by Cate Conte
Of course there were. And I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear about them.
“That one right there,” Fiona said, obviously getting impatient with my neck-craning. She pointed a long French-manicured nail down the middle of the café. I saw her now. The red eyes gave it away. She had frizzy strawberry-blond hair, too short to be pulled into a ponytail but somehow she’d made it happen, and tons of freckles. I pegged her for midtwenties. She huddled into an oversize black parka, pushing pieces of a muffin around on a plate dejectedly. Her friend across from her looked concerned. She kept rubbing her arm.
Maybe I should offer to bring her to my store, find her a crystal that would help her see the relationship more clearly and figure out how to stand up for herself. I started ticking through stones in my mind, trying to tune into her aura from where I sat. But there were too many people between us and too many emotions swirling around, and I couldn’t pinpoint hers well enough.
Fiona watched me, amused. “Our power doesn’t simply mean we can turn people into toads, dear. It goes much deeper.”
Before I could ask what she meant, the front door opened and the guy with the crazy hat from town hall yesterday stepped in, making me forget momentarily about other people’s problems. He held a bunch of flyers up in the air like he was delivering a critical message to the town.
“Good morning,” he announced, and his voice was commanding enough that the chatter in the café subsided as everyone turned to look. Behind the counter, Pete’s eyes darkened.
“I want to make sure everyone knows about the peaceful protest we’re holding tomorrow down by the riverfront,” he said. “I hope to have everyone’s support as we work to convince the powers that be that this railroad bridge project will come at the detriment of this beautiful town and its natural resources. We’ll meet down by the water at three o’clock and we’ll stay as long as necessary. Please join us.” He began threading his way through the tables, handing out flyers as he went, that ridiculous hat bobbing over his head. He paused to scratch at his scruffy goatee between tables, and the synapses in my brain finally started firing enough for the dots to connect.
This wasn’t just the guy from town hall—Rain. This was also the guy from the alley with Syd.
He made his way around the café, and when he got to my side, he noticed me right away. “Hey, Violet! Nice to see you again.”
I mumbled something and shrank down in my seat. Last thing I needed was to be associated with this guy too.
A snicker had started somewhere in the café and was getting louder. I pinpointed the originator as a guy in the corner. He was dressed in a leather jacket with chains dangling off the sides, dirty jeans, and a surly demeanor.
“Hey,” he called out. “No one here wants to hear your save-the-planet BS, okay? We need jobs. People will have work when that project starts.”
“Yeah, then what about the jobs that are getting displaced when they take our office building down?” a woman waiting for her drink countered. “The whole thing is ridiculous. I’ll come to your protest,” she told the hat guy, reaching for a flyer. “Keep up the good work.”
“Oh, gimme a break, lady!” The naysayer stood abruptly, knocking his cup over. Coffee sloshed off the side of the table and puddled on the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You and your suit friends wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it hit you over the head. You’re all a pampered bunch of whiners. And you.” He took a few steps and shook his finger in Anna Montgomery’s face. “You need to be careful about where you’re scattering your glitter. Someone’s gonna fall and break their neck!”
Anna stared at him. “That is not my glitter,” she said coldly. “And talk about being self-centered. You shouldn’t need to find work at the expense of our planet.”
I wanted to hide under the table. Anna was getting blamed for Fiona’s glitter litter, and Fiona certainly didn’t look like she was about to step in and take the blame.
But glitter was the last thing on anyone else’s mind. Voices started to chime in to the argument, adding to both sides and raising the energy level of the room to heated, heading toward frantic. Rain looked satisfied, as if he’d accomplished exactly what he came for. Fiona looked enthralled.
Pete, however, did not. He threw his rag down and came around from behind the counter, sticking two fingers into his mouth to create the most ear-shattering whistle I’d ever heard. “Enough,” he said once the room had quieted. “This is a safe place for everyone. No one gets attacked here. And no one comes in here to advocate for a cause without asking my permission first,” he said, sending a withering look toward Rain, who shriveled a bit under his gaze. “Out,” he said, pointing toward the door.
“Sorry, dude,” Rain said. “Didn’t mean any harm. Peace out.” Flashing the peace sign, he headed out the door.
“And you,” Pete said, turning to the biker guy. “Apologize to her”—he pointed at the woman at the counter—“and then clean up your mess.” He threw his wet rag at the guy, who also looked properly chagrined. Pete was probably the only guy I knew who could get away with disciplining his patrons like this. But no one wanted to be blacklisted by Pete. His coffee was too darn good.
“Sorry,” the guy muttered without really looking at the woman, then bent to sop up the puddle of coffee.
I swore Pete was going to go back at him and tell him to apologize like he meant it, but after a second he let it go and went back behind the counter.
Everyone else went back to their conversations, the room still buzzing a bit. Everyone, that is, except Andrew Mann, who slipped out the front door. I watched curiously as he hurried after Rain, finally catching up with him. He started talking animatedly, waving his hands around.
First Syd, now Andrew. Who was this guy, and what was his connection to the people in North Harbor?
CHAPTER 29
Fiona lost interest in the crowd after the show was over, which was just as well since I really had to get to work. In unspoken agreement, we both rose and pulled our coats on. “Well, that was fun,” Fiona said after we stepped out onto the sidewalk.
I shot her an incredulous look.
“What?” she asked, the picture of innocence.
“Anna’s getting blamed for the glitter,” I said. “Do you think you should stop doing that?”
“Darling. This mortal life really has had its effects on you. We’ll have to work on that,” she said, squeezing my arm. “Everyone can use a little glitter in their life. They’ll be fine.”
It was no use arguing with her. And I had to go. I still hadn’t heard from Josie about the smell, but since I hadn’t seen any tape or signs restricting access to my shop when we’d passed earlier, I figured it was okay. Which was good, because I had two private consults today, and Natalie was coming in later so we could finalize our details for the healing circle.
Which we clearly needed, given the environment in Pete’s café a few minutes ago. It was kind of unheard of to see the angst reaching inside of The Friendly Bean—it wasn’t named that just for the heck of it—and it had shaken me a bit. Between worries about the economy and the growing problem of our planet being compromised, people were vested in the outcome of this vote.
As for me, I’d only dipped my toe into learning about the pros and cons, although I was leaning toward opposition. On the other hand, if the current bridge was unsafe, that was a problem too that needed a solution. The train line was a critical piece of our county’s infrastructure, and if it became disabled, it wouldn’t be a good thing for anyone.
In any event, the town was violently divided, and things were only heating up. The vote to go or no-go on the project was going to a special referendum next week, so things were ramping up as each side got louder and louder in their quest to be heard. Natalie and I wanted to do something to try to heal the community in advance of the vote, and we’d decided on this healing circle. We were going to hold it in the yoga studio, complete with meditations and singing bowls and generally just
a plea for everyone to remember who we were and that we all wanted only what was of the highest good for the town.
Unfortunately, a lot of the planning had fallen onto my plate. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but given the state of my life at the moment, it was just one more thing to do. We had flyers up at the yoga studio and my shop, and word of mouth in our circles was huge, but we needed to do more publicity.
“Are you going to work now?” Fiona asked.
I nodded. “What are you going to do?”
She shrugged. “Go tidy up my place a bit, and then I’ll probably go out and get to know the town,” she said. “I’ll stop by your shop later.”
Please don’t, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. “Have fun,” I said instead.
“I’m going to take the long way around,” Fiona said. “I could do with a walk. See you later.” She bussed my cheek and then headed toward the next block. I was surprised she hadn’t insisted on coming to see my shop, but maybe she meant what she said about giving me space. Whatever it was, I was relieved.
I waited until she rounded the corner before I turned to head toward the shop. My first appointment was in thirty minutes. But Todd’s silence weighed heavy on my mind, on top of everything else. I didn’t think I’d be able to concentrate until I talked to him. Maybe he hadn’t tried to call or text this morning because he thought I was mad after last night.
Still, that annoying little voice whispered in my ear. Shouldn’t he be cutting you a little slack given what happened? Why isn’t he marching down to the police station, telling them how insane they all were for thinking you’re a killer?
“Because no one does that,” I said out loud, earning a surprised glance from a woman hurrying past me on the sidewalk. Oh, screw it. I turned and started walking in the direction of Luck o’ the Irish. He was probably there now, since he usually went in early to start setting up for the lunch crowd.
But the place was silent and the doors were locked when I got there. I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered inside, but no lights were on. I blew out a breath and turned around, leaning against the door for a moment. And swore I caught a glimpse of platinum-blond hair with streaks of color disappearing around the corner next to the bar, into the side alley, one of the ways into the courtyard. The courtyard where Carla had been killed.
I stood up, on alert. I recognized Mazzy’s hair immediately. What was she doing here? I started walking in the direction I’d seen her vanish, when I heard my name.
“Violet!” I turned to find Natalie rushing to catch up with me. She wore her typical yoga pants tucked into a pair of black fuzzy UGGs, and a gold puffy coat. Her yoga bag was slung over her shoulder, and she carried a bottle of kombucha in one hand. Her hair was pulled up into its usual bun on top of her head. She’d just gotten done with a class. A class I probably should’ve gone to, given that Zen would likely be hard to come by for a while. I was really glad that my mother had already left, because while I didn’t know if Natalie’s yoga pants were Lululemons, she still would’ve had a lot to say.
“Hey, Nat. I was about to text you to see what time you were coming over.”
“I was just heading to your shop,” she said. “You on your way over?”
I nodded. “I have an appointment in about twenty minutes. I was hoping to catch Todd first, but . . .” I let the words trail off.
Natalie eyed me. “What’s going on? Something wrong with the two of you?”
There was no way I was going to get into what had happened last night. And if she hadn’t heard that I’d been questioned in Carla’s death, I wasn’t going to volunteer the information.
“No, I just haven’t talked to him much the past couple days.” I started walking toward my shop. She fell into step beside me, but stayed silent, which surprised me. My friends were kind of on the fence about Todd. I’d never quite figured out why. But usually Nat would be eager to tell me all the things I should do when he stepped out of line, but she seemed preoccupied today.
Then again, I guessed everyone was.
“So what do you think of the whole Carla thing?” she asked finally.
It had been inevitable, but I’d hoped we could talk about anything else. “Crazy,” I said. “I mean, it seems surreal. Things like that don’t happen here.”
“I know. It’s scary,” Natalie said. “I was in the studio yesterday evening too. Meditating. The whole place was dark and I had the curtains shut and music on. I lost track of time. I was supposed to meet Andrew. He was out putting up posters for the healing circle for me, and I was late. Had no idea what was going on right outside, until later when I left and saw all the police.” She shivered a bit. “Imagine? It could’ve happened right behind me.”
I couldn’t. The yoga studio backed up onto the courtyard where Carla was killed. It wasn’t like it had been some seedy alley in the bad part of town. It was right here, a place we all walked past a million times a day.
“I can’t imagine what Andrew must be feeling,” I said, trying to sound casual. “How awful, and it must have caused a lot of business angst too.”
Natalie’s face fell. “He’s so stressed. When the police came to talk to him last night . . .” She trailed off. “But he doesn’t want me to worry, so he’s trying to hide it. And to think he was probably one of the last people to see her alive.” She shuddered. “It worries me. I mean, what if it was a customer? You’ve heard those stories about realtors being lured to their deaths by some sicko.”
That was a terrifying thought, but also the thought about Andrew maybe being the last one to see her alive had caught my attention. “The police don’t think there’s a danger to the general public, though,” I said. “By the way, I saw him at Pete’s this morning. Hey, what are his thoughts about the bridge project? Was he on board with it? I know Carla was.”
Natalie’s head snapped up defensively. “Why?”
That reaction I wasn’t expecting. Why was that a loaded question? “I’m just curious. There’s a guy organizing a protest who’s running around town wearing a model of the bridge on his head. I saw Andrew talking to him earlier, that’s all. I figure he must be between a rock and a hard place, with Carla’s position and yours.”
Natalie frowned. “Of course he’s opposed. Anyone with any concern about our environment would be. Andrew doesn’t really get involved in the town politics side of things, especially with Carla. He stayed out of all that stuff. He only cares about the business, and he’s not as interested in the hoity-toity perception as she is. Was,” she amended with a wince. “He really just wants to do well and put people in houses they love.”
I kept my mouth shut. I knew for a fact that Andrew’s job was the reason she’d been able to quit her corporate job to become a yoga teacher. And they had a fancy house in the next town, right on the water. It must be a lot of pressure for him to keep up with their lifestyle. So he had to be somewhat interested in the big-money aspect.
We turned the corner and stopped in front of my shop. “Can you come back around two and we can work on the circle?”
Natalie checked her own watch and appeared lost in thought. Then she nodded. “Sure. I have a few things I need to do this morning anyway. I’ll see you then.” She headed back in the general direction of the yoga studio.
I watched her go, wondering why she’d gotten so defensive about Andrew and the bridge project.
CHAPTER 30
I unlocked the door to my shop, my gaze falling on the North Harbor Day wrapped in plastic on the ground. I hesitated, then stooped to pick it up and headed inside, flicking lights on as I moved through, pausing to sniff every few steps. I didn’t smell anything at all. False alarm? Or had whatever it was been resolved because of Josie’s quick action? I checked my phone again. She hadn’t replied.
She’d be along soon enough. Guess I just had to wait.
I went to the counter to drop my purse and the paper. I wasn’t going to read it. That lasted half a second before I picked it up and yanke
d the wrapper off, my eyes drawn immediately to the photo of Carla Fernandez above the fold, smiling out from behind her nameplate at one of the town council meetings.
Local councilwoman dead, the headline read. The subhead said, Brazen killing in public courtyard leaves residents on edge.
A sidebar article showed a somber photo of the remaining council members gathered last night behind the mayor as he made a statement about the “swift and fitting justice” the killer could expect.
I flipped the paper over abruptly. I didn’t think my stomach could take reading the rest of the article, terrified to see my name in print as a “person of interest.” Brazen killing. I realized my hands were shaking and closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I had to go along today like nothing had happened, at least in my world. I couldn’t let anyone think I was disturbed by the visit to the police station. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Now I needed to make sure I acted like it.
I took a deep breath and went out back to check my messages to see if any of my appointments had canceled. But when I got to my desk, I nearly jumped a foot when I saw a pair of yellow eyes blinking at me from on top of my desk.
“How did you get in here?” I asked the black cat, trying to calm my hammering heart. What was with this cat? How was he getting into all these places—all my places, specifically? If he belonged to someone, they really needed to start taking better care of him.
He regarded me with a slow blink, blink of those eyes. I guess if I expected him to answer me I was in for a big letdown.
“Okay, well. I guess you can stay. It’s warmer in here than outside,” I said. I wondered if I should think about bringing him home with me permanently. Monty might hate it. But how awesome would it be to have a black and orange cat pair? Maybe this was the Universe telling me it was time to get myself a black cat since I’d always wanted one.
