Emmie closes her eyes. “Fine. You can go to Minty’s, but only if I go with you. I have to see this dress for myself. But not today, though,” she says. “How about first thing in the morning?”
“That’s fine.” I flash a quick smile at Leo. “Who knows? I might even come away with a wedding dress.” And a killer. I wink his way and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll walk you out.”
We head out just as the leaves float down from the maple out front, and there’s a splash of fall color everywhere you look.
No sooner do I say goodbye to the two of them than Sherlock runs up ahead and barks at someone coming down the walk. It’s a tall, strapping man with dark hair and a tight smile.
“Archie,” I say as I wave his way. “What brings you here today?”
“Hey, Bizzy. I’ve got those pots I’m donating to the inn. I’ve got my crew here, too, ready to take them over to the bluff.”
“Perfect,” I trill just as Nessa heads this way with her tiny black and white pup.
Bizzy! Sherlock Bones and Fish! Peanut spins in a circle before trying his best to chase after Sherlock. Peanut is about half of Sherlock’s size, has a tiny ringlet of a tail, and a face of a pug more or less even though he’s a mixed breed.
Nessa laughs. “Go on, Bizzy. I’ll man the fort.”
“Thanks. I’ll take Peanut with me to the bluff,” I call out.
Archie and his crew drive out toward the gazebo, and I cut through the back walkway that faces the ocean with Sherlock, Peanut, and Fish bobbing alongside me.
Peanut lets out a cute little yip. So who are we investigating today? Nessa told me there was another death at the inn. She says this entire town is cursed. And she’s got her eye on you, Bizzy.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Peanut.” I shake my head at the thought while Fish and Sherlock fill Peanut in on all I’ve told them about the case so far.
The ocean is dark, a perfect reflection of the heavy clouds hanging over the Atlantic. The sun is still shining brightly, but by the looks of those clouds, it won’t be for long. I suppose it’s time to start thinking about renting a tent for McKenna’s wedding and mine. Rain isn’t something I planned for or hoped for.
By the time I get to the bluff, Archie already has two enormous, and, might I add, gorgeous, creamy cast stone pots set out. They’re at least four feet tall with a relief of seashells and starfish enwreathing them just like he mentioned.
Brimming from the pots themselves are blooming mums in crimson and gold. And in the center of each pot sits a large bright orange pumpkin adding to the brilliant fall display. In the background, the evergreens are lined up like verdant soldiers letting off their fresh pine scent, and the gazebo looks like a glossy white wrought iron wonder with its metallic roses woven throughout.
“Oh, Archie.” I press my hand to my chest as I inspect the massive pots set out before me. “These are absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” He takes off his hat a moment and wipes the sweat from his brow as the crew shuffles the dollies back to their trucks. “So is this a good spot for them?”
“It’s the perfect spot. Just far enough from the gazebo to look like the majestic entry you suggested it would be. Well done. But I’m afraid I can’t accept these for nothing. Please let me pay you.”
He gives a little laugh as he waves his staff off and they pile into their trucks.
“Nope, I won’t take a dime. I’ve had these for a while. A buyer backed out after I made the purchase for him, and I got stuck with them. McKenna and Caleb came by and they fell in love with them, so I thought this would be a good fit for the wedding.”
“I can see why.” Sherlock and Peanut chase one another around the enormous pots while Fish rubs her head against my leg.
Is this the one who’s dating Macy? Has she turned him inside out yet?
A small laugh ripples through me as I pick her up.
“So, Archie, that was some show you put on the other night. I know my sister really enjoyed it.”
He chuckles at the thought. She enjoyed the after show, too. He gives a wistful shake of the head as his mind sets in on white noise.
White noise is usually a clear sign that things just took a turn for the perverse. And, boy, am I ever glad there’s a supernatural shut-off valve when it comes to my inadvertent prying. The last thing I want to see or hear is whatever it is he’s thinking about—especially when it involves my sister. And yet, oddly, I think my sister would very much approve.
“Macy is a wild one,” I say. “Not that it needed pointing out. I haven’t had the chance to grill her yet, but how in the world did you make her float like that? I mean, it looked so real.”
He clucks his tongue as he gives Fish a quick scratch on the back.
“Would you believe me if I told you there’s more magic in that routine than meets the logical mind?”
“I’m afraid I’m too logically minded.” But I shouldn’t be. Not with my supernatural standing anyway. The transmundane community plays a host to many powers; mind reading is just one of them. My friend, Lottie Lemon, can see the dead, and I’ve heard others have visions of the future. I’m sure there are other powers I don’t even know about yet. No, I should be the last
