by Zoe Arden
I walked over and grabbed the paper they were all staring at out of Eleanor's hands. My jaw hit the floor.
"They sent me a bill?!" I yelled. "Five thousand dollars for what?"
Eleanor said, "They want you to pay for the dress you were wearing the day Grace Beyers was killed. They say it was ruined by the blood stain."
"I only got the stain because I was trying to help her."
"I know," my dad said soothingly.
"I'm not paying that," I yelled.
"Ava..." Eleanor said.
"They must be crazy. I-I'll tell everyone in town what a bunch of crooks they are," I shouted, pounding my fist on the counter like Trixie had done.
"Ava..." Eleanor tried again. "I don't think that's a good idea. It's not going to help anyone."
"It will help me feel better!" I shouted and grabbed the letter, tearing it up. Eleanor sighed. My dad shook his head. Trixie cheered.
"If they want their five thousand dollars," I said, "they'll just have to sue me."
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CHAPTER
NINE
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Colt answered his door on the second ring. We stood staring at each other for a second before I burst into tears.
"I'm sorry," I said.
The anger rolled off Colt's face. "Me, too," he said, opening his arms wide.
"Really?" I asked, going to him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I felt the tension and anxiety that had been haunting me for the last few days slowly fade away.
"Really," he said, rubbing his hand up and down my back, comforting me. "I should never have gotten so mad at you when you'd just been through something so horrible. I just... I lost my head a little." He paused and laughed. "I guess I have a bit of a jealous streak in me."
His honeyed lips found mine warm and inviting. With each kiss, I felt myself wondering why I'd waited so long to come and see him. Then I wondered why he'd waited so long to see me, and I started getting mad at him all over again.
I reached up and pinched his elbow.
"Ouch!" he said, letting go of me. "What was that for?"
"The next time we have a fight, you call me or text me or something. I didn't like going so long without talking to you. It made me feel all weird inside."
He cocked his head to the side. "So, the best way to ensure that I call you in the future is to pinch me?"
I nodded.
"Okay then," he said with a light laugh. I'm glad we cleared that up."
He ushered me gently into his apartment and shut the door behind us. He spun around, pinning me against the door. "Or maybe next time we have an argument, I'll just pinch you first," he said, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me forward again. He kissed me gently, warming me from the inside out. I felt my head lighten and my pulse began to race. Then two fingers reached out and pinched my arm.
"Ouch!" I shouted, rubbing the spot where he'd gotten me.
"Good for the goose..." he said, smiling.
"Good for the gander. Yeah, yeah. I get it."
We stood laughing a moment.
"Seriously though, I should have told you the truth about Damon from the beginning," I said.
"Why didn't you?"
"I was afraid you'd tell me not to talk to Damon, let alone have lunch with him."
"I might have," he confessed, absently stroking his chin, "but I'd have been wrong to tell you that if I did. I trust you, Ava. Completely. If you want to be friends with Damon, then I won't stop you."
"I don't want to be friends with him," I said. "Well, maybe. I don't know. I only went to meet him because he said it was important. And when he showed up at the bridal boutique, I—"
Damon cut me off with another kiss. He was less gentle this time, pushing his mouth harder against mine. I felt heat spread through every finger and toe, and when I pressed my hands to his chest, I could feel his own heart pounding.
"Wow," I murmured. "With make up kisses like that, we should fight more often."
"Let's not."
I nodded against him, our foreheads touching. "I love you," I said.
"Love you, too. Next time you want to meet an old boyfriend for lunch, just tell me." He paused and pulled back a bit, so he could look me more fully in the eyes. "You don't have any other boyfriends you're hiding from me, do you?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Good. Then grab a chair and have a seat."
"Are you gonna give me a stern talking to?"
"I thought I just did that."
I giggled and pulled up a chair.
"Now that we're made up," Colt said, "how about a make up lunch?"
"That'd be nice," I told him.
"I was just making a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich."
"Sounds good."
"Want some wine?"
"A little early for wine, isn't it?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Not if it's make up wine."
I grinned. "Well, how can I turn that down?"
He poured us each a half a glass and put the bottle back in the fridge, then went about making the sandwiches. I watched him at the stove as he worked. Everything was make up something. He asked me for the make up butter. I handed him a make up butter knife. He squeezed the make up tomatoes.
Eventually, the fun wore off and it just got annoying, so we moved on to other things.
"So, do you have any new information on the case?" I asked tentatively, not wanting to start fighting again but knowing he would never give up any answers if I didn't first ask the questions.
"On what?" Colt asked, playing dumb. It was his way of telling me he didn't want to talk about it.
"I heard somewhere that Grace Beyers wasn't her real name. That it was some sort of alias."
He stopped what he was doing and turned to me, taking two steps forward. "Who told you that?"
"I just heard it somewhere," I said, casting my eyes away from him.
Colt said, "It was an alias. We're looking into it."
I licked my lips. "Do you think it has something to do with why she was killed? Was she a criminal? Was she hiding from someone?"
"I said we're looking into it," he snapped and glowered at me. "Don't you think I know how to do my job?"
"Of course, I do, but there are extenuating circumstances with this case."
"What extenuating circumstances?"
"The man who happens to be your main suspect also happens to be your fiancée's ex-boyfriend. It must be hard to stay objective."
His face hardened. "You're saying I can't do my job right because I'm jealous?"
"No, I didn't say that. I just said... Colt? What's wrong?"
He sniffed the air, crinkling his brow in confusion. His eyes suddenly widened. "The grilled cheese!" he yelled and turned back to the stove.
Black smoke was billowing up into the air. He turned the burner off and flipped the sandwich over. It was all black on the pan side.
"We can start over," I said. "I'll help."
"Thanks, but I think I lost my appetite."
"Oh," I said, feeling like I'd just ruined things again. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Maybe we can try again tomorrow."
"Okay," I said, picking up my purse. "I'll just go then."
"Okay," he said, not trying to stop me.
I paused at the door. "We're okay, right?" I was almost afraid of his answer.
His face softened. "Yes, we're okay. You just irritate the heck out of me sometimes." He walked over and kissed the tip of my nose. Even that sent a tingle up and down my spine. "Come by tomorrow after work. We'll have a late dinner."
I kissed him, and he hesitated before speaking.
"The cops in Mistmoor searched Damon's apartment."
I held my breath. "And?"
"And they found something. This isn't jealousy talking, okay? It's... caution. I want you to know what's going on in case he tries to co
ntact you."
"So, what did they find?"
"Bank statements showing Damon was in debt."
I relaxed. "Lots of people are in debt. That doesn't make them murderers."
"And Grace's picture."
My throat tightened. "What?"
He had Grace's picture hidden under his mattress. He knew her."
"Someone could've planted that," I said.
He smiled. "Now who's not being objective?"
Silence hung between us. That seemed to be happening more and more of late.
"Ava, I love you. For your own safety, stay out of this murder investigation."
I pressed my lips together. "I have questions that need answering."
"You're not a detective. Let me and the sheriff handle it. If we need some more eyes on the case because mine aren't objective enough, I'll get Dean to send up a couple of men from headquarters."
That reminded me of something. "When's the last time you saw Dean?"
He hesitated. "A few days ago. We had lunch. He's been busy with this missing person stuff and wanted to go over some of it with me. Personally, I think it's nothing to get too wound up about. Tourists skipping out on bills, that sort of thing."
At least I knew now why he'd lunched with Dean. For some reason, that had been hanging on at the back of my mind.
"Right, that's what a lot of people think," I said, thinking of my aunts.
"You don't?" Colt asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know. You don't think it's related to Grace's murder, do you?"
He scoffed. "I don't see how. No other bodies have turned up. These people aren't being killed, they're just leaving the island without saying goodbye."
"Not even to their friends and family? Not all the missing people have been alone."
Colt shook his head. "If there's something more going on, we'll figure it out, and I'll make sure you're the first person I tell."
"Promise?" I asked.
"Promise," he said. "Now you have to promise me something."
I hesitated. "What?"
"Promise me you won't go on looking into this Grace Beyers thing. And if Damon contacts you for any reason, tell me right away."
I took a deep breath and crossed my fingers behind my back. "Promise."
* * *
CHAPTER
TEN
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The Mystic Cupcake was in especially high demand the next morning. A group of tourists traveling together by bus from the Maine coast huddled together looking at our display cases. The tourists were all shapes and sizes, all over seventy, and all human except for one who was a half-witch. I could tell by the slight flecks of gold dotting her pupils.
"What's peppy powder?" asked one woman wearing a sun visor and heart-shaped sunglasses. She had white hair twisted high on her head and was smiling like a kid while looking at the chocolate fudge coconut brownies with peppy powder.
"It's a little something extra to give you an energy boost," I said, smiling. "Kind of like a shot of espresso but without the crash afterward." I left out the part where peppy powder was pure magic. That wasn't something these humans needed to know.
"You sold me," said the woman.
Her friend came up beside her. "Make that two."
The first woman looked at her. "Make that three. I'm getting two just for myself."
I moved quickly, filling orders and answering questions. It was busy, and it was a good thing. It left me no time to think about Damon or the trouble he was in. I understood why he'd run—he'd been scared. But running only made him look guiltier than he already looked, and I was certain he was innocent.
I couldn't explain what had happened that day at Bridal Barista, but I knew that Damon was no killer. If no one else would believe me, then I'd just have to prove it.
The tour group stayed longer than most customers did. They snapped pictures of everything. Our display cases, our decorations, even the floor, which I didn't quite understand. There was nothing interesting about the floor that I could see.
"It reminds me of a diner I used to eat at," the woman said when she caught me staring. I nodded as if that made perfect sense. Whatever made them happy, I figured. A few of them even snapped pictures of me, Eleanor, Trixie, and my dad.
"For posterity," said one man who'd squeezed in between me and my aunts, asking my dad to take the picture. "I can go back home and show all my friends the pretty girls I met on vacation." Eleanor and Trixie both beamed.
"No one's called me a girl in years," Eleanor said, laughing.
The man said, "You're a beauty. Whoever got you is a lucky guy."
"I'll tell him that tonight when he gets home," she said. "He'll probably say you were drunk." She giggled at her own joke.
The truth was Sheriff Knoxx worshipped Eleanor. Not many women would be okay becoming romantically involved with someone who was part goblin. Goblins had a bad reputation. The fact that Eleanor didn't care about his heritage only strengthened the sheriff's feelings for her.
Several women and a few of the men stood happily in front of the display window Eleanor had created, making pose after pose as their friends all snapped pictures for them.
"It's amazing what they can do with cake!" said one woman, taking a picture of Eleanor's Eiffel Tower with her phone.
One man said, "And cookies! Look at that tower lean!" He snapped a picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
The tour directors, a stocky man of fifty and his wife, finally clapped their hands together, gaining everyone's attention. Slowly, the picture taking died off.
"All right," the male director shouted. "Next stop is..." He consulted his itinerary. "...Bridal Barista."
I groaned inwardly and shot a look to Eleanor and Trixie, but they were still too busy filling the last of the orders.
"I heard they have rainbow-colored wedding dresses there," said the woman with the heart-shaped glasses.
"Kids these days will wear anything," said her friend.
"A cat!" shouted one woman, joyfully, and suddenly the group started snapping pictures all over again.
Snowball sat patiently by, looking up at the cameras and giving them what I thought of as her perfect "adore me" look. She batted her lashes at them and twitched her whiskers. Her fluffy white fur appeared to fluff out even more all of its own accord, and she sat almost regal-like with her tail curled around her feet.
"Isn't she adorable."
"I wish I could take her home with me."
"She's cute enough to eat!"
At that last remark, Snowball threw the woman who'd said it an odd look and decided she'd had enough of posing for the camera. She came back around the counter and sat by my side, much to the relief of the tour directors who were anxious to get going.
"What's after Bridal Barista?" asked one of the men, who didn't sound too thrilled with stopping at a bridal store.
"Coffee Cove and then Beggars Forest."
"Once you've seen one forest, you've seen them all," said one woman and waved her hand dismissively in the air.
I sent a silent prayer up to whatever ancient witches might be watching over us and asked them to help keep the tour directors from losing their minds. At least while they were in Sweetland Cove.
When they were finally gone, I lifted Snowball into my arms and scratched her under the chin the way she liked. "What are you doing here? I didn't even see you come in."
It wasn't unusual for one or all of our familiars to pop into the bakery, but Snowball hadn't been down here in a while. I could tell by the way she was looking at me, with her eyes all wide and innocent, that she wanted something.
"Snowball came to see Mama," she purred and rubbed her head against my chin. She licked my cheek and I laughed.
"Okay, now I know for sure that you want something. What is it?"
"Snowy gets tuna," she said and licked my face again.
"
Oh, she does, does she?" I asked.
She asked for tuna frequently, but this was the first time it had ever come out sounding like a demand.
"Snowy was promised tuna," she said.
I scrunched my brow together, trying to remember. "When did I promise you tuna?"
Snowy said nothing, only nudged her nose against my face and licked me. I caved.
"Okay," I said, setting her down and going into the back room.
I always kept a spare can of tuna with me, just in case. It paid to have a small bribe available at all times in case I needed Snowball to do something for me. She made an especially good lookout when I was sneaking into places I shouldn't go, not that I made a habit of things like that.
Instead of going straight to her bowl, she ran past it and stopped at the back door leading into the alley.
"Snowy?" I asked. "What's wrong? Here's your tuna." I shook the bowl at her and set it back on the floor.
"Tuna for later," Snowy said and pawed at the back door.
I looked at her, confused.
"Later?" I asked.
"After," she said, still pawing at the door.
"After what?"
She said nothing else, just sat and stared at the door, which was locked. We always kept it locked these days, unless we were taking out the trash. The only thing in the alley was the dumpster and the brick wall of the building next door.
Snowball was so insistent, however, that I finally got the keys and unlocked the door. I pushed it open and Snowball scrambled out. I followed.
"Okay," I said, standing with my hands on my hips. "What's so important that you brought me out here?"
From behind the dumpster, a figure emerged. I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Damon," I said, my hands flying to my mouth and covering it.
He moved slowly, gauging my reaction. When I didn't scream, he drew me into a hug.
"Miss me?"
