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
Jasper 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
