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
Later 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
