“Sorry about that, Mojo. You know how it is.”
He gave her the briefest little signature meow, before getting up and jumping to the floor. As she watched him leave, she wondered about the fire. It’d definitely been in the redwood forest but it didn’t seem to be burning out of control. If anything, it’d looked like a campfire.
Did she know anyone who camped?
She was heading to the armoire to change into work clothes, when she saw her purse on the bed. After what Eunice had said about her missing phone, she picked it up. At the armoire, she stashed it towards the back. It didn’t hurt to be careful.
19
Finished with dusting the living room, Maris moved across the hallway to the parlor. But as she ran the duster over the coffee table and the Ouija board, she was reminded of Mojo’s clue.
“Five fold,” she muttered.
Neither she nor Cookie had any idea what it meant. But as she tried to puzzle it out, she looked out the bay window toward the long driveway. Bear was lifting a tool bag into the bed of his truck—and a thought occurred to her. As she exited the front door, the handyman was heading to the back of the house.
“Bear,” she called out to him, stopping him in his tracks. He looked over and watched her approach.
“Maris,” he said.
They stood at the corner of the house, with a view to the back and Cookie’s garden, and the greenhouse. It was another warm day and the light glistening from the bay was almost blinding. She held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
“I have a strange question for you,” she said, still holding the duster. “Have you ever heard anyone use the words ‘five fold’?”
His heavy brows drew together as he looked down at her. She watched his lips move as he mouthed the words, though he didn’t make a sound. He pondered for another few moments, before he slowly shook his head.
“No,” he said.
Maris sighed a little and shrugged. “Okay. It was worth a shot.”
“Five is a lot,” he said.
She cocked her head at him. “A lot of what?”
He shook his head and smoothed down his beard. “A lot of folds.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “I see what you mean.”
“You’d have to start with a pretty big piece of paper if you wanted to fold it five times.” He thought for a second, before a light came on behind the brown eyes. “Maybe a map.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “I never thought of it that way.” Could something important be located on the fifth fold of a map? “A folded map,” she whispered. “That’s good thinking.” But what map could it be? A road map? Of the town? Or maybe of the county? She glanced back at the B&B. Did they have any maps inside?
“I have the honey,” he said, startling her from her train of thought.
“The what?” she asked.
“I brought more honey. Can I give it to you now?”
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Of course. How nice of you.”
She followed him back to his truck, where he went to the passenger door and opened it. On the floor, in a small cardboard box that was just the right size, was the jar. He took it by its metal top and gingerly handed it to her.
“I hope you enjoy it,” he said, smiling a little awkwardly.
“I’m sure we will,” Maris said. “And also our guests. Cookie and I have it in our tea.” She held it up, admiring its light amber hue. “Like captured sunbeams.” She regarded the big man. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
But as he turned back to close the door, Maris said, “Wait a second.” Bear stopped and turned back to her. She pointed to the cardboard box. “Is that where the other honey was when it was stolen?”
He nodded. “Right there.”
“Would you mind if I have a look?”
He backed up a couple of paces. “Go ahead.”
She handed him the new jar of honey and the duster. “Thanks.”
The small box sat on the floor mat, near the stick shift. Either Bear kept the cab of his truck immaculate, or no one rode on the passenger side—perhaps both. If there was so much as a blade of grass, a leaf, or a bit of gravel, she couldn’t see it. Other than being clean, everything looked in order. Whoever had taken the honey hadn’t conveniently dropped a clue. She picked up the box. Nothing else was in it, and its top flaps had been folded down inside. For a moment she thought about asking Mac to fingerprint it. But there was no guarantee that the thief had touched it, and she still didn’t want to involve the sheriff if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.
She was just about to set it back on the floor, when something at the cardboard rim caught her eye. When she rubbed a finger over it, it smudged. It was a tiny burn mark. She turned and showed it to Bear.
“It’s been burned,” she said, “but just a little.”
He frowned down at it. “How was it burned?” He looked at the interior of the cab.
“I don’t imagine you smoke,” she said to him.
“Oh no,” he said quickly. “Never.”
“What was originally in the box?”
“An empty jar,” he said. He held up the honey. “This one.”
“Hmm,” Maris said, looking at the little carbonized area. She looked up at the big man. “Would you mind if I keep it?”
He shook his head and offered her the honey, which she put in the box. Then he gave her the duster.
What it could possibly mean, Maris had no idea, but it might be evidence—and the only clue so far. “Thanks again,” she told him.
20
Coming slowly down the stairs, Maris ran the duster over its elegant oak banister and balustrades. Despite its many years of use, the golden wood gleamed. Like the vintage furniture, it had been well cared for. Maris made a mental note to check with Cookie and Bear about whether there was a
