Crossing Over Easy

by Nova Nelson

  “But I knew,” Ansel went on. “Heck, the whole town knew. It wasn’t a week after the divorce was finalized that he started running around with Tandy, bringing her everywhere, showing her off. He let up on the display for a while, and I thought he’d move on and so would Jane, but just last week, he brought Tandy into Franco’s Pizza on a date, stoked the pain and bitterness inside Jane all over again.”

  “Oh god, that’s awful.” I felt the primal female impulse to invite Jane to a hard-core ladies wine night. Pjs, snack food, chocolate, whatever Eastwind’s equivalent of Netflix was, lots of ranting—the whole shebang.

  “I’ll be honest with you,” Ansel added. “I spent all last week fantasizing about murdering Bruce.”

  That sure yanked me from my indulgent wine-night reverie. “Come again?”

  “Jane couldn’t let it go. Mostly because he wouldn’t let her let it go. Every time she started to really get over him, he’d find a way to remind her that he was fine without her. She may have initiated the divorce, but it was like he was set on rubbing her face in it every chance he could.” He stepped toward me, and I could feel the rage radiating from him like heat waves. “I love that woman more than anything in this world, and I know she loves me, but I’d never get to be with her the way I wanted so long as Bruce was around, pulling her back in every time she was about to move on.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Was this a confession? It sure sounded like a confession.

  “I dreamed about it,” he said. “Fantasized about all the ways I could murder him and get away with it. Maybe dump his body somewhere beyond the Outskirts in the Deadwoods, so by the time it was found, it’d already be picked clean. There were days when I’d shift into my bear and maul a tree, imagining it was Bruce.” He took a step back. “It made me feel better, but it never helped Jane.” He sighed. “In the end, I could never do it, because she still loved him, as tainted as it was. Killing Bruce would’ve felt incredible, but it would’ve hurt the woman I loved. I couldn’t do that.

  “I didn’t murder him, but part of me wishes I had.” He chuckled mirthlessly and motioned to some bright yellow blossoms beside him. “Let me know when you figure out who did it, and I’ll send them some flowers.”

  My heart was still racing, and I looked down at Grim, who wagged his tail slowly. “See? What’s not to love about this guy?”

  At least one of us found murderous rage endearing.

  “If you had to guess,” I began, “who would your money be on for having done it?”

  He shrugged. “Could be a lot of people. Bruce was well liked by the ladies, but not so much by the ladies’ men. He could’ve stepped out of line with the wrong girl. Or maybe”—he paused, his eyes checking to make sure we were alone, “someone had something financial to gain from his death. Real estate in Eastwind ain’t cheap, even on the Outskirts. Medium Rare does okay for itself. I know Jane used to be the beneficiary in the event of Bruce’s death, but I assume he’s changed that since the divorce.”

  “They didn’t have any kids, though, right?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “So who would it go to?”

  He shrugged lightly, and the movement caused the beads of sweat on his chest to catch the light … and my attention.

  Focus, Nora!

  “My best guess would be Mr. Likable himself. Everybody leaves something to that kid in their will. It wouldn’t surprise me if Bruce listed him as the sole beneficiary. Wouldn’t be the first someone did that for everybody’s favorite orphan.”

  “Um, forgive me for not knowing, but I am new here. Who exactly are you talking about?”

  “Tanner. Tanner Culpepper.”

  “The gorge—um. The one that works at Medium Rare?”

  He nodded. “Everybody loves that guy. I swear, every time someone turns up dead, he’s listed in their will. After a few times, it starts to get just a little too suspicious for my liking. And everybody knows Tanner loves Medium Rare like it’s his home. I’m not condemning him right off the bat, but I do think it’s smart to check the will. If it’s not Tanner, it’s somebody, and that somebody could very well be your murderer.”

  “You don’t sound like a fan of Tanner’s,” I said, trying not to give away how annoyed the thought made me.

  Ansel held up his hands defensively. “I think he’s great. Got no complaints here. I’m just saying, anyone who’s that nice all the time is hiding something. He’s just a little too nice, you know? If he’s not working his butt off, he’s running around town helping little old witches cross the street or rebuilding someone’s house after a spell backfires or making personal house calls to his regulars if they don’t show up for a few days. And he never asks for anything in return. Why would someone be that nice?”

  He had a point. And it bore similarities to Jane’s case against Tandy. Perhaps Jane and Ansel were a good match after all.

  But I did like to believe that there were selfless people in the world. I just hadn’t met many. Or any. “You got me there,” I said. “I’ll ask Bruce who he listed in his will, then I’ll follow that trail.”

  He glanced at me sideways. “Hold up. Did you just say you’ll ask Bruce? As in dead-guy-Bruce?”

  “Uhh …” I looked to Grim for some help, but he had wandered a few feet away from the conversation and was rolling on his back in a fresh flowerbed. “No?”

  Ansel was too sharp. “Makes sense. That’s why you’re here, huh? Not the first time Bruce won’t stop pestering a beautiful woman who isn’t interested in him. I don’t know why I’d expect him to change just because he’s dead.”

  I tried not to focus on the fact that he’d just called me beautiful.

  “So, I guess he doesn’t know who killed him, either?” Ansel added.

  Since my jig was up, I decided to be honest. “No. He didn’t see who it was.”

  “Sucks for you.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

  “I’d better get back to work.”

  “Thanks for the chat.”

  He nodded once. “And do what I told you. Figure out who gets Medium Rare. That’s what I’d do … if I could talk to dead guys.”

  I agreed and called Grim to follow me. But before we’d made it ten feet, Ansel called after us, “Oh, and can you do me a favor?”

  Everyone and their favors. “Sure,” I said.

  “Tell Bruce that …”

  I’ll spare you the rest of the message since it wasn’t anything good.

  “Later, Grim,” Ansel said teasingly. Grim waved a paw at him and led the way out of the garden center.

  I needed to get back to Ruby True’s place and have a word with old Bruce.

  Chapter Nine

  “You didn’t have a strong feeling about any of them?” Ruby asked as she sat across the parlor table from me. She’d been kind enough to whip me up a hearty beef stew once I returned from Whirligig’s. I was amazed how quickly she managed it. She may not have the same powers as most witches, but she definitely knew her way around a kitchen. And she seemed to have the same basic tastes as me.

  Not the taste for fine dining; that was something I’d forced myself to develop. The stew was simple—beef stock, potatoes, carrots, onions, cabbage, and fresh garlic cloves with thick hunks of tender beef—but it filled me up in ways that extended beyond my basic appetite. It made me feel calm, secure, the way good home cooking should.

  I needed to get this recipe.

  Clifford, Ruby’s familiar who was Grim’s equal in size but had fiery red hair with a few grays in the mix, barked in his sleep from his place by the fire. I hadn’t yet seen him in motion. It was almost like he appeared out of thin air, already snoozing. Maybe someday I could find time to get that much sleep.

  But not anytime soon. I had pressing matters to attend to, now that I was starting to get my wits about me again as my wooden bowl progressed toward empty.

  “I had strong feelings about them, but it was hard to separate the personal from the obje
ctive.”

  “Meaning?” Bruce said from his place floating just above a chair that Ruby had been kind enough to pull out for him at the parlor table. I wondered if he was at all embarrassed about his need for the charade of sitting when everyone could tell there was no actual physical contact between him and the chair.

  “Meaning, I don’t think it’s Ansel, but I don’t know if that’s because Grim really likes him or because his honesty about how much he would have liked to murder you seemed a little too brazen for a killer.

  “Then there’s Tandy, who, no offense, Bruce, I immediately disliked. But that’s probably more about me being petty toward someone that beautiful than anything related to your murder. And then I started to trust her the more we talked, but I’m not sure if that’s because her reason for showing up at work rather than staying home made sense to me, or because she made my hair look so good for free.” I held up a hand before anyone said a word. “I know, not one of my prouder admissions.

  “And then there’s Jane.” I paused unsure what to say that would explain why I was sure she hadn’t done it without betraying her.

  “You can’t tell me she didn’t have it out for me,” Bruce said. “The last time I went into Franco’s Pizza, she nearly bit my head off. I mean, literally. She was starting to shift into her wolf, she was so angry. She told me she had half a mind to finish shifting and tear me to shreds.”

  I assumed this was the same visit Ansel had mentioned, but I needed to make sure. “The last time you went to Franco’s Pizza, did you by any chance bring Tandy along?”

  His translucent mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Ruby didn’t bother disguising her judgment as she arched two eyebrows, turning slightly in her seat to face him directly. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back to get a better look at him.

  “What?” he said finally. “She was the one who asked me for the divorce! I don’t get to date anyone after that?”

  “Bruce,” Ruby said coldly. “We don’t have time for your nonsense. You know as well as anyone that you don’t bring your new lover to your ex’s place of work.”

  “But the lasagna’s so good,” he protested weakly. “I have to deprive myself of lasagna just because my ex-wife chose to work at the best restaurant in town? Besides Medium Rare, obviously,” he added quickly.

  “Yes,” Ruby and I said at the same time. Then I added, “Sorry, but this is part of why divorce sucks.”

  He wasn’t getting it, though, so I tried a new approach to hint without blatantly outing Jane. “Why do you think Jane might have been so angry about you bringing Tandy to dinner there?”

  “Because she hates everything about me,” Bruce said sulkily.

  “Try again,” I said.

  He paused to think about it, then slowly said, “She was jealous?”

  I nodded, indicating he should go on.

  “But she has Ansel. She’s moved on, too.”

  “Has she?” I asked.

  “Hmm,” he said. Then, “Hmm … Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.” He lowered his head, shaking it slowly. “I had no idea.” He moved his ghastly hands up to his face. “What an idiot I’ve been.”

  I felt bad for the guy, but at the same time, for someone who seemed to be quite the ladies’ man, he sure didn’t understand ladies.

  “I don’t think Jane wanted you dead,” I concluded. “But I need to know something, Bruce.”

  He lifted his head from his hands and said in a self-pitying voice. “Yes?”

  “Who does Medium Rare go to, now that you’re dead?”

  He sat up straight. “Well, Tanner, of course.”

  Of course.

  Shoot, Ansel might’ve been onto something.

  “And does he know that?” I asked, hoping he did not. So long as Tanner was unaware, the will couldn’t function as a motive.

  Bruce considered it. “Well, I’m not sure. I’d only gotten around to changing it from Jane to Tanner last week. Things had been so busy around the diner that … yeah, I don’t think I mentioned it to him.”

  I exhaled with relief. “Then he can’t be a suspect.”

  “I mean, he might’ve heard about it from someone else,” Bruce added.

  “Like who?”

  He scrunched up his face, causing his appearance to swirl slightly with the movement. “Quinn Shaw was my estate attorney, so he was in charge of making the changes. I doubt he would take it upon himself to inform the beneficiaries, but there’s a good chance he told his son, Seamus.”

  “Why would he tell his son?”

  “Quinn’s been trying to get Seamus into the family business for years. Unfortunately, Seamus has trouble with … well, with anything that requires responsibility. But Seamus likes his drink. I wouldn’t put it past Seamus to tell Tanner I’d changed my will to leave Medium Rare to him. I’ve seen the two of them together down at Sheehan’s Pub before. Could’ve happened there.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to settle this,” I said, my heart skipping a beat at the thought. “I’ll head down to Medium Rare in the morning and have a chat with Tanner.”

  Chapter Ten

  I hated how nervous I was, approaching Medium Rare the next day. And before you give me the benefit of the doubt, no, I wasn’t nervous about talking to a possible murderer. I was nervous about seeing Tanner again for personal reasons. Namely, because I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

  My eyes locked onto him through the front windows before I ever set foot in the place. It was almost gravitational.

  It wasn’t until the front doorbell tinkled overhead and I entered the warm diner that my eyes also found the girl he was talking to at the counter.

  I almost turned around and walked out.

  She was way prettier than me, and in that girl-next-door way that guys go gaga over. She had curves, too. Her face was round and youthful in the way that invites open and friendly conversation with strangers. Meanwhile, I’d been described on more than one occasion as having a raging case of Resting Bitch Face, and not in a female werewolf sort of way.

  It wasn’t even a competition between the two of us. Of course Tanner would chase after a girl like that. They were two beautiful peas in a pod, and as I stood there like a frozen idiot, watching the two of them relate, I could tell just by her body language that she was probably as nice and friendly as he was. If this place had the typical high school scene, I’d put money on the two of them being homecoming king and queen. Probably uncontested, even.

  Finally, Tanner unintentionally caught sight of me and his face lit up. “Nora! We were just talking about you! Come here.” He waved me over exaggeratedly, and I pitched a smile on my face and approached like I wasn’t totally concocting an entire life story for the two of them.

  The girl turned on her stool to face me directly.

  Shoot. Just looking at her put me at ease. This wasn’t someone who would judge me; this was someone who would tell me to stop judging myself. Ugh. People like that were equal parts delightful and annoying.

  “Nora, this is Zoe Clementine. She moved here from Avalon last year.”

  “Oh.” That certainly changed things. At least the homecoming queen scenario was no longer a possibility. “Nice to meet—”

  “Oh my god, I’m so happy to meet you!” Zoe said, interrupting me. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from Tanner. And, truth be told, I’ve felt a little like an outsider since I got here, so it’s nice to have someone else around who’s not born in Eastwind.”

  “There are plenty of other people from Avalon who live in Eastwind,” Tanner said.

  She waved him off. “Oh, sure, but they’re, like, Avalonian Avalonians. High fashion, refined taste, all that. They came here to bring Avalon to Eastwind. I came here to be in Eastwind as it is. This town is just so precious!”

  Back home, Zoe was not the type of person I spent time with, but after just over a day in Eastwind, I was starting to wonder if
the person I was back home was someone I would want to spend time with now.

  “I gotta run,” she said, grabbing a to-go box off the counter. “The animals can’t feed themselves!” She turned to me. “It was great meeting you, Nora. We’ll have to catch up sometime.”

  “Sounds good.” For the record, I meant it.

  Once she left, Tanner filled me in. “She’s been running my grandmother’s animal sanctuary since she passed away last summer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother, Tanner.”

  “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine. Everyone’s pretty sure she left the sanctuary to me, but I don’t know the first thing about taking care of all those animals. Zoe wanted a job, had experience with animals in Avalon, so we agreed that she’d be the unofficial owner until the dang last will and testament moves through probate in the Parchment Catacombs and we can know for sure who the sanctuary goes to.”

  “And how long does that take?”

  “Oh, you know, four to four hundred weeks. Organization isn’t a strong suit of the catacombs, but bureaucracy is. Getting official Eastwind records is a true test of patience. ” He shrugged. “I’m not worried about it, though. She’s good people. Anyway, can I get you something to eat?”

  “In a second. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” My heart started to race again. “In private?”

  His easygoing expression grew serious. “Oh, okay. Yeah. Sure. Follow me.” He led me back into the kitchen, not far from the manager’s office where all the trouble began. “Everything okay?” he asked, placing a strong hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes, and generally sending shivers all through my body.