Lulu angled her head, thinking. "Galvan left while Percy and I discussed the design." She paused. "There was someone else in the bookstore."

  "Who?"

  "A tourist. I remembering seeing her walking from the rear of the store, I guess she was in the restroom by the back door."

  "Who was it?"

  "I don't know. She was forty or so, I'd say, and blondish. I didn't get a good look at her. What drew my attention was her coat. A past-the-knees double breasted trench coat in magenta. The kind of thing I'd wear if I weren't so short."

  "Was anyone with her?"

  "I didn't see anyone."

  "You left before she did?"

  "No. She left before me."

  "How did you know she was a tourist?"

  "Well, first off, she had a tote bag with the Trading Post logo—which sells well with the tourists—and second, I'd never seen her before. Moon Water's a pint-sized town."

  "Was she tall or short or what?"

  "Medium height. Not overweight, darkish blonde hair, but not short like mine or as long as yours."

  Abby, being acutely aware of her curly red hair, tugged on a tendril. "Mine's not that long. It doesn't even touch my shoulders."

  Lulu continued. "She was wearing lots of makeup. Heavy makeup, like how we used to wear it back when I was a starry-eyed young ingénue. I hated it because it made my skin break out."

  A stair creaked. Assuming it was Brenda, Abby canted her head, waited, then lifted her eyebrows. Why wasn't there more creaking and more footfalls? Wasn't she coming downstairs?

  A sudden wariness made her squint and she circled her finger to signal Lulu to continue talking.

  Lulu's brows knitted into a peevish frown, but she did as asked and continue chattering while Abby slipped by her. "I did wear lipstick back then. Still do, more like a gloss now, and I used to use eyeliner and mascara. I'd make up my eyes to look like Cleopatra. I adored Liz Taylor, although that movie was wildly inaccurate, but"—she sighed—"I did love the costumes. And her look, those eyes. Everybody copied it, even me."

  Lulu laughed, rambled on. "Did you know she used to crush beetles to stain her lips red? Cleopatra, I mean, not Liz Taylor. One summer, I dyed my hair black and cut my bangs to look like Cleo's—"

  As Lulu talked, Abby quietly tiptoed and peeked around the corner to see Brenda creeping back up the stairs. A chill of suspicion seeped through her. "Brenda?"

  "Oh, hi," the young woman said, turning her head to see Abby. "I didn't want to interrupt your conversation."

  Hm. Well, that sounded plausible. Or was she standing there listening to us?

  Lulu, all smiles, came around the corner. "Brenda, are you in the mood for a cup of hot apple cider?"

  "No thanks, Lulu. I have a headache. I was looking for aspirin."

  "You'll find a bottle in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom right next to your room."

  "Oh, of course. I should have checked there. Thanks." Brenda continued up the stairs.

  Once she was out of sight, Lulu poked Abby and beckoned her to return to the kitchen. "What's wrong with you? The girl's been through a wrenching experience. She needs serenity and friendship, not suspicion and distrust. Do you dislike her? Or do you think she actually did, heaven forbid, knock off Ravenna?"

  "No. I'm feeling leery of everyone, I guess. Just me being foolish." That's a lie. Brenda's hiding something, I'm sure of it.

  "This leery feeling stems from what? And why are you so interested in the tourist?"

  Abby was prepared for the question and tried to make her reply sound spontaneous and, therefore, more believable. "What, ah, if this woman saw him fall or bump into something? Before you arrived or before Mr. Galvan came into the store. What if she saw him fall and hit his head?"

  "He has a head injury?"

  "I don't know. The doctors ruled it out because nothing's showed up in the scans. Nothing so far, but ..." she shrugged, "You know doctors can be wrong. Scans can be wrong. I'd like to find this woman and see if she saw anything."

  Abby tried not to glance down and then back up—her "tell"—and Lulu's way to discern she was lying.

  Lulu's steady gaze unnerved her so much she was almost ready to confess everything. I'm a witch. So is Mr. Steed and Harriet and Selene, and we're all at risk because of Dim Fever.

  Lulu abruptly turned and walked away. "I want to see him. Drive me to the clinic."

  "Last thing I heard from Harriet was that the clinic was sending him to a brain injury testing facility in Medford."

  "Then let's go find the tourist in the trench coat, pronto."

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Volvo rolled up to the stone entrance marker for Honeyberry Woods then turned left to travel south down Mount Dapple Road.

  Two winding miles later, the car cruised over the creek's bridge toward the destination: the town square, specifically the general store known as The Trading Post.

  It was a busy day thanks to the pleasant weather. A perfect day for shoppers to buy for those who had been naughty or nice on their Christmas lists.

  As they approached the Trading Post, Lulu commented on the overly-commercialized wreathes on display in the store's windows. "It's that absurd allure of novelty and trends. I'm telling you these things won't sell as well as the old-fashioned traditional styles. Tourists want the nostalgia. Pine cones, dried flowers and ribbons on their wreathes—not balloons, shellacked bows and Disney figures."

  She tapped the window near the wreath she had just described, then reached for the door, saying, "By the way, would Jill be interested in a few days of after-school work?"

  "Jill? What are talking about? I'm available. I need work if you're paying."

  "You're too old for this."

  "Old? I'm thirty-five."

  "This is for teens. I like to get their idle hands busy decorating the gazebo and the little park benches for the Winter Festival. It gives them a few dollars and they get to work as a team, and I think it helps to boost their holiday spirit."

  "Fine. I’ll tell Jill. I wonder if Edwina is hiring? Surely she will need help with whatever it is she's doing."

  Lulu bristled. "She gets volunteers. I'm the only one who pays for help. I've been in charge of the gazebo and park for years, and I set aside a little cash every year for the decorations. I love doing it and paying the kids so it doesn't come out of the town's budget, but if Edwina tries to interfere with me I've already warned the council I'll quit."

  She got grumpier. "She can go micromanage the parade or the food contests, but she better stay away from my little portion of bringing the Christmas spirit."

  Inside the Trading Post, Abby and Lulu found out quickly neither the owner nor the three clerks remembered a tourist resembling Lulu's description.

  Disappointed, Abby walked out of the Trading Post. A man shouted her name.

  Down on the corner, Wyatt, her handyman neighbor, in his work clothes with a tool belt slung around his thin frame, was helping the foreman of a construction crew carry a cracked glass case out of the old Moon Water Bakery.

  She waved back to him.

  "I guess the rumor is true," Lulu said, coming up behind her.

  "What rumor?"

  "The old bakery was sold."

  The Moon Water Bakery had been closed down for months. Abby had hoped, if it did reopen, she might get a steady job there since she was an experienced baker.

  "A new owner? That's great news."

  Abby waved and headed toward Wyatt but stopped short when she spied Gilbert and Camille strolling out of the bakery.

  "Oh, no." She sensed an air of ownership in the way Camille's hands moved as she spoke to Wyatt and the foreman.

  Gilbert stood by her side like an adoring Collie. It wasn't hard to tell that Camille was definitely the one in charge.

  Abby frowned, feeling so disappointed at what looked to be true. A sense of dread engulfed her."Methinks Camille is the new owner."

  Lulu grimaced. "First, she gets Ramstead Manor, and now the bakery. She'll be taking over the town next, maybe run for mayor. I wouldn't mind Hank Holcombe being ousted but, that female? No. That would be going from bad to worse. She creeps me out."

  "I'm with you on that." Then she shuddered when a vision flashed in her mind: she was caught in a whirlwind so powerful it was literally destroying a building. Brick and stone masonry debris spun in the swirling winds of a cyclone and she barely managed to dodge the bricks and stone that might shatter her bones.

  Lulu nudged her elbow. "You okay? What's going on, Abby? You look a little pale."

  She gulped to wet her dry throat. "I'm fine." She wasn't. She had recognized the building. It was Ramstead Manor.

  Lulu pressed her. "I know something's going on and you're not telling me. Why? What is it?"

  Certain that Lulu wasn't going to shut up until she got a credible answer, Abby asked, "How well did you know Ravenna?"

  "Not that well. I'd say she was more of an acquaintance than a friend. I'd see her in Dill's Diner or in the shops or occasionally at a town meeting, but that was before her brother came to live with her and they became so reclusive. They got to where they lived like hermits."

  "When was that?"

  "Over a decade ago. At first, I thought he had agoraphobia, but it could've been more than that. I suspected it was mental and some kind of physical illness, too."

  A pensive flicker in Lulu eyes was followed by a quiet murmur. "You know, Mr. Steed and Ivan knew each other."

  "They were friends? Wasn't there a big age difference?"

  "Thirty years at least. It was more of a student and teacher friendship. Ivan dropped out of college the same year Mr. Steed opened the bookstore. Financially, it was draining his savings. That's why he offered to tutor in biology, geology, literature—quite the renaissance man our Percy Steed.

  "Ivan hated college but liked talking to Mr. Steed and hired him as a tutor. Back then, Ivan was a shy but curious young man who could be obsessively single-minded when he was interested in a subject."

  Abby thought of the portrait she'd seen. A young man radiating an affable charm, so unlike the frail, fearful Ivan depicted in the bronze bust created years later. What had happened to him in the intervening years?

  Lulu sighed. "Percy was disappointed when Ivan suddenly left town. I think they did keep in touch for a while, and Percy even visited him once in New Orleans, but then he didn't hear anything from Ivan. Not for years and years. Then ten years ago, he moved back to the manor."

  "Did their friendship revive?"

  "Ivan refused to leave the manor or invite anyone to visit him. Frankly, I thought he was addicted to drugs. Back then, Ravenna had a housekeeper and a cook, and they said they seldom ever saw Ivan. They'd leave his meals on a tray and Ravenna would take it into him."

  "Did he tell Per—Mr. Steed where he'd been all those years?"

  "No."

  "Do you believe Camille is his daughter?"

  "It's possible. I don't know. I didn't know Ivan very well when he was young, and I only saw him once or twice when he returned to live with Ravenna, and by then he would clam up if you asked him about himself."

  "Does Camille resemble him?"

  "She doesn't have his wavy hair. She does have his crappy disposition, at least like how he was in his later years, I find her irritating and, to put it kindly, not nice."

  "That's an understatement. I have this feeling she's way more than not nice."

  Lulu canted her head. "Are you thinking she had something to with Ravenna's accident?"

  Abby shrugged, unwilling to say more.

  "I can see why you might think that. She shows up out of the blue in October, claims she's Ivan's daughter—which is an enormous shock and surprise to Ravenna—then, six weeks later, Ravenna's dead and, wham, Camille's moved into the manor."

  "Exactly." Abby snapped her fingers. "That's what I mean. Why so fast?"

  Lulu countered. "She is Ravenna's beneficiary."

  Abby sniffed. "And who was Ravenna's lawyer? Gilbert. Her paramour, that's who. He settled the legalities faster than any other lawyer in the world would've."

  "Are you saying Camille seduced him to facilitate a quick settlement?"

  "I wouldn't rule it out."

  Lulu shrugged. "Then again, what if it's a real romance between those two?"

  Abby made a face.

  Lulu, feeling argumentative, made her case. "Camille discovers she has an aunt. She decides to visit Moon Water and get to know her aunt. She happens to meet Gilbert and he's smitten with her. He happily drives her out to the manor to meet Ravenna.

  "Brenda's there; she sees how Ravenna is angry at first, but becomes convinced Camille is Ivan's daughter."

  Abby laughed. "You mean, after they"—her fingers marked air quotes—"bonded with a bottle of Archambault."

  "I can see that. The alcohol helped puncture Ravenna's armor. Her brother loved that brand of whisky and it convinced her Camille was for real. Alcohol lowered her inhibitions, and she gets emotional and believes she does, at last, have another Ramstead in her life."

  "Ravenna gets Gilbert to change her will," Abby speculated, her eyes on the couple who were walking now to Gilbert's Cadillac.

  Lulu pressed on. "And in the time it takes for Gilbert to handle the new will, Camille falls him. Maybe she likes older men; he's got at least a decade on her. Poor sucker is totally beguiled by her."

  Beguiled, all right. And bewitched.

  "Six weeks later, Ravenna dies in a terrible accident. Camille inherits and moves to the manor so she can pursue Gilbert. Maybe she's the marrying kind and being Mrs. Inglewood is her goal."

  Abby scrunched her nose. "So, in your mind, she's a woman in love?"

  Lulu shrugged.

  Gilbert's Caddy had made a U-turn and was now moving past them. Camille, seated next to him, leaned toward his shoulder, her fingers rubbing the nape of his neck.

  Maybe Lulu's right. Camille is in love. That's why she's in such a rush.

  Abby's impetuous side jumped on the romantic angle. Even a sexy vixen falls in love.

  Her cautious and increasingly skeptical side refuted it. She's a Dark Flyer with femme fatale vibes. Don't be fooled, Abs.

  Abby mentally threw up her hands in consternation. Crap. What I need is a third side to referee these two.

  Lulu tugged on Abby's arm. "Hey. Take a gander over there. See that youngster?" She pointed toward the Moon Water Bank where a young man stood wearing a Santa hat and passing out candy. "That's a fine vantage point for seeing anyone walking around the square. Like maybe our tourist in the trench coat. Let's go have a chat with that boy. "

  Chapter Sixteen

  The youngster, in Lulu's estimation, turned out to be Cody, the bank manager's twenty-three-year-old nephew. When Lulu asked him if he'd seen the tourist in the magenta trench coat he assured them he had not.

  "No, ma'am," he said, offering them peppermints. Abby popped one in her mouth while Lulu declined. "I wasn't here yesterday. You need to ask inside, and, ma'am, when you're in there, will you vote for our tree? It's entered in the Winter Festival's Best Tree contest."

  Inside the high-ceiling lobby, fresh vermillion poinsettias encircled a seven-foot Douglas Fir. Silver ribbons cascaded from the feathery angel topper.

  Sam Shaw, the portly bank manager, strolled toward Lulu. "Mrs. Dupree, so good to see you. We're getting ready for the holiday season. Are you?"

  Lulu reached for his extended hand. "Sam, that's the prettiest tree I've seen so far. I do feel a strong affection for poinsettias."

  "Excellent, Mrs. Dupree. I’m happy to hear that. Now, how can I help you today?"

  Lulu introduced Abby before asking who had been handing out candy before today.

  "Sheryl Klinger. I had her on candy duty earlier this week, but she's out today for a doctor's appointment. That's why I've got my nephew, Cody, in to sub for her. She'll be back tomorrow."

  Abby and Lulu exchanged a glance. Could they wait until tomorrow? The answer was no.

  Flanked by forest on both sides, the road roller-coastered up and down as the car sped north.

  A mile later on the left side the red spires of Ramstead Manor peeked over the treetops. The car zoomed past the orange "R," on its journey north.

  Minutes later, Lulu aimed her pinkie at the upcoming county road sign and the one just beyond it for Wagon Wheel Estates.

  The car turned and bounced along the county road, crested a rise and arrived at Wagon Wheel Estates: a collection of mobile homes sprinkled among the piney terrain.

  A pebbled walkway led them to Sheryl Klinger's double-wide.

  From a window, a pair of peppy Chihuahuas greeted them with snarls and barks until someone pulled down the shade. The dogs quieted. Sheryl poked her head out. "Who's out there?"

  "Sheryl, it's Lulu Dupree."

  The interior of the double-wide had a pleasant, lived-in feel, with lots of silk flowers catching dust and a slim Christmas tree with glass ornaments and strings of twinkling lights.

  The aroma of baked bread welcomed them, although, Sheryl's stiff, formal demeanor contradicted the inviting scent.

  Sheryl offered them decaf, and they lucked out when she brought slices of warm fragrant zucchini bread with the coffee.

  After three seconds of polite conversation, Lulu's candor came rushing out. "Did you see a woman in a magenta trench coat leaving Mr. Steed's bookstore around noon yesterday?"

  Sheryl's jaw tightened. "Look, did somebody say I wasn't doing my job? Because I was. I was giving out candy, just like I was told to."

  Unclear as to why Sheryl was acting so defensive, Abby sought to reassure her their questions had nothing to do with the bank or her job. "We're only interested in this woman."

  Sheryl lifted her brows. "This has something to with what happened to Mr. Steed?"

  "You heard?"

  "Of course, I heard. One of the ranch hands at the Jamal place told his wife last night, but it took until this morning for me to hear anything. Is he all right? Sounds like it's a mystery how he got out there in the woods by the Jamal property, but I figure he must've driven himself since his car wasn't too far off."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13