"I'm fine, but Nigel Melville's upstairs and he's in trouble. And my friend Quinn is unconscious."

  "What happened?"

  I gave him a quick rundown of what had happened.

  "It's all lies," Arthur complained.

  "Then why is there blood on your shovel?" Deputy Garcia asked, earning a few points in my book. A moment later, the ambulance arrived, and as Deputy Garcia cuffed Arthur, one uniformed paramedic raced upstairs to tend to Nigel while another checked on Quinn.

  "What's going on?"

  I looked up to see Damian and Alexis rounding the corner.

  "What the..."

  "It's a long story," I said as they watched Deputy Garcia lead Arthur to his car.

  "Why is Uncle Arthur being arrested?"

  "I'm sorry to break the news, but he killed your mother," I told him, and his face first turned blank and then crumpled. "He attacked your dad, too; he's upstairs being tended to by paramedics."

  "What? Oh, no," he said, and hurtled up the steps. "Is he going to be okay?" I heard him ask the paramedic.

  "Whoever put those tourniquets on him saved his life," the paramedic’s voice came through the door. "He lost some blood, but he's stable. I think he's going to be fine."

  A moment later, Quinn raised her head. "What..." She looked around and realized she was in a wheelbarrow. "How did I get here?"

  "It's a long story," I told her. "I'm just glad you're okay."

  The morning of the Warren house dedication dawned damp and cool, a refreshing change of pace for a June morning in Texas.

  I experienced a deep sense of contentment and gratitude as I went about my morning chores, inhaling the smell of the dewy grass as I called the goats and cows to the milking parlor, listening to the chuckle of the chickens as I checked on everyone and gathered the morning's eggs, watered the veggies, and surveyed the remaining peaches in my small orchard. Chuck was at my side most of the time, tail wagging as he sniffed at every tuft of grass. The kittens watched from the windows, alternately batting at the curtains and attempting to pounce through the glass on the birds at my feeders.

  Chores done, I processed the fresh milk in the kitchen. I looked down at the beehives by the creek as I worked; Serafine was coming that morning with two new queens for my hives. I glanced at the clock; I only had twenty minutes before I had to be in my full regalia.

  I finished with the milk and stowed it in the fridge, tossing a piece of cheese to the ever-hopeful Chuck in the process, and hurried up to my room to change. As I pulled on the voluminous beekeeper's suit, I spotted the fragment of cloth on the corner of the dresser; I never had found out who was responsible for the doll baby on my fence. Or discovered what had happened to all the items missing from the museum. Had Alicia been pawning them to cover her debts? It didn't seem like something she'd do.

  I'd barely finished zipping up my suit when Chuck barked, and I looked outside to see Serafine's truck, the Honeyed Moon logo on the side in sparkling gold, bumping up the driveway. I hurried to greet her as she got out of her truck, pulling her into a big hug outside the house. "I'm so glad to see you!"

  "Me too," she said, smiling big. "And not a single Texas Monthly in sight this time!"

  "Thank goodness," I said.

  "And thank goodness Nigel and Quinn are going to be okay, too," she said. "You heard what they found in that shed on the Jordan property, didn't you?"

  "No... what?"

  "Looks like Arthur was running a little meth lab down by the creek."

  "What?"

  "I'll give him points for entrepreneurial spirit, at least," she said. "But running a meth lab isn't exactly the kind of business I can get on board with."

  "Speaking of entrepreneurial spirit, where's Chloe?"

  "Oh, that one." Her smile faded. "I had to let her go."

  "What? Why?"

  "Remember those doll babies you were telling me and Aimee about?"

  "I was just thinking about those," I said. "I never found out who was making them."

  "Well, turns out Chloe was the one leaving them all over the place. She found a book about rootwork and decided she was going to do some of her own."

  That explained why the scrap of material had come from the Alexandres' house. "Why?"

  "Remember that little crush she had on Nigel?"

  "I do," I said. "Although it wasn't too little, from what I could see."

  "She was trying to turn everyone--including him--against me so she could swoop in and seduce him."

  "That explains why she was doing her hair and makeup just like you. She knew Nigel had a thing for you."

  "That's pretty much what Aimee said, too. Turns out Chloe was obsessed with Nigel, and was doing anything she could think of to get him to like her. So she left those things all over the place so that people would assume I was the one doing it and then start rumors about me."

  "Wouldn't you think being in jail was enough to quash a budding romance?"

  "She stopped once I was arrested; the last doll baby she left was at the Warren house. But I found all the stuff in her room yesterday when I was looking for one of the folding chairs I keep in her closet. My fabric, a lump of beeswax, a bunch of pins, and some rootwork book she bought online. When I confronted her about it, it all came out. I asked her to pack up and leave; she was out within the hour. Now I'm fixing the mess she made on social media and trying to undo the damage." She grimaced.

  "I'm so sorry," I said. "Any news on Nigel?"

  "He'll pull through," she said. "I went to see him in the hospital, and he asked me out." She laughed. "I said we might want to wait until at least a few sprigs of grass grow on his poor wife's grave."

  "It is a little early for dating," I said. "But he seems like a nice man. What's he going to do for money now that their son has the house?"

  "He doesn't want to live in his son's house, so he's going to rent a place near the square. He's got his practice, and they had some community property investments that are in his name now, so while he won't be rich, he's not going to be homeless."

  "Good," I said. "He's going to have to pay for those hospital bills somehow. How did Arthur manage to get to him, anyway?"

  "He attacked him in the house when he thought Nigel was onto him. Nigel ran and tried to lock himself into Arthur's place so he could call the police."

  "That explains the blood smears around the side of the garage."

  "Arthur was too fast for him. He slashed his wrists so it would look like suicide. It was a good thing you got there when you did, or it would have been too late for him." As she spoke, there was a breeze, and a hint of lavender on the air. Serafine froze. "Someone of yours is here."

  "My grandma," I told her. "She watches out for me."

  "She does," Serafine said slowly. "Now. Enough about death. Let's get those queens installed so your hives can keep growing."

  I ran to get the smoker as she retrieved the queens from her truck, and once she got herself outfitted, we went down and opened the hives. It wasn't long before she had the new queen boxes installed in the hives. I marveled once again at the gorgeous gold of the honeycomb, and couldn't wait until I could harvest some of my own.

  "Next season," she promised. "I'll show you how."

  "Thank you," I told her. "I wouldn't have tried this without you!"

  "Always happy to help," she said. "By the way," she said on the way back to the house. "Aimee told me H-E-B called while I was hangin' with Opal. Looks like they're going to carry my tea."

  "That's terrific news!" I said. "We should celebrate!"

  "Once the contract's signed," she said, grinning. "Don't want to jinx it."

  "Your mom and dad must be so proud of you. Speaking of your parents, when do I get to meet them?"

  "We're all going to the opening of the Warren house exhibit. Alicia invited me to come, and told me to invite anyone I liked. My mom and dad are coming... I'd love for you to come, too. I told them about the genetics test, by the way... they're probably going to come with Aimee and me to meet the new family members in LaGrange sometime this week."

  "Send pictures," I said.

  "I will," she said. "I just can't figure out how I'm related. Maybe we can figure that out, too!" As she spoke, a second breeze wafted by, again scented with lavender.

  "I have a feeling you're going to have answers soon," I said with a grin.

  "Grandma knows best," Serafine said. "I'd better get back home. We'll check on those queens in a day or two... in the meantime, see you this evening at six! Bring Tobias, too!"

  "I will," I promised, and headed back into the house to get rid of my horror-movie beekeeping gear--and call Tobias.

  18

  The day, which had heated up after the dewy morning, was starting to cool down again by the time Tobias and I arrived at Heritage Farm. I'd told him everything I'd learned on the way to the museum, and he was still absorbing it all.

  "So Chloe made voodoo dolls..."

  "Doll babies," I corrected him.

  "Doll babies," he continued, "and put them up all over the place to start people talking about Serafine so that Nigel wouldn't be interested in her anymore?"

  "That's what she told Serafine, anyway," I said. "Apparently she did some social media damage, too... Serafine and Aimee are working to fix it."

  "Sad," he said. "People do odd things, don't they?"

  "Arthur Graham killed his cousin for money he wasn't inheriting after all."

  "I think that was more years of burning resentment."

  "Revenge?" I asked.

  "It's not as sweet as people think," he said.

  "He's going to have plenty of time to think about it in jail," I said.

  "I'm just glad he didn't manage to get you and Quinn," he said.

  "Me too," I replied with a shiver. "Still, if I hadn't gone over there, Nigel wouldn't have made it."

  "That's true," he said. "You do get lucky, my dear."

  "Grandma Vogel's watching out for me," I said with a grin.

  "Maybe, but don't push it too far," he answered, giving me a quick kiss as I parked the truck.

  We walked through the front gate, past the old buildings lining the museum's "main street," and then headed toward the little dogtrot house where I'd found Priscilla.

  A small group of people gathered around the front of the little house, nibbling on fried chicken, cornbread, and sweet potato pie—traditional foods, I noted with approval--drinking bottles of Serafine's tea, and laughing. We walked up and greeted Serafine and Aimee, then met her parents.

  "You must be so proud of your girls," I said.

  "I am," Serafine and Aimee's mom said. She wore a poppy-red dress and matching lipstick; she had the same curvy figure and big bright eyes as her daughters. She wore her hair up in a graceful chignon, and she had sweet little Jelly Bean, Serafine's rescue Chihuahua, in her arms.

  "Jelly Bean!" I said, smiling at the tiny cream-colored dog with big brown eyes cradled in her arms. "She looks better already." She did, too; she appeared deeply content, her eyes half-closed, her little mouth smiling.

  "She eats all the time," Serafine said. "And the medicine seems to be working."

  "Thank goodness," I said. “Did you find a home for her?"

  "She's comin' home with me," Serafine's mother said.

  "That's wonderful! She looks like she's already adopted you," I said.

  "She has," she agreed. "You must be Lucy; I've heard so much about you. I'm Isabelle, and this is my husband, Sam. We're just so thankful to you for finding out who killed that woman. I keep telling Ser it's safer in New Orleans, but she just wants to stay!"

  "I hear you have family here," I said.

  "Maybe, but nobody can keep these girls in line like their mother," said their Dad, who stood about two feet taller than his wife, and, despite his age, had the build of a runner. Like Isabelle, he'd dressed for the occasion, wearing well-pressed slacks and a sports coat. Serafine was clad in a deep blue silk dress, and Aimee was wearing a purple pantsuit; together with their mom, they looked like a painting.

  "That must be one of the families," Aimee said, pointing to a small group walking toward the house; one of the men was pushing an older gentleman in a wheelchair, taking the path slowly. Alicia was with them, her face filled with excitement, and a shadow fell over me; I was worried about financial impropriety, but wasn't sure who to talk to about it.

  Alicia, who was dressed in a creamy white suit, spotted us as she came close to the Warren house. "Oh, Lucy!" she said. "I'm so glad you're here; I heard about what happened yesterday. I knew that Arthur was a bad apple; I'm just glad you didn't get hurt."

  "Thanks," I said, smiling at her and looking at the group around her. "Who are these folks?"

  "Oh! Silly me. Let me introduce you to the family whose ancestors built this house," she said, swelling with pride. "This is Margaret Sims and James Breedlove, and this is their friend Ezra Bilton."

  "Wait a moment," Serafine said. "Margaret Sims? I'm Serafine Alexandre."

  "You're the one who e-mailed me!" the woman said. "I can't believe you're here... we're supposed to meet later this week in LaGrange! Is this is your family's house, too?"

  "What on earth is she talking about?" Isabelle asked.

  Serafine turned to her mother. "This is the woman we were supposed to meet for coffee next week! Apparently their family--our family--built this house and lived in it."

  "How on earth did that happen?" she asked.

  "Let me look at you," said the man in the wheelchair, addressing Isabelle.

  "Pardon me?" she said.

  "Smile," he told her.

  Isabelle reached for Sam's hand and gave the man a suspicious look. "Why?"

  "I want to see somethin'," he said.

  She smiled--with her mouth at least--and he said, "Well, I'll be."

  "What?"

  "Unless I'm mistaken, your father was Garland Sims, young lady. He had that same deep dimple in his left cheek."

  "You're mistaken, I'm afraid. His name was John Archer."

  "Of course it was," he said, grinning. "That was Garland's favorite book character."

  "What... how? Did you know him?"

  "I did," he said. "He and I were best friends. Only he got into trouble with the law on account of one of the young Kocurek girls takin' a fancy to him."

  "I heard about that," Alicia said. "He was acquitted, but rumor had it a vigilante group went after him, and he disappeared."

  "That's what happened," he said. "Only everyone was supposed to think he was dead."

  "Wait," Serafine said. "You know about it?"

  "I'm the one who saved his life," he said.

  "Tell us the story," Alicia said, enraptured.

  "Well," the man said, leaning back in his wheelchair and folding his bony hands together, "Once the jury acquitted Garland, he was just sure that was the end of it. I told him it wouldn't be, but he wouldn't listen. They came for him, of course. It was at the end of his shift at the Red & White. I saw them do it, and I got in my car and followed 'em all the way to a pasture just outside Buttercup. They pulled into a driveway, so I parked my car and followed 'em in on foot. It was evenin', thank goodness, 'cause there weren't a lot of trees. I could see a fire off down in a little valley, so I ran down the road. By the time I got there, everyone was wearin' those hoods so you couldn't see who they were, and they were all ready to get rollin'. There was a big tree there, and I saw a coil of rope underneath it, so I knew what was comin' next."

  "What did you do?" Alicia asked.

  "They were just startin' with the proceedin's... they stood him up in front of that tree and then started readin' out charges and askin' how he was gonna plead... and I knew I had to do somethin', and fast. It was late August, so the grass was dry... there were three trucks, all parked right in that long dry grass. So I took my lighter and lit it up."

  "The grass?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I lit the grass under the trucks. Within about two minutes, that first truck was on fire, and those men weren't too worried about Garland no more. While they were scramblin' to save their trucks, I ran over and grabbed Garland, and we ran hell bent for leather till we got to my truck. I put my foot on the gas pedal and didn't stop till we got to Houston. Then I gave him all the money I had and drove him to the bus station, told him to get on the bus to New Orleans and not come back; I knew they'd get him if they did." He smiled ruefully. "I figgered I'd never see him again, and I was right. But I now I did get to see him, in a way, after all... in his daughter and his granddaughters."

  "What a story!" Alicia said.

  "So our missing uncle survived after all," Margaret Sims said. "All because of you. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

  "I didn't want any word to get around. I knew if they heard a whisper, they'd go after him. And by the time it was safe, I guess I was so used to keeping the secret. Since we had no way to find your granddaddy, I decided not to stir everythin' up, so I kept it all to myself."

  "What a story," Alicia breathed, and then looked at Serafine. "I can't believe it was your grandfather's family that built this house."

  "I know," Serafine said.

  "I knew there was some reason we were drawn to Buttercup," Aimee said, beaming. "An old mystery solved... and lost family found."

  "And your family's house restored, and their story told. I'm going to put this in the exhibit, for sure... and I'm think we're going to be doing a lot more than that. I've got big plans, and now that it looks like Flora might to be the chair of the board and we have additional funds from the Jordans, she's going to give me leeway to do what I think is right."

  "Speaking of the Jordans, did you ever find out what happened to that sapphire brooch?" I asked, watching Alicia for her response.

  "We got a call from a pawn shop after I asked Mandy to write an article about the missing brooch. Turns out Arthur was the culprit; he was cashing in on the family's artifacts. I guess he figured he was owed them."

  "I guess so," I said. I still wasn't sure what to do about the past-due bills I'd seen, but I figured I'd tell Flora and she'd look into it. Besides, with new money coming in, they shouldn't be a problem anymore.

 

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