by Sarah Kelly
India smiled. “Sure.”
“So do you really believe Maurice?” India asked, holding the cake firmly in her lap and looking over at Xavier with his arm draped over the steering wheel.
He peered ahead as he waited for a stoplight to change, and slowly nodded. “Yes, I think so. At least, I definitely don’t think we should sit back and say he did it. We’ve gotta keep pressing on.”
“I agree,” India said. “Who else do you think it could be?”
Xavier hit the gas and they zoomed out from the light.
“Hey!” India protested. “Your mom will go nuts if this gets delivered damaged.”
“Oh gosh, sorry.” Xavier slowed down so much the driver behind slammed his fist on the horn. “Yeah, yeah,” he said into the rearview mirror. “Just overtake if you’re that desperate.”
“Looking at the footage,” India began, answering her own question, “you would think that the only people who could have done it would be Anita, Rodney or Maurice. Because Anita and Rodney were already in the house, and Maurice was caught on camera going in and coming out. But there are other possibilities.”
“Like…?”
“Someone could have gone in the house way before Joey even set up the camera. Remember, he didn’t have any video of all of us going in there for our champagne and cookies and all that. If I’m thinking back properly, I would say it was dark at the beginning of the video. Which means anyone could have had the chance to sneak back into the house and hide there until nightfall. It’s so huge I’m sure there’s plenty of hiding places.”
“You’re right,” Xavier said. “And that could have been Demetria, though of course she didn’t do it, or Demetria’s husband Eric… or—” his eyes widened “—Joey himself! He could have even had the beginning of the video, that would have shown him sneaking into the house, and cut it out to erase all the evidence.”
India hadn’t thought of that. “Wow, imagine if that were true. That would be one clever murder. But why would Joey want to kill Jim Quinn?”
Xavier shook his head. “No idea.”
“Me either.”
All kinds of conflicting theories floated around India’s brain, threatening to tangle themselves in knots. She remembered what Luis taught her, trying to stay centered and grounded, and connected with the energy. The trees outside were just beginning to show the first whispered hints of autumn, with the tips of a few leaves beginning to turn ochre or crimson or deep chocolate brown. India had found trees were perfect for helping her calm down, and she wondered how they channeled energy or how the whole process worked. Even though she’d known her identity as a witch for a few years by then, she still felt like the beginner of beginners. But when she’d complained Luis wasn’t teaching her enough, he’d laughed in her face. “I’m still in the second lowest phase of training,” he’d said. “This isn’t like Harry Potter, you know, where spells are super easy and by the time you’re an adult you’re slashing down bad guys with your powers. Nuh uh. It’ll take you lifetimes to master all this stuff. And actually, I don’t think there’s an end to it. It just goes on and on and—”
“You mean I’ll live more than one life?”
Luis had chuckled. “Your eyes are like saucers right about now. Yeah, you will. You’ve already lived a couple, but I don’t have the magic to recall them properly, I’m just getting hazy images. I wanna say you lived in a rainforest one time, and in the desert another, but don’t quote me on that.”
India stared out the window as Xavier made the long drive to the hotel, thinking about how little she really knew. If she wanted to be a detective, she knew she had to get used to that feeling of being clueless, but fight it at the same time by delving into the surroundings and coming back up with evidence. Plunged into the middle of mystery again, India realized it was the intensity of it all that she had missed. It was life or death. Justice or injustice. In her own small way, she was putting the world to rights. Putting it in order as best she could. That made her feel like her life had some kind of purpose, and that made everything, even all the stress and strain and danger, more than worth it.
When they approached a modern low rise brick building, which distinctly lacked charm, Xavier pulled off from the street and into the parking lot. A modern sandstone sign bearing the name Belle Côte Resort was fixed at the entrance. “Finally here,” he said.
“Anita sure picked somewhere far from home,” India said.
“A lot of people from our area come down here,” he replied, getting out of the car. “For the sea.”
India was careful to handle the box carefully as she placed it on his vacated seat. “That figures. Since being by the ocean at Benton Point, I don’t ever want to leave.”
Xavier grinned. “Me neither… Except I do get a bit homesick sometimes. Do you? You know, for Winsconsin?”
India got out of the car and hitched up her jeans. “Not all that much. Sometimes. But then my family’s not really like yours. My parents are kind of ‘at arms’ length’ sort of people.”
Xavier drew her into a hug. “You’re not, at all.”
“I know,” India said, then smiled, but a little sadness tugged at her heart. “I’m like… want to hug, want to talk, want to say nice things to each other, and they’re just like… let’s watch TV or read books and keep everything inside. When they have to hug they look like a mouse trapped in a corner by a cat.”
Xavier still held her close. “Well, we’ll have to make up for it by hugging three thousand times a day. And saying loads of nice things to each other.”
India laughed and squeezed him tight before breaking out of the bear hug. “You’re the best, Zave.”
He picked up the box from his seat and kicked the door closed. “Nope, you are.”
It was a game they sometimes played. It was very childish but India found Xavier had brought that side out of her and she wasn’t about to shut it off. “No you are,” India said, as they walked toward the entrance.
“No way,” Xavier said. “You are.”
“Welcome to the Belle Côte Resort a doorman said, as he held the way open for them.
“Thank you,” they both said, then approached the reception.
“Hi there,” Xavier said to the young blonde woman, whose name tag read Victoria, at the desk. “We’re looking for Anita and Rodney Quinn. We have a delivery for them.”
Victoria broke out into a smile right away, though her eyes were clouded with something India couldn’t quite put her finger on. Fear, perhaps. “Oh, yes. Anita Quinn. Actually, she and Rodney are in the lounge taking drinks with another visitor. I saw them pass through around 15 minutes ago. Would you like me to show you where they are?”
“Yes, please,” India said. “Or just give us directions, if it’s easier.”
“I’ll take you,” Victoria insisted. “Just one moment please, sir, ma’am.” She disappeared through a door into a back room and returned with a young man, who took up her place at the desk. She flashed India and Xavier a ridiculously happy smile, like she had just won the lottery. India couldn’t stand phony customer service. “Please, right this way.”
They walked down a polished corridor and up a flight of stairs into quite a spectacular lounge, each outside wall almost completely taken up with huge panes of glass, affording a view of the sea as it lapped up on the beach in the distance. Three piers jutted out into the sea, boats bobbing alongside them. Every wisp of cloud in the creamy blue sky was visible, as well as sprawling trees and streets full of traditional wooden houses. A gorgeous panorama to glance up at while drinking tea, or getting lost in a good book, India thought. Like so many other places she saw, she filed it away in the back of her mind, in a file named Where I would like to stay with Xavier someday. The room itself was full of dark wood and beige and cream upholstery, and after a quick look around they saw Anita in the corner, with her son Rodney and a redheaded woman.
“There they are,” Victoria said, with way too much excitement in her voice
. “Now, do enjoy your visit, won’t you?”
“Thank you,” Xavier said, trying to sound a little cheerful. He widened his eyes at India, then stepped forward, clearing his throat politely. “Hello there, Mrs Quinn. Rodney.”
Anita stood up. Large black sunshades were hiding most of her delicately boned face, an awkward contrast with her floating yellow tea dress that looked straight out of the 1950s, and was bedecked with a few extra ruffles. “Hello, dear,” she said to Xavier, sounding truly delighted to see him. She gave him a pat on the shoulder and looked down at the cake. “What’s this you have here, then?”
“Something from my mom,” Xavier said, then gestured toward India. “You remember India, don’t you, Mrs Quinn? She was there that evening when… Well, you’ve met before.”
“Of course,” Anita said, looking a little less delighted. Still, she walked forward and held her hand out for India to shake.
“My condolences,” India said. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“Yes,” Anita said, and it sounded like she was trying to stop herself bursting into sobs. “Quite.” She then coughed, and straightened her back. “You’ve met Rodney, of course.”
India tried to rouse a smile but couldn’t quite manage it when she looked at his scowling face, buried in a newspaper. “Hi, Rodney.”
“Good day,” he said, without looking up.
“Aww.” Anita looked at him fondly, like he was a tiny little puppy who didn’t know better than acting up.
“And I’m Rebecca Goddard,” the redheaded lady said confidently, getting to her feet. She had a tight fitting gray skirt suit on, and a cascade of wavy ginger hair, gathered together in a loose braid, fell over her shoulder and past her chest. Her green eyes twinkled and shone in her heart shaped face. Despite her intimidating beauty and air of confidence, there was a shyness about her, just beneath the surface, that India could clearly sense. “I am the project manager up at the house, dealing with the day to day running of the place, and also the expansion for the tourism business. You can call me Becky.”
Anita let out a mournful noise, then stopped herself. After a couple of silent, quite awkward moments, she spoke, her voice more cheerful. “Yes, Becky and my Jim were thick as thieves, always holed up in the study, making their next business plot. She’s like the daughter I never had. Anyway, let’s see what lovely Valerie has sent for me, then.” She sat down and patted the spot next to her on the striped darkwood couch. “Come and sit by me,” she said to Xavier, as if he were a little boy.
India and Xavier both found seats. Becky kept flashing smiles at them, while Rodney didn’t look up once from the paper. He certainly was a strange, hostile guy, India thought. She wondered what thoughts lurked below the surface of his unfriendliness – was he violent, twisted, bitter toward the world? Or perhaps he was sensitive in the extreme, painfully shy, and innocent as a lamb. Without him opening his mouth, there was no way of really knowing, though she could guess all she wanted.
Anita was delighted with the cake, which, thankfully, was intact. It was a beautiful coffee, chocolate and cream affair, with rising peaks and a thick layer of buttery, rich looking frosting.
Rodney looked over and sniffed. “Coffee, is it?”
“And chocolate,” India said with some pride.
“I dislike these flavors,” he said. “I would like carrot cake.”
“It’s exquisite,” Anita said, then burst into tears, sobbing softly into a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket.
Xavier looked at India like a deer caught in the headlights, then in reaction to India’s nodding, began to pat Anita on the back. “There, there, Mrs Quinn,” he said, throwing panicked glances up at India. “There, there.”
Rodney glanced up from his paper for a fleeting moment, then put his head back down. Becky shook her head, then pushed herself forward off her chair and knelt in front of Anita. “Please, you don’t have to be afraid.”
Afraid? India thought. Afraid of what? Living life alone, without her husband?
“But he tried to kill me!” Anita said through thick sobs.
India felt her heartbeat quicken, and she and Xavier looked at each other, eyes wide. “What? What happened?” India said. “Someone tried to kill you? Did you tell the police?”
“Yes,” Becky said. “They’re due to meet us any time now.”
Anita lifted her shades away from her face, to reveal a black eye, and a huge scratch running from her nose to her ear, just below the bruising.
India stifled a gasp. “What happened?”
“I… I got a phone call from an anonymous number last night,” Anita said. “Telling me to come down to the beach, or they would kill my Rodney. And since Rodney was out at the time, I just believed them.”
“I was taking a walk,” he growled. “Not being kidnapped.”
“Yes, dear, I know,” Anita said gently. Then her voice became tearful again. “So I left the hotel in the evening and went to the designated place, which was quite secluded, and—”
“You could have been killed!” Xavier said, shocked.
“I know, I know,” she replied mournfully. “And I think I nearly was. A man, dressed all in black, grabbed me from behind, and tried to drag me into a thickly overgrown area. Luckily I had studied some jeet kune do a few years ago, on Jim’s request. Her voice cracked. “It was like… It was like he was protecting me from beyond the grave.” She then sat up straight and tried to recover herself. “I was able to wiggle out of his grip, and scream and scream. Then as a couple came over to my rescue, he punched me in the face and ran.”
“Goodness,” India said. “How terrifying.”
“Yes.” Anita crossed her hands over her lap. “And now, since my darling boy is beside me, it seems quite safe to report it to the police. But… I can’t help wondering if there’s a red dot on my forehead all the time.”
India nodded. “Who do you think would want to kill you, Mrs Quinn?”
“Someone who wanted to get their final revenge on my Jim,” she said immediately. “Jim was a wonderful man, a strong character.”
Becky chuckled. “He certainly was. Didn’t take any prisoners.”
“He knew what he wanted, and he took it,” Anita said. “Didn’t wait for permission, didn’t pay any mind to who already had it, or his competition, or the people around him. This was a wonderful trait, but many people were left with a sour taste in their mouths.”
“The losers of life,” Becky said.
India felt an instant disliking to Becky the moment she said that, but tried not to let it influence her. “Like who?”
Anita looked at her darkly. “Far too many to name, I’m afraid. Though I’m sure Xavier has told you some of the history between his father and my… late husband.”
“Not at all,” India said.
Xavier shook his head. “I don’t really know much about it. I was only a little boy when it happened.”
“Well,” Anita said, “it’s certainly not my story to tell, and I am no gossip.” Her voice cracked again. “I’m so sorry to keep crying all over you like this, but, well, when we found out Jim had cancer, we said we were going to fight it together, and he would be fighting fit within a few months. And we did. And he was. In total remission. And then, when the coast seems clear, he is murdered. Life… Life just… Life is totally and completely unfair.”
“Oh,” Xavier said, patting her shoulder again. “I didn’t know.”
“Having a little pow-wow, are we?” a nasty voice said from above them. They turned and looked up to see Detective Morgan with his hands on his hips, his face curved into a not so friendly smile.
CHAPTER 6
“So who is this mystery attacker?” India said, piping the bright pink raspberry frosting on the top of the vanilla cupcake. She’d gotten a lot better at it since she had first arrived, and it formed into a perfect wispy mountain peak, with a satisfying point right at the top.
Xavier had an apron on, too, and was hel
ping knead dough for a braided loaf order Denise was fulfilling for a local church. “Well, we know it’s a man, for one thing. So, out of all the men around here, it could be Maurice, Eric, my dad, Joey, or I guess Rodney himself.”
“Or you,” India said with a grin, getting started on the next cupcake. “Now I understand why we’ve come across so many murders.”
Nadine looked up from where she was folding pastry over a baked apple filling and said casually, “Oh yes, he’s quite the killer.”
“I’m inclined to believe Maurice,” Xavier said, “but even so, he’s the one we have with the evidence of being in there. He could just be lying through his teeth.”
India nodded. “It’s hard to tell. I know of course it’s not your dad, but what was that thing Anita mentioned? I know you said you don’t know, Zave. Do you, Nadine? Something about a feud between your dad and Jim Quinn?”
Nadine looked bemused. “Nope. We should ask mom when she gets back.” Valerie and Demetria were out in the car delivering a monster batch of chocolate chip cookies for a local school’s Easter party.
India’s phone buzzed in her pocket, which surprised her. The truth was, she was no social butterfly, especially since she’d moved to Benton Point. Back in her small Wisconsin town, most everyone knew her through school, or from the café where she used to work, but she had never been the type to revel in attention or parties. Curling up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate milk sounded much more like a good time. She kept a small circle, and liked it that way. So usually whenever her phone rang it was her parents calling for a catch up, Amy, ready to chatter away about this or that, or invite her to a catering job, or Xavier.
She slipped the phone out of her pocket and was astounded to see when the screen read Luis. That certainly never had happened before. “Just a minute guys, I’m gonna take this outside.” She flashed them a smile, then hurried out, wiping her hands on the apron.
