If she'd threatened Autumn with consequences, Autumn had intended to remind her that a married woman flinging herself at a sweet shop owner might also have consequences coming her way if word got out.

  Now, that argument was null and void.

  That put Autumn in a very difficult position. She felt as if a rug had just been yanked out from under her.

  “Are you sure you didn’t go into the sweet shop regularly?”

  “Are you even listening?” Felicia asked in exasperated tones. “Honestly, you’re so irritating that I’d rather you had been a charity. I'd give you a hundred-dollar donation over having to deal with this! Why are you even asking me all of this? If you didn't have a dog with you, and I didn't happen to like dogs, I'd already have thrown you out.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Autumn said, but there was no stopping Felicia now. She was in full, angry, conversational flow.

  "It's like you – you think I'm a killer or something? The last time I went in there was to buy some peppermint fudge for my nephew's birthday, and that was at least a week ago. I never go that way. Those shops are for tourists. I don't even go out walking much. I train every morning with my personal trainer here at home, and I usually get deliveries. As for liking the owner? What are you insinuating? I didn't like him much, and in fact, considered him an odious little man. I am married to a fine, dynamic entrepreneur, who would be even more successful if the backward locals didn't object to anything over two stories."

  “Absolutely,” Autumn agreed, but nothing could stem Felicia’s wrath.

  “I should call the police on you,” she threatened. “I have a track record of doing that when I get annoyed. I have Officer Warring on speed dial.”

  “No, no, please don’t do that.” Autumn needed to rush to a plan B she’d never known she needed. She was hyperventilating with anxiety, but she couldn’t let Felicia see it. Any sign of weakness now might be fatal. Now, of all times, she needed to remain calm and strong.

  “I don’t think I’ve explained myself very well,” she said in even tones. “Let me try again. I’m actually here because someone mentioned they saw you coming out of the sweet shop.”

  “Who?” Felicia challenged immediately. “Tell me who.”

  "It's unimportant. This acquaintance, who was on the street at the time, simply said they saw a very beautiful, well-groomed woman leaving the store, who seemed to be sophisticated yet caring. I asked for more details, hoping that – hoping that Mr. Sweetly might have babbled in your presence, overwhelmed by your looks, and said something that might have been a clue to his murder. You know, I'm sure you're used to that happening?" she said.

  All that flattery seemed to have hit the right note and calmed things down. Felicia nodded approvingly.

  “I will say, that being a confident, exceptional looking woman has its downsides,” she agreed. “It’s just as you say. I often wish I could switch places with an ordinary plain Jane like you.”

  “I’m sometimes grateful for being so ordinary, and not being so stunningly good looking,” Autumn said, privately thinking that Felicia would have done better to work on her personality as well as her hair. But then again, her hair and figure had gotten her places where her personality might never have taken her. So far, so good for her. But Autumn preferred wit and charm. Wit and charm lasted the distance – whereas looks and slimness presented a battle that only got harder. Her own grandmother had been able to charm just about anyone, despite being eighty years old and using a walker, and she could crack jokes that left the whole nursing home in an uproar. In fact, Autumn recalled, Grandma had been asked not to repeat her bawdiest jokes, as they caused some of the residents to choke.

  “It’s a burden,” Felicia said, flicking back her icy blond hair, which returned immediately to its mirror-perfect shape. “However, now you know that I knew nothing about Mr. Sweetly, and if he was in love with me, at least he didn’t blurt it out in an embarrassing way.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Autumn felt as if she’d had a narrow miss, but that she might just have convinced Felicia that this was her aim all along.

  “So, you’re looking into this murder yourself?” Felicia said, wrinkling her nose in surprise.

  “Not really. I’m just trying to piece together more of the story for myself. I was the one who found his body,” Autumn said.

  “You should see a good therapist,” Felicia advised her. “You know, especially if you’re running around looking for answers, it means you have unprocessed emotions. I’ve got just the person for you.”

  Relief flooded Autumn now. If Felicia was actually recommending her therapist, she was on firmer ground. That could have gone so bad. It almost had. It was shocking how wrong she’d gotten it.

  Accepting the number with a smile of thanks, she stood up and Max stood up, and Felicia gave one final brush of her beautifully manicured fingertips over Max’s head.

  “Thank you so much for your help,” Autumn said.

  Then, she skedaddled out of there, feeling weak with reaction when she was standing on the road again, with the decorative iron gate closed behind her.

  That had gone so, so wrong. A miscommunication somewhere down the line had almost gotten her into serious trouble. Felicia had been within an inch of calling the police.

  It hadn’t been her at all, and now, she was at a loss. She couldn’t exactly go back and ask Elizabeth again.

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, Autumn headed back to the guesthouse.

  She was all out of suspects. And looking at the harbor, she saw the queue for the ferry was far longer than it should have been. As the rumors and gossip spread, more and more guests were leaving, and fewer arriving.

  What was she missing?

  As she walked back to Harbor View, Autumn forced herself to think hard about every interview she’d had so far. She’d spoken to a lot of people, and she’d picked up many snippets of information. What she hadn’t done was to try to connect them all.

  What she had were puzzle pieces. And if she was able to slot the right ones together, then she could see the bigger picture.

  Now, to assemble the pieces.

  Autumn worked on that as she hurried back to the guesthouse, stopping occasionally to let Max smell something he found interesting, before powering forward again.

  As she gathered the details in her mind, there was one particular puzzle piece that stood out from the others. Thinking about it more carefully, Autumn realized she might have missed something important.

  When Molly Perkins had been complaining to her, she’d mentioned recipes.

  Very secret, very successful recipes, many of which Molly herself had invented. But Harold Sweetly had guarded them fiercely. He’d considered them to be his property.

  A lot of people might have wanted to steal those recipes.

  It was a part of the mystery that Autumn now realized she had not paid enough attention to.

  A recipe thief might have been planning on selling the recipes to another sweet manufacturer, or even making the sweets to sell on his own. Or her own. In competition, anyway. There was no way Harold would willingly have given those recipes away.

  Perhaps someone had realized this. After setting up a ‘friendly’ meeting – when they’d bought him a sandwich during the discussion – they’d left, knowing he’d be poisoned.

  If so, where did Harold hide his recipes? They hadn’t been in the sweet shop, surely? A secret recipe would be locked away somewhere safe. In his home, for sure.

  With her mind whirling, Autumn realized she had the beginnings of a scenario in her mind. Putting herself in the recipe thief’s shoes, she knew what to do next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Standing behind her reception desk, Autumn’s mouth felt dry as she prepared to make the important call. It was late afternoon now, and another set of guests had checked out a day early. That meant three vacant rooms. She’d done everything she could to try to soothe the guests’ suspicions, to no avail. Then, looking to fill the space, she’d called one person who had been on a waiting list if a room became available, but they’d already got accommodation booked on the mainland.

  Trying to quell the sense of panic that clenched at her, Autumn reminded herself that she was on the road to solving this. All she needed was to get the timing right, and to have the help she needed.

  She dialed the number.

  “Could I speak to Dr. Hartley, please?” she said, when the attendant at the veterinary practice picked up. “It’s Autumn Ray.”

  “Hold on, please.” There was a pause. She felt her heart pounding. And then, Ben Hartley answered.

  “Hello Autumn. I was going to call you after work.”

  He was going to call? Her heart moved up another gear. That was promising. Maybe he'd be able to come with her on this risky, last-minute mission?

  “I’m calling you to find out if you might be available tonight? I’ve got to go and – and check a place out. And it would be great to have some company.”

  She hoped that this would be innocuous enough not to make him suspicious, while at the same time making it clear that she needed him with her.

  But his disappointed sigh told her it wasn’t going to be so easy.

  “I wish I could. I was going to invite you for a drink tomorrow night,” he said. “Tonight, I’ve been asked to give a talk on pets to the Magnolia Bay Ladies’ Literary Society. They’re all meeting up in the town hall at seven. I’ll have to socialize with them afterward, to be polite.”

  “That’s no problem,” Autumn said. “I hope you enjoy it.”

  She knew a few of the members of the Ladies’ Literary Society. They were battleaxes, with an average age of around seventy-five. But the new vet in town was hot property. A single, good-looking vet was going to be invited to everything. It might only stop when he got attached, and people knew he had a loving partner to go home to in the evenings.

  But now was not the time for thinking about that.

  “I’d love to have drinks tomorrow. Let’s chat about the details tomorrow afternoon?” she suggested.

  “That sounds great. Now, I’d better go and prepare myself. I need to find some literary references to animals. I have a lot of homework ahead,” he said ruefully.

  “Good luck with it,” Autumn said.

  She hung up, now feeling conflicted.

  There was no doubt in her mind that she needed company on her mission tonight. And she couldn’t ask Willow. Willow could be reckless.

  No, she needed someone else, with a cooler head.

  With a sigh, she realized that the only obvious person, the only one she knew well enough to ask, was the one man she was trying hard to avoid. Picking up the phone again, she dialed Ethan’s number.

  He answered after two rings, sounding surprised.

  “Autumn? That leak’s not back, is it?”

  “There hasn’t been as much as a droplet,” she reassured him. “I’m calling you for something else.”

  “What?” The note of expectation in his voice was hard to miss, and it left her feeling frazzled. She really didn’t want this to get complicated again.

  “After dark, I want to go to Harold Sweetly’s house,” she said.

  “His house? Why on earth do you want to do that?”

  “Because I think that someone is planning to steal his recipes,” she said. “I have a hunch that’s why he was killed.”

  There was a flabbergasted silence.

  "I don't understand. What are you doing, having hunches like that? Are you working for the police or something?"

  “On parallel lines,” Autumn said.

  The point of parallel lines is that they never met. She hoped that would hold true for herself and Officer Warring.

  “And you want to go after dark, and – and do what?”

  “I want to set a trap,” Autumn said.

  “A trap?”

  “I have an old nanny cam,” she said. “I bought it in case guests with small children wanted to use it, but it’s been seldom used. I want to plant it in his house and see if anyone comes in."

  “Am I speaking to Autumn Ray?” Ethan asked, now sounding cautious. “Or is this somebody who just sounds a lot like Autumn Ray? Because I don’t know what on earth is going on here. You’re planting cameras in people’s houses? That’s breaking the law.”

  “We could plant it outside the house, then,” she said.

  “But – okay.” He let out a sigh. “There’s no point in thrashing this out over the phone. I’ll be there in ten minutes to continue the discussion.”

  To continue the argument. That was what his tone of voice had sounded like. He wasn’t keen on the idea of going to Harold Sweetly’s house, late at night, and planting a nanny cam somewhere to spy on an unidentified intruder.

  She hung up feeling frustrated. What she needed now was support, not criticism. He should have been helpfully suggesting ways to secure the nanny cam, not asking her if she was an imposter in her own skin.

  Pushing aside her unhelpful anger, Autumn went in search of new batteries for the nanny cam. She wasn’t sure how long they would last. With any luck, a couple of nights.

  There was always the possibility that the intruder would have gotten in last night already.

  But would he or she? So soon after Harold’s murder? No, a recipe thief with any sense would have waited a night. Not more than that, because his brother would soon get around to packing up his house, including those recipes.

  So, tonight was the most likely time. Autumn told herself that she needed to be calmly confident about that.

  Putting the batteries into the nanny cam, she rummaged in the bottom drawer of her desk, taking out some wire, which might be helpful, and an old plastic bracket that she’d once used for her guesthouse’s signage. Ethan would have other things with him that could help to set it up, or at any rate, she hoped so. He hadn’t sounded hugely cooperative, but maybe after hanging up, he’d realize that he needed to get on board with the idea. As an afterthought, she put on dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Just in case.

  A couple of minutes later, she heard his footsteps approach, and headed out to meet him. It was now after eight-thirty, and getting dark. The reception closed at eight, and she wasn’t expecting any late guests.

  “You look like a burglar," were Ethan's first concerned words. "You're dressed all in black. I don't understand this at all, Autumn. I know this whole murder is affecting the island, but to do this? Really?"

  “It needs to be done,” she insisted. “And you’re wearing black, too.” He was dressed from head to toe in dark clothing. He’d clearly considered his own wardrobe before coming out.

  “You’ll get yourself in trouble.”

  “For setting up a camera?”

  Ethan sighed. “Okay. I can see nothing I’m going to say is going to have an effect, so let’s just go do this and get it set up. If anyone sees us, I can guarantee there’ll be consequences.”

  “I hope nobody will see,” Autumn said. “It’s dark, after all.”

  Ethan gave her a jaded look before turning and striding down the pathway. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Autumn followed. She noticed he had his toolbox with him. So he hadn't been so unprepared after all. He might have tried to talk her out of it, but he'd also known he might end up being talked into it.

  “It should be fairly easy,” she said in a low voice, as they walked down the road. “We take a look at the house and decide on the most likely entry point that an intruder will use. Then, we set up the camera there, to catch them when they arrive.”

  “When they arrive? You sound like you know this is going to happen?”

  “I’m sure about this,” Autumn said, and although she was nervous about what they were going to do, and very worried about being caught, she truly was sure about her hunch.

  Muttering to himself, Ethan strode alongside.

  It was going to end up being a silent walk because she couldn't think of a thing to say. Small talk with one's ex? That was a challenge she wasn't ready for. The list of topics they could safely discuss was nonexistent.

  The past? Well, that was a can of worms she didn’t want to reopen. The future? Just as much of a minefield? Their present circumstances? The disapproving silence radiating from Ethan told her that the present circumstances were not going to be great fodder for conversation.

  “It’s a lovely evening,” she said eventually, just to break the tense silence, as they turned onto the path that ran behind the row of houses.

  Ethan’s snort told her what he thought of that attempt.

  Luckily, there were only a few houses left to go before they arrived at the back fence of Mr. Sweetly’s home.

  As she approached the house before him, Autumn saw that the lights were on. Somebody was at home, so they would need to be very careful. Luckily, glancing through the fence boards at the living room window, she saw that the curtains were drawn and the television was blaring. Whoever was home was watching a comedy show at high volume. She could hear the canned laughter even from beyond the fence.

  That was good. Someone watching a comedy show would not be listening out for people next door.

  Checking the house on the other side, she saw the lights were off. So, in terms of neighbors, they were good for now unless those people came home.

  “So,” Ethan said in a low voice. “Here we are at the back of the house.”

  There was a split-pole fence separating Mr. Sweetly’s color coded and neatly trimmed yard, from this trodden trail. Without answering, Autumn hitched one leg over the bottom pole, bent over, and climbed through.

  With a sigh, Ethan put his toolbox down. He climbed through and then bent to pick it up again.

  “So. Here we are, officially trespassing,” he whispered. “Now what?”

  “Now we have to figure out where the best place to put the camera will be.”

  Finally, Ethan was coming on board with her plans. Just as well, because at this moment, she was having a crisis of confidence. She felt very exposed standing in this backyard, even though there was a well-trimmed hedge between this home and both the neighbors. With her imagination running wild, she visualized Officer Warring standing on the main road with his arms folded, jingling handcuffs from his index finger as he waited for a glimpse of her.

 

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