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.
