to mentally transport readers to another galaxy—a better one. This is a rough world, and it’s only getting rougher out there. Books have always been my go-to escape, and I’m sure for many people they are as well.”

My sister, Macy, pops up and rests her chin on my shoulder a moment as she looks to Wyatt with a notable sigh. Macy is older than me by a year and we share the same icy blue eyes and dark hair, but I wear mine long and wavy and she’s opted to wear hers in a shoulder-length bob and has dyed it a creamy shade of blonde.

“I see you’ve met my sister.” She gives a lock of my hair a quick tug. “She’s the one that brought the dessert.”

Macy owns the candle and soap shop next door, Lather and Light, and she’s become friends with Wyatt over the last year. She’s also the one who volunteered the Country Cottage Café to provide the sweet treats for the evening. Not that I mind. It’s something we do often for local events.

His eyes widen as he examines me in a whole new light. “You brought the bite-size lemon tarts? I’ve already had three. They’re amazing. How much do I owe you for them?”

“No, it’s fine,” I’m quick to tell him. “It’s on me. It’s your one-year anniversary in Cider Cove. I’d love to gift them to you.”

Macy gives my shoulder a squeeze. “That’s my sister. They don’t call her Benevolent Bizzy for nothing.”

I’m about to tell him that nobody calls me Benevolent Bizzy just as a gorgeous golden retriever strides over, and I’m the first to offer him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Meet Gatsby.” Wyatt gives the glorious beast a pat to his side. “He’s the store’s number one employee.”

The sweet brown-eyed angel gives a slight vocalizing bark. That I am. And I sell the most books, too.

A laugh strums through me. I can hear the animal mind as well, and I know for a fact they have just as interesting, if not better, thoughts than humans.

Macy purrs like a kitten. “Hey there, you sexy beast.” She gives his back a quick scratch. “I know he’s a chick magnet. You leave him out front and the women just flock to him. I’ve seen it play out almost every day.”

Wyatt laughs. “And then they flock right into my store. You’re onto me, Macy.”

A thick crowd strides in and Wyatt cranes his neck that way. “I should go. I’ve got a few local authors finishing up a book signing in the back and I’d better herd their fans in that direction. In about a half an hour we’ll start the party. You ladies ready to do a little murderous acting?”

Macy balks, “Are you kidding? Bizzy here is a regular serial killer. There won’t be any acting involved on her part.”

“Funny,” I say as Wyatt takes off to direct his customers to the back. “And would you keep it down? The last thing I want is my name attached to the words serial killer.”

The door to the shop opens up and a heated breeze filters in. It’s the beginning of a searing hot June and our part of coastal Maine is really feeling the heat.

I glance that way just as two older women in hot pink kaftans bound over.

“Did we miss it?” Georgie Conner is a woman in her eighties who lives in one of the many cottages at the inn. She has a gray wild mane of hair that shags out past her shoulders, her blue-gray eyes still have that mischievous sparkle to them, and she just so happens to be an artist who specializes in mosaics made from sea glass.

She was one of my father’s many mothers-in-law, but her daughter and my father split ways long ago. I like to tease that I got Georgie in the divorce. My father is sort of addicted to the idea of matrimony, and truthfully, I’ve lost track of how many wives he’s actually had. He’s currently dating my fiancé’s mother, which is weird and wild all in itself. But Georgie is family now, and even though her daughter decided to sneak back into the picture after an absence of nearly a half a decade, I’m still laying claim to her. No matter how kooky she is, Georgie just so happens to be one of my favorite people.

“Did we miss it? Did you already hack your next victim to pieces?” Juniper Moonbeam, Georgie’s daughter and one of my father’s infamous exes, stands before me with her freshly dyed blonde hair swept up into a messy bun.

Juni, as she’s known to the rest of us, is a younger version of Georgie, with a little more hippie flare and a penchant for getting into trouble. She just finished up a stint in a women’s correctional facility up north for unpaid parking tickets and bribery charges. And since then, she’s taken to living with her new boyfriend, Spike, who happens to be the bouncer at quite a few places, one of them being the pawn shop where she picked him up.

“No, you didn’t miss it.” I give a quick look to the crowd. “We haven’t started yet. And I doubt I’ll get to play the part of the killer.”

Georgie belts out a dark laugh. “You’re always the killer, Bizzy. Believe me, the entire town has been warned to stay on your good side.”

Juni nods. “Mom’s told me all about the bodies you’ve stumbled upon.” She says the word bodies in air quotes. “And you’re not just pretty good at the slaughtering gig. You’re pretty good at framing people, too.”

Georgie snaps her fingers. “That’s her specialty.”

I take a deep breath as I look to the two of them. “I try my best.”

Before we can extrapolate on my merits as a killer, the door whooshes open and in strides my own tall drink of water—black hair, silver-blue-gray eyes, and a body that’s put together in all the right ways—my fiancé, homicide detective Jasper Wilder.

“Am I interrupting something?” he says as he lands his arms around my waist and dots a kiss to my lips.

Georgie gives a playful roar. “No, but it looks like we sure are. I’d say get a room, but you might have more fun in the stacks.”

Jasper waggles his brows my way. I say we test her theory.

Just a couple of months ago, I let Jasper in on my secret. Only a few other people know about my strange ability to read minds—Georgie and Jasper’s old best friend, Deputy Leo Granger—and a few of my new friends in Honey Hollow.

Come to find out, I’m actually something called transmundane, further classified as telesensual. I didn’t know any of this until Leo filled me in on it. Georgie outed my ability to Leo’s aunt last fall and he quickly tracked me down.

Juni leans in. “When are the two of you getting married again? Spike and I are planning our next cruise and I don’t want to miss the show.”

I’m not sure if I like my wedding referenced as a show, but I have a feeling she might be onto something.

“September,” I offer. “End of the month.”

“Perfect.” Juni slaps her hands together. “That gives us plenty of time to put together a humdinger of a bachelorette party for you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” I’m quick to protest. But it’s too late. The two of them are off and scheming and I’ve already heard the words Vegas, strip club, and minor felony. “It’s not happening,” I assure Jasper.

“Let it happen.” He shrugs as he lands another kiss to my lips. “At the end of the day we’re happening. And we’re unstoppable.” His lips twitch. “Maybe nix the male strippers, though.”

“What’s this?” a female voice trills from behind and we turn to find Mackenzie Woods, a girl I’ve grown up with, the very same girl I can pin this rather strange mind reading malady that’s overtaken my life. When we were teenagers, Mack pushed me into a whiskey barrel filled with water and a few stray apples during a Halloween party, and after that, I happened to hear voices that weren’t coming directly out of people’s mouths. Then in high school she proceeded to steal all of my boyfriends, and that’s when I finally cut ties with her. “Sounds like a spicy conversation.” Mack gives a little wink.

She’s wearing her shoulder-length dark hair in a French knot, and she’s donned one of her many power suits. This one is in her favorite color, dragon’s blood red. Mack is beautiful in a cutthroat way, and ironically, she specializes in proverbially cutting an artery or two.

“Mayor Woods.” I lift my chin her way. It’s true. Much like her father and her grandfather before that, she’s procured the coveted spot as mayor in our cozy little town. “This is a private, spicy conversation. What are you doing at the bookshop? Let me guess, you’re volunteering as the victim?” That might change my stance on not wanting to be the killer.

Just as she opens her mouth to answer, my best friend in the whole world, Emmie Crosby, pops up with the current man she has her eye on, Deputy Leo Granger.

“Bizzy!” Emmie pulls me into a quick embrace. She holds the faint scent of cinnamon from working in the kitchen of the Country Cottage Café and she’s still wearing the same T-shirt and jeans she had on this morning. Emmie and I have been close friends since preschool. We share the same long dark hair and same frosty blue eyes. We even share the same first name, Elizabeth. But for sanity’s sake, we’ve opted to go through life by our nicknames instead. “Did we miss the part where you run around slaughtering people?”

I take a moment to glower at her, and she quickly laughs it off.

“So I’m not the only one who said it, huh?” Emmie bites down over her bottom lip to keep from cackling to death.

“Don’t worry.” Leo gives a slight wink. “I won’t be making any arrests tonight.” He gives Emmie the side-eye. “That is, unless someone deliberately misbehaves.”

Mackenzie retches. “Gag. Excuse me while I go sharpen a carving knife. It’s nice to know I’ll get a free pass tonight.” A dark smile expands as she looks to Leo and Emmie. “I’m thinking a double homicide might shake things up a bit.”

Mackenzie used to date Leo. She was head over heels and he unceremoniously dumped her once the lusty scales fell from his eyes. And then, just as quickly, he fell under the lusty spell of my bestie. But so help him if he unceremoniously dumps Emmie that way. If he thinks Mackenzie’s wrath has been unbearable, he won’t want to try me. That might just put me in the mood to try out my newly minted status as a killer.

Duly noted. He nods my way.

It’s so easy to forget Leo can tap into my private musings. But I’ll admit, it’s comforting having someone else like me around. Last month, a woman who shares our transmundane status visited us from Honey Hollow. Unlike Leo and me, Lottie Lemon’s supernatural talent is to see the dead. I don’t think I’d trade my ability for hers any day of the week. But Lottie seemed to be okay with her ghostly quirk. I guess she’d have to be since there’s no way to turn these extracurricular powers off.

Lottie and I grew to be great fast friends. In fact, Jasper and I are already planning on visiting Lottie and her friends in Vermont sometime this summer.

The lights in the room go out and it’s pitch-black inside as a series of oohs circle the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep voice vibrates over the speakers. “Danger lingers in the air. A game is ready to be played. One unfortunate soul in this room will not get out alive. Murder is nigh. It is time for this deadly party to begin.”

And just like that, the lights snap back on like a punishment.

CHAPTER 2

I ’ve always loved a good mystery.

I’ve certainly always loved a good bookstore. And yet, something about being immersed in both at the moment gives me the distinct feeling of foreboding.

Jasper and I take in the crowd milling around inside of Killer Books as we await the instructions for the murder mystery about to take place.

“Are you getting a bad feeling about this?” he whispers.

I nod in lieu of a response. “I take it you are, too. Why do you think that is?”

“Most likely because we’re both natural born investigators and we know a murder is on the horizon.”

I bite down on a playful smile. “You just called me a natural born investigator.”

“That’s better than a natural born killer, don’t you think?”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “I think I’m going to check out the room. At least that way I’ll have a false sense of security that we’re safe.”

I’m about to swat him for insinuating we’re in any danger, but Jasper’s off and running, utilizing those gray peepers of his to spy out any potential killers.

Wyatt Sanders heads my way with a man and a woman flanking him on either side.

“Audience or actor?” he asks with a smile. It’s only then I note he’s holding a black top hat in his hands, and inside of it I can see several neatly folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, um, actor,” I say. “What’s the fun of a murder mystery if you can’t participate, right?”

Wyatt offers a quiet laugh. “You’re a good sport, Bizzy. I like that. In fact, I’d like to introduce you to the manager here at Killer Books, Thomas Dean. Thomas, this is Bizzy Baker. She runs the Country Cottage Inn.” He ticks his head toward the tall man currently slouching with a humble smile, an elongated forehead, and a receding hairline. He doesn’t look that much older than me, somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties, I’d guess. We exchange polite hellos and Wyatt continues. “If you have any questions while the mystery is playing out, Thomas is considered home base. We ask that you don’t acknowledge the audience. It tends to break the spell.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that.” I smile over at Thomas. “If I have any questions, I’ll be sure to hunt you down.”

Wyatt shakes his head. “You won’t have to. Thomas will be next to the register the entire time, so you’ll know exactly where to find him.”

Thomas lifts his hand as if he were taking an oath. “Yes, sir. I’m not leaving my post.” Nope. I’ll be watching it all unfold right before my eyes. Sort of a fantasy come true.

Fantasy come true? I narrow my eyes over at him, trying to decipher what he could have meant.

“And this is Molly.” Wyatt nods to the short brunette with blunt bangs that frame her pretty green eyes and eager smile. She’s dressed in a pencil skirt and a black leather bustier—of which her ample bosom is spilling out of—and her lips are painted a bright shade of strawberry. “My girlfriend.”

Her lips part as she shoots him a curt look. Took you long enough to get the words out, buddy. Why do I get the feeling he didn’t want to say them? Knew it. He’s thinking of dumping me. I should have known it was over when he stopped falling asleep to the sound of my voice over the phone. How I miss staying up, just listening to him breathe. Now I’m lucky to get a text or two these days. It looks like I’m going to have to teach him a lesson. I’ll be sure to make it memorable this time.

I blink back. “It’s so nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out, and she shakes it.

I’ve seen people get worked up, and I find it’s best to derail their thoughts before they start ringing the bell on that crazy train they’re riding.

“Nice to meet you, too.” She makes a face my way. Is she looking at Wyatt? I bet she’s interested. I’ll have to keep an eye on this one. I can tell she’s—

“Engaged,” I say without pause. “In fact, I just got engaged.” I flash my dazzling ring her way. It’s an emerald cut diamond encrusted with smaller stones that drip over the band on either side. “I’m sorry. As soon as my fiancé popped the question, I haven’t been able to stop telling people about it. I guess you can say I’m super psyched to make it official.”

“Oh.” Molly looks momentarily confused. “Well, I’m really happy for you.” She turns her attention to Wyatt once again, and this time she doesn’t bother to hide her disappointment in him. “I suppose my ring is coming soon, huh?” Like he’s ever going to propose. I’ll end it with him before he has a chance to throw me away. Nobody treats me like garbage.

Thomas frowns her way. Dear God, why does Wyatt put up with her? Sometimes I wonder about his sanity.

Wyatt gives the top hat a quick shake before holding it out my way.

“Go ahead.” He nods. “Pick your part, Bizzy.”

I dip my hand in and stir the papers around a bit before my fingers snag on a ragged edge and I fish out a neatly folded note.

I quickly unfurl it. Character name—Corella Tinder. Occupation—pole dancer. Role—the killer.

A breath hitches in my throat as I look to the three of them.

“Thank you,” I say. “What do I do?”

Thomas peers at my paper a moment. “You’ll simply introduce yourself to the other characters when it’s time for introductions. There’s a back story on the other side.”

Wyatt and Molly excuse themselves and head over to a group of women behind me.

But Thomas leans in with a devious smile curling on his lips. “Congratulations. People would kill for your part. Pardon the pun.”

“Who do I kill?”

“Wyatt is the victim.” He shrugs as if he thought it was cheesy. “I’ll sound a bell about thirty minutes in. That’s usually enough time for all of the actors to introduce themselves and their roles to play out—including the death. Remember, your occupation is a pole dancer. You can’t expose the fact you’re the killer or even hint at it. If I were you, I wouldn’t breathe it until the end when it’s time for the big reveal. Let it be a genuine surprise. Once Wyatt fakes his death, the audience will take a moment and write down who they think the killer is. When you hear the bell go off, head to the back shelf. There’s a butcher knife sitting on a row of books just under the sign that reads cozy mysteries.” He points to the back of the room, and I spot the sign easily. There’s a picture of a cat holding a magnifying glass over it as well.

“And then what?” I ask, breathless. It’s almost as if a part of me has waited all of my life for this role. Little does Thomas know how hard I’ve been training.

“The bell will ring again. That’s when you grab the knife and step back to the center of the room and announce you’re the killer. I expect half the audience to get it right. It’s sort of our version of a murder mystery party. It’s fun. We’ve done it a couple of times using different scripts.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“It will be a great time.”

Thomas takes off, and before long the cast is called to the center of the room.

Both Emmie and Leo step up beside me, as does Jasper.

“Who did you get?” I do a little dance as I wait for Emmie to flash her paper my way.

“My name is Ophelia Drummond, and I’m a successful homemaker.” Emmie frowns as if this didn’t sit well with her. “I want to know how you define successful homemaker.”

“You bake a mean pie?”

She waves her paper my way. “More like a mean lemon tart.”

Leo nods. “And that’s why they’re almost all gone.”

“What role did you get, Leo?” I ask.

He flashes his paper my way. “Plumber.”

Emmie gives a husky laugh. “It’s always the plumber that does it.”

A crooked grin glides up his face. “I’ll take that as an innuendo.”

Jasper averts his eyes. “What role did you get, Bizzy?”

“Pole dancer.” I shrug up at him. “If you’re good, I’ll show you my moves later. How about you?”

“Would you believe me if I said pole dancer inspector?”

I shake my head. “Try again.”

“I’m the arresting officer.” His brows pinch in the middle, giving him that vexingly sexy look that has ten different women sighing in his direction. “I’m beginning to think they’re typecasting this thing.” A naughty smile threatens to ride on his lips.

“Oh? So you think Emmie is a great homemaker and Leo knows where to put his pipes?”

He winces. “No, but I do know you have great moves.”

Thomas gets our attention, and soon enough we’re introducing ourselves as our characters to one another as we slowly build a story world. Wyatt is a land baron who is about to sell out the dirt from beneath a local strip mall and turn it into a landfill, thus sending every character in this murderous play to the unemployment line.

Mom, Georgie, and Juni each wave to me and offer a thumbs-up once I give my spiel about my new pole dancing gig. The audience laughs when Jasper insists I show up to his private chambers later tonight to demonstrate my lethal moves.

Little did he know he was giving away a vital clue to the audience, since I will, in fact, prove to be just that, lethal.

The play runs its course, and before we know it, Wyatt staggers into the room looking deathly pale, the color drained from his face as if there were a real medical reason behind it.

“Help,” he whispers as if he could hardly get the word out.

I nudge my elbow into Emmie’s side. “It’s almost as if he’s really in shock.”

She nods. “You can tell he’s done this before.”

Wyatt’s hands are clutched over his chest as red fluid curls between his fingers, and he drops to the floor just shy of the middle of the room. The pool of sanguine liquid expands around him quietly, and I can’t help but think that’s going to leave a nasty stain on the carpet.

Thomas asks the audience to write down their thoughts on who the killer might be, and they quickly oblige before a dark-haired girl with a nametag that reads STORMY runs around collecting the scraps of paper they were provided with.

A bell rings, just the way Thomas said it would, and the lights go out.

Wait. Did he say that the lights would go out?

Oh, never mind. I do my best to stumble to the back of the room by memory and, sure enough, I slap my hand over the sign before I slap my fingers over the butcher knife. It feels wet, warm, and sticky.

Ugh. I didn’t realize they were going for such good special effects. The bell rings once again and I quickly dart my way through the murmuring crowd with the blade positioned downward—God forbid we have a real accident here tonight, and with me of all people holding the knife. I kick my foot out a bit until I hit something soft, what I’m guessing is Wyatt lying on the floor, and it takes another minute or so for the lights to come back on.

I hold the knife high in the air as I look down at Wyatt with his vacant stare, his mouth frozen open.

“I did it!” I shout with a touch of triumph in my voice. “I’m the killer!”

The room erupts in both cheers and jeers. It looks as if Thomas was right. Half the room seemed to get it right.

Mackenzie, the infamous Mayor Woods, catches my eye. “That’s our Bizzy,” she shouts. “Always the serial killer, never the victim.”

A warm round of laughter breaks out.

Thomas steps up. “Thank you to all who came out tonight to help us celebrate one year of killer reading. Let’s give a round of applause to our fine actors this evening.”

An applause breaks out and most of the cast takes a bow, but I can’t help but notice that Wyatt is still lying there with that same vacant look in his eyes and his mouth still frozen in that odd position.

I bend over his body. “You can get up now,” I say as that adorable golden retriever, Gatsby, comes over and lets out a few wild barks. But Wyatt doesn’t flinch.

“Jasper,” I pant as he comes in close. “I think something went wrong.”

Jasper drops to his knees and checks for a pulse before shaking his head my way.

“Oh dear God,” I gasp, garnering the attention of those around me.

Wyatt Sanders isn’t going to take a bow tonight. His final curtain has already fallen.

Wyatt Sanders is dead, and I just confessed to a room full of people that I’m the killer.

CHAPTER 3

A  sharp scream comes for the crowd as Wyatt’s girlfriend, Molly, falls to her knees just shy of the body.

“What’s happening?” she shouts at the top of her lungs. “My God, he’s dead, isn’t he?” She looks to Jasper for confirmation and he gives it with a nod. “Why?”

The poor thing collapses over him and it’s painful to witness.

Jasper pulls out his badge and waves it high over his head.

“Seaview Sheriff’s Department,” he shouts as the crowd gasps and mumbles. “This is officially a crime scene. No one is to leave the building without speaking to a member of the sheriff’s department first. We’re going to have some questions for you. Deputy Leo Granger will secure the exit.”

Thomas Dean, the manager, bolts over, his face looks ashen, his body visibly shaking.

“What’s happened? This isn’t how the script goes.” He looks down at Wyatt. This is better than any script we’ve ever used before.

I inch back to get a better look at the man. That was a horrible thought. Come to think of it, he’s shaking a little too hard. It looks more like bad acting on his part. And then it hits me. I’m still holding the sticky butcher knife.

“Jasper,” I hiss and I look down at the bloody weapon. “Oh my God.” My body bucks at the horrific sight. My right hand is covered with the sanguine liquid, quickly turning brown as it dries over my skin. “I didn’t do it,” I say as the knife slips from my hand.

Molly staggers to her feet. “Yes, you did!” she shouts, and the room quiets to a dull whisper. “You announced it to everyone. You were holding a bloody knife!” She looks to Jasper with eyes bulging. “I demand you arrest her. She’s the killer! My God, you took it too far.”

A petite woman steps up, examining my face as if she were seeing a confession written across my forehead—although she wouldn’t need it. I shouted it from the rooftops.

“You’re that woman, aren’t you?” The petite girl covers her mouth. Her glossy chestnut-colored hair reaches the top of her shoulders, flat-ironed with a mirror shine. Her tiny lips are caked a frosted pink. “You own the inn. You’re the woman who keeps finding the bodies.”

“Oh no.” I shake my head. “I mean, I run the inn. I don’t own it. And I have found a few bodies, but—”

Molly moans like a wounded animal. “She’s a serial killer!”

“No.” I shake my head in protest just as a swarm of sheriff’s deputies enter the room.

Mom runs over, her face white with shock. “Bizzy, let’s get you out of here before they tar and feather you.”

“I agree,” I say as Macy comes up. “I’ll wash you up at Lather and Light.”

Jasper blows out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I’m going to have to ask you to stick around. That blood on your hands could be evidence. We’ll have to swab you and take pictures. In fact, stand right here and don’t move.”

Jasper shouts for the crowd to congregate in the back of the room just as the coroner walks in.

“That was fast.” Macy shudders. “It looks as if Jasper has the morgue on speed dial.”

Mom grunts, “He’ll have to if he plans on marrying this one. You keep this up, Bizzy, and he’ll rethink the wedding.”

“Mother!” I look to my sister, desperate for help. “Why don’t you take Mom over to the refreshment table and get some coffee in her before I rethink my wedding invites?”

She does just that as Georgie and Juni head this way.

“Way to play the game, Bizzy.” Georgie hugs herself as she looks to my bloody hands. “I always knew you were a bit too competitive.”

Juni snorts. “The woman plays to win. You have to respect that. Has anyone ever broached the topic of your fierce competitive nature?”

“Please,” I groan. “I didn’t kill him.”

Georgie makes a face. “Come on, Bizzy. You stabbed the guy like you were going at a human piñata. Just tell the cops you thought it was a fake knife. They’ll let you off because you’re cute. And if you’re not sleeping with the lead detective yet, I say there’s no time like the present. Word of advice, I’d hit the stacks before you leave the building. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Juni gives an aggressive nod. “And then plead insanity. At best, they’ll give you community service. Sure, you might be ladling gravy at the community center for the next thirty Thanksgivings, but look at it this way—you’ll get a free meal out of it, too.” She leans in, looking every bit like her sweet yet very much demented mother. “But hey, if you end up doing time, don’t get too worked up over it. Those penitentiary guards are smoking hot. The Collingsworth Correctional Facility has a calendar out. January and March come highly recommended.”

A garbled scream lives and dies in my throat. “I’m not having a prison tryst with hot security guards. The only thing insane is this conversation. There’s a real killer in this room,” I say in a panic as I do my best to pick up on any roving thoughts. Typically, I need to be in range to hear them, preferably within a few feet, but when adrenaline is running high, I can pick up a good circumference. The voices come out a bit more monotone that way, so it’s hard to tell if it’s coming from a man or a woman, but at this point, I’ll take any word the killer wants to give me.

A svelte woman comes forward with her light brown hair swinging in a ponytail. She’s head to toe in black, long sleeves, and long pants, save for her red pointed shoes. Her features are miniaturized and delicate, and there’s an elfish appeal to her in general.

“It looks as if you’re in a bad position.” Her pale face brightens a shade of light pink. “My advice to you would be to secure a good lawyer.”

Juni slaps her hands together. “That’s where I know you from! You’re that Knight lady. You put me away a few years back on a possession charge.”

The woman straightens a moment. “That might have been me. I used to work as a defense attorney for the state. I’m guessing you’re out and living a clean life now?”

Juni barks out a laugh. “Let’s just say my use of the substance is no longer considered illegal. So whatcha got cookin’ now, you hot little legal eagle? Are you trying to drum up some business in those cute red shoes?”

The woman winces. “No, actually.” She offers a stern look my way. “Just a little friendly legal advice.”

“My brother is an attorney,” I say as I glance to the refreshment table across the room and find my mother on the phone. “In fact, I bet I’ll be seeing him sooner than later.”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath. My God, that’s blood on her arms. I don’t know how she’ll ever get out of this one. She looks down at Wyatt. There are some things we simply bring upon ourselves. It looks as if he suffered. She shakes her head. He made so many other people suffer. It must be true what they say—what comes around goes around.

She sniffs hard as tears fill her eyes.

“Did you know the deceased?” I ask the question, but it’s just a formality. Something tells me she knew him well.

“I worked with him on a few legal matters a few months back.” She nods my way. “I wish you well.” She starts to take off and Juni jumps in front of her.

“Not so fast, missy. We should go out for drinks sometime. I just popped back into town, and I’m ready to network. What do you say? Bubba’s Roadhouse? I hear the quality of men who hang out at that blowhole has gone up considerably since Bubba bit the big one and his wife took over.”

The woman chuckles. “It sounds like fun. But I’m swamped at work. It was nice seeing you again. I’d better check in with the sheriff’s department so I can get out of here.”

“It was nice meeting you,” I say. “What was your first name?”

She hesitates a moment, most likely because she doesn’t want to share it with Juni. Can’t say I blame her. Juni will probably bend her ear with stories of prison relations all night.

“Brooklynn Knight. And you are?”

“Bizzy Baker. I run the Country Cottage Inn.”

She nods. “I’ll stop by sometime and see if you firmed up a good defense team.” You’re going to need it, she thinks as she takes off.

Georgie leans in. “I’d better see how your mama’s holding up. She might look like a tough cookie, but she’s blown glass on the inside.”

Juni glances that way. “Ooh! Lemon tarts.”

They take off, and I watch as a whole new terror heads this way.

Camila Ryder, Jasper’s ex-girlfriend, ex-fiancée if you want to get technical, springs over with a dark-haired girl dressed in a pink and purple tie-dyed T-shirt—the same girl who collected the results ballots from the audience. Stormy, as her nametag boldly reads, has long, stringy hair and she holds the stench of something slightly illegal that I’m sure Juni is far more familiar with.

“I just got here. What did I miss?” Camila’s eyes enlarge as she spies the victim. Her gaze rides down to my bloody hands, and the trace of a smile flickers on her lips.

This is fabulous, Bizzy. Well done. I’m sure Jasper will have you processed and headed to the big house by midnight.

Camila knows I can read minds. It’s an unfortunate event in which the blame lands squarely on her ex’s shoulders, and that ex would be Leo Granger.

Stormy grunts, “It was supposed to be just another mystery night.” Her name seems appropriate for a girl who works in a bookshop like this, I suppose. “And this girl screamed that she did it.” She points my way. “She was holding the bloody knife and everything.” Her eyes squint my way. “Sorry, lady, you were caught red-handed.” She elbows Camila. “Get it? Red-handed?”

Camila chortles as if there wasn’t a body in our midst—as if there wasn’t fresh blood on my hands—although clearly she finds humor in that.

“Good one, Stormy.” Camila gives a sly wink my way.

“You two know each other?” I ask, almost as amused as Camila is acting.

“Yup.” Stormy lands an arm around Camila’s shoulders. “Ms. Ryder and I used to hang out when I was a student at Sheffield High.”

And now she’s simply high. Camila wrinkles her nose at the girl.

“That’s right.” Camila offers a tight smile my way. “We shared quite a few lunches in the cafeteria.” She glances down at the girl’s shirt. What’s that?

I shift to get a better look at her shirt, and among the pink and purple tie-dye there are noticeable droplets of red splatters, along with a long bloody smear against her arm.

“Your shirt,” I say just as a beefy-looking wall of muscles pops up next to her. “It looks as if you might have gotten some blood on it.”

The girl gasps as she looks down and tries her best to wipe it off.

“Oh, gross.” She notices her bloodstained arm and groans. “I need to get out of this and clean up. I’ve got the blood of a dead guy on me.” Her voice pitches with panic as she begins to eye the exit.

“No,” I say, blocking her path before she can leave. “They’re still documenting the scene. You’ll look guilty if you leave.”

She shoots a look to a tall man with a chest the size of a bookshelf. His blond hair is slicked back and he has three days of growth at least on his scruffy-looking cheeks.

He shakes his head just enough, but I catch it. Don’t do it. He looks right at her. Stick around. We didn’t come this far to ruin things now.

My mouth falls open.

Stormy frowns over at me. “This is my boyfriend, Dax.” He’s suddenly an expert on how not to look guilty even when you’re guilty.

“Jasper?” I call out, and his warm cologne hits me a few seconds before he arrives. “I think you should probably take those pictures now.” I glance to the girl’s bloodstained shirt and watch as his luminescent eyes widen.

Jasper calls the coroner over, and soon every last bit of blood covering both Stormy and myself is well-documented.

That sweet golden retriever scuttles by as he ducks under a table laden with books and curls up into a ball.

Wyatt’s gone. He whimpers. And everything is gone along with him.

Stormy looks up at the tall man with muscles, the jovial expression drained from her face.

Who knew Ms. Ryder would be the one to throw a monkey wrench into our plan? She glances my way. Thank God for gullible people. This is an open and shut case. Let’s hope the judge goes easy on the poor girl. Wyatt wasn’t worth going to prison over.

Jasper leads the girl away to question her in private, and I’m left to ponder her curious words.

Someone in this room is trying to get away with murder, and I have a feeling it might be her.

CHAPTER 4

T  he Country Cottage Inn is a stately tourist destination along coastal Maine that draws people in by the hundreds this time of year.

Cider Cove is beautiful every time of year, but it truly shines in the summer. The inn itself sits on an expansive acreage that not only boasts of the palatial inn but over thirty cottages sprinkled around the property. I happen to live in one, as does Jasper, who resides right in front of me. Emmie lives here, too, and Georgie is staying on the grounds as well. The inn is actually owned by a wealthy earl who lives in England, and he’s left me with the reins. Believe me, I like it that way. The inn has been my baby for so long, I’ve come to believe I own it.

The inn is bustling this morning, the day after the horrific event took place down at Killer Books. Jasper was gone all night, so I kept his sweet pooch, Sherlock Bones, in my cottage, along with my cat, Fish. But right now, we’re up front at the reception desk, still dazed from the prior evening’s events.

Sherlock lets out a weak bark from next to the counter. Why does this keep happening?

“I don’t know why this keeps happening.” I head over and give him a quick scratch between the ears. Sherlock is a mixed breed, medium build, with red and white freckles all over, and as loveable as can be. That’s exactly why I have both him and Fish up front at the reception counter with me as the official greeters. The Country Cottage Inn is also one of the few pet-friendly destinations here along the coast. Not only are pets welcome to stay in the rooms with our guests, but we have a pet daycare facility off the back called Critter Corner. It boasts of a full-time staff and it’s nearly booked to capacity.

Fish jumps up onto the white marble counter and yowls. This is just too many bodies you’ve found, Bizzy. And you were caught holding the knife.

I shudder at the thought. I told both Fish and Sherlock what had happened as soon as I took a long, hot shower last night. Suffice it to say, they weren’t too impressed with their grisly bedtime story.

Fish is a long-haired black and white tabby that I found about a year ago and we’ve been closer than sisters ever since. She’s sassy and funny and intuitive, like she is now, for instance. She seems to understand more than enough that the fact I got stuck holding the knife isn’t going to work in my favor.

Grady Pennington and Nessa Crosby, my two trusty employees who help out at the reception counter, step in and wish me a good morning.

“Morning,” I say. “Not sure if there’s anything good about it.”

Nessa gasps, “So it’s true? You found another one?”

Nessa is a dark-haired beauty. And Grady is a dark-haired Irish demigod, or so the young girls say. They both stepped into their roles here at the inn right out of college, and I hope to keep them around a while longer. I’d need a team of people to replace them if they ever left.

Before I can answer, Grady shakes his head. “She didn’t just find the body—she killed the body. My brother filled me in on what happened.” He shakes his head my way. “You’ve got the worst luck.”

They’ve both donned their signature hunter green vests along with their matching brass nametags. Of course, I’m wearing mine as well. The inn doesn’t have a strict dress code, but the vest and the nametags are a must.

“I can’t argue with you there,” I say. “I’m not exactly a horseshoe these days.” I shudder at the thought. “Anyway, we’re expecting a couple of family reunions this weekend, so the influx of new guests will be brisk.”

Nessa snorts. “And I’m guessing you’ll be busy trying to get yourself off the suspect list. Don’t worry, Grady and I can handle it. I’ll probably bring Peanut to work with me if you don’t mind. He doesn’t like it when I’m gone long hours, and I would swear he misses Fish and Sherlock.”

Sherlock lets out a bark and Fish mewls Nessa’s way as well.

She shakes her head as she marvels, “It’s like they know what we’re talking about.”

“Oh, they know,” I say. Peanut is an adorable black and white pooch that Nessa adopted last fall after a tragedy struck his owner. I glance to Fish and Sherlock. “They also know I’m in deep trouble.”

Grady inches back. “You’re not in trouble, Biz. We know you didn’t do it.” He tips his head to the side. “Unless, of course, you did it.”

Nessa ceases all movement as she waits with bated breath for me to admit or deny my innocence.

“I didn’t do it.” I don’t hesitate to say it either. “But that’s not going to stop the people in this town from judging me.”

Nessa waves me off. “The people in this town have been judging you ever since you married Jordy for less than twenty-four hours. Personally, I’d rather be known as a killer.”

Speaking of my wily ex-husband, Jordy Crosby, Nessa’s cousin and my best friend Emmie’s older, questionably wiser, brother, waltzes in with his torn jeans and dirty T-shirt and a tool belt around his hip. Jordy is the head groundskeeper and general handyman at the inn. I much prefer being his boss than his ex-wife. Our short-lived nuptials were due to some bad liquor and an odd trip to Vegas. I guess you could say neither of us hit the jackpot during that trip to Sin City. And just for the record, we didn’t sin, nor did we consummate our marital charade. Thankfully, my brother Hux helped me untangle that legal knot soon after I created it. He was fresh out of law school, and I like to say I gave him something to hone his chops on.

“Hey, Bizzy.” Jordy frowns over at me and still manages to turn the heads of a group of women who just walked in after him. Jordy isn’t just a looker, he’s a womanizer, too. It’s sort of a one-two punch as far as bad relationships go, and Jordy has had an entire string of them.

I head his way as Nessa and Grady get right to work booking the crowd that just walked through the doors.

The inn’s interior is laden with dark mahogany wainscoting. The floors have a gray and white marbled look to them and were redone just before I came aboard about five years ago. I think it gives the place an old-fashioned rustic appeal that’s just perfect for our seaside corner of Maine. Out in the back, the inn butts up to a white sandy cove, and we have our very own café attached to that end of the building where you can sit on the expansive patio and feel as if you’re a part of the action on the beach.

Jordy has dark hair and the same icy blue eyes as Emmie. I’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, partly because he’s Emmie’s brother and partly because he felt like mine, so that whole wedding thing sort of came out of left field.

“Bizzy.” He shakes his head. “You know I consider you family. What the hell is going on? Did you really kill someone?”

I’m quick to hush him. “Would you keep it down? The last thing I want to do is incite the guests into leaving the inn because they think I might slaughter them in their sleep. Nothing is going on.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight a moment. “Actually, I don’t exactly know what’s going on. All I know is Wyatt Sanders, the owner of Killer Books, is dead, and I was left holding the knife. We were playing some twisted mystery game that went awry.”

He nods. “Emmie told me. Do yourself a favor and lawyer up. This one doesn’t look good for you. I’ll make sure the plumbing is working on the second floor. You make sure you don’t end up in prison.” He gives a sad wink before taking off.

I turn to the entrance to find Macy ushering Huxley inside, and I head their way.

“Looks as if my attorney just showed up,” I say, pulling my brother in for a hug. Hux is older than me by two years. We share the same dark hair and same light blue eyes. And not only is Huxley a divorce lawyer, but he’s been down the aisle and back three times himself. I guess you could say he’s given himself a bit of practice, too.

Macy gives a bleak smile. “Let’s get to the café and see if they have any more of those lemon tarts lying around. Hux brought a look book from the local women’s prison so we could see which uniforms go best with your eyes.”

I glance to Hux. “I hope you brought a muzzle for her, too.”

We head to the café, followed by Sherlock and Fish. It’s bright and light in the café with small black and white wrought iron bistro tables dotting the center and booths lining the walls. I call for Emmie to bring us some coffee and lemon tarts to the patio before we head that way.

It’s a spectacularly sunny day and the beach is already lined with well-oiled bodies trying to catch some rays. School is out in our neck of the woods, and you can hear the scream of children’s laughter as they run after one another on the sand. No sooner do we step outside than the humidity wraps itself around us like a hot blanket just out of the dryer. The ocean looks calm and serene, and the air is scented with lilacs and suntan lotion.

The three of us take a seat under the canopy of a bright blue umbrella, and soon Emmie shows up with the coffee and lemon tarts.

Macy moans as she plucks one off the tray. “Now we’re talking. Too bad Bizzy isn’t as good with a knife in the kitchen as she is in the bookstore.”

I cluck my tongue. “Macy, do you mind? A man is dead.”

Emmie groans, “But she’s kind of right. You’re sort of a dead body magnet these days. And you had the guy’s blood all over you. Good thing you’ve got a lawyer in the family.”

Hux frowns my way. “I’m no defense attorney, but I’ll make sure you secure a top-notch legal team. I hope you have a handful of change saved up to fight this.”

“Fight this? I’m not going to fight anything. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Emmie leans in. “Don’t worry, Bizzy. Others might be too afraid to be around you now that you’re known as the Cider Cove Killer, but I’ll always be there for you. So long as we’re in thick crowds, and I have a blunt object to knock you over the head with in the event you go psychotic on me.” She gives a playful wink before heading back into the café.

“They’re calling me the Cider Cove Killer?”

Sherlock barks as he jumps into the seat next to Hux. I wouldn’t worry about it, Bizzy. I’ve heard them call you worse.

I shoot him a look that says gee thanks.

Macy shakes her head as she struggles to swallow down a lemon tart in haste.

“I heard it was Cider Cove Slaughterer.”

Hux shrugs. “Killer has a touch more flair.”

“Flair?” I practically gag on the word as Fish hops onto my lap.

Don’t worry, Bizzy. Fish meows. I’d never call you anything remotely in poor taste.

Sherlock vocalizes something just shy of a laugh. I heard you call her cheap just last week.

“Cheap?” I say out loud without meaning to. Oh heck, I meant to. I don’t really care if Macy and Hux think I’m losing my mind. They would be right, by the way.

I’m not sure how, but somehow, the animals always seem to understand one another with a simple bark or meow, and nine times out of ten, it’s something even less than that.

Fish rubs her head against my arm and purrs as strong as a jet engine.

You and I both know you skimped on the Fancy Beast dinners and opted for Meow Mousse instead. Everyone knows Meow Mousse is the off brand, an awful second to the real mouse deal.

I make a face at the persnickety kitty before lowering my mouth to her ear.

“Jasper picked that up out of love,” I whisper. “That, and he didn’t know better.” I give her belly a quick tickle. “You win. I’ll pick some Fancy Beast up before dinner.”

She lays her head against my chest and blinks up at me with those golden yellow eyes. Fish is so adorable I couldn’t deny her a thing, let alone her favorite brand of cat food.

Macy nudges Hux with her elbow. “I’m thinking an insanity plea will work nicely.”

Hux nods. “I’m thinking you’re right. Tell me everything that happened, Bizzy. The cat food will have to wait. I have a feeling we don’t have a minute to waste.”

And I do. I spill all the bloody beans before tossing up my hands.

“That’s what happened,” I say. “And in case you missed it, I didn’t do a darn thing.”

Hux moans, “Except for grab the bloody weapon and announce you were the killer. I say you built a pretty good case against yourself. I think I’ll have to scrap the legal team I had in mind and go for the gold. Word of warning, you’ll need a twenty thousand dollar retainer.”

“Twenty what?” I squawk. “Forget it. I’d rather defend myself. Or blackmail you into doing it for me. Mom still doesn’t know it was you who dented her old Corolla. She still blames that woman who used to live across the street.”

Hux ticks his head to the side. “She made an educated guess. What can I say? Dianna Longhorn had more than her fair share of nightly visitors. Any one of them could have done it.”

My lips pull back into a greedy grin. “But the point is, you did it. But you built a good case for your innocence at that time, and if it comes down to it, I’m sure you’ll build a good case for mine.”

His phone bleats and he glances down. “Gotta run. Don’t do anything foolish like talk to the press, or return to the scene of the crime. The public seems to think killers always do that.”

Macy nods. “As a member of the public, let the record show we tend to be right.”

Hux jumps out of his seat just as Mackenzie Woods crops up like a bad apparition.

“Mayor Woods,” I say it stiff. I can’t help it, though. After that whiskey barrel incident, I haven’t exactly been Mack’s biggest fan.

Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and that navy pant suit she’s sporting looks a bit too fitted and too stifling for this clammy day. Come to think of it, everything about Mack looks a little uptight.

“Lounging around, I see.” She smirks my way. “Must be nice to have a job that doubles as a vacation.”

Hux laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t know. Good to see you, Mackenzie. Much like you, I’ve got a real job.” He takes off, and she steps in closer to the table.

“Main Street is hosting its first summer nights party. It’ll be kicking off in just a few weeks. All of the businesses on Main are having a sidewalk sale each Friday night starting at the end of this month through the end of August. Lucky for you, Macy, Lather and Light is right in the thick of the action. As usual, you are the brighter of the two Baker sisters.”

Macy straightens in her seat. “I’ve always liked you, Mackenzie.”

Fish yowls in protest.

I give Fish a quick pat while looking at my sister. “They have a name for people like you who like to pucker up.”

“Brilliant?” She gives a few sarcastic blinks.

Mackenzie rolls her eyes. “All right, Bizzy. That wasn’t a put-down. It’s not like you own this beautiful inn. You’re just the lackey that tends to the grounds.”

“No, that would be Jordy.” I don’t mind correcting her at all. “I’m the manager. What do you want, Mack?”

“I was going to offer the Country Cottage Café a booth, but since you’re too wrapped up in your ego, I’ll just—”

“I’ll take it!” I say quickly. “In fact, I’ll put up my booth right next door to Lather and Light. Who knows? Maybe my sister’s business acumen will rub off on me, and I’ll actually pick something up. ”

Mackenzie squints out in the direction of the café. And maybe I’ll pick something up, too— like, say, Huxley Baker.

“Try not to commit another homicide, would you?” Mackenzie doesn’t bother with goodbye. She simply takes off in the direction of her prey, aka my brother.

“I think she has the hots for Hux.” I stick my finger down my throat as I say it.

Macy shudders. “Here comes divorce number four. Don’t say I didn’t call it.” She opens her purse and drops in the remaining lemon tarts.

“Really, Macy?” I shake my head at her. “I would have given you the plate.”

“Spoken like a true up-and-coming felon. I don’t take what’s not mine, Bizzy. And I don’t kill people either. If I were you, I’d take a page out of my book.” She starts to take off. “Try not to slaughter anyone while I’m gone. I prefer to have front-row seats.”

I watch as she quickly disappears down the stone-cobbled path that leads to the parking lot.

“I’m going to kill someone, all right,” I say as I land a kiss to Fish’s furry forehead.

Sherlock lets out something between a moan and a bark. How about we take a walk, Bizzy? Right down Main Street. I want to see this bookstore for myself.

“Not a bad idea.” I hop to my feet and Fish hops right out of my arms.

I think I’ll stick around here before this gets way out of hand and someone stages a protest.

“About what?” I call out after her as she trots toward the front of the inn.

About the Cider Cove Killer.

Fish is right. This is about to get out of hand.

I’m about to head to Main Street, straight for Killer Books, much against the legal advice of my attorney slash brother.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get a piece to this murderous puzzle.

CHAPTER 5

T  he Country Cottage Inn sits at the base of Main Street just a few hundred yards from Killer Books itself, so all I needed to do was ask Nessa and Grady to watch over the front desk while I grabbed a leash for Sherlock.

The sun is searing, so I make sure to stop by my cottage and pick up a baseball cap—Jasper’s baseball cap to be exact, the one that reads SSD, which stands for Seaview Sheriff’s Department.

“How do I look?” I give the bill of the cap a cheeky tug as I model it for Sherlock.

He lets out a friendly yip. Cuter than Jasper.

One of the biggest perks of being Jasper’s girlfriend—fiancée—is that I get free access to his closet, hats, and comfy thick socks included. Not only have I doubled my heart with him in it, I’ve just about doubled my wardrobe.

We head back out onto the blue cobbled walkway that snakes around the arteries of the inn to the edge of the property until we’re officially on Main Street. All of Cider Cove is inlaid with brick or cobblestone, giving the place a nostalgic homey appeal that I love so much.

“I just can’t wait until next fall because as soon as the weather gets crisp, I’m raiding Jasper’s sweatshirts. His flannels are fair game, too,” I say. I don’t mind talking to either Fish or Sherlock while I’m out in public because just about everybody talks to their pets around here. But, come to think of it, I’m amassing quite the reputation as the town loon. I’d better knock it off just to be safe. Or in the least, keep it down to a whisper.

Sherlock lets out a much more invigorated bark. What about the wedding? Will you wear one of his sweatshirts for that? A flannel perhaps? The green and red one with the hole in the pocket is my favorite on him. I’m sure it will look great on you, too.

I can’t help but laugh. “No, actually, I’m thinking of surprising him with a brand new dress—for me, of course. Although, technically, for him,” I mutter that last part to myself as we come upon the rows and rows of businesses that line either side of the bustling street. There are sandwich shops, an ice cream parlor, a coffee house, my sister’s soap and candle shop, a craft store, a candy palace, several eateries, and boutiques peppering the entire length of it. Cider Cove really does have it all. You would never have to leave town unless you really wanted to. And judging by the wall-to-wall bodies bobbing up and down the sidewalks, no one really wants to.

In the distance I spot a familiar mother-daughter twosome as they stand back to admire their handiwork—or at least that of Georgie’s—and I speed that way. Both Juni and Georgie have donned a matching set of floor-length peach kaftans with three-quarter sleeves and white wildflowers printed along the border.

“Hello, ladies,” I say as I get a full glimpse of what they’re looking at and I let the leash slip from my hand. “Oh my God, Georgie, this is magnificent!”

Last fall, Mayor Woods hired Georgie to partake in the Cider Cove beautification initiative. Her job was to create a stunning mosaic that reflected scenes from our cozy corner of Maine and depict them in a series of pictures made entirely of reclaimed glass and mirrors.

“Georgie.” I press my hand to my chest as I take in the expansive mosaic work that goes on for thirty feet at least. There are pelicans and lighthouses, a white sandy cove, lots of miniature houses dotting a verdant green landscape, and—I suck in a quick breath. “Georgie? Is that the inn?” I point to a white boxy building covered with what looks like ivy, just the way the inn is covered with it as well.

“You bet your bright red bottom it is. I wouldn’t create a landmark of this magnitude without it. And those two little bitty beasts in the corner”—she points to a couple of pointy-eared four-legged creatures that I can easily identify as my very own fur babies—“that’s none other than the handsome and ever so hungry Sherlock Bones and his little chew toy, Fish.” She’s got that right. Sherlock has been known to graze on Fish a time or two. Usually it’s no harm, no foul, right up until Fish decides she’s in the mood to claw the canine’s eyes out.

Juni slaps me on the shoulder. “She’s a beaut, ain't she?”

“Yes, she is,” I say and Sherlock lets out a quick bark of approval himself.

Georgie picks up his leash. “So where are we off to, Bizzy? Is it already that time of day? Time to track down a killer?”

Juni claps her hands together. “I sure hope so. Let me guess? A tattoo parlor?”

“What? No. Just—” I turn my head to steal a quick glance across the street and spot movement around the entry to Killer Books. There’s a tall man speaking to a sheriff’s deputy, and as the crowd moves in waves, I catch a glimpse of an entire row of patrol cars sitting out front. But that man with his dark hair, slight slouch—he looks familiar. “I think that’s Thomas Dean standing outside the bookshop. He’s the manager I met last night.”

Juni sucks in a quick breath. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get over there and clobber him over the head until he confesses to the crime.”

I make a face and shake my head. “I’m thinking something a little more subtle.”

Georgie heads to her car parked just a few feet away and comes back with a trio of menacing-looking hammers.

“Choose your weapon, girls. We don’t talk to potential killers without arming ourselves first.”

Juni doesn’t hesitate in snatching one up. “Just a word of warning, ladies. If he’s cute, I’m calling dibs.”

“What about Spike?” I ask as I take the tool I’m pretty sure is a mallet from Georgie.

“Pfft.” Juni is quick to blow off her new beau. “What Spike don’t know won’t hurt him.” A greasy grin glides across her face before falling away abruptly. “Besides, I don’t see any bling on these fingers. If that man wants to make an honest woman out of me, he can figure out exactly how to secure it. Now come on, girls. I smell a delicious felon in the midst.”

“Me, too.” Georgie wraps her hand around Sherlock’s leash and the three of us cross the street along with a mob of tourists. We come upon Killer Books, where the rest of the crowd walks right on past it without so much as trying to glance inside the darkened windows. But even if the windows weren’t heavily tinted, you couldn’t see inside, considering the fact they were covered in butcher paper overnight. An attending sheriff’s deputy stands outside wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, his hands folded by his waist, his weapon menacingly poking from his side.

Thomas says a few more words to him before heading in the direction of Lather and Light. His dark hair is slicked back, and the entire frame of his body looks wider in the white T-shirt he’s wearing.

I give Georgie’s sleeve a tug. “We’re losing him,” I hiss as I traipse up ahead and force myself to practically fall onto him from behind.

“Whoa,” he says as he turns and catches me before I face-plant onto the brick walkway. “Hey, I recognize you,” he says it more of a question, and I look up at his dark eyes. Where exactly do I recognize her from?

“Oh right,” I say, dusting my legs off for no good reason. “You were at the bookshop last night.” I bite down on my lip a moment. “I was the killer.”

“Geez.” He winces. “That’s right. I guess the daylight and”—he motions to my hands—“cleanliness threw me. Did you forget something in the store?” He ticks his head that way.

Georgie and Juni catch up and both brandish their weaponry at the two of us before looking at the table of markdowns outside of the Lather and Light. My sister’s shop is adorable with its silk wisteria tree in the oversized bay window, and each branch is entwined with twinkle lights, giving the place an enchanted appeal.

“No, I don’t think so.” I wrinkle my nose as I glance back at the bookshop. “I’m here with my friends.” I point my mallet toward Georgie and Juni.

“Armed and ready to fight off any potential killers.” His brows bounce, and he looks a touch amused.

“No, actually, my friend Georgie is working on the beautification project down the street. She’s an artist who specializes in mosaics. And this is my sister’s shop.” I point the mallet in that direction and it slips from my grasp, flying into the window as a hairline crack erupts from top to bottom of the glass.

“Oh no!” I gasp before holding my breath just the way I did when I was a kid and about to face the wrath of my mother. Although, for all practical purposes, my sister’s wrath is much, much worse. Come to think of it, I might need my mother to mitigate.

Thomas grunts, “That’s not good.”

“It’s fine.” I give a nervous laugh because I think we both know it’s not. “She won’t even notice,” I say, navigating us a few feet away, because if my twisted sister is in that shop, she will very much notice. “So what’s going on next door?”

Macy steps out of her shop, letting every salty expletive known to man fly as she looks to Georgie, who’s currently holding her hammer and my mallet. But I try not to feel too bad about it. I’m sure somewhere, at some time, Georgie did something to Macy to warrant such vulgarity. And if I’m not mistaken, both Georgie and Juni are tittering themselves into a conniption.

Thomas cranes his neck past me as he squints over at the bookshop.

“I guess they’re searching for evidence. The sheriff’s department didn’t give you a hard time, did they?” He comes shy of winking as if the thought pained him.

“Oh no, actually, they just took my statement and some pictures of my arms. I was sort of covered. Poor guy.” I hold myself and shiver as the memory of Wyatt Sanders’ pale face comes back to me. “Who could have done something like that? So blatant. So very in the poor guy’s face. I mean, it was his shop. His baby. Whoever did this, it was personal. Don’t you think?”

Thomas gives a long blink. “I agree one hundred percent.” She has no idea how close to home she just hit. “Although it’s not a secret that Wyatt had problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

He blows out a breath. “Where to begin? His girlfriend was a sandwich short of a picnic. In fact, rumor has it, she has some obsessive disorder, and whatever it is, she was expending it on him. To say he was the object of her obsession is putting it mildly.”

“That’s Molly, right?”

He nods. “And Wyatt didn’t own this place outright. He had an investor. She was here last night, too—Brooklynn.”

“Brooklynn Knight?”

“Yes.” His eyes grow in size. “You know her?”

“Met her last night. Actually, it’s my friend that knows her.” I nod to Juni who’s currently dusting her armpits with translucent powder Macy has set out. “Anyway, I guess I don’t really know the woman. For sure I didn’t know she had an interest in the bookstore. Any clue on what she’s going to do with it? It’s probably too early to tell.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but she has a lot to think about.” He lifts his chin a notch, his eyes never leaving mine. “She and Wyatt never really got along. I was surprised to see her last night. She’s more or less a silent partner, or at least she was up until a few weeks ago.”

“What happened a few weeks ago?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s some fancy lawyer seemingly content to stay in her lane, and next thing you know, she’s coming around, shaking Wyatt down every chance she gets.”

“Shaking him down?” I ask, amused. “As in for money?”

“That’s what makes the world go ’round.” He nods over to the shop, and I follow his gaze to find the front door opened and a line of men in vests clearly marked sheriff’s department carrying things out. “I guess they found what they were looking for. Hopefully, I can get back in there. I left some things in the employee room I’d like back, my wallet, my phone. It was a nightmare getting out of there last night. My mind was a jumble. Good thing I had my keys in my pocket or I wouldn’t have been able to drive myself home, let alone get in my house.”

“I’m glad you got home all right. Which is more than I can say for Wyatt.”

He closes his eyes a moment. “It was nice talking to you. Forgive me, I’m not very good with names. Was it Izzy?”

“Close. It’s Bizzy. Bizzy Baker. I work down at the Country Cottage Inn. I’m the manager.”

“Well, it was nice seeing you again.” He holds his hand out and I shake it. My fingers catch on something hard and I look down to find that same chunky gold ring that Wyatt had on last night with the black stone and silver etching over it.

My eyes bounce up to his. “Nice seeing you again, too. It looks like I’ll be here fixing my sister’s window. I guess I might see you again.”

He makes a face at something near the entry to Killer Books and I turn that way to find Gatsby, the blond golden retriever, exiting the building with a sheriff holding onto his leash.

Thomas sighs at the sight. “Looks like Gatsby might be the second victim in all this. Molly can’t be around him for more than five minutes. She’s allergic to dogs.”

“What do you think will happen to him?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “My lease stipulates no pets, so I’m out.”

“The inn runs a pet daycare.” A note of excitement seeps through my voice. “We would be happy to house him until someone steps in to claim him.”

“I don’t see who would protest. I know Gatsby won’t mind. He loves other animals. And since you’re right up the road, I might even drop in and visit.”

He inspects me for a moment. Nice smile. Easy temperament. It looks like Bizzy Baker is the perfect woman. He glances down at my ring finger. And very much taken. The good ones always are. It looks like it’s back to the funny farm for me. That’s okay, after what I did. That’s where I belong.

After what he did?

I let his cryptic words sink in a moment.

He says goodbye before taking off down the street, and I make a beeline over to the bookstore with both Georgie and Juni hot on my heels.

“Hey, Gatsby,” I say as the sad looking pooch meanders my way.

The kind lady from last night. He does a double take my way. The one who had Wyatt’s blood on her hands.

I shake my head. “I didn’t do it,” I whisper before asking the deputy if I could hold the leash and he lets me. I walk Gatsby over a few feet and whisper in his ear, “I can hear your thoughts—and understand you.” I give his back a quick scratch. “I’m hoping they’ll let me take you home with me.”

Georgie and Juni descend on the friendly, not-so-little puppy just as a tall, dark, and vexingly handsome homicide detective emerges from the building—Jasper. His light eyes sear right through me and my insides squeeze tight. Since the moment we met, my body hasn’t stopped responding to him viscerally, and I hope it never does.

“Bizzy Baker,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Why aren’t I surprised to see you milling around?”

I twist my lips. “Because my love for you knows no physical bounds?”

He flicks his finger for me to head his way and I do.

“Bizzy, tell me you’re not investigating.”

I frown at the thought. Clearly, my fiancé has a lot to learn about me yet.

I lean in. “First you tell me whether or not Wyatt Sanders was wearing a fat gold ring when they took his body away.”

Jasper tips his head to the side and sighs.

“Oh yes, Detective Wilder. I am very much investigating this case.”

CHAPTER 6

T  he Busy Bean Coffee Shop is located right next door to Lather and Light, and that’s exactly where I’ve lured Jasper into having a quick cup of coffee with me.

The six of us sit outside, lounging at the bistro tables while sipping on iced coffee. Yes, six. Not only have Sherlock and Gatsby joined us, but so have Georgie and Juni.

About a half a dozen female tourists pause before us to purr over at the ornery detective with approval. And believe me, Jasper is every bit ornery.

Sherlock lets out a moaning bark as if he heard. Bizzy, try to remember what it is that Jasper does for a living. I recognize that cranky look on his face. It’s because things are out of his control.

“Bizzy,” he says my name low like a reprimand. “You of all people shouldn’t be returning to the scene of the crime.”

Georgie moans as she swallows down a bite of her chocolate croissant.

“Go easy on her, Officer.” She winks over at him. “They say the killer always returns to the scene of a crime. Bizzy’s just following protocol.”

Juni inhales so loud and sharp I fear the heap of brownies in front of her will end up in her respiratory tract.

“Bizzy, you’re the killer?” she hisses just above a whisper and Gatsby lets out a sharp bark.

“No.” I shake my head as I give the precious pup a quick scratch between the ears. “I’m not the killer,” I say as I lean in toward Jasper. “But somebody out there is. And yes, I’ll admit it. I was drawn to the bookstore, but only because I wanted to find some answers.”

Gatsby belts out a sickly moan. I want answers, too.

Sherlock barks. That’s Bizzy’s specialty. She pokes her snout where it doesn’t belong and eventually sniffs out the killer.

I can’t help but make a face at the cute pooch.

Jasper opens his mouth then closes it in what looks to be a fit of frustration.

“Then let me do it, Bizzy,” he says. “Let me find the killer. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

Georgie elbows Juni. “You hear that—big bucks. When you toss the bouncer to the curb, you should aim for someone at the sheriff’s department next. Do something really creative to get arrested, like streaking down Main Street and rob a bank while you’re at it.”

“Ohh, good thinking.” Juni rubs her hands together. “I could use me a man with money and access to the keys.”

I shake my head at her. “What keys?”

“To the cell block.” She gives a flirtatious wink to Jasper before wrapping her lips seductively around her straw.

I pull Jasper close to me by way of his hand. “Never mind those two. Yes, I know that’s why they pay you the big bucks.” I bite down over my lower lip, trying to control a burgeoning grin. “So you can spend your lunch hour with me.” A tittering laugh bounces through me. “Kidding. I know what you’re about to ask. You want me to keep my distance. And I will—as soon as you tell me about that ring.”

He sits back in his seat and runs those light gray peepers over my features. You know I can’t deny you a thing, Bizzy.

“Fine.” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping away. “I will see where this goes.” He gives a brief lopsided grin my way. “I’m curious about the ring myself.”

I do my best to peer over at his screen. “Wyatt and Thomas either had a matching set or Thomas swiped it.”

“Ooh!” Juni raises her hand as if we were at school. “If Thomas swiped it, I bet that makes him the killer.”

Jasper ticks his head to the side. “Or at some point in the evening, Wyatt took his ring off. He could have left it on the counter. He could have given it to Thomas for all we know. Or maybe Thomas stole the ring off the body when no one was looking but didn’t have a thing to do with the killing.” He points his phone my way. “Either way, my contact at the morgue will get back to me shortly about any personal effects that made it down with the body.”

“Did someone say morgue?” a female grunts from behind as Macy pops up in our midst. “It looks like I came into this conversation just in time.” She takes a seat and looks at Jasper. “Did my sister throw a mallet at your window, too? Is that why you’d rather send her to the morgue than down the aisle?” She shoots a sarcastic smile my way.

Jasper’s eyes widen with a look of amusement as he turns to me. “What’s the best way to answer this?”

“By ignoring her,” I say. “Macy, no one is sending me to the morgue, and I’ll pay for your window to be repaired. In fact, as soon as I get back to the inn, I’ll call a repair man myself.”

She shrugs. “I already beat you to it. So what exotic locale are you off to next in hot pursuit of the ever-elusive homicidal maniac? And was that him you were talking to?” She hitches her thumb in the direction of Killer Books. Because if it was, that man is smokin’. Count me in on this comely caper.”

Georgie shakes her head. “No way, Macy. You can’t date a homicidal maniac. Take it from someone who knows. They’re not the good time you would think they would be.”

Juni doesn’t hesitate to smack her mama on the arm. “Don’t you listen to her, Macy May. There is nothing hotter than a felon on the run from the law. All that pent-up frustration, those rampant paranoid delusions, the inaudible voices.”

I glance to the sky. “Sounds like a dizzying aphrodisiac of psychiatric maladies. Macy, take note. I’d look elsewhere for your next psychotic ex-boyfriend if I were you.”

Macy takes a moment to glower at me. “Have it your way. But rumor has it, you’re headed to a tattoo parlor next, and if so, I call shotgun. I’ve been meaning to finish the tramp stamp on my back for years now.”

Juni nods. “I feel you, sister. Wanna see mine?”

Jasper’s phone pings. “Looks like we’ve got some jewelry in the mix.” His chest expands a moment as he settles his gaze on mine. “You up for a quick trip down to the Seaview morgue?”

I waggle my brows his way before turning to my sister. “Sorry, Macy. It looks like you’ll have to count me out of the tattoo parlor adventure.”

“That’s okay.” She shrugs with a look of indifference. “I hear there are plenty of hot men at the county morgue. I’ve got someone watching the shop, and I’m in the mood to tag along.”

“Newsflash, Macy”—I say, cinching my purse over my arm—“the men at the morgue are cold and unresponsive.”

Georgie snaps her fingers. “My last three dates in a nutshell.”

Sherlock whimpers and covers his eyes with his paws. Count me out, Bizzy.

Me, too, Gatsby barks. I’d rather remember Wyatt the way I knew him. Full of warmth and life.

Poor guy. I can’t blame him.

“Georgie, Juni?” I turn their way. “Would you ladies mind taking Sherlock and Gatsby back to the inn? I spoke to Thomas and he didn’t seem to think anyone would mind. It looks like I’ve got a hot date at the den of the dead.”

“You bet.” Georgie stands and is quickly tangled in two leashes.

Juni stands and tries to detangle her mother, and soon the two of them are flailing and twirling like twin peach hurricanes. Then, in a burst of energy, they’re down the road with both Sherlock and Gatsby in tow.

A suggestive smile curves on my lips as I look to the smoldering, very much taken, homicide detective beside me.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, hot stuff.”

“Not so fast.” Macy lifts a finger. “Unless you want to pay for that window, I’m calling shotgun.”

I shrug over at Jasper, and before long the three of us are on our way to Seaview, to the morgue, to see about a dead guy with some serious bling.

THE THREE OF us set foot into the gray cinderblock building with its sterile white walls and flooring. The strong scent of peppermint lingers in the air, and it makes me wonder if they’re trying to mask an odor.

Macy leans in. “At what point do we get the tattoos?”

“I’m not going to lie.” Jasper gives a wistful tick of the head. “They’ve got the tools here.”

“No tattoos this afternoon, Macy,” I say as Jasper nods to the secretary and leads us through doors marked staff only. “In fact, don’t talk to anyone—dead or alive. Don’t make me wish I had paid for the window instead.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Biz. You know I always make you pay in other ways.”

“Now that I can take to the bank.”

Jasper leads us into a linoleum-tiled room with stainless counters and far too many stainless drawers and trolleys to ever be comfortable. Just the thought of what might be lurking in those drawers has my stomach doing a sharp roll, and suddenly I’m rethinking the lox and bagels I had this morning for breakfast.

A man steps out from a pair of folding doors that leads into a far more invasive room, I’m guessing. He’s tall, baby-faced, and clean-cut with short brown hair and pale green eyes. He sheds a warm smile once he sees us, and I swear on all that is holy Macy just groaned like a dying woman.

Good Lord, here we go.

“Detective Wilder.” His smile broadens as he takes the three of us in. “I didn’t realize you were traveling with an entourage these days. New coworkers down at the sheriff’s department?”

“My fiancée and her sister.” He nods my way. “Rob, this is Bizzy, my soon-to-be bride, and her sister, Macy. Bizzy, Macy, meet the keeper of the crypt.”

Rob chuckles as he nods my way then to my sister.

Jasper’s got himself a catch. And this girl? I can spot a man-eater a mile away. Looks like every ex I’ve ever had rolled into one barrel of fun. She is hot. I’ll give her that. Those eyes, those lips, those—

I clear my throat. “Jasper says you’ve got a rundown on the deceased’s personal belongings?”

“I do.” He disappears a moment into the back room before reappearing with a silver basket. He plucks a dark cloth from it and lays it over the counter, revealing the same gold chunky piece of jewelry I saw earlier on Thomas.

“Jasper, that’s the same ring,” I say.

Macy bats her lashes seductively at the poor man before us.

She leans in, forcing her bosom to blossom right out of her top. “How about you give me a tour of the place, big boy?”

Jasper’s eyes widen my way. Did she just say big boy?

My lips twitch in lieu of a nod.

Rob perks up as if he were just asked out on a date by the popular, albeit snobby and mean, girl in school. And in the event he’s not aware, that would be true.

“It would be my pleasure.” A shifty smile curls on his lips. “Step this way. I’ll introduce you to the residents.”

Gross.

I watch as Macy is led behind closed doors before looking to Jasper.

“Nobody will ever accuse my sister of being subtle.”

“What do you think?” Jasper’s chest bounces with a silent laugh. “Love at first sight?”

“I doubt it. And there’s an over-my-dead-body joke in here somewhere, but I’m too preoccupied by this ring to fish it out.” I fish my phone out of my purse instead and take a few pictures of the gold bauble. “Jasper, what’s that silver thing lying over the black stone?”

“A sword.” He takes a picture with his own phone. “I’d better do a rough and dirty internet search.”

“Ooh.” I tug on my lower lip with my teeth. “You just sent me somewhere heated with those words.”

His lips curl my way. “Remind me to repeat them after dinner.”

“Does this mean you’re stopping by with takeout?”

“Wyatt Sanders might be dead, but I’m very much alive and plan on stealing every moment I can with the woman I love.” He takes a quick nip from my ear.

“You keep up the sweet talk, Detective. It will get you everywhere.”

Something pops up on his screen and we both lean in to inspect it.

“It looks as if the ring was made by Johnson Jewelers,” he says. “They’re renowned for collegiate rings like this. I’ll call and see if I can get anywhere with the people at Johnson’s.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I shake my head while looking down at the ring. “They must have gone to the same school. Maybe even the same fraternity?”

“I bet you’re right.” Jasper pulls me in and wraps his arms around my waist, those day-glow eyes of his settling over mine. “Let me do this, Bizzy. Let me figure this out. I’ll talk to Thomas Dean and see what he can tell me about the ring.”

“But I can be there with you while you quiz him, and I can read his mind and let you—”

He dots my lips with a peck of a kiss before I can finish the sentence.

“I know,” he whispers. “But I don’t want you to. I don’t want you anywhere near the realm of danger, Bizzy. I can talk to Thomas alone.”

My lips twitch as I look up at him.

“No problem.” I give a little shrug as if I were indifferent. “I hope he tells you exactly what you want to know.”

“I hope so, too. If anything, we know he was close to Wyatt.”

“Yes. Just how close?” I glance down at the ring with its prominent black stone and that silver slash across the middle.

While Jasper talks to Thomas Dean, I’ll talk to someone who was close to Wyatt myself—his girlfriend.

Molly Shay, here I come.

CHAPTER 7

M olly Shay was easier to track down than I would have thought. It turns out, Molly works in the next seedy town over, Edison, in a bookstore called the Mystic Eye.

The walls and ceiling are painted black with rhinestones adhered every which way to give you that galaxy appeal—a decorating doppelgänger to the interior of Killer Books, and it makes sense, considering Wyatt told me himself he and his girlfriend were responsible for the décor. But, unlike Wyatt’s mystery haven, this place is chock-full of books of a nefarious nature.

There are sections on the new mind, pathways to the light, New Age ideas and big thinkers, how to tap into the future, and what your spiritual color wheel says about you. There’s also a simple section on love, and it seems odd, almost out of place, in this mystical world of New Age self-help mumbo jumbo.

One thing’s for sure, the Mystic Eye is twice as creepy as Killer Books could ever hope to be. Strange music filters through the speakers, something high and airy like a somber flute solo, while a handful of customers mill around, poking at the books as if trying to antagonize them. And the scent of incense burning clogs up the air with its smoky exotic appeal.

Georgie and Juni grunt and groan as they look around. As soon as Jasper left for work this morning, I scooped up Fish and put her in a baby carrier, a cloth strip that sits across my chest like a front-facing papoose. That move alone tipped off the mother-daughter duo, and the two of them knew something sinister was afoot. Once they heard the word mystic, both Georgie and Juni were on board for whatever shenanigans were lying in wait.

They quickly donned their matching tie-dyed kaftans, a swirling psychedelic rainbow in hues of purple, red, and blue, and here we are in the entryway of a rather cozy shop, overstuffed with ominous books and large framed pictures of different mystical landscapes.

Fish pokes her furry little head out of the cloth papoose and takes a look around. I really do love holding her this way. Not only can I feel the warmth of her body against mine, but her purring vibrates right through my bones and lets me know she’s happy to be here.

A bookshop? Her left ear twitches. It looks as if Molly had a lot in common with the deceased.

“More than you know,” I whisper. “This place looks identical to Killer Books.”

Juni sucks in a breath. “They’ve got bargain bin boxes in the back. You know I can’t pass up a good deal.”

Georgie is quick to link arms with her not-so mini-me and pull her in close.

“Not so fast, missy. The last time you hit the bargain bins, you came home with three boxes of motor oil and two crates of rotten apples. My tiny cottage can only hold so much.”

I pull a tight smile. “On the plus side, your car will be lubed well into the next decade.”

A tall man, heavyset, with a red beard and matching hair heads our way. He’s dressed in black pants, a white frilly dress shirt, and a black vest. There’s something theatrical about him, about this entire place, and suddenly it feels as if we’ve stepped onto a stage in the middle of a play and we’re trying to feel our way through it.

“Welcome to the Mystic Eye,” he says with a cheery tone. “I’m Brad, the manager. How can I help you?”

“Yes,” I say, unsure of which direction my words should go in next.

I suppose after all of the suspects I’ve questioned, I should be well aware that I need to go into a situation like this with a plan, but for some reason, the excitement of showing up unexpected on a suspect’s proverbial doorstep has me temporarily blinded to the details, like this one, for instance.

Fish yowls. For goodness’ sake, Bizzy, introduce yourself.

“I’m Bizzy Baker,” I say, blinking to life. “And these are my friends, Georgie and Juni. We were just looking for—”

Fish taps her paw to my chest. Something for me?

“Something for my cat.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. I probably shouldn’t have led with that.

“Your cat?” Brad inches back a moment before peering over at Fish. A genuine smile erupts from him, warm and kind. “Hey there, little guy. What’s going on? You need a spiritual attitude adjustment? Wish I could say you were the first.” He looks my way. “Pet auras and other animal kingdom inquiries are on the far wall.”

Juni tosses her hands in the air. “I’ve been looking for these answers my entire life. Every dog I’ve owned has liked my exes better than me, and I’m about to find out why.” She takes off.

Georgie lifts a crooked finger at the man before us. “You got anything on the soul of an artist?”

He glances to the books on the table in front of us. “I’ve got a book on the seven principle talents. They say most people have at least one of the talents listed in the book. But I’ve got a sneaking suspicion you’ve got all seven.”

Georgie belts out a laugh. “And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion you’re a flirt. Keep up the good work, handsome. It will get you everywhere.” Georgie dives right over to the nearest table and begins plowing through the iridescent navy book in search of validation she really doesn’t need.

Brad shakes his head her way. That is one fine-looking mama. I wonder if she’d mind if I slipped her my number? I wouldn’t mind getting everywhere with her—with just about anyone.

“Nice,” I say as I let out a breath of frustration.

Brad tips his chin my way. “Anything else for you and the cat?” He pats Fish’s forehead with his finger.

“Actually, I was wondering if Molly was here?” A part of me is hoping she’s not. I have a feeling I might get further probing Brad. Or in the least Georgie might.

His demeanor shifts on a dime and he grunts at the thought of her.

“She’s in the back. Want me to get her?”

“The back?” Do I want him to get her? I mean, it’s not like I know her. “Um—”

Before I can answer, Molly heads this way with her shock of dark hair looking a bit wilder and frizzier than I remember. She has dark circles under her eyes and her clothes look wrinkled. Grief will do that to a person. I’m shocked she even bothered to show up at work today.

Brad waves her over. “I think we’ve got some customers for you.”

Molly rolls her eyes as she clutches a book in her hand. Here we go again. Another housewife who wants to know if her husband is cheating on her. Maybe I’ll think up something extra juicy to tell her. Heck, maybe I’ll throw the old lady in the crazy dress under the bus while I’m at it and pin her as the other woman. Oddly enough, she looks like Brad’s type. I bet he’s already thinking of giving her his number.

Great. I shake my head ever so slightly. Sounds like we’ve got a fake psychic on our hands. It’s good to know she takes advantage of people for a living.

“Hey.” Molly shrugs my way before her eyes steady over my features and grow in size. “Is it you?” she howls in an accusing tone.

Fish sinks back into her pouch. Let me know when you need me to claw her eyes out.

A sign to the left catches my attention. Palm reading, first ten minutes free. I tip my head curiously at the woman.

“Oh? Are you the palm reader?”

She gives a stunted nod.

“My friend was hoping to talk to you.” I force my mouth to fall open. “Hey, wait a minute. You’re the girl from the other night, aren’t you?” Honestly, this couldn’t have worked out better if I had planned it.

Molly glances to Brad in a threatening manner, and he lifts his hands before heading to the front to help the customers congregating around the cash register.

She takes a step my way and Fish pokes her head out once again.

Something tells me I’d better keep an eye on this one.

I give Fish a little pat on the head because I’m afraid she might be right. There’s just something off about Molly, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

She nods me closer to the table where Georgie seems to have lost herself in one of those self-help books.

“So they haven’t arrested you yet, huh?” Molly’s lips curl my way as if she thought it was funny.

“No,” I say. “And they won’t. I didn’t do it. How are you holding up?”

She takes a full breath and her bright crimson lips quiver as if she were about to say something but decided to hold back. She gives Fish a quick scratch between the ears instead.

“Cool cat. I’m thinking about getting one.” Come to think of it, I should have gotten a cat instead of a boyfriend. Cats don’t jerk you around. And if they reject you, it’s because they want space—not because they’re done with you.

I nod to myself. “You should definitely get a cat. There’s no better unconditional love. I’m surprised you’re at work. I can’t imagine losing someone close to you like that and then being able to concentrate.”

She gives a few rapid blinks. “Wyatt was everything to me. Too much of everything.” She slams the book in her hand down hard onto the table. “He was always trying to weasel his way away from me. So passive. Always so kind on the surface but ready to bolt the second a skirt walked into the picture.”

Georgie lets out a husky laugh, and I shake my head at her.

No, no, Georgie. I beg of you, do not interject. The woman is speaking to me, and I am on a roll.

Fish mewls. Don’t worry, Bizzy. I have a feeling good things will come from this.

I wish I shared the furry feline’s delusion.

“I hear you, honey.” Georgie heads over. “All of my exes left me for a girl in a shorter skirt. Men can be such dogs. They’re insults to the entire canine community.”

Juni rushes over with a stack of books in her hands. “Don’t you go men bashing without me. And you leave innocent pet pooches out of this. If any of my dogs were men, they would have all shared the remote with me. Don’t get me started on sitting in front of the TV watching sports while a stack of dirty dishes waits for me in the kitchen.”

Molly nods knowingly. “My ex did that, too, and I hated it. I felt like some indentured servant running the house.”

Juni cocks her head with a look of slight confusion. “I was the one watching TV, but it’s the same principle.”

Good Lord.

I shoot a weak smile over to Molly.

“Say!” Georgie howls so loud, ten different people crane their neck this way. “Weren’t you at Killer Books the night of the murder?”

“Georgie.” I tick my head.

Molly shrugs. “No, that’s okay. Wyatt was my boyfriend. I thought we were going to get married and have two point five children, a white picket fence, the whole nine yards—but then he had to go do this to me.”

Fish twitches her head my way. She’s not talking about the fact he died, is she?

My mouth squares out because I sort of think she is.

Juni leans in. “How exactly does one have two point five children?” Her body jerks. “Oh, I get it. You send one away to live with Grandma. My mother did that.” She shoots a quick look to Georgie.

“And it did you a world of good.” Georgie winks over at Molly. “This little stinker had it coming.”

“So Molly”—I say, trying to wrangle back the conversation in an investigative direction—“does the sheriff’s department have any answers for you? What do you think happened?”

Molly all but growls. “It’s obvious what happened. Someone got ahold of the knife and went after Wyatt like a human piñata.”

Fish rises from her pouch a notch. Sounds as if she’s trying to make light of it. Maybe that’s how she grieves? Or maybe she’s cold and unfeeling because she’s the one that used him as the human piñata.

I give a slight nod, affirming her thoughts.

“But it was so very brazen.” I shake my head. “If someone had a vendetta against the poor man, why choose that night? With so many witnesses around.”

Juni shakes her head. “It was dark. We were playing a game that centered on murder. People were expecting a horrible death. People were practically cheering for it. If you ask me, it was the perfect crime.”

Molly shifts as she straightens the books before her. I couldn’t agree more.

And just like that, Molly Shay bumps up to the top of my suspect list.

“Molly”—I step in close—“what about Thomas Dean? Do you think he could have done something like this?”

She makes a face. “Calm Tom?” She glances to the ceiling. “He’s not exactly the knife-you-in-the-back type.”

Was Wyatt knifed in the back? There was blood everywhere. I’ll have to ask Jasper when I get a chance. I’m sure that’s something the killer would know, too.

I clear my throat. “Did Thomas know Wyatt very well?”

Juni clucks her tongue. “Aw, come on, Biz. Didn’t you say they went to college together? Cut to the chase.”

My eyes expand as I look her way, and Georgie mumbles something about a strange talent before she spins her jabber-jaw daughter around and they bury their noses in a book.

“Oh, that’s right.” I shake my head. “Wyatt introduced me to Thomas. I think he mentioned something about a university.” Note to self: Juni is forever banned from any further investigations.

Molly casts a quick glance to the door. Wasn’t I there when Wyatt introduced them? I don’t remember anything about a university. But then, my head was all over the place. I was a woman on a mission, and I completely focused on the task at hand.

Fish squirms as I tip my head back and take a breath. She’s thinking of something incriminating, wasn’t she?

I give a slight nod to the intuitive ball of fur.

Molly shrugs. “Yeah, I think they went to school together.”

“What school was it again?”

Molly squints my way, and I know I have less than a second to defuse her suspicion.

“I went to Dexter and my fiancé went to Ward,” I say. “We’re rivals in that sense.” I never finished at Dexter, but that’s beside the point.

Molly makes a face. “I never understood all that rivalry bologna. Wyatt went to Somerset down in New York. Thomas went there, too. They never really talked about it, but there was this weird tension between them lately. They had an argument last week in the break room, and I heard Wyatt tell him to forget about it.”

“What did Thomas say to that?”

She shudders. “He said two people could keep a secret if one of them was dead.” She shrugs. “Some old Shakespeare quote, I think.”

“Dark words.” But she, or Thomas, got the quote wrong. It’s three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. And it’s not from Shakespeare. It’s Benjamin Franklin who said it, but something tells me this isn’t the time to be a know-it-all.

“But Thomas didn’t kill Wyatt,” she insists. “He’d be at the bottom of the list if I was that handsome homicide detective. Did you see that side of beef? Woo—wee.” She fans herself with her fingers in Jasper’s honor. “That man can interrogate me into the early hours of the night.”

Fish lets out a riotous screech. I’m about to pounce.

Molly wiggles her finger over Fish’s nose. “Hey, little guy. What are you getting so worked up about?”

“It’s a girl,” I say with a note of laughter. “And she’s probably just hungry.”

Fish mewls. Now that you mention it, I can go for a tuna salad.

“Speaking of eating.” Molly checks her phone. “I’ve got a hot date in about fifteen minutes.”

“A date?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Some guy I met at the funeral home offered to buy me coffee.” Wyatt may have left me, but I’m getting the last laugh. Or should I say last cup of coffee? “I’ve still got a few minutes, though. I can do a quick reading for you and your friends. I’ll throw it in as a freebie since you knew Wyatt.”

“Yes!” Georgie shrieks as she and Juni head on over, palms up with expectant, yet hopeful, looks in their eyes.

Molly pulls Juni’s hand close. I bet the old hag wants to hear something salacious.

“There’s a man who is very interested in you,” she says with a devilish gleam in her lying eyes. “Expect a phone call within the next seventy-two hours.”

Juni grunts as she takes her hand back. “Leave it to Spike to turn into a stalker. I’d better dump him before he gets too serious.”

“Me, me.” Georgie waves her hand wildly in Molly’s face.

Molly pulls it to her and examines Georgie’s palm while turning her head from left to right.

“Wow, you’ve really been places.” I may blow hot air at people for a living, but this woman really does have interesting lines. “You’re going to be famous.” She nods to Georgie. “Like TV and everything. And there’s something about you that men are just drawn to. Much younger men. In fact, one of them is going to slip you his number very, very soon.” You owe me one, Brad. “And if you don’t go out with him, you could be missing your destiny forever.”

Georgie gasps, “You hear that, Bizzy? I’m getting a man! A young man!”

“I thought you were averse to men?” I couldn’t help but point it out after her aforementioned outburst against the gender.

“Only the men of my past.” Georgie pulls a compact out of her purse and begins to primp her hair.

Juni nods to Molly. “What about Bizzy?”

Molly picks up my left hand and squints down at it. What in the heck? Her eyes meet with mine for a moment. I’ve read a lot of books on the topic—she shakes her head—but this isn’t anything like I’ve ever seen.

“You have a pink vein in the shape of a lightning bolt.” She traces her finger over my palm. “You’re the only person I’ve ever seen with one of these. Do you know what it means?”

“No.” I lean in. “Do you?”

Her lips waver. It’s not like I’m going to tell her it means she has paranormal tendencies. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to hear that she has a third eye into another dimension. She’d probably freak out. She looks very Pollyanna. Besides, she’s got a lot on her plate. The cops will have no choice but to arrest her soon. The last thing she needs is to feel like a freak.

Molly shakes her head. “It means that you’re going to be very much loved by your friends and family.” And when they put her away, I’m sure she’ll be missed, too. “I’d better get going.” She gives Fish a quick pat. “Coffee awaits.” She heads out the door without so much as a glance to her fellow employees.

Georgie, Juni, and I head up to the front register and Juni pays for her bargain books.

Brad nods my way as we’re about to leave, and I make my way over to him.

He leans in. “Heard you talking to Molly about her dead boyfriend. That’s weird stuff, right?”

“It was more than weird. It was pretty brutal.”

“Yeah?” He glances over his shoulder. “You want to see something really weird—some might say brutal? Follow me.”

Georgie and Juni are picking their way through the books up front, so I follow Brad as he navigates us to the back of the store and in through a door marked staff.

“This is her office.” He says office in air quotes. “This is where she does her private readings.”

He flicks on the lights and a barrage of framed pictures stare back at me.

“My God, there must be hundreds,” I say as I look around the tiny space. Every inch available is covered with Wyatt Sanders’ likeness and my stomach rolls as he smiles back at me, unaware of how tragically his life was about to end—seemingly by my hand.

“She was freaking obsessed with the dude.” Brad points to something behind the desk and my feet carry me in that direction. A picture of Wyatt sits on a lower shelf, heavily wrinkled, a red X drawn over his face. “I half-expected the sheriff’s department to roll up and arrest her. She gave that man a heck of a lot of grief. It’s no wonder he was trying to break it off with her.”

“He was?”

“According to Molly. She said he was cheating on her with some chick from the bookstore. His bookstore, not this one.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Some chick named Stormy. Looks like a storm hit the guy, all right. More like a bloodbath.”

Stormy Weston? That’s the hippie girl with the long dark hair I met that night. Her boyfriend Dax was there, too. He was a wall of muscles.

Stormy? That’s who Wyatt was having an affair with? I’m not sure if I’m buying it. But judging by the looks of this place, Molly was more than a little odd. Paranoia probably wasn’t too far off the mark. She probably believed it.

We make our way back up front, and I thank Brad while he slips his number to Georgie in an indiscreet manner.

We head out into the summer air as I try to digest what I just saw.

It looks as if I need to speak with Stormy Weston.

CHAPTER 8

J asper swung by after work with a bag of Chinese from Wok n’ Roll and we quickly obliterated it as if we’ve never seen food before—much to the dismay of Sherlock and Gatsby.

But not only did I make sure to feed them a king’s feast of their own delicious dog food beforehand, but I may have slipped them each a wonton because I can only take so much of those big puppy dog eyes.

Fish, however, was more than content with her meal and managed to nap through the culinary carnage.

A lazy smile rises up one side of Jasper’s cheek as he doles out another serving of four seasons chicken on both our plates. We’re both firmly planted on my sofa, sitting side by side as we fill our bellies to the brim. Jasper has that deconstructed suit thing going on, with his jacket off, the sleeves to his pale blue dress shirt rolled up, his tie pulled loose. With his dark hair and his pale eyes, Jasper is dangerously sexy, and lucky for me, it’s no anomaly. This is an everyday condition.

I moan, “This is probably where I should say I can’t eat another bite, but I’d hate to start our life out built on a foundation of lies.”

A dark laugh rumbles through him. “Odd fact, I love that you have a hearty appetite.”

“Odd fact, I plan on having a hearty appetite for the rest of our lives, and you’re getting a front-row seat.”

He ticks his head to the side. “Lucky, lucky me.” He pins his eyes on mine. “Do you plan on investigating homicides for the rest of your life, too?”

My mouth falls open. “Am I busted?”

“You are.” His brows hike a notch. “Leo saw your car sitting in front of the Mystic Eye. Bizzy,” he says my name low and slow, and as much as I would love to interpret that as a much more interesting proposition, it was the sound of utter disappointment.

“Would you believe me if I said Georgie and Juni were looking to beef up their mystic libraries?”

He glances to the ceiling. “Yes, actually, I would. But other than that, what happened in that psychedelic black hole?”

“Side note: Leo’s on the naughty list. I’m a perfectly grown woman who doesn’t need to be spied on.”

“Side note”—he leans in a notch—“that bookstore is located on his beat.”

“Duly noted.” I take a quick bite off my plate. “All right, I spoke with Molly Shay. Speaking of odd, she’s the queen of all things weird.” I fill him in on her off-putting way of referring to Wyatt, the fact she confirmed Thomas and Wyatt went to the same school, and the bizarre office décor, including that wrinkled picture of Wyatt with a picture of an X drawn through his face.

Jasper inches his head back a notch. “She really is a piece of work. I guess that hikes her up to the top of my suspect list.”

“Mine, too.” I hold up a forkful of four seasons chicken before taking a bite. “Mmm.” I quickly swallow down my food. “Oh, and if that wasn’t odd enough, she read our palms before she rushed out the door. And by the way, you’ll never guess where she was going.”

“To Wyatt’s place to roll around naked on his bed?”

“That would have been more respectable. She went on a date. With who exactly, I don’t know. But she said the guy at the funeral home offered to buy her a cup of coffee. Then she said something really disturbing, like Wyatt may have left her, but she was getting the last laugh, or the last cup of coffee.”

His brows pitch. “That alone is confirmation she’s not all put together upstairs. It looks as if I’ll have to dig a little deeper with her. So what happened when she read your palm?” He takes another bite of his food before looking over at me.

“First, she admitted to being a fraud—to herself, of course. She fed Juni a bunch of malarkey about expecting a phone call from a man who was interested in her. And Georgie was told she was going to be famous and that a younger man would slip her his number. Of course, she was playing wingman to her co-worker Brad, who, you guessed it, slipped Georgie his number before we left.”

“And your hand? What truths did it have to speak?”

A sly smile rides up my cheek. “She was stunned, internally, of course.” I shake my head. “She said something about reading up on the fine art of palm reading, and that she didn’t believe people like me existed. She said I had a pink vein in my hand that signified I was prone to the paranormal.” I show him the hand in question, and Jasper plants a kiss in the middle of it.

“She was right. And she doesn’t even know it. I can appreciate that, but I can’t appreciate her, especially with all that twisted behavior she’s displaying. She could very well be our killer.”

“Aww,” I give a sarcastic coo. “You said our.”

Sherlock barks. I told you he’d come around, Bizzy!

I’m about to relay what Sherlock said when a thought comes to me.

“Gatsby?” I lean his way and the magnificent beast lifts his head a notch. “What do you think about Molly? Did you see anything suspicious that night?”

Jasper lifts a finger. “I have questioned a lot of people. I’ve witnessed a lot of other detectives question people, but the fact you can question the suspect’s dog puts you a cut above the rest.”

Fish lets out a lazy yowl. I knew he’d come around, too.

Gatsby moans before letting out a soft bark. Molly wasn’t the greatest girlfriend Wyatt ever had, but she was interested in him—too interested. I’m not proud to say she caught Wyatt and that young, ditzy girl kissing, who, by the way, kept trying to convince me to go vegan. Molly was justifiable in her anger.

“Ooh, that’s right.” I wince. “There might have been one more thing Molly’s co-worker told me that I forgot about, and Gatsby here just confirmed.” I quickly tell Jasper about Wyatt’s indiscretion with Stormy.

Jasper takes a breath. “Sounds like we just secured a motive.”

Gatsby barks again. Molly did say she was going to make him pay. And she has made him pay for many things before. But she was all about making him suffer—in an unnaturally prolonged manner.

I do a quick translation and Jasper leans his way.

“Gatsby”—Jasper looks right at the fuzzy pooch—“did Wyatt know that Molly caught him in a compromising position with another woman?”

I don’t know, the cute pup warbles. I saw her enter the office while the two of them were in there, and she left in a hurry.

“When was that?” I ask.

A week ago.

I let Jasper know and we stare at one another a moment too long.

He nods. “I’ll talk to Molly. I’ll get this done.”

I make a face without meaning to. “I know you want to protect me, but I want to be a part of this, too. I was stuck holding the knife, remember?”

“I know. And I’m the lead homicide detective who cleared you.” He puts his plate down on the coffee table, and I do the same. “I got some info on that ring.”

My mouth falls open. “And are you willing to share it with me?”

His silver eyes spark over mine. “Heck yes.” He picks up my hands. “Bizzy, I’m not shutting you out. I love you. You are brilliant, not to mention you have a psychic edge that cannot be denied. That being said, I shouldn’t be talking to you about any open homicide investigation.” His lips twitch. “But I do want to share this with you. The only thing I ask is that you don’t put yourself in a dangerous situation.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “And I would never put myself in a precarious position—on purpose.” I jostle his hand. “Now spill it, Detective. What have you got?”

“Wyatt and Thomas went to Somerset University in New York.”

I invert my lips to keep from shedding a greedy grin.

His eyes narrow in on mine. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

I shrug. “What can I say? I had a very informative meeting with Molly. But she knew nothing about the ring.”

“Okay, I’ll start there. I spoke to the people over at Johnson Jewelers. They said thirty-two of those specific rings were made and purchased all at once over ten years ago.”

“Thirty-two. Enough for a frat house?”

He nods. “That was my next step. I looked into all the fraternities and dug around. They don’t traditionally have rings, but those that did weren’t anything like these. They all had a mention of Somerset. In fact, I found out the fraternity both Wyatt and Thomas belonged to was called Alpha Omega Nu. I reached out to one of the recent actives. He had no idea what that ring was or what it could mean.”

“So it’s a dead end?”

He tips his head back. “Oh ye, of little faith.”

I can’t help but bite down a smile. “All right. Get to the good part.”

“I spoke with Wyatt’s older brother. He’s on base in Hawaii and we had a nice little video chat. He’s broken up over what happened. He said Wyatt was a good kid. Clean-cut, the whole nine yards—with the exception of that dark period in college.”

“What?” I give his arm a quick shake. “What dark period? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I’m kidding. Sort of. Apparently, Wyatt and, I’m assuming, Thomas were a part of a secret society called the Order of the Skulls. A super exclusive group that nobody knows much about, save for the name.”

“Oh, wow. I’m intrigued. I can’t wait to dig—”

“I’ll dig in.” He lifts my hand to his lips and dots my finger with a kiss. “And I also found out that Wyatt wasn’t the sole owner of Killer Books. There was a real estate group called the Weatherston Collective that owned the other half. It could be made up of one person or many. I’ll have to do some more digging.”

I take a deep breath. “That’s a lot of information. Thomas let me know that Brooklynn had an interest in the bookstore. Maybe she’s a part of that group? Either way, good work, Detective.”

“Right back at you.” He tips his head to the side, a dangerous smile riding on his lips. “I’ll look into Brooklyn. Have I ever told you that I think we make a great team?”

“I may have gotten the hint when you proposed.”

“Have I mentioned lately how glad I am you said yes?”

A giggle rides up my throat. “No, but I’m equally glad to hear it. Do you realize we’re tying the knot in three short months?”

“Do you realize I can’t wait?” His features soften. “We need to shore up the honeymoon.”

“We need to shore up our vacation to Honey Hollow. For our honeymoon, maybe?” Last month when Lottie Lemon and her friends came to stay here at the inn, we grew close quickly. Not only did we bond over our amateur sleuth status while solving a double homicide, but we bonded over our transmundane status as well. Even though her ability to see the dead and my ability to read minds are two vastly different subclassifications, it sealed our fate, and I have a feeling we’ll be as close as sisters for the rest of our lives.

I twist my lips. “On second thought, maybe Honey Hollow should be taken off the short list for our honeymoon. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stop Georgie or Macy from tagging along.”

Jasper nods. “Or Sherlock or Fish. Why don’t we move that trip up? Say next month? A little getaway for the Fourth?”

“That sounds perfect. Let me run it by everyone and we’ll get this figured out. Just the thought of seeing Lottie and her friends again invigorates me.”

Jasper pulls me onto his lap and lands a lingering kiss to my lips.

“I think I’ve got a way to invigorate you.”

“Give it your best shot, Detective.”

And he does.

CHAPTER 9

G eorgie and Juni were determined to help me in some way with the investigation, so I gave them some homework—track down Stormy Weston. The mother-daughter crime-fighting duo said they’d get right on it like white on homicidal rice. And while they got on that in mercenary style, I got myself outside.

The best part about managing the Country Cottage Inn is the lovely people and the equally lovely pets I get to meet.

The second best? The view.

There is nothing as dauntingly beautiful as the Atlantic Ocean. And lucky for the Inn, we sit on a sandy cove that butts right up to its steely magnificence. The ocean, like any body of water, has always been a double-edged sword for me. Ever since Mack shoved me into that whiskey barrel, I’ve been more than a little paranoid about immersing myself in anything wet that happens to be deeper than my ankles. Ironically, that’s how I met the love of my life.

Sherlock chased Fish into the salty sea, and in an effort to save my favorite little kitten, I ran right after them. Let’s just say there was a rogue wave, and then a strong man helped me to safety—who would later become the most important man in my life, but at the moment, he was just an ornery stranger who wasn’t all that thrilled to ruin his good suit.

I can’t help but smile at the thought as I pop yet another one of Emmie’s lemon tarts into my mouth.

The sky hangs heavy and blue, a warm breeze passes through every now and again, and the smell of coconut-scented suntan lotion mingles with the briny air to create the perfect combination of the embodiment of summer.

The inn is nearly booked to capacity, not a surprise this time of year, and the tourists all seem to be out on the sand having a good time.

Emmie and I have decided to take a break and hit the sand ourselves, not to sunbathe, but to toss a Frisbee for some of our favorite fur babies. A couple of months ago, Emmie adopted a labradoodle named Cinnamon after the poor pooch’s owner was murdered. The case was quickly solved—I may have played a part in that—and Cinnamon found her new forever home with my awesome bestie. Cinnamon is as sweet as can be, and she’s really grown into those oversized paws, too. She’s nearly the same height as Sherlock. And she’s just as fast, too.

Emmie and I watch as Cinnamon, Sherlock, and Gatsby chase that bright orange disc around the cove with some serious gusto as if this were an Olympic-worthy event. But the most comical part of it all, that has turned the heads of more than a few tourists, is the fact that while the dogs are chasing the Frisbee—Fish is chasing their tails, and she’s not afraid to pounce on them either.

We share a laugh as Fish lands on Cinnamon’s back and takes a short ride before getting knocked into the sand.

“See that, Bizzy?” Emmie bumps her hip to mine before helping herself to another lemon tart out of the bag we’re sharing. “Even our pets are best friends.”

“Family,” I correct. “And just like us, they’ll do just about everything together.”

“I’m glad you brought that up.” She bites down on a mischievous smile, her eyes lighting up with an up-to-no good twinkle themselves. Emmie has her hair in a ponytail, as do I, and three different tourists who are staying at the inn have already asked if we’re sisters. Of course, we tell them the truth—we are.

“It’s as if all our dreams have come true.” She sighs. “Remember when we were little and we dreamt about double dating? I say we make the rest of our dreams come true tonight. What do you say, Bizzy?” She winces. “Let me answer that for you. The answer is yes. Wait, did you just say yes?” She lets out a riotous whoop. “Where should we go? Your choice. Whatever you guys decide, we’ll be up for.”

“Emmie. The correct answer is we should go nowhere. You should go nowhere with him. Leo’s a notorious womanizer. I don’t like the thought of my best friend being womanized.”

Emmie huffs, “Bizzy, he’s amazing. And he’s not womanizing me. We’re just getting to know one another.”

“Please tell me you haven’t crossed any carnal lines with him.”

Her lips invert and tell me everything I don’t want to know.

A hard groan comes from me.

“Bizzy”—she gives my arm a tug—“you have no idea what that man is capable of.”

“Oh, I have some idea.”

It’s Emmie who has no idea what he’s capable of—not in the telepathic sense anyway seeing that Leo is telesensual like me. It’s creepy knowing he has the ability to pry into her deepest thoughts. I can, too. But around me, Emmie pretty much says whatever she’s thinking.

“Anyway.” She shrugs my way as she waves Cinnamon over. “Leo and I are getting pretty serious. And I really want you to like him—to like him and me together. I know Leo and Jasper had a falling-out, but I don’t want that to ruin anything. I always thought we’d be couple friends when we grew up. I really want this to work. So whatever differences you have, I need you to put them aside.” She gives a few solid blinks my way as if she were holding back her emotions. “Bizzy, I think he might be the one.”

“The one what?” No sooner do the words stream from me than I gasp. “The one, one?”

She gives a quick nod before Cinnamon trots over and she leashes him.

“Hey there.” I bend over and dot a kiss to Cinnamon’s forehead. “Stop growing up so fast, would you?”

Cinnamon lets out a small bark. Great news, Bizzy. I’m still a puppy. Emmie reminds me of that every day.

Fish hops over to Cinnamon and claws at her playfully before bleating out a mewl. Come out more often. Gatsby won’t be with us forever, and I know you have an eye for him.

Fish! Cinnamon barks gruffly.

“Whoa.” Emmie reins her in. “What’s got you, girl? Fish isn’t going to hurt you.”

“Huh,” I say as I give Cinnamon a quick scratch between the ears. “I think someone here has a crush on Gatsby.”

Cinnamon lowers her head and covers her eyes. So embarrassing.

“Aww!” Emmie coos. “Is that true, sweet girl? I can’t say I blame you. He is a handsome boy.” She looks my way. “What’s going to happen to the poor guy?”

“I have no idea,” I say, looking back as Sherlock and Gatsby run in and out of the waves. “But I guess he’s mine for now. And I don’t mind one bit.”

“You know who keeps saying he wants a dog?” Emmie has that mischievous look in her eye that makes me twitchy.

“Who?”

“Leo.”

“No.” I can’t help but moan. “Emmie, you’re pulling us all farther into the Leo Granger vortex. I just don’t want him to break your heart, and not only would he break your heart, but he’d break your dog’s heart, too. And that’s more than my heart can handle.”

“Don’t you worry about our hearts. I’ll run it by Leo.” She gives a little hop and a skip. “I’m so excited. I can’t wait to tell him the good news! Both pieces of good news!” She trots off with Cinnamon in tow.

“There’s no good news,” I shout after her and she laughs like a woman possessed, like a woman in…

I suck in a quick breath at the horrid revelation.

No, no, no. Emmie cannot fall in love with Leo.

Okay, fine. Leo is not that bad. But he’s unpredictable. And unpredictable is scary. Not only is he unpredictable, but he has a track record of loving and leaving ’em.

It looks as if Jasper and I are about to have one interesting double date night.

My phone pings and I glance down at the screen to see it’s a text from Georgie.

Winner, winner, Stormy dinner.

We got her.

CHAPTER 10

I t turns out, Stormy Weston works at a needlepoint shop out on the pier in Whaler’s Cove.

“Needlepoint.” I shake my head as Georgie, Juni, and I do what sounds like a little fox-trot across the wooden wharf. “I wouldn’t have pegged Stormy for someone who hangs out in a needlepoint shop.”

“Hey, don’t knock it.” Juni dances her elbows from side to side as we indulge in a little speed walking. “A dollar is hard to come by these days. Ask me how I know.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Are you having a tough time finding work? I’m telling you, it’s an epidemic in this country as far as anyone who’s been incarcerated. Once a person serves their time, they have a right to rebuild their lives. You can work at the inn if you want. I’m sure I can find something for you to do.”

“I don’t want anything to do.” Juni sounds affronted that I even assumed so much. “I’m talking about the men I’m seeing. They work all day and can’t even afford to take me out for a juicy steak in the evening. I’m sick and tired of dating men who can’t treat me to the lifestyle I’ve become accustomed to.”

Georgie snorts. “And I’m sick and tired of hitting up mamby pamby joints like a needlepoint shop. What happened to the good old days of investigating, Bizzy? I want the grit and the grime. Give me a tattoo parlor or give me death.” She raises a fist to the sky, and I can’t help but avert my eyes.

“Georgie and I went to a tattoo shop about nine months ago in Edison,” I say. “And if I remember right, Macy was with us. She scored a date with the bouncer, or whoever that beefy man was guarding the door. And neither of us got a tattoo.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to have a good time.” She gives a little wink my way. “If that were me, I would have gotten a bright blue butterfly right on my keister.” Her forefinger flies through the air like a bee until it lands over her pink kaftan-covered bottom with a sizzle.

“I know how to have a good time.” Juni is quick to alert us to her fun-loving status. “I’ve scored a date or two with a bouncer myself.”

“And that’s exactly how you met Spike,” I point out. It’s true. Juni met Spike while we were undercover at the Pawn King. He took her on a cruise and everything, but apparently he doesn’t make enough to keep her in steaks, so things are on the rocks.

“Ohh.” Juni bucks as if I shot her. “Speaking of Spike, he’s coming by the cove tonight and we’re doing s’mores by a bonfire.”

“Aww,” I coo. “That sounds perfectly romantic.”

She ticks her head. “Nine times out of ten, romantic is a cover for ain’t got two sweet nickels to rub together so I’m gonna rub you for free. If I wanted a man who was living paycheck to paycheck, I’d still be seeing my probation officer.”

Before I can think of a comeback, Georgie lets out a menacing howl while slapping at her chest.

“Oh my God, Georgie!” I howl right back as I try to grab her. “Are you having a heart attack?”

“Yes, I’m having a heart attack,” she shouts. “The needlepoint shop is a tattoo parlor!” She points behind me, and I spin on my heels.

Sure enough, there’s a giant sign in the shape of a needle, and written across it are the words Needlepoint Tattoos.

“I sure hope butterflies are free,” Georgie shouts gleefully as she makes a run for the unsuspecting establishment. “Because I’m pinning one to my tiny hiney.”

Juni snorts, but neither of us dares say a thing about Georgie’s questionable tiny hiney.

A bell chimes as we step into the well air-conditioned shop and soak in the shiplap walls decorated with framed pictures of their craftsmanship etched onto bums and boobs alike displayed for all to see.

Good grief.

In fact, there’s a picture of something muscular with a tattoo of a peacock on it, and I can’t for the life of me identify what part of the human anatomy it’s attached to.

There’s a wide stainless steel counter and behind it is a pricing chart, a stern warning to wimps, and about a million little pictures of prospective artwork one can have etched into their flesh forever. The sound of rock music filters through the speakers and the slight scent of Chinese food lingers in the air.

“Can I help you?” a female voice chirps from my left, and no sooner do I turn that way than I gasp so hard you’d think the devil himself had just popped up. It’s not that far from the truth.

Before I answer or acknowledge the malfeasance before me, Georgie barrels forward as if she’s about to attack and demands a tat on her patoot—her words, not mine—and before we know it, a blonde named Veronica hauls both her and Juni to the back.

I step forward with caution. Before me sits Stormy Weston, the dark-haired hippie, in a rainbow striped dress with a hoop earring in her left nostril. But it’s not Stormy that had me gasping; it’s the woman seated across from her currently getting what looks to be a henna tattoo from the hippie in question.

“You want one, too?” Stormy asks me with a marked innocence. “I’ll be done in a minute with this one. It’s fifty bucks for both hands.”

A dark smile curls at my lips. “I would love one.”

I quickly plant myself in the seat right next to the woman who has stolen more of my peace than a bad haircut could ever hope to do.

“Camila,” I say her name without an ounce of inflection. “What a surprise.”

The buxom brunette huffs my way, “I’m not surprised.” She rolls her eyes to Stormy. “This is the woman I was telling you about.”

Stormy’s mouth rounds out. “Oh my gosh, yes.” She clucks her tongue. “Ms. Ryder was trying to, like, describe you and stuff, but I couldn’t get a read on it. I guess I was too focused on the fact you had blood on your hands that night. You didn’t really kill Wyatt, did you?” Of course, I know better, but it’s prudent to ask. And probably prudent to hype up the bubble-headed teenager in me, too. I don’t want either of these women to know what I’m capable of.

My mouth falls open. Could Stormy be the killer?

I tip my head to the side and examine her for a moment. That unkempt hair, those large glassy eyes that give off the cue her brain has been chemically altered. Honestly, I wouldn’t have pegged her for the crime, but here we are.

That was an admission of something, but homicide? Hopefully, I’m about to find out.

“No,” I say. “I didn’t kill him. Did you?” I give a playful shrug, and Camila gags as if I shoved one of those long brushes Stormy is using down her throat.

“Excuse Bizzy,” Camila says. “She’s a bit of a busybody. Her name basically serves as a warning.”

Stormy chortles as she sets Camila’s hands underneath a small fan and rolls her stool my way and begins to prep me.

“I’m no killer.” She winks directly at me when she says it. “And I’m no tattoo artist either. My boyfriend Dax is the guy you want to see if you’re looking for something permanent. He’s the one your friend is with.”

A horrific howl comes from the back as if Georgie was affirming this.

Stormy giggles. “He’ll go easy on her.” She begins to trace out a pattern over the top of my hands with the deft and speed of a NASCAR driver. “Sometimes I stop by to catch a little afternoon delight, but he’s fine with me turning a few bucks while I wait. Now, don’t worry. All of my dyes are nontoxic and should wear off after about two weeks.”

Camila glowers my way. You’re here because you suspect her of killing Wyatt, aren’t you? She tosses an irritated glance out the window. Stormy didn’t do it. Her mouth falls open. Wait a minute. Do you think her boyfriend did it? I’ll tell you right now that’s doubtful. He’s got a lot going on for himself. Besides, according to Stormy, he’s only visited Killer Books a time or two. So you see, Dizzy Bizzy, I’m afraid all homicidal roads still lead back to you.

I try my best not to acknowledge the fact I can read her mind. She might know I’m well capable of it, but it doesn’t mean I have to play along.

“Sorry about the afternoon delight not working out for you. I’m engaged myself and I know how exciting it can be to steal a moment with your man.” A vindictive smile glides up my cheeks as I glance to Camila.

I don’t mind rubbing my relationship with Jasper in her face one bit, especially not considering the fact she’s been working overtime to cast her net over him once again.

Camila grunts, “That’s right. So when’s the wedding, Biz?”

“Wait a minute.” Stormy pauses from applying a series of tangerine-colored dots along my wrist. “Are you the one that stole Camila’s fiancé away from her?”

“What?” Now it’s my turn to scoff at the lying vixen to my right. “Camila and Jasper weren’t engaged, at least not when I met Jasper. He was a free agent. I don’t go around snatching men out of perfectly good relationships.”

Stormy snarls right at me. Judgmental much?

I turn to Stormy and gasp. “What? No. I wasn’t judging you at all.”

Stormy blinks my way. Did I say that out loud?

Shoot. I tap my hands to the table in frustration. Camila is completely throwing me off my investigative game. I’m sure there’s a rule about not insulting the suspect you’re trying to get a confession out of. I would never have said something so judgmental, although totally correct, had not the queen of mean been seated beside me.

“I mean”—I clear my throat—“if you were seeing a man who was seemingly taken, I wouldn’t care. It’s not my business. I guess it’s not like he was married.”

“Right?” She leans in and gives an aggressive nod. “Who the heck cares? It was just a few kisses and some heavy petting. It’s not like I showed up naked at his front door at midnight.” Although that was definitely on the list.

I make a face at her without meaning to.

“Anyway”—I take a moment to shoot Camila the stink eye for interrupting my investigation whether she meant to or not—“Stormy, what kind of a relationship did you have with Wyatt Sanders?”

“He was my boss.” She gives an indifferent shrug. “Okay, fine. So we smooched a time or two. Who could blame us? That bookstore was killer boring. It’s not like we had anything else to do.”

“Do you think his girlfriend found out?”

Stormy’s cheeks heat a bright shade of pink. “She did.” A laugh that sounds like a train pulling out of the station sputters from her. “Let’s just say Molly wasn’t at all mollified by the sight. But that’s in the past. If you ask me, she’s got bigger problems to deal with.”

An ear-piercing howl erupts from the back, and I half-expect to see Georgie running out the door with her tiny hiney exposed.

I lean in as Stormy spastically dots my left hand. I’ll admit, it’s already looking like a work of art.

“Stormy, what kind of problems does Molly have?”

She shoots a quick glance to Camila. “The woman is a train wreck. She was obsessed with Wyatt. Like psycho obsessed.” She looks to Camila and snorts. “Remember Earl Frye? He was totally obsessed with you. I thought he was going to follow you home and hack you to pieces.”

Camila twitches. “Precisely why I moved.”

“I thought you just renovated your kitchen?” At least that was the lie she spewed to me in order to get closer to Jasper while shacking up at my inn. Thank God she’s moved to whatever hole she’s hiding in. There are plenty of things I don’t want to know about Camila, and that’s one of them. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

Camila scowls before her affect changes on a dime as she reverts her attention to Stormy. “I haven’t heard from Earl lately.”

Stormy shrugs. “Rumor has it, he’s in prison. He probably hacked someone else up instead.”

“Don’t worry, Camila,” I say. “There’s still hope for a hacking spree in your future.”

Stormy belts out a laugh. “Hey, you’re funny!”

“Thanks, it comes easy when I’m around Ms. Ryder.” I take a deep breath. “So that’s it regarding Molly? Her obsession?”

“Well, yeah, she’ll have to find someone else to terrorize. I’m sure all that pent-up frustration is killing her. But she’s not grieving Wyatt. She didn’t love the guy. He was more or less an object to her. A possession.”

“Who do you think had a motive to kill Wyatt then? I mean, Molly would have been obvious. She was a scorned woman.”

Stormy shrugs. “Then why not kill me?” She shivers. “I can’t believe I said those words.” She pulls a small dried sprig from underneath the table and begins to wave it through the air. “Sage. It cleanses the bad juju.” She tosses it over her shoulder before getting back to work. “Anyway, Thomas had some beef with Wyatt. Things were getting heated.”

That’s exactly what Molly said.

Huh. Things aren’t looking so good for Thomas.

“What do you think they were arguing over?” I point to a spot she missed near my thumb and she quickly fills it in with an intricate pattern. Oddities aside, this girl is fantastic at what she does. My hands officially qualify as works of art.

“I don’t know. But I think Wyatt had something on him. It was almost like he was controlling him with it.” She blows slowly over my finger to get a bubble of ink to dry quicker. Her eyes meet with mine and there’s a note of panic in them. “I just realized what they could have been fighting about.”

“What?” Camila leans in as if she cared.

Stormy takes a breath. “Wyatt had some pricey book in a glass case.”

“The Agatha Christie first print run?” I can’t believe I’ve forgotten all about it.

“That’s the one.” Stormy’s brows knit. I can’t believe she knows about it. She shakes her head. Why they heck did I bring it up? The last thing I need is the cops crawling around sniffing for information. “Anyway. I don’t want to talk about it. Thomas is a scary guy. There were rumors that he had a dark past.”

“What kind of a dark past?” I shoot Camila a look that says don’t interrupt this time.

Stormy itches her cheek and a bright orange streak of ink erupts over it. I’d tell her about it, but I don’t dare break her concentration.

She squints to the ceiling. “Wyatt said something about a death.”

“As in someone close to Thomas died?” I ask with my ear tipped her way.

“As in the dude killed someone.”

A bloodcurdling scream erupts from the back, and, sure enough, a blur of a woman wearing a hot pink kaftan runs right out of the place, and yes, I caught a glimpse of a rather naked behind. Juni trots out after her, screaming something about needing a blood transfusion.

Good Lord.

I pull a few bills from my wallet and I toss them onto the table.

“Thank you for the beautiful work, Stormy.” I look to Camila. “It was interesting seeing you.”

Interesting? I shake my head at my own word choice.

I guess that was as close to nice as I can get while still telling the truth.

“Tell Jasper I said hello!” Camila calls out after me. “On second thought, I’ll tell him myself when I get back to work.”

I bet she will.

Georgie and Juni are already halfway to the car, and I do my best to catch up to them.

It turns out, Georgie doesn’t need a blood transfusion. It was a particularly bloody threat issued from Juni to Dax for nicking her mama with a needle.

We head back to Cider Cove sans a butterfly on any of our tiny hineys, and sans any hard answers as to who might have killed Wyatt Sanders.

But as fate would have it, I did glean something interesting.

Thomas Dean just may have killed someone.

But could he have killed Wyatt, too?

CHAPTER 11

T  he Blue Brick Steakhouse is not only one of Cider Cove’s premier eateries, it just so happens to be a hop and a skip from the Country Cottage Inn, just a few doors down on Main Street.

Both Jasper and I liked the idea of sticking close to home, especially seeing that neither of us is all that thrilled with the idea of going out with Emmie and Leo in the first place.

Emmie looks like a doll in her tight red dress, her matching patent heels, and crimson-stained pouty lips. I’m wearing a near identical dress in black, and my shoes are a lot less shiny. I may not want to double date with my bestie and her new main squeeze, but I sure as heck want to look good for Jasper. I’ll admit, seeing Camila this afternoon got me rattled. Sure, she’s mean, but she’s a beauty, too. That can’t be denied. And how I hate that per capita, Jasper sees a lot more of her than he does of me.

Jasper brushes a kiss along my lips as we wait to be seated. “You’re beautiful.”

I reach up and give his scruff a quick scratch. “And you’re breathtaking. Is there any way to turn down the volume on the sexy? Or am I going to have to bat the girls away for the next fifty years?”

“Just fifty?”

The door opens and in walks Leo Granger with his dark hair slicked back and that dark smile that holds a carnal promise on his lips, and no sooner does he glance to Jasper and me than he locks eyes with Emmie and they treat us to an impromptu make-out session.

“All right, all right,” I say. “We get it. You like to kiss. Oh, look, we’re being seated. I guess you’ll have to come up for air.” I wave like mad at the waitress, and she mercifully nods for us to follow her.

We’re seated by the window about halfway from the entry and halfway to the kitchen, quite possibly the best seats in the house. But I’m still a little deflated from witnessing that lip carnage these two displayed in the entry, I’m not even sure I have an appetite anymore.

“Bizzy, Jasper.” Leo nods to the two of us. “Sorry, I was running late. I got caught in traffic.”

Emmie shakes her head. “I don’t mind one bit. I know you have a very important job and you’re coming from Seaview.”

Jasper takes a breath. “I work in Seaview. I wasn’t late.” He flashes a lightning quick smile.

Leo offers a stale smile right back. “I’m glad I didn’t miss dinner.”

The four of us get right to examining our menus.

Leo catches my eye for a microsecond. Jasper knows that Leo shares my ability to read minds. Of course, while they were best friends way back when, Jasper had no idea. And as of late, Jasper and Leo’s relationship has been on the mend. But the thought of Leo with Emmie—it’s just…

It’s just what, Bizzy? He lowers his menu an inch. What exactly do you have against me dating Emmie? I thought we were friends.

I can’t help but scoff. Leo, we are friends. Heck, we’re more like family at this point. And Emmie, she’s basically my sister. What if you break her heart?

What if I don’t? He’s quick with the comeback.

Jasper glances up before doing a double take at the two of us.

He’s talking to you, isn’t he? Jasper pins those pale gray eyes to mine for a moment and I give the hint of a nod.

Emmie leans in. “Why is everyone exchanging looks?” She sucks in a quick breath. Wait. Leo’s not going to propose, is he? We’re totally not at that stage. But then again, things have been moving kind of quickly. My God, Bizzy and I can have that double wedding we’ve always dreamed of.

A hard groan comes from me.

Emmie reaches over. “Bizzy, are you okay?”

“I just need a drink.” I take a few aggressive gulps of the ice water before me and nearly choke on the effort. See? I glance to Leo. It’s not fair that you read her mind. I’m not sure if I want my best friend’s significant other to be able to pry into her private places.

A sly smile rides on his lips. Sorry to say it, Biz. I’ve already pried into her private places.

“Gah!” I bounce back in my seat and Emmie looks my way. The expression on her face lets me know she’s more than a little worried about me.

“Thought I saw a spider,” I’m quick with the lie. More like a roach. I tick my head to Leo. Sorry, but again, she’s like my sister. Leo, you can’t date Emmie. She’s starting to get serious, like really serious. And believe me, she’s been known to wield the L word around.

He nods as he looks down at his menu. She’s said it.

“What?” I hiss as I slap my own menu up over my face. I slowly lower my menu, only to find Emmie’s eyes ready to spring right out of her head. “I can’t believe they don’t have calamari.” I give a slight shrug her way.

“They do, Bizzy. It’s an appetizer.” She giggles to Leo. “Bizzy and I are a little addicted.”

Leo expands his lips. “Then we’ll get two.”

Jasper knocks his knee to mine. Everything okay?

I’m slow to nod his way and I think he gets the hint.

Leo, I all but hiss internally. I can’t believe Emmie said I love you. Now what are we going to do? You’re going to have to break things off with her. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Now she’s going to have a broken heart—and right before my wedding. Way to ruin my big day, Leo. Not to mention my poor bestie’s heart.

He inches back a notch. Wait a minute. I think I know what’s going on. You don’t want things to get serious between Emmie and me because you’re afraid I’ll tell her my secret.

Everything in me freezes. My God, he’s right.

Of course, I’m right. He curls his menu in his hands. Bizzy, you don’t ever plan on telling her about your gift, do you?

A horrid flood of emotions hits me right in the gut. I knew I’d be feeling certain things at tonight’s dinner, I just had no idea grief was one of them.

I shake my head just enough. No. I don’t know why. I should have told her right from the beginning. But I didn’t, and now I’m terrified she’ll hate me if she ever finds out the truth. I’m not hiding some small secret, Leo. This is huge. She’ll know that I had the ability to pry into her private thoughts all these years and I never bothered to clue her into something so strange, something that she’ll probably classify as fantastic right up until she begins to question our friendship. I can’t lose Emmie, Leo. And face it, when you find the one, you’re probably going to tell her. I lower my menu a notch. You’d tell her, right?

He takes a deep breath and shoots Jasper a look. Yes, I plan on telling my wife. And if that wife happens to be Emmie, she would know.

I swallow hard. I’m afraid I’ll lose her, Leo.

The waitress comes by and takes our order and I try my best to stuff my feelings.

Jasper leans my way once she leaves. You’re afraid of Emmie finding out, aren’t you?

I bite hard on my lower lip. Apparently, I’m as easy to read as a billboard.

“What is going on?” Emmie giggles as she kicks me under the table. “I’d swear the three of you were in on some big deep, dark secret.” She lifts her shoulders toward Leo. “Go on, spill it. If Bizzy is in on it, then I’m as good as in on it, too. Bizzy and I don’t keep any secrets from one another. Believe me, she couldn’t keep a whopper from me if she wanted to. And if she did, I’d disown her.” She winks my way.

A dull sigh expels from me. And there you have it. All of my worst fears in a nutshell. She might be winking now, but I’m guessing a full-blown strangulation would take place if she knew just how long I’ve been keeping a secret of this diabolical nature.

Jasper tips his head back a notch. “Bizzy thinks the world of you, Emmie. If she were keeping a secret from you, it would most likely be out of love. She cares about you.”

Her lips twist. “Well, I don’t care for secrets. And I’m not too thrilled with surprises either. I’ve expertly unwrapped all of my Christmas presents early for the last twenty plus years running. Isn’t that right, Bizzy?” She gives a cheeky grin my way. “Biz knows all my deep, dark secrets and I know all of hers.” She sucks in her bottom lip as she looks from Leo to me. “So who’s going to tell me?”

The waitress pops up with two giant platters brimming with calamari, and I’ve never been so happy to see a fried squid in all my life.

We get right to the business of stuffing our faces, and when the appetizer disappears, I regale everyone with the story of Georgie running down the wharf in Whaler’s Cove just about buck naked.

Dinner comes and goes and Leo fills us in on his day.

“But unlike you, Bizzy”—judging by that smirk on his face, I can feel the zinger coming—“I wasn’t chasing down any suspects.”

Emmie opens her mouth with delight. “How did you know she was chasing down a suspect?”

Jasper nods my way. “Because Needlepoint Tattoos just so happens to be a haunt for not one but two suspects.”

“You got me.” I cringe playfully. “But in my defense, Georgie was determined to have a butterfly plastered to her backside for the duration of her time on this planet.”

Emmie wrinkles her nose. “Too bad it didn’t work out for her. I’ll get her some temporary tattoos to hold her over until she works up her nerve again.”

Dinner wraps up and Emmie excuses herself to the ladies’ room. I wait until she’s out of earshot before leaning across the table.

“Leo, I beg of you to be careful with her.”

He glances in her direction. “Bizzy, she’s not made of blown glass. Just know that my feelings for her are real.”

Jasper takes a breath. “If you think you’re getting serious, if you think you’re going to tell her, maybe let Bizzy tell her first.”

“What?” It comes out weak. “But I never really… I guess I never thought I’d…”

Leo shakes his head my way. “You don’t have to tell her, Bizzy. If it ever comes to the point where I decide to share my secret, you don’t have to share yours.”

Jasper offers a solemn blink as if concurring, and my heart breaks just considering it.

Emmie comes back and we opt to raid the Country Cottage Café for dessert instead of hanging around. It seems those lemon tarts have been in the forefront of our minds all week. Jasper and Leo drop a few bills onto the table and we head outside to the warm summer night air that holds the scent of the briny sea mingling with sweet jasmine.

My eyes drift up the street and catch on that gold and black sign that reads Killer Books and I startle for a moment.

“Hey”—Jasper wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close—“it’s okay.”

I open my mouth to say something and look to Emmie and Leo instead.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead?” I say. “Save some lemon tarts for us.”

Emmie and Leo say goodnight and we watch as they walk into the night, holding hands as happy as can be. I couldn’t be happier for Emmie to feel this way with someone. It’s been a long time and I want her to be happy. But the thought of her finding happiness with the one person who could jeopardize our relationship gives me an ache I can’t describe. It’s selfish, and if she and Leo work out, I’ll have to get over it. I’ll have to tell her my deep, dark secret and hope she doesn’t resort to homicide.

I turn to Jasper. “I just remembered something about that meeting with Stormy—” Before I can finish, another couple holding hands heads this way, and if I thought I couldn’t wrap my head around Emmie and Leo, I sure as heck can’t wrap my head around these two—for entirely different reasons.

“Hux?” I hardly recognize my voice as it pitches. “Mackenzie?”

My brother sheds an easy grin. He’s still in his suit from work, I’m presuming, but with his suit and her little black dress, this looks like a formal sit-down event that’s threatening to bring up that bucket full of calamari I shoved down my throat.

Here we go. Hux pulls me in for a quick embrace. “Biz, Detective.” He nods to Jasper. “How’s the case? I see my sister is still a free woman. I guess that’s a good sign.”

Mackenzie nods at the two of us. “It’ll take a miracle to land Bizzy behind bars. Now that she’s got an in down at the sheriff’s department, she could slaughter a basketball team and sleep in her own bed at night.”

Hux and Mack share a laugh at my expense.

“Nice seeing you.” Hux waves as they duck inside the Blue Brick Steakhouse.

“Huh.” I give the back of my head a quick scratch. “I think I just figured something out.”

“What’s that?” Jasper says, pulling me into his arms once again.

“I can’t control anyone else’s relationship.” I cringe a little. “I think I owe Leo an apology.”

Jasper’s chest expands with his next breath and he presses against me.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispers. “Leo knows how much you love Emmie. And you’re afraid. Don’t be. Whatever you decide about telling her your secret, or not, I support you in this.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, what were you about to say?” He ticks his head toward Killer Books.

“The night of the killing, Wyatt mentioned he had a first print run of a very valuable book. He keeps it in a glass case on the second level of the bookshop. Stormy thought maybe that was what Thomas and Wyatt were fighting over.”

Jasper’s glowing eyes flit in that direction.

“How valuable?” he asks, already navigating us down the street.

“I don’t know, but it’s an Agatha Christie. It must be worth a fortune.”

We hit Killer Books and Jasper procures a key from his pocket, dangling it in the air, and the moonlight glints off it until it flashes like lightning.

“Jasper, we can’t go in there. That’s like breaking and entering.”

“I’m the investigating lead detective. I promise we’re not breaking in.”

We head inside and Jasper flicks on the lights. The yellow caution tape is lying around haphazardly, and there’s a large dark stain over the carpet where poor Wyatt lay dying.

Jasper takes me by the hand as we head upstairs. The black walls decorated with rhinestones glint like stars in some unknown universe.

And then we see it.

The glass case—it’s empty.

CHAPTER 12

T  he first print run of Agatha Christie’s The Mysterious Affair at Styles is missing.

Killer Books was once again crawling with sheriff’s deputies as they dusted the area for prints. Unfortunately for the Baker clan, the last person to see the book in the case was my mother.

This was surmised the hard way once Jasper called me at seven in the morning to confirm her prints were all over the glass case. Apparently, my mother was so impressed to see the book, she did a pantomime over that wall of glass that separated them. Of course, she said she was merely admiring it. Sort of the way I was merely holding the murder weapon. I’m not sure how we’ve managed to do it, but we ended up knee-deep in doo-doo when all we wanted was an exciting Friday night out.

It’s like we’re cursed.

It’s like I’m cursed.

I sag for a moment as I stare out from behind the reception counter over at the open double door entry that leads into the inn. It’s a pristine blue-sky day outdoors. The warm breeze blows in now and again, and it holds the scent of salty sea air.

It’s just after four in the afternoon, and the tourists are pretty much settled for the day. I was looking forward to spending some time with Jasper tonight, but he just left a message that let me know he’ll be working late.

Poor guy never came home last night. Isn’t there some law against working around the clock?

And how long can a grown man go without any sleep?

He’s got to be exhausted. And I’m sure Camila, the minx, is right there catering to his every need.

I wonder who I could bribe in an effort to get her transferred?

Or better yet, shipped to another state—another country entirely.

Don’t they need secretaries in Belgium?

Maybe I can throw in a year’s supply of fine Belgian chocolate to sweeten the deal.

But nevertheless, I’m not worried about it. Jasper isn’t interested in her anymore. He proposed to me. If anything, Camila should be eating a healthy dose of reality each day when she sees Jasper so close, and yet his heart is so far. It would kill me if I were in her shoes. And just like that, a part of me feels sorry for Camila Ryder.

I pop another bite-size lemon tart into my mouth. It’s number sixteen or twenty-six. I stopped keeping track after the first dozen.

The Country Cottage Café has been baking them nonstop, and I’ve kept a platter on the reception counter for the guests. It’s just me at the helm for now. Grady will be in soon for the late shift. I was hoping Georgie and Juni would have tracked down Brooklynn Knight by now, but no such luck.

Gatsby comes up and taps his paw against my thigh. You look like you need a pat on the back. I can’t reach, but how about a pat on the leg? He taps his paw over me again and again.

“Aw, thank you. And you’re spot-on.” I bend over and give him a kiss on the furry forehead. “You have the most beautiful big brown eyes and longest eyelashes. And you’re always smiling. Did you know that? I bet you do that on purpose, you’re just so sweet.”

Fish yowls. I think Gatsby is sweet, too. She stretches her front paws over the marble counter and they glide forward, seemingly forever as she arches her back. Can we keep him, Bizzy?

Sherlock barks. He can stay, if he has to.

I can’t help but note the not-so-veiled jealous tone in his voice. The animals always seem to understand what they’re saying by way of the tiniest mewl or bark.

“Come here, Sherlock.” I make my way around the counter as he walks up to me. “I love you. Yes, I do.” I give his large bat ears a quick jiggle. “You are so precious, and smart and funny. And you’re pretty cute, too.”

“That’s what all the girls say,” a masculine voice chirps from behind and I turn to find my brother standing tall in all his Baker glory.

“Huxley.” I perk up and straighten. “What are you doing here?” I head over and pull him into a quick hug. His dark hair is wavy enough to give it some body, and those pale eyes of his stand out like sirens against his dark suit. “Did you just come from work?”

“Actually”— his head twitches to the side—“I just came from an early dinner with our mother, the book thief.”

I make a face. “How’s she doing? Last I spoke to her, neither of us had been properly caffeinated and things went sideways quickly.”

“Did she accuse you of stealing the book?”

“No. But she did say she was going to look into buying me an evil eye pendant for Christmas. She thinks I’ve got a dark cloud of bad luck following me around.”

He shrugs. “She brought it up to me—the jewelry. Don’t look so down. She’s talking diamonds and sapphires. It’ll look nice.”

“Well, I won’t wear it. For one, it’s against my religion. And two, I don’t believe in bad luck.”

“Bad luck believes in you.” Hux claps his hands and both Gatsby and Sherlock head his way.

“You’re not funny.”

Fish lets out a tiny meow. He does have a point.

I shoot her a look.

“Okay, fine. You’ve got a point.” I turn to my brother. “So how did dinner go last night?”

He winces. “That’s actually why I’m here.” He gives Gatsby a quick pat before straightening. “What’s this tension I sensed with you last night? Is there something going on between you and Mackenzie?”

I give a hard blink. “You could say that.”

“How long has this been going on?” He looks genuinely baffled.

“Let’s see, technically, since I was thirteen,” I say, stepping over and picking up Fish and holding her close like a shield. I might need it. Mack has always been trouble whether or not she’s here in person. “Did you know she tossed me into a whiskey barrel full of water and rotten apples? Fast forward to high school—she snatched every one of my boyfriends out from under me.”

Hux squeezes his eyes shut. “Bizzy. If they left, it wasn’t meant to be. She was doing you a favor.”

A choking sound emits from my throat.

“Huxley Baker! You’re my brother. It’s your job to stick up for me even if it is years after the fact. And just FYI, I haven’t been the same ever since that whiskey barrel incident. Let’s just say she gave me one heck of a parting gift that afternoon.”

Fish lets out a riotous meow. And you’re a better woman for it. She did you a favor, Bizzy. If Mayor Woods hadn’t pushed you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Maybe she’s not all that bad.

“Oh, Fish.” I give her a quick kiss just above her nose.

“Bizzy.” Hux taps my arm gently. “You’re adults now. And we had a nice time last night.” Even nicer once I got her back to my place.

“Oh my God!” I swat him. “You dog!”

Sherlock barks. What’s wrong with dogs?

“You’re right, Sherlock. There’s nothing wrong with dogs. Hux, you’re a beast. How could you?”

He inches back. “What exactly am I being accused of?” I think I know, but I should probably play it coy.

“Don’t you play coy with me. You know what you did and with whom.”

“I swear, Biz”—Hux takes Fish from me and plants a kiss to her head—“sometimes it’s like you can read my mind.”

“That’s because you’re an open book. And you’re my brother. Please tell me this thing you have with Mack is just a flash in the bed pan.”

He chuckles. “The two of you used to be friends. Move on from the past. Who knows? You might even be friends again one day. She might be Mrs. Baker number four. You never know. She seemed to have a really good time.” And she’s called twice today begging for more.

I moan at the thought. “I guess I don’t have any say in it, do I?”

Fish mewls. Oh, who cares? Once he’s done with her, he’ll throw her to the curb.

Hux leans in to hook my gaze. “Bizzy, I care about how you feel. And to be honest, I didn’t think you’d care who I was with. And because you feel so strongly, I’ll tread lightly.”

“I’d appreciate it. Don’t let your guard down for one minute. The girl is a barracuda.”

“I can vouch for that.” He waggles his brows.

“Eww.” I give him a playful swat before he hands me Fish. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know an attorney by the name of Brooklynn Knight, would you? She worked on one of Juni’s cases in the past. She was at Killer Books the night of the homicide. I guess she owns a stake in it.”

Hux arches his head back. “Brooklynn Knight. Is she hot?”

“Hux.”

“What? I’m a guy.” He pulls his phone out. “I’ve got a secretary that claims to know everything about everybody. I’m about to test her on that.” His fingers dance across his screen and he hits send.

Gatsby walks up and lands his paw over Huxley’s leg. Pet me, please.

I bite down on a laugh. “I think Gatsby wants your attention.”

“Come here, big guy.” Hux gives the mammoth pooch a nice rubdown over the back and I’d swear on all that is good, Gatsby just laughed up a storm.

Huxley’s phone pings and he holds it out to read it.

“Wow.” His ears pull back. “Here’s something you don’t see every day.”

“If it’s an indecent picture of Brooklynn, I think I’ll pass.

“No, not that. She’s been disbarred. My secretary doesn’t know why.”

“What? We have to find out why.” I’m not sure why, but I’ve got a gut feeling it could be pertinent.

“I guess I’ll have to do some digging. But it could be anything from stealing from clients, committing a felony, or general client neglect. That’s a shame.”

“Hey, ask your secretary if she knows what Brooklynn is doing now?”

He glides his thumb across the screen, and no sooner does he hit send than a link pops up on his screen.

“She works nights at a place called Renegades.” He squints at the screen. “Out in Seaview.”

“Renegades.” I nod as I say it.

“Bizzy.” The tone in his voice alone scolds me. “Don’t do anything dangerous.”

“What? I was just thinking about bringing some lemon tarts to my favorite homicide detective. I’m practically headed that way.”

He cocks his head as if calling me out on the lie.

“Relax. I’m headed to see my fiancé, who happens to be packing heat. What could possibly go wrong?”

“For the average person? Nothing. For you? Don’t trip over a body, Biz. And do not make a move without Jasper.” He gives Gatsby and Sherlock a quick pat as he heads for the door.

“You bet,” I say.

“Steer clear of trouble. I mean it,” he bellows while walking backward.

“Heed your own words,” I shout back.

Hux belts out a laugh as he heads on out. “I sure will.”

Something tells me he won’t.

CHAPTER 13

Renegades is a retro club of sorts for the older set.

Each week boasts of a rockin’ boppin’ theme, per the sign on the window, and this week’s party is all about the eighties.

Lucky for me, I’m a closet fan of neon and mesh, so I was able to outfit both Juni and me with enough bright colors to make every star in the solar system jealous. I could have outfitted Georgie as well, but she wasn’t as cooperative. Instead, Georgie donned a silver lame kaftan that has heads turning every which way and not necessarily in this direction—some are looking to flee. And across the front of that tin treasure she’s donned, in large black letters, it reads Georgie Say Relax.

“You like?” Georgie holds the front of the foil wonder out. “I made it myself. It’s a play on the old Frankie Say Relax shirts they had back in the day. Believe it or not, I used to call this little ball of tinsel my good luck charm. It screams take me to your love dungeon.”

“Mama”—Juni shakes her head at the silver blight—“that outfit screams take me to your leader.”

Georgie waves her off. “I’ll have you know, I pulled this one out of the vault. It’s a genuine beauty circa 1981. It was my favorite hunting outfit back in the day.”

“Georgie, I didn’t know you hunted?” I can’t imagine Georgie hurting an animal no matter how hungry she might be. And she’d never do it for sport.

“Are you kidding?” She irons out the front of the foil frock with her hands. “I caught so many stags with this number, my trophy wall filled up faster than a buttered bullet.”

Juni blinks first. “What trophy wall?”

“The one in my bedroom,” Georgie is quick to inform her.

“The wall with all the bottle caps?” I ask. It’s true. Georgie has a wall of old bottle caps that spell out love.

“That’s the one.” She grins our way. “Each bottle cap represents one shining night, courtesy of this little number right here.”

My mouth falls open. “One for each night? There must be a hundred bottle caps at least. Please tell me all that happened was a rousing game of Scrabble.”

She ticks her head to the side. “All that happened was a rousing game of Scrabble.” She nudges her elbow to Juni’s side. “Let’s just say my gentleman friends and I each hit triple scores.”

The two of them hoot and holler and I navigate us inside before I’m officially blinded by Georgie’s accouterment and her storytelling. And how I pray that trashy tale was fabricated.

Outside, Renegades looks more or less like a barn. Inside, it smells like one. Loud eighties music pumps through the speakers. It’s dark, save for the swirling lights spraying a neon display of color every which way. Bodies upon bodies are standing and chatting, swaying their hips to the music while out in the center of the room a full-blown dance floor is filled with gyrating limbs.

Juni holds out her arms. “Now here are some moves I haven’t seen since the eighties. I’ve officially found my people.”

We head deeper into the establishment and the scent of cheap cologne mingles with that of hairspray—and for good reason. Every woman here looks as if they were attacked with a teasing comb as their hair stands on end, perfectly shellacked and frozen, fanning over their skulls like a prickly halo.

Juni gasps, “Would you get a load of these men?”

I squint out at the crowd and the throwback vibes these men are putting out is pretty amazing.

“No kidding,” I say. “And check it out. Some of them have really got that Flock of Seagulls hair thing going on.”

“Seagulls love me.” Georgie leans in. “Watch the master at work, girls.” She takes a few bold steps into the center of the room, and slowly but surely those men with their hair frozen in time begin to gravitate her way as if she were some kind of a silver homing beacon they were drawn to.

“Would you look at that?” Juni marvels. “There’s got to be five if there aren’t ten.”

My jaw goes slack as an entire crowd of men, young and old, gathers around Georgie as if she were giving away money.

I knock Juni in the ribs. “She’s not giving away money, is she?”

“Nope. That woman is a testosterone magnet. And lucky for me, the fruit didn’t fall far from the hot-to-trot tree. I’m off to scoop up her leftovers. Wish me luck.” She speeds into the knot of humanity, and I’m in awe of the fact Georgie Conner is able to drain the room of all its men as they magnetize to that metallic dress of hers. Honest to God, it’s like watching a bunch of drones magnetize to their tinsel decorated queen.

A new song, “Vacation” by the Go-Go’s, pulsates throughout the speakers, and the room explodes with screams as everyone around me begins to swing their arms in wide gyrating moves that look loosely coordinated.

Now, where could Brooklynn Knight be in this mass of humanity?

I’m about to step over to the bar and ask around when I spot Brooklynn herself out in the wild. Everything in me freezes as I’m caught off guard by how easy that was. There she is, working alongside a couple of other bartenders, and I watch as she slides an electric blue drink toward one of her customers.

But I don’t head to the bar first. Instead, I make a beeline to that jumble of limbs ahead of me and manage to pluck both Juni and the happy hunter out of range of all those grabby testosterone-riddled hands.

“You weren’t kidding, Georgie. That shiny dress really knows how to bring the boys to the yard.” And I’m not teasing. I’m half-afraid a handful of them will follow us home. “But it’s time to get to work.” I nod to the bar and Juni gasps.

“Lookie, lookie, it’s good ol’ Brookie.” Juni rubs her hands together. “Let’s head on over and shake her down good.”

I pull her back by the crook of her elbow. “No, no. I’m doing the shaking, remember? You’re simply making pleasant conversation with her.”

Georgie claps her hands. “Done deal.”

Both Georgie and Juni speed on over before I can stop them. Georgie bumps a woman in a hot pink dress off the end stool, freeing up three seats in a row.

“Well, look who’s here!” Juni slaps a hand over the counter as Brooklynn snaps her head in our direction.

Dear God, say it isn’t so. Brooklynn manufactures a tight smile as she makes her way over. Her light brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s wearing a neon green sweatshirt that has had its neck cut off, ala Flashdance. Her skin looks thick, her marionette lines are heavy, and she has dark circles under her eyes as if she hasn’t slept in weeks. Not that I’m surprised. It’s so pulsating loud in here, I’m sure she hears this music long after she leaves the place. I may not sleep for a year, and it’s been less than ten minutes for me.

Brooklynn takes a deep breath. “Well, if it isn’t Juniper Moonbeam, all decked out and ready to party like it’s 1989.” She shoots Juni with her fingers.

Juni nods. “That’s right. And you remember my mama, Georgie, and my friend, Bizzy. We were all there the night that book dude got whacked with the working end of a butcher knife. I still see his blood in my sleep.”

And there goes any hope of pleasant conversation. When will I learn my lesson with this woman?

At least they’re not interrogating her.

Georgie leans her way. “What about it, toots? How well did you know the deceased? And was that his blood on your hands?”

Brooklynn blinks back. “I didn’t have any blood on my hands.” Did I?

“That was me.” I make a face over at my comrades in investigative arms. “I’m the one who had blood on my hands.” I nod over at her. “What’s the drink of the night?” If I weren’t driving, I’d ask for twelve.

“Purple Rain,” Brooklynn answers with a genuine enthusiasm for her job. “Vodka and cranberry juice.”

Georgie waves a few bills at her. “We’ll take three.”

“Make mine a virgin.” I shrug over at her.

Brooklynn wrinkles her nose my way as she gets right to work. “You’re the DD, huh? Designated driver?”

“Yup. That would be me.”

She ticks her head to the side. “I’ll add a few syrups to it and jazz it up a bit for you. So were you ladies getting lucky on the dance floor?”

“That would be my mother.” Juni reaches over and steals the cherry off a drink from the lady on the other side of her.

Georgie snaps her fingers. “I’m slaying it, as the kids like to say.”

Brooklynn belts out a laugh over the music. “Somehow I knew you would. How could you not in that dress? What did you make it out of? One of those emergency sleeping bags?”

Georgie glances to the ceiling. “I’ll have you know they made those sleeping bags out of my dress. Or in the least they’re cut from the same cloth. So what’s the deal with the bartending gig? I guess it’s true what they say. The law doesn’t pay.”

I cringe. “I think the saying goes, it doesn’t pay to break the law.”

Brooklynn lands all three of our drinks before us and both Georgie and Juni dive after them as if it were a free-for-all.

Georgie takes a few heroic gulps and immediately spits it out. “Bleh.” She pushes it my way. “I think I got your poison.” She pulls in the drink that was sitting in front of me and takes a careful sip before giving a thumbs-up. “There’s the vodka.” She touches her elbow to mine. Go ahead, Biz. Lay the heat on her. I’m here for the show. Make her weep into her Gray Goose. Nothing goes better with vodka than the tears of a killer’s regret.

I take a breath as I smile over at Brooklynn. “I’d ask what a legal eagle like you is doing in a place like this, but I think I know the answer.”

Brooklynn’s left brow hikes a notch. “You do?” Although it’s entirely plausible the word has spread already—hot gossip usually does—I doubt any of these women run in legal social circles.

I nod. “I used to wait tables and the tips were phenomenal. They were sort of addicting, actually. I still miss them.” Honest to God’s truth. But I wouldn’t trade working at the inn for all the tips in the world.

Her mouth parts before she bites down on her glossy pink lip.

“You got me.” She laughs. “I won’t lie. Things aren’t going so well on the legal front, so having this place as a fallback has really come in handy.” Fallback? More like the only monetary show in town. She squints my way. “Hey? Did you ever lawyer up? Is the sheriff’s department giving you a hard time?” She seems like a nice kid. I’d hate to see the legal system hammering down on her for no reason. She was white as a sheet that night as soon as she realized what really happened to the poor guy. I felt sorrier for her than I did for him.

“My brother.” I nod. “But he’s not really doing anything. I haven’t had any problems because of it.”

Georgie gives a sly wink. “She’s sleeping with the lead detective. Bizzy has been known to use her body to get out of a tight spot now and again.”

“Hey—whatever works.” Juni is quick to toast me with her Purple Rain, and I can smell the vodka pluming off her breath.

I shake my head over at Brooklynn. “None of that is true. Sort of. Anyway, I’ve been cleared as a suspect. I don’t know who did that to Wyatt, but it wasn’t me.” A thought comes to mind. “Hey, before he passed, I think he mentioned that you held an interest in the store.” He didn’t, but that’s neither here nor there.

She narrows her eyes until they form perfect half-moons. “I do. Did. But I sold my share almost a year ago.”

“Oh?” My interest is piqued. “Who bought it?”

She shrugs. “Some investment group. Anyway, that’s old history. And now Wyatt is gone. It’s all a bit surreal to me.”

“Who do you think could have done something like this?”

She takes a breath. Me, for starters. But then half the people in that room could have said that. “His girlfriend is what the Brits like to call a nutter.”

No sooner does she say those words than Juni sputters with a choo-choo train-like laughter.

“Nutter.” She smacks Georgie on the hand, and now the two of them are sputtering with laughter together and all the while spraying Purple Rain in their wake.

Leave it to Georgie and Juni to turn an innocent bar into a biological hazard.

“Molly Shay?” I ask. “I think I met her that night.”

Brooklynn lifts a bottle of vodka my way as if acknowledging the fact before getting back to mixing a drink.

“Yup,” she says. “Although there were others that had a beef with Wyatt, too.”

“Like who?” I lean my ear her way.

“Like Thomas.” She glowers at the bottle in her hand as if it had managed to morph into the man himself. “He and Wyatt had a very strained relationship.”

Juni’s jaw glides forward. “Like how strange?” It figures. The vodka is affecting her hearing. Brooklynn said strained, not strange. “Like eating raw onions together before starting a shift strange, or secretly playing Christmas carols year-round strange?”

“You take that back.” Georgie wags an unsteady finger at the fruit of her womb. “Bizzy loves to listen to Christmas carols year-round. That does not make her weird.”

I’d swear on all that is holy, an entire bottle of vodka just emitted from Georgie’s mouth.

She lifts a hand my way. “The mind reading she’s capable of makes her weird.”

I suck in a sharp breath and hold it.

Georgie Conner! If I weren’t already a suspect in a homicide investigation, I’d kill you.

Of course, she has no clue what I just threatened her with because she’s not the one who can read minds.

Brooklynn laughs as if it were funny. “Don’t worry, Bizzy. I hear that same thing from other customers not too long after they get a bit of Purple Rain down the drain.” She winks. “Hazard of the job. So where were we?”

“Thomas.” I nod, choosing not to acknowledge the fact both Georgie and Juni are starting to sway. I figure I have about a ten second window to button this up. “How well did you know him?”

Wait a minute. Brooklynn leans back and stares at me through slotted lids. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this were an interrogation. She exhales a moment. What am I saying? Paranoid much? Of course, this isn’t an investigation. I’ve given them nothing to investigate.

“I know Thomas,” she says. And now I’m going to make sure these three ladies know a little about him, too. “He and Wyatt were in some creepy fraternity together. Wyatt mentioned it once during a meeting.”

Now we’re getting to the good part.

“Creepy fraternity?”

She nods. “Order of the Skeletons, or Skulls, I think it was. Anyway, they were both at Somerset together, and all of their disagreements always seem to point to the past.”

“Brooklynn”—I tap my fingernails over the granite counter as if trying to hold her attention—“what do you think happened?”

She gives a quick sweep of the vicinity before leaning in. “I think either Molly or Thomas did it. I mean, think about it. Molly was obsessed with the guy to no end, but recently, rumor has it, Wyatt was caught with his hand in the cookie jar—the cookie jar of one of his co-workers.”

Juni gives a haphazard nod that looks as if it has the power to knock her right off her chair.

“That’s right.” Juni holds up her drink. “It was the Stormy Westin cookie jar. Good news travels fast.” She gives a wink and ends up keeping one eye closed as if she were too lazy, or perhaps too drunk to reopen it.

“Let’s see…” Brooklynn glances to the side as she picks apart suspects in her mind. “Molly was more than just the jealous type. People are possessions to her. And then Thomas”—a dry laugh rattles through her—“he was simply irate. I don’t know specifically what they were arguing about, but whatever it was, it always managed to draw the entire bookstore into their tension.”

“Brooklyn, do you know anything else about the fraternity they were in?”

She wags a finger. “It wasn’t a fraternity. God no. There’s not a university on this planet who would sanction their behavior. This was more or less like a bad boy society. Or at least for those who wish they could be bad boys. Supposedly, they did things—permanent things to people.” She cocks her head. “People who wouldn’t be able to say anything about the things that happened to them.”

The pieces to the puzzle she’s giving me are beginning to click.

“Are you saying those people are dead?”

She gives a single nod. “But hey, they were only rumors. I mean, what are the odds of this secret skull society actually removing people from the planet?”

“They were scholars, though,” I say. “I mean, they were also just starting off their lives. It’s hard to believe they’d want to ruin their bright futures by committing a homicide.”

“You’re right.” She pours another drink and slides it to Juni.

“What about that book Wyatt had upstairs? The Agatha Christie first print run?”

“What about it?” Her eyes grow large and stay that way for a little too long.

“It’s missing.”

“No!” she gasps as if the thought truly frightened her. “That’s interesting.” She shakes her head. Knew it.

She averts her eyes, and now I want to know exactly what she knows.

“Who do you think took it?” I ask. “Do you think the killer has it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know who the killer is. But the book? I’m pretty sure Thomas has it. The way he doted over it you’d think it was his copy. And now it very well may be.” She inverts her lips a moment. I do my best to pick up on her thoughts, but she’s gone blank. “I’m still not convinced Thomas was capable of something like that. There was the young girl he was having an affair with. Let’s just say Molly wasn’t the only one that was a little miffed about that one. Stormy, that’s the girl he was caught with”—she nods to Juni because she was right—“her boyfriend is a notorious hothead. They used to come by this place on occasion, but some poor fool tried to dance with Stormy and her boyfriend, Dax, pulled a knife. The bouncers here kicked him out and made sure they never came back.”

“A knife?” I startle. That’s exactly what sent Wyatt over the rainbow bridge. “Do you think Dax could have killed Wyatt Sanders?”

The tips of her lips curl. “I think we’re both wondering. I’m just not sure if the sheriff’s department is savvy enough to wonder about it, too.”

“I’ll make sure they’re up to speed. I know for a fact they don’t want to leave a single stone unturned.”

“Good.” Brooklynn slides an entire bowl full of candied cherries toward Georgie and my silver clad friend quickly gobbles them up. “More than anything I want Wyatt’s killer caught and behind bars. Nobody should have to see that, let alone have their life ended in such a brutal manner.”

I lift my glass as if I were toasting her. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A slew of women dressed with neon cosmetics and their hair fanned out above their head a foot tall swoop in and beg for Purple Rain.

Brooklynn excuses herself and quickly immerses herself in her work.

I mull over our conversation. Brooklynn all but implied that Wyatt and Thomas might have killed somebody. Thomas and Wyatt had tension according to her as well. And then there’s Dax. My surprise suspect. I bet he’s not even on Jasper’s radar.

If Dax turns out to be the killer, Jasper will practically thank me for coming here tonight and having this conversation.

All’s well that ends well.

And if it isn’t ending well, it isn’t the end.

But it didn’t end so well for Wyatt Sanders, now, did it?

And for Wyatt, it was most certainly the end.

CHAPTER 14

G eorgie and Juni were out as far as heading over to Needlepoint Tattoos again and talking to Dax.

Georgie is still nursing a bum bum. Her words exactly. And Juni wasn’t all that interested in turning her hands into orange bruises. Her words exactly as well.

But I’m not looking to speak to Stormy this time. I want to speak to the head honcho of that place, Dax. In fact, I want to one-up it and crawl into his mind.

Jasper finally got back to his cottage today a little after five and promptly crashed on his sofa. Poor guy never even made it to the bedroom. So I took Sherlock Bones back to my cottage, along with Gatsby and Fish, and fed them all dinner, let them out to use the restroom, and left them with a pile of toys while I went out for the evening.

Lucky for me, I won’t have to head to Needlepoint Tattoos in Whaler’s Cove alone because I happen to have a sister who, not only is free on this, the holiest of date nights, but is itching to get a tattoo needle twitching over her flesh.

“Now we’re talking.” Macy gives a wistful shake of the head up at the neon signage in front of the tattoo parlor.

Her blonde hair is in a freshly shorn bob. She’s donned a hot pink velour sweat suit that reads yummy across her chest, and don’t think for a second it’s gone unnoticed. Macy scored at least three different catcalls as we made our way down the pier and one mostly coherent marriage proposal from a man clutching a bottle in a brown paper bag.

She sniffs my way. “I’ve always known getting a permanent etching on my body was a part of my destiny. And tonight”—she slings her arm over my shoulders—“you, my little sister, are about to witness the inevitable.”

“And you, my big sister, are about to witness an interrogation. Try to stay out of it. Maybe take a nap while he’s etching over your flesh, fulfilling your colorful destiny.”

We head on into the shop and the faint scent of Chinese food permeates the air once again, must be dinner. There’s no sign of Stormy, and I’m not too sad about it. Macy asks for Dax specifically and the snarky blonde working the reception counter tells her to fill out the proper release of liability paperwork, and soon enough we’re ushered to the back.

A thought comes to me. “Macy, what are you going to get? More importantly, where?”

She tips her head as she considers it. “I was going to finish the one on my back, but I think I’ll take a page out of Georgie’s tatted up playbook instead and go for a bug on the rump.”

“A blue butterfly,” I say. “And are you sure you want to sit there with your pants down while some strange man pokes and prods at your bottom for who knows how long?”

Her blue eyes slit my way. “Is there a better way to spend a Friday night?”

“I don’t know that I have an answer to that.”

The blonde secretary sets us up in a room and plants a bunch of books with pictures of various butterflies in front of Macy and my sister quickly points one out. The blonde asks Macy to lie on her stomach and pull down her pants to an appropriate level before she leaves the room.

“So it begins,” I say, trying hard not to stare at my sister’s glowing full moon.

“The interrogation?” Macy asks as she turns her face in my direction.

“The struggle to keep your hiney from etching itself permanently into my brain. There are only so many parts of you I want to commit to memory.”

Before Macy can shoot me a comeback, the door opens and Dax steps on in.

“Hello, ladies.” A grin expands on his face as he heads over to look at the paperwork on a small metal table, and suddenly this all feels very medical in nature, as if Macy had a bee sting her on the rear and now we were about to have a physician look at it. Although in this case he’s technically the bee, and he’s about to pull out his electronic stinger.

Dax is tall, muscular, and wide chested with dirty blond hair that touches down just below his neck. Pale skin, light eyes, and an overall bored expression finish off his look.

He takes a deep breath. “What are we doing today?” he asks as he scrubs up in the stainless sink in the corner. Honest to God, he’s lathering all the way to his elbows as if he were about to perform surgery and, come to think of it, he sort of is.

Macy looks his way. “Well hey, good-looking.” She quickly flips her face over the bed to look my way. “Why didn’t you tell me he was gorgeous?”

Dax rumbles out a laugh. “You’re cute yourself. But don’t waste your time or energy on me. I’m taken. In fact, I was thinking about proposing to my girlfriend in the next few months. I’m just trying to think up a clever way to do it.” He pulls on a pair of purple gloves. “So if either of you has any great ideas, by all means, let me know.”

Great. Macy moans. Exactly what I was hoping to do. Find the cutest guy I’ve seen in months and help him plot out the perfect proposal—to someone else. How is this my life?

I give my sister a quick pat to the hand.

“I’ve got an idea,” I say as Macy points out the picture she chose and he takes the book from her. “My fiancé proposed out on the bluff in Cider Cove. There’s a gazebo there on the grass and there are flowers all around it this time of year thanks to the local horticulture club.”

Dax straightens as he looks my way. “Gazebo, huh? I guess chicks dig stuff like that. My girl is romantic at heart.” He shrugs. “She’s cute and funny and kind. And she’d do just about anything for me.” And she has.

Has she now?

Dax pulls out some metal doo-hickey that looks like a drill and lands a fresh needle over the tip before heading over to the cupboard and pulling some vials out and adding it to the apparatus.

I watch as he lathers the area they agreed upon with Betadine as he continues to prep his workstation.

He nods to my hands. “Looks like my girlfriend’s work.”

“Oh, it is.” I hold out my hands for him to admire. The henna hasn’t budged an inch. Once Fish saw it, she tried to lick it off. She was disappointed I had opted to add spots to my look. I let her know it was a pretty pattern, much like her black and white stripes, but after a few weeks, it would all wash away. I hope. I hadn’t thought about having orange hands for my upcoming wedding pictures. “She did a great job. And while she was doing this, you were working on my friend, Georgie.”

“Georgie!” He tips his head back and a genuine smile rides on his lips. “How’s the old gal doing? I hope she healed up okay. I thought she might need stitches.”

“Stitches?” Macy rears her head his way.

He gives a long blink. “Don’t worry. As long as you don’t squirm, you won’t need them. Georgie wasn’t a good candidate for a tattoo on the rear. It can be a ticklish event for some people and Georgie was jumping all over the table. It was impossible for her to hold still. There was a little nick that occurred and all bloody hell broke loose. Literally.”

“That must be when she ran out screaming.” I shrug. “Sorry about that.”

“It happens.” Dax sits on a stool and rolls over to Macy. “You’ll feel a pinch.”

Macy lifts her head. “For like a second?”

Dax makes a face. “For like forty-five minutes. Squeeze the handlebars in front of you. Some people find it helps.”

Sure enough, there’s a pair of red rubber handlebars that look as if they were plucked off a bike and installed on the cabinet in front of Macy, and my sister grabs on as if she were readying herself for the most painful ride of her life.

“I remember you from that night,” I say just as he turns on the instrument of terror he’s about to torment my sister with. It’s not nearly as noisy as I thought it would be, and I’m relieved about it, too. Not because it might not be as traumatic for my sister, but because I was hoping to continue my conversation with him.

Dax pauses from the task at hand, or bottom as it were, to inspect my features.

“You look vaguely familiar.” His forehead furrows. “Help me out.”

“Killer Books. I was at the mystery night. In fact, I played the part of Corella Tinder. Occupation, pole dancer. Role, the killer.” I give a little wave.

“Ooh.” He winces as if I struck him. “I’m sorry to hear it. Yes, I guess I do remember you. Or at least what happened to you. That was terrible—brutal, actually.” Not that the idiot didn’t deserve some form of retribution.

“So you knew him? Wyatt Sanders?”

He scowls as he begins focusing on my sister’s shiny pale rear.

“I guess you could say that. I’ll be honest, I didn’t care for the guy. He put the moves on my girl and I don’t look too kindly on that.” And that’s exactly why we did what we did.

I suck in a quick breath. Was that a confession?

“He put the moves on your girl, huh?” I lean my ear his way. “Did you talk to him?”

He touches the needle to Macy’s skin and she lets out a hair-raising howl.

“Handlebars, babe,” he says and Macy’s knuckles press white. “Yeah”—he glances my way—“I talked to him. I wanted to do more.” Like with my fist. “But my girlfriend let me know it wouldn’t happen again. It wasn’t her fault. The guy came onto her. It turned out, his girlfriend was a nutjob. I think he set it up to get caught. Apparently, she walked in on the whole thing. Stormy said they were having a conversation, and as soon as he sensed the psychopath he was dating was in the room, he planted one on her—my girlfriend, not his. Anyway, that’s how a coward breaks up with his girlfriend. I don’t care if she was a nutcase. You don’t use my girlfriend as a ploy to get dumped.” His voice hikes a notch and his etching of the bloody butterfly gets a little more animated, too—and, well, Macy just howled as if she morphed into a werewolf staring at a full moon.

“I agree,” I say. “That was more than cowardly. It sounds like he accosted your poor girlfriend. Did she file a police report?”

He glances my way as a smile flickers on his lips.

“Nope.” We took matters into our own hands. And I will be the first to attest, I don’t mind the outcome one bit.

Oh my God. They killed him. But what about Thomas?

“Dax, did you know the manager at Killer Books? Thomas? Did Stormy ever tell him what Wyatt did to her?”

His cheek flinches. “I know Thomas. The guy is a freak. I don’t know that Stormy told him anything about what happened. Personally, I think either he or that psycho chick Wyatt was dating offed him.”

“Really?” As in he didn’t?

Dax nods, still keeping his eyes on Macy’s backside. “Thomas and Wyatt had some strange thing between them. It’s almost as if Wyatt had dirt on Thomas. And Thomas—he was always percolating under the surface. The guy was a volcano. That’s another reason I wanted Stormy to leave. You can’t trust people these days.” And Wyatt was about to learn the hard way he couldn’t trust Stormy or me. But, things still went as planned despite the bloody means to an end. And both Stormy and I are better off for it. Richer, too.

My jaw unhinges. They stole the book!

“Did you know about the book?” I ask as Dax begins coloring in the butterfly and it’s a mesmerizing sight. It sort of looks as if he’s etching a bright blue bruise right on my sister’s keister.

“What book?”

“The first print run Agatha Christie. It was worth a fortune. Rumor has it, the book was stolen the night of the murder.”

“Dude.” He pulls the needle away from my sister and sits back. “Where was this book?”

I try to pry into his mind, but it seems as if he’s holding his mental breath.

“Upstairs in a locked glass case. The sheriff’s department didn’t notice at first. But then, they got a tip and now they’ve dusted the case for prints in hopes to catch the thief. It might just lead them to the killer, too.”

His brows tick up a notch. “Makes sense. Maybe that’s why they offed him? You never know. But if the book was worth some cold hard cash, well, some people would do anything for money.” I happen to be one of them. Stormy should have known the book was there. We could have cleaned him out upstairs and downstairs. I bet it was worth a mint.

So they didn’t take the book. But what did he mean by upstairs and downstairs? Clearly, they did something downstairs. Did they kill him, though? What else was there to do?

Dax finishes up and dresses my sister’s pretty new wound before thanking us both for swinging by tonight.

“It was my pleasure,” I say. “It’s not every day you get to witness your sister getting hers in the end.” I give a quick wink, and he gives a warm laugh.

“It was nice meeting you both.”

“Will I see you at the Summer Nights Festival down on Main Street in Cider Cove? It’ll run every Friday night this summer. This Friday is the official kickoff. They’ll have music, food, and fun. And I’m sure you can bring some business cards and pass them around. Every business is encouraged to bring something. I run the inn, and we’ll be handing out lemon tarts in front of my sister’s shop, Lather and Light.”

“The same lemon tarts that were at Killer Books that night?”

“Yup.” I flash a smile, albeit short-lived once I realize how morbid it is.

“I’ll be there.” Dax reaches over and shakes my hand and does the same with Macy. “Instructions on aftercare are up front. Don’t forget to tell a friend how great we are.” He gives a playful wink before zipping out the door.

Macy groans as she gets up and carefully pulls up her pants.

“How great they are?” She squeezes her eyes shut tight as she buttons her jeans. “More like how medieval they are. How could you just sit there while he attacked me with that machete like that? It was barbaric. I don’t care how cute this butterfly looks, I’m never getting another one. That was worse than the first. It was worse than childbirth.”

“Macy, you’ve never given birth.”

“And this is exactly why.”

We take off for Cider Cove, and I can’t get my mind off of Dax’s cryptic words.

We took matters into our own hands. And I will be the first to attest, I don’t mind the outcome one bit.

It begs the question, what did you do, Dax?

Was it murder?

CHAPTER 15

L ater that night, it’s well past eleven as I’m snuggled up on the couch with Sherlock Bones, Gatsby, and Fish, and a knock erupts at the door. It’s Jasper with a takeout box from the Country Cottage Café filled with lemon tarts.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” He sheds a lazy, far too comely for his own good and possibly mine, smile and I let him in as I steal a kiss from his cheek. “I saw your light on, so I thought I’d get us something to eat. Emmie was packing it up for the night and threw all the lemon tarts that were left in a box for us.”

Sherlock lets out a riotous bark. How about bacon? Was Georgie there? She loves to give me bacon.

Gatsby expels a low growl. I like bacon.

Fish mewls. Tuna, please.

“Ooh.” I take one for myself. “Because clearly we’re her favorite people ever. Let’s get to snuggling, Detective. I have a tale or two to spin for you.”

A dangerous smile rides on his lips. “Why does that both frighten and entice me?”

“Because you know me far too well by now.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” he says as he gives both Sherlock and Gatsby a quick scratch before picking up Fish and pulling me close to him on the sofa.

“I don’t want it to be a bad thing.” I steal another kiss from his lips before popping one more lemon tart into my mouth. “But I’m afraid it’s a very bad thing,” I say through a mouth full of yumminess only the Country Cottage Café can provide. “And how are you possibly running off just a two-hour nap?”

“I don’t know.” He plucks a lemon tart out of the box and shoves it into his mouth. “But if I pass out cold, just know I’m dreaming of you.” He waggles his brows. “Where’d you go earlier? Emmie said you had to run an important errand and wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

I make a face. “Fine, I went to Whaler’s Cove. Macy wanted to get a tattoo, and I just so happened to run into Dax. What’s his last name, anyway?”

“Tucker.” Any trace of amusement has since vacated his face. “Bizzy”—his tone lets me know exactly what he thinks of my little jaunt down the way—“I’m glad you had Macy with you.” His chin tips down as he narrows those silver eyes over mine. “What happened?”

“Jasper, I don’t know what went on the night Wyatt was killed, but Dax and Stormy Westin were definitely up to no good. I’m not sure if they killed Wyatt, but Dax said something about cleaning Wyatt out. And then when I asked if he knew that the book was missing, he seemed stumped, and somewhat angry that Stormy didn’t know about it. He said they could have cleaned Wyatt out upstairs and downstairs.”

“Cleaned him out.” Jasper’s leg begins to bounce as he glances out the window. “Bizzy, I think I gotta go.”

“What? Gotta go where?”

“I think I know what Dax meant.” He gives Fish a quick kiss on the forehead and does the same to me. “And if I’m right, we’ve got yet another crime that occurred at Killer Books the night of the murder.” He heads to the door and I chase after him.

“Like what?”

Jasper nods. “If I’m right, they stole money.”

I snatch him by the sleeve. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to run over to Killer Books. I’m going to check the registers and ground safe.”

“Well, I’ll come with you.” I snatch up my phone and my keys while jumping into a pair of flats I keep next to the door.

Sherlock and Gatsby trot over along with Fish.

You’re not leaving without us. Fish yowls as I pick her up.

“Bizzy?” Jasper gives a wild look to the menagerie determined to join us.

“They can use a walk. Besides, they’ll wait outside.”

We take off like a crime-busting, mostly furry, gang on a mission as we hightail it up Main Street.

I miss the shop, Bizzy. Gatsby howls.

“You poor thing.” I bend over and give him a quick peck on the nose. “You were one of the best things about that place. And lucky for you, you’re with you wherever you go.”

But what will become of me? Wyatt didn’t have anyone that could take me in.

“I have you. And if another home isn’t in your future, then you’ll stay with me forever.”

Fish lets out a wild purr. You hear that, big boy? You’ll be mine, all mine. She meows again and again and it sounds as if she’s cackling.

“I’ve never seen Fish so taken with anyone.” I dot a kiss to her ear. I’ve strapped her to that cloth baby carrier I sometimes use when we step out. Not only is she easy to keep track of this way, but she warms me with her body and tickles me with her purring.

Jasper wraps an arm around my waist and I take in the warm scent of his spiced cologne. The street is empty, it’s a virtual ghost town, and the air is warm and balmy.

“I know how Fish feels.” He lands a warm kiss just above my earlobe. “Are we done here yet? I’m already anxious to get back.”

“I like how you think, Detective. You have a way of making me forget everything else going on around me. Why are we here again?”

“Because your curious mind has yet again unlocked another mystery.”

“You mean sank us in the middle of one. And it was you who figured out the potential theft.”

Jasper does a double take at something up ahead. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Sure enough, I spot Leo Granger sans his deputy uniform.

“Well, well,” I say. “Does Emmie know you’re out and about, roaming the mean streets of Cider Cove all by your lonesome?”

Leo laughs as he wrangles Sherlock and Gatsby to himself and gives them the affection they deserve.

“Actually, I just left her place.”

“Oh? At this hour?” It’s far past eleven. “Is this the walk of shame we’re witnessing? Don’t answer that. Have you got a minute? We need to head up the street, and we might just need a smart guy like you with a high-powered assault weapon strapped to his thigh to keep an eye out while we do the dirty work.”

He gives a long blink. “It’s not a high-powered assault weapon. It’s a semi-automatic pistol, and it’s not strapped to my thigh. It sits at my waist.”

“Tomato tomato. Has anyone ever told you you’re far too black and white for your own good? Come on, Leo. We’re going to have a little fun. And once we’re through, I might actually approve of you dating my best friend.”

Jasper chuckles.

“All right.” Leo gives a reluctant nod toward Killer Books. “I’ll do it for Emmie.”

I tip my head to the side. And?

His cheek rises on one side. “And you.” He nods to Jasper. “What are you up to?”

Jasper takes a breath. “Bizzy spoke with another suspect this evening. He admitted to cleaning this place out.”

Leo catches my eye. “I bet he didn’t say a word of it out loud.”

“No, but a confession is a confession,” I say. “Too bad he didn’t confess to the murder. But what he did say was incriminating enough for other reasons. After the killing, Dax looked right at Stormy. She wanted to bolt and he shook his head and thought to himself, Don’t do it. Stick around. We didn’t come this far to ruin things now. That tells me they were definitely up to something. And then when I mentioned the book was missing, he seemed surprised that he didn’t know of its existence. He thought to himself, Stormy should have told me about it—that they could have cleaned out Wyatt upstairs and downstairs. He also said Wyatt learned the hard way that he couldn’t trust either Stormy or him. But that things still went as planned despite the bloody means to an end. And that both Stormy and he were better off for it—and richer, too.”

Leo nods to Jasper. “Sounds like they cleaned the guy out, all right. Let’s check the register.”

We come upon Killer Books and Jasper unlocks the door. “We need to find the ground safe. I might need to get a locksmith out here and forensics will want in on this.”

“You don’t need a locksmith.” Leo smacks his lips. “You got me. I can pick the lock without destroying an ounce of evidence.”

Jasper frowns. “Do I want to know where you picked this up?”

“From you.” Leo lifts his brows.

“Good,” Jasper says. “That means you learned from the best.”

I bend over and give Sherlock and Gatsby a quick pat. “Stay here, boys. Signal to us if you think trouble is coming, would you?”

Gatsby barks. You bet, Bizzy. I hope this leads to the killer. Wyatt deserves justice even if he’s not here to see it.

“Believe me, we’ll make sure he gets it.”

Sherlock sits at attention. Don’t worry, Bizzy. If I see so much as a mouse run across the street, I’ll let you know.

“Good.” I give a scratch under his chin. “There will be bacon in it for the both of you.”

Fish yowls as I head into the bookshop just as Jasper flicks on the lights.

She pokes her head out from the papoose strapped to my chest. So this is the bookstore. I like it in here. It looks dark and spooky. And the ceiling looks as if it’s covered with stars.

I swallow hard as I look to the dark brown stain still on the carpet.

“It is spooky in here. You nailed it.” Leo and Jasper are already behind the counter and I head on over. “You know, Dax said that Wyatt’s nutty girlfriend, Molly Shay, saw Wyatt making a pass at Stormy. He said he was furious. I asked if Stormy filed a police report and he said no—that they took matters into their own hands.”

Fish twitches her head my way. They killed him!

I shrug. “Maybe they did kill him.”

Leo dances his gloved fingers across the register and it glides open to reveal an empty cash drawer.

“They robbed him.” He looks to Jasper.

“The store was supposed to be open for another three hours when Wyatt was killed.” He gives a quick look around. “We have surveillance in and out of this building. I’ll run the tapes and see if anyone came after the sheriff’s department left. Where do you think the ground safe is?”

Leo lifts his chin as he scours the room. “The office.”

They take off and I step as far into the center of the room as I feel comfortable. The book tables look untouched. The folding chairs that were set up for the audience are still in place, half of them wonky or tipped over due to the melee that followed the murder. I can still hear the screams of the women sitting out there, and a chill rides up my spine as the memory enlivens within me.

I land my hand over Fish’s head. “His girlfriend, Stormy, she’s sort of Georgie’s protégée, a hippie if ever there was one. She’s nice enough. But she said some odd things.”

Said? Fish gives me that knowing look.

“Thought,” I clarify. “After she asked if I had really killed Wyatt, she said to herself that she knew better but thought it was prudent to ask.

If that doesn’t sound suspicious, I don’t know what does.

I nod. “She also thought to herself that she should amp up the bubble-headed teenager act because she didn’t want me to know what she was capable of.”

Sounds like she was capable of murder.

“It does, doesn’t it? And Stormy did know about that valuable book that was kept in the glass case. She mentioned that Wyatt and Thomas were fighting over it. Oh! And when she saw Camila the night of the murder, she thought to herself, Who knew Ms. Ryder would be the one to throw a monkey wrench into my plan? Then she said something about hoping the judge would go easy on me—that Wyatt wasn’t worth going to prison over.”

She did it! Fish’s left ear twitches. The girl is a killer.

“There were other suspicious people, though. Like Brooklynn Knight. An investor in the bookstore. She was recently disbarred for who knows what. The night Wyatt was killed, I distinctly remember her with blood on her arms. She thought to herself she didn’t know how she was going to get out of this one.”

Fish shivers. Sounds ominous.

“I thought so, too. And while she was looking at his body, she thought, There are some things we simply bring upon ourselves—and that it looked as if he suffered. She then added, He made so many other people suffer. It must be true what they say—what comes around goes around. She ended up implying that I should look into Thomas. Something about the creepy cult-like secret society he was a part of in college. She said they had a way of making people keep secrets and then inferred death had something to do with it.”

Fish shivers. I don’t like this, Bizzy.

“Me either.”

Jasper and Leo head back this way.

“What did you find?” I carefully make my way around the caution tape still lying on the floor as I head over to them.

Jasper pulls me in. “Nothing. Leo was able to open it and we saw zilch. Not a nickel rolling around in it.”

I glance in the direction they came from. “Maybe one of the investors came in and took the money? Maybe it was Brooklynn? I mean, they could all have a key, right? Maybe they got permission from someone else in the sheriff’s department?”

Leo shakes his head. “If they did, they’d have to go through this guy.” He nods to Jasper.

“Thomas was the manager,” I say. “Maybe we can find out if they took the deposit to the bank earlier that day? Or”—I wrap my arms around Fish—“maybe they were robbed.”

Jasper rubs my back and warms it. “It looks as if more was happening that night than we thought. I’m having my crew come in and inspect the place one more time. And then I’m going to talk to each of the employees once again, too. Whoever did this had a key, or was there that night pulling it off. Either way, it was an inside job.”

“Do you think it was the same person who killed Wyatt?”

Jasper shakes his head. “I don’t know. This might have been a multi-man operation. There’s no way to know for sure what went on.”

Fish looks up at me. Are there any other suspects?

Leo chuckles. “Doing a suspect circle with one of your best friends, I see. Let’s hear it.”

“There are just two left that we haven’t touched upon. Molly, the psychotic girlfriend. She’s an easy suspect. Maybe too easy.” I look to Jasper.

His chest expands against me. “Sometimes the key to figuring out a homicide is pretty simple. The girlfriend, the boyfriend, the husband, the wife, it’s a common denominator in most cases.”

“Hear that, Bizzy?” Leo widens a sarcastic smile. “Marrying this guy could be hazardous to your health.”

I bite down on a smile as I look up at Jasper. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Last suspect?” Jasper dots a kiss to my cheek.

“Thomas.” I shake my head at the room as if he were in it. “Did you ever find anything out on the Order of the Skulls?” I look to Leo. “Brooklynn more or less claimed they were capable of silencing people forever.”

His shoulders bounce. “Sounds like exactly what happened to Wyatt.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Jasper touches his hand to mine. “I did find out something. A contact I have down in New York, he did some local digging at Somerset University. It turns out, at around the same time Wyatt and Thomas were students there, another student went missing. A guy by the name of Channing Neville.”

“Channing Neville,” I whisper. “I bet he was a part of that secret society, wasn’t he? What happened to him?”

Jasper nods. “Walked out of a party one night and no one heard from him again.”

“Someone heard from him,” Leo says. “Someone knows exactly what happened.”

I nod. “Thomas just might be that someone.” I make my way around the caution tape lying limp on the floor as I head in the direction of that bookshelf in the back with the poster of a cat sitting next to it. “Thomas was the one who told me where to get the murder weapon. He was, in effect, the master of ceremonies.”

Jasper steps up next to me. “And he didn’t have a drop of blood on him that night.”

I shake my head, my eyes still pinned to that bookcase with bits of blood dried over its surface. Down on the floor, a faint triangular stain rests over the carpet.

“Look at that,” I point it out to the two of them and Fish inches her head that way as well. “They’re in pairs,” I say.

Jasper squints down at it. “You’ve got great eyes. Footprints. Forensics lit this place up like a Christmas tree. We found they track over from the office. We think that’s where Wyatt was stabbed.”

“You think?” I inch back. “Jasper, you know.” My voice hikes a notch. “And you also know that those footprints belong to a woman.”

Leo blinks my way. “Bizzy, do you own shoes like that?”

“No.” Jasper answers for me, his eyes never leaving mine. “I checked the shoes you were wearing that night. They’re not a match.”

My lips part. “So you were investigating me. I’m almost amused.” Almost being the operative word. “You’re not telling me everything.” A dull huff pumps though me.

“Bizzy.” Jasper’s eyes fill with grief.

“No, it’s okay. I get it. You have a job to do. I’ll leave you so you can call in your crew.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Jasper takes up my hand. “Leo can stay until I get back.”

“No.” I hook my gaze to his. “I’m fine, Jasper. You have a job to do and I’m not a part of it. You don’t owe me an explanation or evidence in this case or any other case that lands on your desk.” I just thought you’d give it to me.

I sigh as I pull him in. “Goodnight.” I land a quick kiss to his lips, walk out of the bookstore, and don’t look back.

Leo walks out on my heels as the dogs get riled up with excitement.

“I’ll walk you home.” We head down the street in silence as the dogs dance between us. “Don’t take it personally, Bizzy. Jasper’s just trying to do his job.”

“And?” We both know there’s another element to this.

“And”—he bumps his shoulder to mine—“he wants to keep you safe. Dragging you into a homicide investigation isn’t the best way to do that.”

“Shutting me out isn’t exactly making me feel so good either. But like I told him, I get it.” I don’t like it.

Leo looks my way. “You don’t have to like it.”

We hit my cottage, and as soon as I open the door, the dogs run a lap around my sofas.

“Thanks for walking me back, Leo,” I say. “You know I think of you like family. And, of course, Emmie is like my sister.” I shrug. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you have my blessing to see her. Not that you needed it, or were waiting for it, but you have it. I like you, Leo. I see the appeal. You’re a good guy. Emmie has every right to lose her mind over you. Just promise me you won’t break her heart.” My eyes swell with tears.

Leo takes a breath and nods. “I won’t. And thank you for that—your blessing. It means a lot to me. And I know it will mean the world to her, too.”

“Just do me a favor,” I say. “If you ever feel like you want to tell her about…our transmundane status,” I swallow hard, “I want to be there, too.” Hot tears streak down my cheeks. “I just hope I don’t lose her.”

“You won’t lose her.” He pulls me in for a quick embrace. “And I wouldn’t dream of telling her without you. It’s not happening for a while, Bizzy. Don’t worry about it for now. Goodnight.” He takes off with a wave.

I don’t want to lose Emmie.

And I don’t want to lose Jasper either.

Then why does it feel like they’ve both slipped out of my grasp?

Fish is asleep, and I carefully land her onto the sofa before pulling out my laptop and curling up beside her.

I look up Channing Neville, Somerset, and everything I can find out about the Order of the Skulls.

Sorry, Jasper, but there’s nothing like a little homicide investigation to take my mind off my troubles.

Wyatt Sanders had far more serious troubles than I’ll ever have.

And I’d like nothing more than to solve them all.

CHAPTER 16

O n this dark, clear night, Main Street is decorated with a canopy of twinkle lights that are strung from one side of the street to the other, giving off a magical appeal that makes my soul sing. It’s Friday evening, the very first of the Summer Nights Festival in which the entire state of Maine is welcome and highly encouraged to roam the streets of Cider Cove.

Bodies line the sidewalks, the street itself is closed off to traffic, and it too is teeming with wall-to-wall people. Every business and vendor in Cider Cove is here displaying their wares. The barbeque restaurant down the street is grilling out in the open, and the air is scented with its undeniable deliciousness.

Jasper said he would stop by as soon as he could. After he had Killer Books dusted for fingerprints once again, he’s been working nonstop. He said he spoke to Thomas about the money missing in both the register and the ground safe and Thomas confirmed it should have been there.

Killer Books was definitely robbed the night of the murder. Jasper said he couldn’t be sure if the people or person who stole from the place were the same people or person who took the first run Agatha Christie, or if any of the above killed Wyatt.

Three mysteries. With perhaps three different crimes and suspects.

It’s all a bit overwhelming. And to be truthful, Jasper and I are feeling that strain personally. I’ll admit, I’m a little hurt there might be details Jasper is holding out on me. Of course, he’s doing it to protect me. But then why does it hurt so much?

Macy groans, “Is it wrong that I’m craving beef ribs while eating all the lemon tarts I can cram into my mouth?”

“Nope. It’s just an occupational hazard when you work in such a yummy environment.”

The Country Cottage Café has a booth right here in front of Lather and Light. Macy has her own table set up next to me, so we’ve been elbow-to-elbow for the last hour while indulging in the lemon tarts Emmie has supplied us with. In fact, Emmie and Leo just went back to the inn to retrieve a few more boxes.

I glance back through the window of Lather and Light to find Fish curled up on the counter.

“Fish is loving all the attention she gets from both your customers and employees alike,” I tell my sister. “She’s already requested a regular outing to Auntie Macy’s shop.”

Macy gives a curt nod. “Are you kidding? She’s my best salesperson. Not only is she hired, but you may not get her back.”

Sherlock lets out a quick bark. I’d better get in there and try to drum up some business myself. I want Auntie Macy to hire me, too. She likes to give me the bread off her sandwiches. She says she hates carbs and men.

He takes off and I chuckle.

“I think you just gained another employee.”

Macy watches as he strides right up to the counter and begins blinking those big brown eyes at the customers.

“A competitive pooch,” she muses. “I like that. He’s a carb vacuum and a moneymaker. Do you think Jasper will notice he’s gone once I dognap him?”

Gatsby touches his paw to my thigh before I can answer, and I give him a gentle scratch on the head. Both Fish and Sherlock Bones are busy at work, but Gatsby has opted to stay close to me.

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, Mr. Gatsby. Ignore my sister. She’s not dognapping anyone.”

Thank you, Bizzy. Speaking of amazing, how did Thomas and Brooklynn end up in front of Killer Books with boxes of Wyatt’s things?

I glance in their direction before elbowing my sister.

“Would you look at that,” I whisper. “Jasper said Thomas and Brooklynn asked permission to sell the surplus at a discount to the public. I guess the bookstore will most likely be closing.”

Macy shivers as we watch them rake in money hand over fist.

“I can’t believe they’re selling the inventory. A man was stabbed to death in there. There was blood everywhere. There’s probably blood on those books.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Jasper said these books were in a storage facility nearby. Mostly used paperbacks Wyatt had collected for a used book section he was thinking of opening in the back of the store. Jasper said they mentioned something about ending their lease at the storage facility.”

“They?” Macy cocks her head to the side. “It almost sounds like they’re a couple.”

“Huh.” I startle at the thought. “It sort of does, doesn’t it?” Brooklynn said she sold her shares as a silent partner over a year ago. Maybe her attachment to the place is her interest in Thomas?

A group of customers swarms Macy’s table and her attention is quickly diverted, as is mine.

Last night while doing my research on Channing Neville, I spotted a picture of him holding a German shepherd in his arms. Channing had a warm smile, his sandy hair was full of golden highlights, and his face sun-kissed.

The puppy was adorable, but neither of those things held my attention once I spotted that familiar ring on his finger. It turns out, Channing was indeed a member of that secret, and perhaps deadly, society known as the Order of the Skulls.

If Wyatt and Thomas had a long-standing secret, and if the tension that was building between the two of them had to do with their past as Skulls men, all arrows just might point to Channing.

When Channing disappeared, it was a very big deal at the time. School officials and police suspected foul play. Channing’s car was left sitting in front of the frat house from which he disappeared. His bank account went untouched. His family believes he was killed and the body hidden. Years later, they announced they had abandoned all hope of finding him alive. They were tightknit, a mother and father, a younger sister. It was heartbreaking to read. Stormy said it was almost as if Wyatt had something on Thomas, as if he were controlling him with it, and now I’m wondering if this was it.

A crowd migrates to the table and I let them have at the lemon tarts just as a couple of familiar mischievous-looking older women migrate this way.

Georgie holds a hand to her mouth as she leans toward the crowd.

“The Country Cottage Inn has the best desserts in town,” she shouts and a few of the people snatching up a second helping of lemon tarts begin to nod in agreement.

Never underestimate the power of word of mouth.

Juni belts out a loud whoop. “They don’t call it the Killer Inn for nothing.”

A moan works its way up my throat because about a dozen people just turned her way and half the crowd is whispering that the murderous rumors must be true. And then in typical self-preserving fashion, every last one of those people up and disappear.

So much for word of mouth.

Juni inches back stunned. “Did my deodorant fail me?”

Georgie snatches up a lemon tart. “No, your mouth did. Come on”—Georgie pulls her daughter along—“let’s check out the discounted books and the hot man shucking them.” And they head off toward Thomas and Brooklynn.

I’m about to join them just as Hux steps up, looking dapper in a dress shirt and dark pants, and I’m about to ask if he just got off work when Mackenzie crops up right next to him and my eyes trace down to their conjoined hands.

Mackenzie snarls my way. Just the look on her face is worth the price of admission. I suppose she thinks this is the worst-case scenario. Little does she know, I’ve had a mean crush on Huxley ever since we were kids. My dream come true is Bizzy Baker’s nightmare. Now there’s something I can live with. But I’m guessing her ego is too fractured to say a kind word.

“Hux”—I force a tight smile—“Mayor Woods.” I nod her way. “The turnout for the event is better than I imagined. Congratulations on a job well done.” Shove that in your ego and smoke it.

Hux sheds a wide smile of his own. “It’s fantastic. Let’s hope the momentum keeps up until fall.”

Macy hobbles over as if she were wounded. “Fall? Trying to be polite is killing me, and it’s only been one hour. This summer night catastrophe might just be the end of your poor sister.”

“Have another lemon tart.” I slide an entire box her way and she takes it.

Macy nods to Hux. “So what’s this?” She hitches her head toward Mackenzie. “Are you auditioning for the part of Ms. Mayor?”

“Funny.” Hux loses the smile on his face. “Mack and I are having a good time. Get used to it. We plan on enjoying ourselves more often.”

Mackenzie smirks at both my sister and me. “Don’t worry, girls. I don’t bite, unless I’m directly ordered to do so. If you’ll all excuse me, I need to make an appearance at the rest of the booths.” She slinks away in her hip-hugging catsuit and large rhinestone hoop earrings that look a lot less mayoral and more lady of the night. But Makenzie is a beautiful woman. I can see the physical appeal as far as Hux is concerned. The emotional? Not so much.

Macy grunts, “Now this is one fling I didn’t see coming. I give it until the Fourth of July.”

Hux makes a face. “That’s less than two weeks away.”

Macy wrinkles her nose. “You’re right. I give it one week, but if you have an exit strategy to get out sooner, Godspeed.” She takes off to tend to her table and I step around to give Hux a quick hug.

“Don’t listen to her.” I’m about to eat crow and it doesn’t feel good. “If Mackenzie makes you happy, we’ll learn to stuff our feelings and channel them into biting sarcasm spouted off at will.”

His chest thumps with a laugh. “I knew I could count on you to make me feel bitter.”

“Ha-ha,” I say as I tick my head toward Killer Books. “See that woman with the ponytail and the green vest? That’s Brooklynn Knight. The woman I had you look into.”

His brows hike as he gives an approving nod.

“And I’ve got another scoop on her for you.” His steely eyes meet with mine. “That’s exactly why I swung by.”

“You mean you didn’t show up because your hormones were having a Mack attack?” I tease.

“All right.” He winces. “So I had a dual purpose.” He pulls me to the side, out of range of the crowd clamoring for lemon tarts. “I’ve got info on Brooklynn Knight. For the record, she is pretty hot.” He gives a sly wink.

“Nice to know Mackenzie hasn’t changed your womanizing spots. What have you got?”

He nods. “Since she’s been disbarred—outside of working at some club in Seaview—she’s what’s known as a legal ghost. In layman’s terms, a legal consultant for the underworld, mobs, drug runners, you name it.”

“Oh wow, that’s interesting. Why did she get disbarred?”

“She was convincing clients they were being sued for sexual defamation. Career killing stuff if it got out. Of course, it wasn’t true. She was convincing them to settle the false claims for large sums and pocketing the money. The long and short of it? It was extortion. She was caught. She’s a convicted felon. She’ll never work in the legal field again, not in any upright way. I doubt they’ll let her run a coffee shop. It’s a tough world out there after a conviction. She’s lucky she has a gig or two lined up. Being disbarred is tantamount to the death penalty to an attorney.”

I glance her way and catch Georgie and Juni chatting her up.

“She seemed pretty desperate,” I say. “I wonder what caused that to happen?”

“She needed money, and fast. Whatever was happening, she was unrelenting in getting her way. Desperate times lead people to do desperate things.” He sniffs in the direction Mackenzie took off in. “I’d better find Mack. She looks too good tonight to let out of my sight.” When I dared her to wear that catsuit out in public, I didn’t think she’d take me up on it. But she did say she’d do anything for me.

Hux takes off just as Dax and Stormy pass by and I wave them over. Dax has on a muscle shirt showing off his biceps. Back in the day, Hux used to call those shirts a trip to the gun show. And Stormy has on a rainbow tie-dyed shirt that I’m sure will be the envy of Georgie and Juni once they spot her in the wild.

“Hey-ho!” Dax waves to both Macy and me. He nods to my sister. “How’s the healing coming along?”

Macy scoots in my way. “All healed and ready to be revealed. In fact, I bought a brand new swimsuit that shows off my wild side nicely. And come tomorrow afternoon, you can see your artwork on display at the cove.”

Dax belts out a soft laugh. “Sounds good. I’m glad you like it. Make sure to keep it in the shade. No burns for your bottom.”

Stormy nods. “Let’s just say I didn’t follow the doctor’s advice and found myself self-medicating with tequila for the rest of the night.”

Macy waves her off. “I’m one step ahead of you. I already plan on having a steady supply of mimosas by my side all afternoon.” She points to Dax. “You might just see my backside one more time before the summer is through. My left cheek is getting jealous of all the attention.” She bops back to her table. “I’d better drum up some business. The rent ain’t going to pay itself!”

I guess it’s true what they say. The pain from childbirth is quickly forgotten once you cradle your baby in your arms, or in my sister’s case, bottom.

Dax shakes his head her way. “I get it. If it wasn’t for Stormy, the landlord would have shut down my shop.”

“Oh?” My investigative antenna goes up. “The Needlepoint?”

“Yup.” He snaps up a lemon tart. “We had a rough winter, and I’ve been playing catch-up as best as I could. But there was a pay or quit notice stapled to my door one morning. My landlord is a tough cookie when she wants to be. I almost lost it all.”

Gatsby perks up and lands his paw to my leg. I just remembered something! Stormy asked Wyatt for a loan one day and he refused to do it without a kiss. That’s when Molly stepped in. It was ugly.

My lips part at the revelation.

I force a smile to twitch on my lips as I look to Dax.

“So Stormy saved the day?” I look to the girl with the stringy hair. A bright blue feather dangles from her greasy locks as if a bird flew in and couldn’t find its way out.

Stormy giggles at the thought. “Don’t women always save the day, Bizzy?”

I nod. “That they do.” And I hope Jasper sees it that way when I hand-feed him this information. “So how did you do it, Stormy? Are you officially a part owner in the shop?”

“Yes, I guess I am a part owner.” She laughs. “Let’s just say I gave him a rather creative loan and saved the Needlepoint from its impending doom.” Stormy bats her lashes up at her beau while he stuffs his face full of lemon tarts.

“A loan?” I’m almost amused by how they’re classifying the theft. “Did Wyatt give it to you? Molly mentioned he was generous to a fault the night I met him.”

Stormy and Dax exchange a quiet glance.

“No.” Stormy is quick to put that rumor to rest. “I was able to pick this up all on my own.” And now that Wyatt is coincidentally dead, I won’t have to worry about slowly paying it back. Not that I probably would have, but it was a nice thought while it lasted.

This is my moment. I can feel it. It’s now or never with these two.

I lean toward Stormy. “Any idea on who took that book from the glass case?”

She gives a sideways glance to the crowd swarming around those bargain boxes.

“I don’t know who did it. But I bet the answer is closer than you think.” I’m just sick I didn’t think of it first. I can’t believe there was another criminal mastermind at work the very same night.

“You think either Thomas or Brooklynn took it?”

Stormy shrugs. “Thomas was always drooling over it. Wyatt, of course, wouldn’t even let him touch it. I’ve never seen anyone so beaten down the way Thomas was.”

I clear my throat. “I guess it had to do with that secret society they were a part of.”

Stormy nods. “You heard? Thomas mentioned once that Wyatt was the leader back then, just like he is today.”

I bear hard into her glossy green eyes. “Did Thomas or Wyatt ever mention anything at all from that time in their lives?”

She squints up at the dark sky. “He said something about letting a night of impulsive partying get away from them once. I guess everyone’s got their skeletons, though. They argued about the past every now and again. Some people can’t let bygones be bygones.” She blinks up at Dax. “Whatever it was, I guess Thomas won’t be worrying about it anymore.” She glides her arm around his waist.

Dax nods toward the crowd behind them. “We’d better get my business cards circulating. The shop needs people.” And without a bookstore to clean out, we need to start earning our keep the old-fashioned way—also known as the hard way.

They take off into the thicket of bodies, and I’m about to retrieve my phone from my pocket to let Jasper in on the fact we have an all but formal confession to the thievery that hit Killer Books the night of Wyatt’s murder, but I pause midflight when I see Molly Shay headed for my sister’s wares.

“Molly!” I give a friendly wave and point to the lemon tarts in an attempt to lure her over.

Gatsby moans and tucks himself under my table for safekeeping.

That woman never goes away, does she? I bet she’s satisfied now that no one else will ever have Wyatt. She wanted it that way. She never made a secret about it.

A mean shiver rides through me at the thought. If Molly is the one that killed Wyatt, she certainly arranged for no one else to have him.

“Bizzy.” She hitches a loose lock of dark hair behind her ear as she picks up a lemon tart. “Mmm, these are the best.” She takes a bite and moans hard. “I have a confession to make. That night at the murder mystery party? I had abandoned my character and snuck off to inhale as many of these beauties as I could.” She polishes off the rest. “I guess that’s an odd thought to have. I was literally eating these while my boyfriend was being brutally stabbed to death. You’d think I’d have an aversion to these lemony treats.” She shakes her head as she looks to the sky. “And oddly I don’t.”

“So you were at the refreshment table around the time Wyatt staggered back into the room?”

She nods, scooping up a handful of bite-size lemon tarts. “I saw him heading over. I remember thinking, wow, he really overdid the blood. And my next thought was, there was never any blood before when we’d done those types of parties. I just thought Wyatt was stepping up his game because he invited the entire town to the anniversary celebration. But then when his face went white, I knew. There are some things you simply can’t fake.”

“No, I guess you can’t.” I glance to Thomas and Brooklynn as they lean in and whisper to one another. “Molly, did you know that the first print run Agatha Christie that Wyatt kept in a glass case upstairs was missing?”

Her eyes widen a moment before she turns to look directly at Thomas.

He finally did it. I didn’t think he’d have the cookies to pull it off.

“Molly, you think Thomas took the book?” I ask. It would confirm what Stormy suggested the first time we spoke about it.

Her lips swim with an ambivalent smile. “It’s almost as if you just read my mind.” Her eyes narrow over mine. “You know, I might be a fake psychic, but I wasn’t kidding the day I read your palm. You have some strange lines running across them, and according to all the books I’ve read, you might be the real deal.” She leans in. “You don’t have any psychic abilities, do you?”

“Let’s see”— I bite down on my lower lip to keep from grinning like a loon—“I do have the eerie ability to wake up exactly five minutes before my alarm goes off.”

Her chest bounces with a laugh. “That’s not quite what I meant.” She looks toward Killer Books. “Can you believe it? The greed never ends. No sooner did Brooklynn plunk down a bunch of cash to help Wyatt open the bookstore than she wanted to take over. It’s like she wanted to control Wyatt.”

“That’s interesting,” I say. “But wasn’t the bookstore partially owned by some investment group?”

She nods. “And she’s the group. That was just a front to keep it out of her name. I think she likes to run dicey with the law.”

“Brooklynn is the Weatherston Collective?” Huh. So she lied.

Molly takes a breath. “I asked her once about why she would want to invest in a bookstore. I mean, it’s not like she was a wealthy woman. She said herself she couldn’t quite afford it. But she said she was doing it for her fiancé.”

“Her fiancé?” I blink back, surprised at the answer. “That’s very kind of her.”

“Yeah, I guess he passed away and she wanted to give him a tribute of some kind. He must have liked books.” She chuckles, looking their way. “And it looks as if she got her wish. About six months ago, she was asking for hot tips on how to land a man, and now look at her? Holding Thomas’ hand, right out in the open.”

I look that way, and she’s doing just that.

Gatsby lets out a snapping bark. I don’t buy it, Bizzy. That woman has a dark heart. There are some things that a dog just knows, and that’s one of them.

A dark heart.

Molly staggers over to Macy’s table and begins to pick up the candles she has on display and sniffs them.

Stormy said that Wyatt was controlling Thomas. That Wyatt was lording something over him. Channing Neville comes to mind.

Gatsby doesn’t trust Brooklynn.

Molly suggested that Brooklynn bought an interest in the bookstore when she couldn’t quite afford it—and that she did it for her fiancé.

Her fiancé…

I pull out my phone and do another search on Channing Neville and quickly dive into an article that promises to tell me exactly what I’m looking for. Family and friends mourn top scholar. Originally from Weatherston. Fiancée deeply grieved. Vows revenge.

Oh my God.

I glance up at Thomas and Brooklynn.

It all makes sense now.

I think I know who the killer is.

And I think I know who may be next, as well.

CHAPTER 17

G atsby comes along with me as I abandon my post at the Country Cottage Café table for a moment.

What is it, Bizzy? Why are we headed toward Killer Books? That look on your face… You know something, don’t you?

I shake my head. “I’m not sure what I know,” I say it lower than a whisper as I weave my way through the crowd.

Georgie and Juni are rummaging through one of the bins on the end, but there’s no sign of either Thomas or Brooklynn.

“Hey, ladies,” I say, breathless, as if the walk over exasperated me. But it wasn’t that twenty-foot crawl. It’s the fact I think I’m onto something—something murderous.

Georgie looks up. “They’re running a buy-one-get-one-free special. I’m doing my best to stock up on mysteries for the next year.”

Juni hands her mother a few more. “And I’m collecting funds for the bookstore while they’re in the back getting more books.”

“The back?” I glance to a split between the buildings that leads to an alley.

I’m familiar with it. Macy’s store has one, too.

Gatsby barks. Follow me, Bizzy.

And I do. Gatsby leads us down the narrow path just as Thomas comes our way with a couple of heavy-looking boxes in his arms.

“Hey, Gatsby.” He laughs at the sight of him. “Hello, Bizzy. Just getting the rest of the inventory to the front.”

“Helping out a friend?” I ask.

“That I am.”

“I saw you with Brooklynn. That’s very nice of you.”

“She’s great.” He squeezes by me and I do my best to adhere myself to the wall. “In fact, in a few hours I hope to show her just how great I think she is. She actually asked me out on a date. I’ve been waiting months for this.”

He takes off and an icy chill runs through me.

Why would Brooklynn want to date someone who might have had something to do with her fiancé’s disappearance?

And then it hits me. Something tells me that Thomas may not make it home from that date alive.

“Come on, Gatsby,” I say as the red-haired pooch continues to lead me to the back of the building. We spot an open moving truck halfway filled with boxes, and I see Brooklynn making her way out of it.

“Bizzy,” she says as she walks down the metal ramp. “Who knew this day was going to be so crazy? Can you believe all the people?” She jumps down next to me, wiping her brow with her arm. “I’m just glad I can offload the rest of these books. I’ll reduce them all down to a dollar before the night is through.” She glances behind me. “Are you trying to get into the back of your sister’s shop?”

“No, actually, Gatsby took off running and we ended up here.” I shrug his way as a form of a meager apology for using him as a scapegoat.

Don’t worry, Bizzy. The cute pup pants. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.

And that I believe.

“Hmm.” Brooklynn shrugs over at him. “He seems content now. Hopefully he won’t take off on you again.”

“I don’t think he will.” I inspect her features a moment. She seems weary, bone-tired. The crow’s feet around her eyes, the puckering around her mouth—it looks as if you can see years of bitterness etched onto her face. “Brooklynn? I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something.”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’ll take any excuse not to get back out there. That crowd can be brutal.”

I think on how to approach this for a moment.

“Thomas mentioned you held an interest in the bookstore.” I leave out the part where she had already told me as much. I want to see how good she is at keeping her lies straight.

She makes a face. “That I do.”

“I thought you told me you sold your share over a year ago?”

Her expression darkens. “Yes, well, I guess this place never left my heart.” How do you like that? Falling over my own lies. Ah, who the heck cares. “I still own a little piece of it. And I’m telling you this is the moment that makes me regret it. Back in the day, I was sort of holding the dumb end of the stick while Wyatt was running the show.”

“You’re doing great.”

“I’m going to have to walk away from it. I don’t have the money to save it.” But that was never the point.

“Stormy was just telling me that you bought the place in honor of your old fiancé. I guess he liked books?”

Her eyes hook to mine. “Yes, actually. I guess you could say he was scholarly. He would have graduated with honors had he had the chance. He was the great love of my life, but he passed a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“So am I.” She swallows hard, her gaze lost in the woods behind me.

“Your fiancé’s name was Channing Neville, wasn’t it? He was the great love of your life. You vowed revenge in an article I read. You got that revenge, didn’t you? Against Wyatt first. And soon you’ll be taking it against Thomas, too. Perhaps even as early as tonight.”

Her eyes widen, and her face looks bleached of all color under the duress of the streetlamp above.

“How did you…?” She continues to look right through me, unblinking.

“You didn’t have much money to purchase half of this bookstore, so you stole money from your clients while working as an attorney. You trumped up false charges against them and forced them to settle. And that’s how you bought an interest in this place. You told me you were a silent partner and that you sold your interest, but you forgot about that because it was never true. You’re hiding behind an investment group comprised solely of you, the one you created. You were so bent on revenge, you didn’t care if you burned your life down to do it.”

Her cheeks ignite a shocking shade of pink.

“I didn’t want to burn down my life,” the words roar from her. The veins in her temples pulsate as her breathing becomes erratic. “You think I wanted to steer away from my own dreams and goals? Bizzy, I needed to do this. Wyatt and Thomas forced me into a groove I wanted nothing to do with. I couldn’t be free until I knew their lives were over just the way they arranged for Channing’s to be. I kept tabs on them. And once I was through with law school, I moved right down here to begin my work, my good work.”

“Your wicked work. What makes you so sure Thomas and Wyatt killed your fiancé?”

“Because he told me so himself.”

“Who told you? Channing?”

“Yes.” She nods with wild eyes. “We spoke as he was going out that night. He said he wanted out of that crazy cult they had dragged him into. He was going to speak to his superiors, Wyatt and Thomas, and tell them he wanted out. He said being a Skulls man wasn’t what he wanted. He said it was dangerous and they were doing dangerous things.”

“Why didn’t you take this to the police?”

“You think I didn’t? Both Wyatt and Thomas were interrogated and nothing came of it. But I knew. I knew in my heart they rejected Channing’s plea to leave their devilish cult and they killed him instead. We never found the body.” She shakes her head. “Can you imagine? Losing the love of your life and not knowing what his final fate was? Wyatt and Thomas suffered personally over the years because of it. It chained them together. Thomas confided in me that they had done something horrible in their youth and that they were determined to take it to the grave. Don’t you see, Bizzy? It was Channing’s death they were hiding. And my God, I didn’t even change my name when I started fishing around the two of them. That’s how little they cared for Channing. We were engaged to be married that following year. Both Wyatt and Thomas knew Channing was engaged. They knew about me, and I darn well know they had heard my name a time or two. They not only took Channing away from me, they robbed me of the children and grandchildren I could have had. They killed entire generations of people who would have been born from our love. They were ruthless destroyers of all that could have been. Of course, later on, neither Thomas nor Wyatt ever put the two of us together. Not that I gave them a reason to. I befriended them. And when Wyatt needed money, I made sure it happened.”

“Why all the financial tap-dancing?” I shake my head. “Why not just cut to the Grim Reaper?”

She tips her head back and her smile turns black in the shadows. “Now what fun would that have been? I needed them to trust me. Wyatt trusted me. He appreciated me. I’m the one that helped him fund his dream, after all. And that night of the anniversary party when I lured him to the back, he didn’t question what I needed. I waited until he bent over to pick up a book I dropped, and then I plunged the knife into his back. And when he stood up to face me, I let him know that I was doing it for Channing. I let my rage take over as I finished him off. He couldn’t fight me. My anger was too strong.”

My mind flashes back to my initial meeting with Brooklynn that night. “You wore all black—long sleeves. You had on red pointed shoes. Those triangular footsteps in the back of the store… they belonged to you. The knife was dripping with blood and you knew exactly where to put it. How? And how on earth did you keep your hands clean?”

“I simply asked Wyatt where the murder weapon was. It was really that easy. And, of course, I wore gloves, Bizzy. I’m no fool. I put them in my pocket once I was through. After Wyatt staggered out for help, I stepped over to the register while Thomas went off to commit a crime of his own.”

“The book.” I close my eyes a moment. “You convinced him to steal it that night.”

“I convinced him we would be playing a gag on Wyatt that night. Thomas wanted the book. After all was said and done, I told him to keep it. I was hoping the sheriff’s department would eventually find out he stole it, and trace the killing to him as well, but that hasn’t exactly panned out for me.”

Gatsby growls. That’s enough, Bizzy. Let’s get back and find Jasper. She’s a dangerous woman. I don’t like you here alone with her.

My chest bucks. “You needed Thomas to trust you, to appreciate you, too. Because he was next.”

Her lips curl at the tips. “No, Bizzy. You are.” She bends over and picks up a book as thick as a dictionary and strikes me against the side of the head with a powerful blow.

Gatsby lets out a few riotous barks and I stagger, trying my best to regain my footing.

Another blow erupts. This time right over the top of my head and I land on the floor, laid out, as I try to get my bearings.

“What’s going on?” a male voice bellows from behind as Thomas heads over and attempts to snatch the book from Brooklyn’s hands.

“She knows you stole the book from the glass case.” Brooklynn’s voice hikes with a false note of fear. “She said she was going to pin Wyatt’s death on you. I know you didn’t do it, Thomas. I was defending you. She wants to destroy your future by locking you up behind bars. We need to get rid of her.”

“Get rid of her?” Thomas inches back.

“Thomas,” I moan. “Not true. She killed Wyatt. It was revenge.” My voice comes out lower than a whisper. “Channing Neville,” his name whistles from me. “She was his fiancée.”

“What?” Thomas steadies his eyes on Brooklynn. “Where is she getting this? Is this true?”

I crawl up on all fours and command that my body rise as I wobble on my feet.

“It’s not true.” Brooklynn’s voice wavers. “She’s a liar. She says she’s determined to help her boyfriend solve this case. She just wants it over and she’s trying to pin it on you. We need to stop her, Thomas, before she stops everything I have planned for you. Think of our future.”

“What do we do?” Thomas sounds conflicted as he shoots a look my way. But I’m weak, seeing double, and I’m afraid I’m in real danger.

“Put her in the back of the truck.” Brooklyn takes a few jagged breaths. “We’ll take her somewhere and dump her.”

Thomas nods. “I know how to get rid of a body. Believe me when I say they will never find her.” I’ve done it before. Channing. Why did she have to mention him? How does this woman know? What does she know? Brooklynn is right. She’s dangerous. She’s about to ruin a perfectly bright future. And here I thought I was in the clear with Wyatt gone for good.

Thomas starts for me, and Gatsby bites down hard on his arm.

Thomas lets out a wild cry as he flings the dog away from him.

“Dammit, Gatsby. You’re always inserting yourself where you’re not needed.” He stomps my way. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I didn’t come this far to have you ruin things for me.”

“What about Wyatt?” The words come from me breathy. “She killed him. She confessed. And she’s going to kill you, too.”

Gatsby charges back full force and knocks Thomas down like a domino from behind. I jump out of the way and snatch the book from Brooklynn’s hands and slam her over the temple with it.

Brooklynn falls to the ground like a ragdoll and everything in me ceases at the sight.

“Oh God, I killed her.”

No sooner do I say the words than Brooklynn’s leg swipes my feet from under me, and I hit the back of my head hard on the concrete below.

A horrible sound comes from deep within me as she and Thomas work their hardest to drag me into the back of that moving truck.

Gatsby barks up a thunderous storm before he turns and takes off, taking all of my hope along with him.

“No.” I struggle to break free from Brooklynn’s hold, but Thomas picks me up and lands me in an empty box before the two of them run out of the back of the truck. Thomas retracts the ramp before I can get myself out of that cardboard quicksand he landed me in. And just as I manage to land on my feet, Brooklynn slams the steel gate closed and I’m engulfed in darkness.

It looks like it’s curtains for me—literally.

The sound of faint barking picks up again.

Bizzy? It’s Fish. Sherlock is getting help.

The moving truck begins to jerk as the engine fires up. It’s thrown into reverse and I tumble toward the front of the truck and trip over a stack of boxes. The truck moves left then right. The sound of wild barking erupts and I lift my head a notch, trying to discern if it’s one dog or two.

Gatsby! Fish screeches so loud I’d swear she actually said his name out loud.

The truck turns slowly before thrusting forward with a start, and I fly toward the back of the truck, slamming my head into the side of this steely wonder. The truck begins to take flight just as a hard thump knocks against it and the driver slams on the brakes, sending me flying toward the front again.

Gatsby! Fish cries out once again.

“No!” I shout just as the truck takes off and a box topples on my head.

A loud pop vibrates through the truck and the entire vehicle depresses on its left rear.

I try to get up, try to sit up, stand up, but it feels as if the universe is spinning out of control, and just like that, the world fades to nothing.

CHAPTER 18

G atsby is fine.

It was the first thing I asked as I came to. And thank God. It turns out, he wasn’t hit by the truck. He hit the truck himself in an effort to stop it. If anything, Gatsby is a true blue hero.

Jasper was right there as they loaded me into the back of an ambulance and so were Emmie and Leo.

Having a book thrust at your head, along with a box full of paperbacks, can land you a nice little concussion. Although, at the moment, there doesn’t seem to be anything little about it.

It’s the next afternoon and Jasper and I are lounging under a large canvas cabana, usually reserved for the inn’s guests, but at the moment there are over a dozen erected along the sand.

Jasper wraps an arm around me as we share a doublewide lounger. “You need some water? A snack? Can I get you a book? Do you want to take a nap?”

A soft laugh bounces through me as I pull him close.

“I just need this.” I land my lips to his. “And this.” I steal another kiss. “And a little bit of this.” My lips press to his and we linger.

“Lucky for you, you’ll get a lifetime supply of all the above.” He pulls back and winces. “How about a fresh ice pack?”

“Yes. But only if you let me go with you to get it.”

He helps me up and we stride out of the cabana as I gingerly place a wide-brimmed hat over my head. It’s an unreasonably searing day, with the threat of hitting triple digits, and the cove is filled with beachgoers. Both Jasper and I have donned our bathing suits. Mine is mostly for show, considering I won’t go near the water, but I’m wearing a thin cover-up that doubles as a short dress, and Jasper still has his T-shirt on.

Fish runs by with Sherlock and Gatsby as they speed back and forth in front of us.

Nice to see you up and around! Gatsby barks as he runs by.

“Hero!” I shout after him. “It’s his new officially unofficial name.”

Emmie and Leo head this way. Emmie still has an apron wrapped around her waist, and Leo is clad in his deputy’s uniform.

“Get back in the shade!” Emmie herds us all onto the patio and under a big umbrella. “I brought you lemon tarts.” She holds up a small bag brimming with lemony goodness.

“Thank you,” I say as she hands them to me.

“Can you believe you caught another one?” Emmie shakes her head. “Scratch that. I totally believe it. You’re like a crime-solving ninja. My very own best friend is kicking killer’s behinds and taking names.”

“Not just killers,” Jasper adds, pulling me in. “Bizzy brought down a book thief and the dating duo who robbed the register and the ground safe.”

It’s true. Thomas was arrested with multiple charges brought up against him—the theft of that first print run Agatha Christie and the attempted kidnapping of yours truly. Jasper says they’re working on getting a confession from him concerning Channing Neville.

Brooklynn was arrested for the murder of Wyatt Sanders. The things she did to me were piddly in comparison, but those charges are lingering, too.

Stormy and Dax were arrested for theft.

And basically, the only suspect who walked away free was Molly Shay. For all of her psychotic behavior, she turned out to be the sane one. That says a lot.

Emmie lifts her brows my way. “A triple header, Bizzy? You’re really stepping up your game.”

Gatsby and Sherlock run up and twirl around our legs as they pant from their impromptu run along the sand.

Leo gives Gatsby a healthy pat to the side. “I hear you’re up for adoption, buddy. Are you up for coming home with me?”

Gatsby gives a cheerful bark. If Bizzy says it’s okay, then it’s fine by me.

I give a wry smile. “It’s fine by me if you’re game, Leo. It looks as if Gatsby’s found a forever home.”

Sherlock gives a little whimper as Fish hops over to Gatsby and locks her front paws around one of his hindlegs. The entire lot of us shares a warm laugh at the sight.

Leo. Fish mewls. I’ll never speak to you again unless you bring him around. She lashes her tongue over his fur. I’ve licked him. He’s mine.

“Aww!” Emmie coos. “It’s as if she’s in love with the guy. Can’t say I blame her.” She hugs Leo. “I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get Gatsby and Cinnamon together for playdates.”

Sherlock barks. Hear that, Fish? You’ll have to compete with a dog.

Fish lets out a riotous yowl in his direction. I don’t compete. I challenge.

Emmie’s phone pings. “Ohh, that’s my timer. I gotta run in and take another batch of those lemon tarts out of the oven.” She reaches over and offers me a quick embrace. “I’m so glad you’re doing better. You really gave me a scare. I think you’re going to give Jasper a heart attack every minute if you keep that up. I’ll see you both later. And you, too, Gatsby! Welcome to the family!”

She takes off and Leo looks my way. “I’m glad you’re safe, too, Bizzy. If you don’t mind, I’ll pick up Gatsby after my shift. I’ve got another couple of hours.”

“That’s fine,” I say. “And I’ll volunteer to babysit any time you want, and I’ll open Critter Corner services up to you for free any time you need it as well. That way, he can hang out at the doggie daycare right here at the inn while you’re at work.”

“Sounds like a deal I can’t pass up.”

“And Leo?” I give a sheepish smile. “I meant what I said. I’m glad you’re with Emmie. In fact, I couldn’t think of a nicer guy for my bestie.”

Jasper sheds a short-lived smile. “Don’t break her heart and make us come after you.”

Leo holds up his hands and laughs. “I have only the best intentions, I promise you that. He looks to Jasper. “How do you like that? We ended up with a couple of best friends.”

Ironic since Leo and Jasper were once best friends until Camila Ryder decided to sever that relationship with her body. Okay, so Leo was to blame, too.

Leo nods my way, acknowledging the fact.

Jasper’s chest expands. “You know, I can honestly say, I approve. I’m ready to let the past die where it belongs, in the past. I think this is a good place for us to make a clean start.”

Leo’s brows lift with hope. “You mean that?”

“Yes.” Jasper nods. “I mean it. You were like a brother to me, Leo. I think we’ve moved far enough away from that nightmare. Not to mention the fact you and Bizzy share a gift that bonds you. And, I like the idea of having you in my life again. I forgive you. It’s done.”

Leo stares him down for a moment, and for the life of me, I can’t read his expression.

“Come here.” Leo pulls Jasper in and offers him a firm embrace. He pulls back and swallows hard. “As much as I wanted your forgiveness, I didn’t think I’d get it. I’m not sure I would have given it. You’re a bigger man than me.”

Leo gives Gatsby a big pat and a kiss to the head. “I’ll see you all later. Rest up, Bizzy. I foresee a lot more double dates in our future.”

“Looking forward to it,” I call out as he takes off for the inn.

“Bizzy!” a high-pitched woman’s voice penetrates through all the summer squeals and screams of excitement going off at the beach and we turn to see not one, but three, familiar faces headed this way.

Georgie and Juni are wearing see-through baby blue kaftans with the outline of one-piece bathing suits underneath them. And then there’s Macy.

I groan at the sight as I lean in toward Jasper. “I don’t know if I should cover your eyes or cover her body.”

What body? Jasper lands a careful kiss to my cheek. I only see you.

“Bizzy Baker.” Macy steps up in a red string bikini and matching patent leather heels as she does a slow spin. “First one to find the butterfly gets to kiss it.”

“Eww,” I say as she juts her bottom our way so we can get a better look. Sure enough, her itty-bitty bikini bottom allows for it to be displayed magnificently. “You’ve healed nicely.”

She spins and makes a face. “Jasper told me this morning how you were responsible for the arrest of my tattoo artist and his girlfriend. Now who’s going to do my other cheek?”

Georgie lifts a finger. “I know a guy. And if you bring him a six pack, he’ll do the work for free.”

“Sounds reputable,” I say.

Juni looks my way. “Do you know what else sounds reputable? A vacation. The Fourth is right around the corner. Mom says you’re off to Honey Hollow.”

“You’re not coming with us?” I ask.

Juni makes a face as she shakes her head. “I’m giving Spike another shot at making me happy. He’s got a cruise set for Alaska. I figure while the three of you are roasting in Vermont, I’ll keep cool by checking out the glaciers.”

Macy sucks in a quick breath. “That’s right! We’re going to Honey Hollow!” She does an odd little tap-dance and all sorts of loose parts start to wiggle and jiggle.

Jasper politely turns his head, and I reward him with a kiss.

“Sherlock and Fish are coming, too. Lottie already said we were all welcome at her mother’s B&B.”

Georgie snaps her fingers. “The haunted bed and breakfast! How I can’t wait to see Carlotta again.”

Macy gives a lusty moan. “I can’t wait to see Alex again.”

“Macy.” I shake my head. “Alex didn’t come out last spring with them.”

She postures my way. “Yes, but Lottie’s boyfriend, Noah, did and Lottie said they were practically twins. So it’s as if I already know him. What comes next is merely a formality.”

“I’m afraid to ask what comes next,” I say as Fish runs up, and I scoop her into my arms. “I guess we’re headed to Honey Hollow.”

You mean I get to visit with Pancake and Waffles? Fish mewls with excitement at the thought of seeing Lottie’s cats before jumping out of my arms and running toward the dogs once again. Sherlock! You’ll never guess where we’re going!

Georgie claps at the sight. “It looks as if someone is excited about seeing her boyfriends.”

“I’m excited, too.” I wrap my arms around Jasper. “Our first real getaway together. Nothing but relaxing, reading, and finding interesting ways to entertain ourselves.”

Macy purrs like a kitten in heat. “I’ll drink to that. Just make sure you don’t stumble across another body. Death does not a dream vacation make.” She takes off for the café. “On second thought, Alex and I will entertain ourselves!”

Georgie leans in. “Don’t listen to her, Bizzy. You stumble over a body any time you like. Just make sure you have a couple of cute suspects to go along with it.” She waves as she and Juni head for the sand.

“I’m not going to find a body,” I say as I secure my hold on Jasper. “Are we good? We’re not still locking horns over that whole investigation debacle, are we?”

A dull laugh rattles in his chest. “We’re more than good. We’re great. You know all I want is your safety and happiness. I’m determined to give you both.”

“You’ve already given me everything I need, and that’s you.”

My lips rise to meet with his and we share a lingering kiss under the warm Cider Cove sun.

Try not to find a body, would you?

“Jasper.” I laugh as I gently smack him on the arm. “You know I have zero control over it.”

“In that case, I’ll bring my gun and my badge.”

“You never leave home without them.” I laugh.

“With you in my life, I never will.” He picks me up and twirls me and lands another lingering kiss to my lips that erases all memory of guns and badges.

Jasper and I are heading off on our first couple’s getaway, and our wedding is within touching distance.

This feels like the beginning of something new.

Like the beginning of who we were meant to be all along.

And I won’t stumble across a body, will I?

*WE HOPE you enjoyed your time in Cider Cove! Join Bizzy as she heads off to Honey Hollow, Vermont to visit with Lottie Lemon and her friends in Flag Cake Felonies (Murder in the Mix 23)!

Need the next book in this series? Pick it up today!

Cat Scratch Cleaver (Country Cottage Mysteries 8)

*Would you like to try a new series? Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies (Murder in the Mix 1) has you covered! Happy reading!

RECIPE COUNTRY COTTAGE CAFÉ

BITE-SIZE LEMON TARTS

Hey there! It’s me, Bizzy Baker! The Country Cottage Café really knocked it out of the park this time with the most delicious lemon tarts you could ever imagine. Let’s just say they were so good I bribed my best friend Emmie, who happens to be the best baker Cider Cove has ever seen, into making me my own batch—more than once. I can’t wait until you try them. Enjoy!

Ingredients

½ cup butter (softened to room temperature)

¼ cup sifted confectioners’ sugar

3/4 cup sugar

1 cup sifted flour

2 eggs

4 tablespoons lemon juice

2 teaspoons lemon zest

¼ teaspoon salt

4 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar

3 tablespoons of flour

Directions

Preheat oven to 350° (grease mini muffin pan or muffin size if available. An 8x8 pan will work too)

Mix butter and ¼ cup confectioners’ sugar, then stir in flour. Add dough to mini muffin pan until each pan is lined with crust.

Place mini muffin pan in the oven and bake crust for 12 minutes. (Leave crust in muffin tin).

In a large mixing bowl whisk eggs, sugar and 3 tablespoons of flour, add lemon juice, lemon zest, and salt. Combine well.

Spoon mixture into baked pie shells and bake for 20 – 25 minutes.

Cool and sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar.

These will be gone in no time!

NEW SERIES PREVIEW!

N ew to the series? Start at the beginning! Kittyzen’s Arrest (Country Cottage Mysteries 1)

An inn keeper who reads minds. An ornery detective. And a trail of bodies. Cider Cove is the premiere destination for murder.

MY NAME IS BIZZY BAKER, and I can read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but most of the time, and believe me when I say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

BIZZY BAKER RUNS the Country Cottage Inn, has the ability to pry into the darkest recesses of both the human and animal mind, and has just stumbled upon a body. With the help of her kitten, Fish, a mutt named Sherlock Bones, and an ornery yet dangerously good-looking homicide detective, Bizzy is determined to find the killer.

CIDER COVE, Maine is the premier destination for fun and relaxation. But when a body turns up, it’s the premier destination for murder.

Kittyzen’s Arrest (Country Cottage Mysteries 1)

*Love Janet Evanovich? You’ll have a blast with Meow for Murder.

Pick it up NOW! —> An Awful Cat-titude

A highly inaccurate psychic. A grumpy writer. And a corpse. Welcome to Starry Falls. Running from the mob can be murder.

CONFESSION. I’m no psychic. But I can sort of see the future—albeit not accurately. And you better believe, I’ve never let that little detail stop me from prognosticating my way into a pickle. So when I ticked off the mob, the feds, and my wily ex, I decided to take my Uncle Vinny’s advice and start over with a new name and new hair color while relying on my old shtick—getting my psychic wires crossed and putting myself in danger.

A LAUGH out loud cozy mystery by New York Times Bestseller Addison Moore and her partner in cozy crime, USA TODAY Bestseller Bellamy Bloom.

Order NOW! —> An Awful Cat-titude

BOOKS BY ADDISON MOORE

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Cozy Mysteries

Meow for Murder

An Awful Cat-titude

A Dreadful Meow-ment

A Claw-some Affair

Country Cottage Mysteries

Kittyzen’s Arrest (Country Cottage Mysteries 1)

Dog Days of Murder (Country Cottage Mysteries 2)

Santa Claws Calamity (Country Cottage Mysteries 3)

Bow Wow Big House (Country Cottage Mysteries 4)

Murder Bites (Country Cottage Mysteries 5)

Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries 6)

A Killer Tail (Country Cottage Mysteries 7)

Country Cottage Boxed Set 1

Country Cottage Boxed Set 2

Murder in the Mix Mysteries

Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies (Murder in the Mix 1)

Bobbing for Bodies (Murder in the Mix 2)

Pumpkin Spice Sacrifice (Murder in the Mix 3)

Gingerbread & Deadly Dread (Murder in the Mix 4)

Seven-Layer Slayer (Murder in the Mix 5)

Red Velvet Vengeance (Murder in the Mix 6)

Bloodbaths and Banana Cake (Murder in the Mix 7)

New York Cheesecake Chaos (Murder in the Mix 8)

Lethal Lemon Bars (Murder in the Mix 9)

Macaron Massacre (Murder in the Mix 10)

Wedding Cake Carnage (Murder in the Mix 11)

Donut Disaster (Murder in the Mix 12)

Toxic Apple Turnovers (Murder in the Mix 13)

Killer Cupcakes (Murder in the Mix 14)

Pumpkin Pie Parting (Murder in the Mix 15)

Yule Log Eulogy (Murder in the Mix 16)

Pancake Panic (Murder in the Mix 17)

Sugar Cookie Slaughter (Murder in the Mix 18)

Devil’s Food Cake Doom (Murder in the Mix 19)

Snickerdoodle Secrets (Murder in the Mix 20)

Strawberry Shortcake Sins (Murder in the Mix 21)

Cake Pop Casualties (Murder in the Mix 22)

Flag Cake Felonies (Murder in the Mix 23)

Peach Cobbler Confessions (Murder in the Mix 24)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 4-6)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 7-9)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 10-12)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 13-15)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 16-18)

Murder in the Mix Boxed Set (Books 19-21)

Mystery

Little Girl Lost

Never Say Sorry

The First Wife’s Secret

Romance

Just Add Mistletoe

3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)

Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)

Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)

Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)

Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)

Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)

Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7)

Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses 8)

Forbidden Kisses (3:AM Kisses 9)

Dirty Kisses (3:AM Kisses 10)

Stolen Kisses (3:AM Kisses 11)

Lucky Kisses (3:AM Kisses 12)

Tender Kisses (3:AM Kisses 13)

Revenge Kisses (3:AM Kisses 14)

Red Hot Kisses (3:AM Kisses 15)

Reckless Kisses (3:AM Kisses 16)

Hot Honey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 17)

Shameless Kisses (3:AM Kisses 18)

Value 3:AM Kisses Boxed Sets

3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 1-3

3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 4-6

3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 7-9

3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 10-12

3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 13-15

3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 16-18

The Social Experiment (The Social Experiment 1)

Bitter Exes (The Social Experiment 2)

Chemical Attraction (The Social Experiment 3)

Low Down & Dirty (3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook1)

Dirty Disaster (3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook 2)

Dirty Deeds (3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook 3)

Naughty By Nature

Heartless (Breakers Canyon Billionaires 1)

Wicked Heart (Breakers Canyon Billionaires 2)

Stone Cold Heart (Breakers Canyon Billionaires 3)

Beautiful Oblivion (Lake Loveless 1)

Beautiful Illusions (Lake Loveless 2)

Beautiful Elixir (Lake Loveless 3)

Beautiful Deception (Lake Loveless 4)

The Solitude of Passion

Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)

Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)

Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)

BOXED SETS

Breakers Canyon Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

Lake Loveless Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

A Totally ‘80s Romance (Books 1-3)

3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook (Books 1-3)

Young Adult Romance

Melt With You (A Totally ’80s Romance 1)

Tainted Love (A Totally ’80s Romance 2)

Hold Me Now (A Totally ’80s Romance 3)

Paranormal Romance

(Celestra Book World in Order)

Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)

Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)

Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)

Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)

Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)

Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)

Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)

Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 8)

Elysian (Celestra Series Book 9)

Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)

Ephemeral (Ephemeral Academy 1)

Evanescent (Ephemeral Academy 2)

Entropy (Ephemeral Academy 3)

Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)

Season of the Witch (A Celestra Companion)

Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)

The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After 2)

The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3)

Crown of Ashes (Celestra Forever After 4)

Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After 5)

All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After 6)

Roar of the Lion (Celestra Forever After 7) Soon

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank YOU, the reader, for joining us on this adventure to Cider Cove. We hope you’re enjoying the Country Cottage Mysteries as much as we are. Don’t miss Cat Scratch Cleaver (Country Cottage Mysteries 8) coming up next. Thank you so much from the bottom of our hearts for taking this roller coaster ride with us. We cannot wait to take you back to Cider Cove!

Special thank you to the following people for taking care of this book—Kaila Eileen Turingan-Ramos, Kathryn Jacoby, Jodie Tarleton, Margaret Lapointe, Ashley Daniels and Lisa Markson. And a very big shout out to Lou Harper of Cover Affairs for designing the world’s best covers.

A heartfelt thank you to Paige Maroney Smith for being so amazing in every single way.

And last, but never least, thank you to Him who sits on the throne. Worthy is the Lamb! Glory and honor and power are yours. We owe you everything.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Addison Moore is a New York Times, USA TODAY, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her work has been featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine. Previously she worked as a therapist on a locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children, and two dogs where she eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading. Addison’s Celestra Series has been optioned for film by 20th Century Fox.

Bellamy Bloom is a USA TODAY bestselling author who writes cozy mysteries filled with humor, intrigue and a touch of the supernatural. When she's not writing up a murderous storm she's snuggled by the fire with her two precious pooches, chewing down her to-be-read pile and drinking copious amounts of coffee.

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Contents

Copyright

Connect with Addison Moore

Book Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Recipe Country Cottage Café

New Series Preview!

Books by Addison Moore

Acknowledgments

About the Authors