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
The 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
