A Wonder Springs Cozy Mystery Omnibus: Books 1, 2 & 3

by B. T. Alive

  “You’re right,” he said. “Of course. I’m just saying, after that… what’s the first rule of medical school? Do no harm. Sure, I’ve picked up some skills, for certain conditions, and a few people know. With you, it was an emergency. Grandma straight up asked me.”

  “Right, ‘asked’,” I said. “I’m sure.”

  He chuckled. “You do know Grandma. And your condition was still superficial, which helps a lot. But in general… it’s like, if I accidentally kill a tree, I can live with that.”

  “I understand,” I said, softly in the dark.

  I ached to reach across the space between us, even just to touch his arm. But his skin was bare, and the only “skill” I had was for isolation and loss.

  He flicked me a glance, stopped walking, and raised an eyebrow. “No surprise you’re in sales, Ms. Sassafras. You can really get a guy talking.”

  I stopped too. “Summer, please.”

  “Okay, then,” he said. “Summer.”

  I shouldn’t have asked for that.

  When he said my name… facing me alone in the cool spring night, with the moon making his face new, and the clouds of blossoms on every side like bridesmaids whispering and waiting…

  … what was left of my brain knew I had to get out of there. Now.

  “Thanks,” I said, lightly, as if his voice weren’t still resonating in my chest. I fumbled in my purse to pull out my phone and fake like I was checking the time, then remembered I’d fried the thing anyway. Dang it. “Hey, do you know what time it is?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Night time.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’d better go. I need to… um…” Get away before I fall so hard for you I break my nose? “Tina’s probably looking for me.”

  “You heading to the Inn? I’ll walk you back. I feel bad, I didn’t even hear what happened with your mom.”

  “No no, thanks, it’s fine,” I said, waving him back and starting to walk away.

  “You sure?”

  No! “Totally. See you later!”

  “See you, Summer.”

  Tina’s got dibs, I chanted in my head as I scurried away. They’re a thing. You saw it. You don’t even live here. He was just being nice. Also, moonlight. And cherry blossoms. Hazardous to your heart…

  But when I snuck a peek back, he was still standing there under the moon, watching me go.

  Chapter 23

  Mercifully, the sheriff had vacated my bedroom. Mr. Charm was sleeping peacefully, and the room was quiet; I could finally buckle down and review the case.

  So, of course, I went to bed.

  I was exhausted! There was no point trying to solve a puzzle when I could barely keep my eyes open. First thing in the morning, I promised, I’d tackle this once and for all.

  But I woke up to three sharp knocks.

  “It’s not even six o’clock!” I said, as I opened the door to Grandma and Tina.

  Grandma sniffed. The morning light was still gray and early, but she was already coiffed, with makeup sparkling. “Yesterday, I let you sleep in. You’d had a stressful night.”

  “Right,” I said. “Now I’m only being framed for murder.”

  Tina gave me a sympathetic frown, but Grandma just humphed and sat in the room’s one chair. That left me and Tina the edge of the bed. I cinched my bathrobe tighter, and wished I’d taken a minute to get dressed before trying to face Grandma. The bathrobe the Inn provided to its patrons was thick and comfy, for sure, but my sole pair of underwear was drying in my tiny bathroom, and I just wouldn’t have minded an extra layer of security. If I ever had money again, I was definitely going to stock up on more than one pair.

  “I have a job for you,” Grandma said.

  “A paying job?” I said.

  Grandma scoffed. “This is serious, Summer. A matter of life and death.”

  “I thought I was already working on that,” I said. “Doesn’t Virginia have the death penalty? You gave me a week.”

  “I did,” she said. “But now you’ve got until they get that vial analyzed. A day or two at the most.”

  “Oh, you heard about that,” I said, with a glance at Tina. “Don’t you think I should stay focused?”

  “I believe this is connected.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “What is connected?”

  Grandma hesitated. She flicked her gaze down, and twisted one of her glinting rings. “Tina tells me you’ve learned a bit more about our… gifts.”

  “You mean your telepathic parrot?” I said.

  Tina cringed a little, and Grandma flashed her a sharp glance. Oops.

  “Look,” I said, “I came down here in the first place because some creep wilted my plant and gave me a magic rash. I’m in on the secret, okay? You can feel free to be candid.”

  “I am always candid,” Grandma snapped, the lilt of her accent deepening perilously near a twang. “And the fact is, another person is going to die. Today.”

  “What?” I said. “How do you know?”

  “Because,” she said, with a glare that bored right to the back of my head. “I had a dream.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  There was a tense pause.

  I was glad that Grandma didn’t also have the power of laser vision. If she had, my face might have been a puddle by now, and that would be problematic, especially with such a nice bedspread.

  When it was clear that I had no intention of raising any flippant objections (such as, Are you claiming you can SEE the FUTURE in your DREAMS???), she continued. “I didn’t get a clear view of the face, but I do know the victim is a young lady, with long dark hair.”

  “Doesn’t that teen girl have dark hair?” Tina said. “Taylor Pritchett? The one with the brother Tyler, about the same age?”

  “Taylor and Tyler? For real?” I said. “Great.”

  “You met them?” Grandma said sharply.

  “Not exactly,” I said, hoping we wouldn’t get into details that involved our unauthorized excursion with the parrot. “They didn’t say much.”

  Tina cut in. “What else did you see, Grandma?”

  Grandma eyed us both, then said, “Not much. I had a sense that it would happen today, right here at the Inn.”

  “How?” I said. “A gun? More poison? Did you see the killer?”

  She shook her head, and squinted her eyes half-closed. Her eyelids fluttered as she strained her inner sight. “No poison…” she murmured. “Couldn’t see who or where… but it was some kind of attack… she was using her phone.”

  “Oh my gosh, that is Taylor,” Tina said. “Both those kids are on their phones nonstop.”

  “And you’re sure about this?” I said. “This… dream?”

  Grandma’s glare flared up again. Even Tina looked at me like I’d farted in church.

  “Okay, then,” I said. “You have dreams that tell the future.”

  “We don’t have time to chitchat,” Grandma snapped.

  “Can I just have a moment to take this in?” I said.

  “No,” Grandma said. “And I hope I don’t need to tell you this is extremely confidential.”

  “Got it.”

  “You’d better. If the wrong people knew, the ramifications could destroy this town. At a minimum.”

  Despite the woman’s flair for the dramatic, something in her voice made goosebumps shiver across my arms. I didn’t want to pry for details. Not yet.

  Instead, I said, “But why would this killer want to go after a teenager? I thought this was about Nyle and Mercedes. Did you know she used to date his brother?”

  “Tina told me,” she said. “It’s a fine theory, but it doesn’t mean Taylor is safe. A killer might target an innocent because she seemed random, to hide the true motive. Or your theory might be wrong. Did you even talk to all the family yet?”

  I squirmed. “Um… no.”

  “Well, then.” Grandma stood. “Looks like you’ve got a full day ahead.”

  “But what are we supposed to do?” I sai
d. “Follow Taylor around all day?”

  “I leave that to you,” she said, walking for the door. “I need Tina for meals, but otherwise she’s free.”

  “What about me?” I said. “I’m about to go down for murder, remember?”

  She paused in the doorway, incandescent with disdain. “Well. If you’re too busy, Summer Sassafras, that’s on your conscience.”

  And she shut the door behind her.

  “Wonderful!” I snapped, leaping up and starting to pace. “If she can see the future, why didn’t she have some dream before Nyle died?”

  Tina shrugged. “She can’t get dreams about everything.”

  “Right, sure, priorities,” I said. “It’s not like she could have prevented murder.”

  “I don’t think she really controls it,” Tina said. “Anyway, maybe we can prevent this. And it’s probably the same killer, right? All we have to do is protect Taylor, and we’ll catch the murderer too.”

  “Great plan,” I said. “Except that if we mess up, some teen might die.”

  Tina nodded. “No pressure.”

  Chapter 24

  Even by Grandma’s standards, it was still too early in the morning to start interviewing suspects or tailing a teen.

  I slipped into another shirt-and-skirt Tina combo (pale green and lilac—two colors I never wore, but Tina assured me I looked stunning), and I hauled my huge purse onto my shoulder.

  “Oh, you can leave that here,” Tina said.

  “Never hurts to be prepared,” I said, trying to shift the strap weight off a particularly tender muscle. “Besides, I don’t trust that sheriff to keep his nose out of my room.”

  Then a wince flitted across Tina’s face, and I flushed with embarrassment. You know it’s time to clean out your purse when your empath friend gets shoulder pain.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll totally clean it out. I’ve been meaning to for months—”

  “Oh, it’s fine—”

  “Seriously, I’ve got a fresh trash bag in there, ready to go. I just got super busy, you know? And now we’ve got this murder thing—”

  “Totally understand,” she said, forcing a smile.

  We decided to get a cozy early breakfast. I was still supposed to be avoiding the dining room, but Tina thought it would be fine, as long as we were out before the guests came down.

  As we crept down the creaky old spiral stairs, I had to admit that the Inn looked good in the pale morning light. The quiet stillness seemed somehow intimate, as if the building itself were a comfy old grandmother wrapped in a robe, about to tell a story over the first pot of coffee.

  Tina looked good too, already perky and bright. She peeked in the empty dining room, then beckoned me to follow, eyes shining, like we were two kids playing hooky.

  My mind flashed back to Cade in the moonlight, the hum of my name in his mouth…

  … yeah, I probably needed to clear the air with Tina on that. Maybe she and Cade were just close friends… super close… and that whole lighting up thing had all been in my imagination. Right? All I had to do was ask. Drop a hint. Easiest thing in the world. I would totally do that.

  Later.

  Then I thought, What are you worried about? You can always undo.

  Oh, right. Except, hadn’t I promised her I wouldn’t?

  Why? something in me whispered. She reads you all the time. Why are there special rules for Tina?

  It’s not that, I thought, with an inner squirm. Erasing memories was totally different.

  Or was it?

  Ahead, Tina pranced into the kitchen, then poked her head back out. “All clear!” she said, in an utterly unnecessary stage whisper that echoed in the empty dining room. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  I made an official offer to help cook, but Tina brushed this aside, and I didn’t insist. (Call me unladylike.) I can cook, sort of, but I never saw the point. Not when I was eating alone.

  Standing there in the long, narrow kitchen, just the two of us, it was the perfect time to broach the topic of Cade.

  Instead, I paced around, pretending to go all Sherlock Holmes. Maybe if I caught some precious clue, the surge of confidence would be the nudge I needed to risk telling Tina that I was maybe possibly potentially seriously interested in you-know-who.

  Yeah, that made sense.

  No wonder Holmes and Watson never chased the same girl. This was a workplace nightmare.

  I tried to focus on actually finding clues. Technically, this kitchen was the scene of the crime. The killer must have snuck in here… this room… to lace the food with poison.

  A chill crept down my back. He might have stood right here, right in the entrance where I was standing now, our feet touching the same stone…

  Except… what about the chef? Vladik would have been standing right at the stove, or bustling up and down the long counter that held the dishes. He couldn’t possibly have missed a civilian profaning his sacred kitchen.

  No. The killer must have snuck in while the chef had left the kitchen empty.

  Which meant…

  The Matriarch must have been the key. She’d called the chef out of the kitchen.

  If the killer had known that his ancient Pritchett relative always insisted on harassing the chef, he could have waited for her to make her move, then slipped in and out of here in less than a minute.

  Damn. That still could have been any of them.

  Even creepier… the killer must have walked right past where I’d been standing only moments before, at that archway into the hallway. That was the only path into this kitchen.

  If I’d stayed there watching the Matriarch, instead of trying to sneak out, would the killer have had to abort? Would Nyle still be alive?

  I couldn’t think about that. It’s not like I could see the future.

  Besides, what about the sheriff? He’d been right there in the bathroom while the killer must have snuck right past. No wonder he was inclined to think I’d done it; not only had I carried the plate, he’d actually seen me lurking down the hall from the kitchen.

  We really needed that video from Kitty. The whole crime hinged on which Pritchett could not be accounted for during the entire time that the Matriarch had kept the chef out of the kitchen.

  Sure, it was possible that the killer could have snuck in and poisoned an ingredient ahead of time. But that seemed far more risky. He’d have to have known exactly what Nyle would order, and also have been willing to kill anyone else who happened to order anything with the same ingredient… at his own family reunion.

  Conceivable? Yes. Likely? No. I mean, I couldn’t say I knew how murderers justified themselves, but the risk of wholesale slaughter seemed like a big jump.

  So, what clues could we get besides that video? Anything in this kitchen? The place was fanatically clean. Between the snooping sheriff and the fastidious chef, any possible clue had been scraped away.

  But what would I expect to find here anyway? Not the poison. That had been kindly deposited in my room.

  Although, how had the killer avoided leaving a scent there for the sheriff? I wondered whether the sheriff had sniffed around in this kitchen; maybe even he couldn’t track a scent in this wonderland of odors.

  What other evidence would a killer have left of poisoning Nyle’s breakfast?

  I looked around, disheartened. My gaze drifted over pristine empty counters, shelves lined carefully with cookbooks, cabinets glowing perfectly clean…

  I frowned.

  Something was off about the cabinet in the corner.

  Not the cabinet itself. Beneath it, on the old white tile… was that a tiny smudge?

  I came close and bent low to look. The cabinet cast a shadow, which made it hard to see much, but there was definitely a round mark on the wall, about the size of a quarter. It was whitish, like some kind of residue, and it reminded me of something I couldn’t place.

  “Find something?” Tina called from the stove.

  “Not sure,” I said. “Take
a look.”

  Tina came and got much closer than I had, leaning on the counter to peer in. Then she reached out…

  “Hey!” I said. “Don’t touch it!”

  Too late. “It’s fine, he wasn’t poisoned with wall gunk,” she said, scrutinizing her fingertip. She rubbed it against her thumb. “Hmm. Sticky,” she said.

  “Would you please wash your hands?” I said.

  “NOT IN MY KITCHEN!” bellowed Vladik the chef.

  Tina and I both whirled to find the irate chef towering in the doorway, hands on hips, his face flushed with rage.

  “How dare you?” he roared. “This was safe place, beautiful place…” He marched right at me, jabbing thick fingers toward my face. “Now? Police! Newspaper! And so much food, out! In trash! Because maybe poison. Precious spices, weeks to replace!”

  “Wonder Springs has a newspaper?” I said.

  “OUT!” he screeched.

  “But if we could just take a picture,” I said. “We found a—”

  “NOW!” he howled. “You too, Miss Tina! Never again put foot in this place! Or else!”

  “Or else what?” Tina snapped. Now her cheeks were flushed… oh great, was she feeling his anger now? This empathy thing was nuts. “I work here too, Vladik!” she said.

  “Not here,” he barked. “Not if you bring redhead poison friend. You no like? I go! Let Grandma find new chef with half my skills, ha!”

  “Come on, Tina,” I urged, edging toward the door around the culinary volcano. The last thing I needed was to lose Grandma a critical staff member (especially when I’d been forbidden the whole area).

  “I have a right to be here!” Tina said. “And you…” She furrowed her brows at Vladik. “You’re just being darn rude!”

  “Crushing,” I muttered.

  But Vladik really seemed to take it hard. Shame flit across his face, and he shrouded it with a scowl. “Humph!” he grumbled, apparently having read it somewhere and thought it was valid English. “Tango takes two. Now out. For permanent.”

  Of course, now Tina was looking shamefaced. “Sorry,” she murmured, and she slunk out behind me.

  “Now what?” I said, as we scurried across the empty hall.