by Teri Barnett
The examiner pulled the sheet back.
Her worst fears realized in that instant.
Single gunshot wound to the chest.
He would’ve died instantly, felt nothing.
She crumpled to the ground, feeling everything. “Ian!” she screamed.
I’m here. The strong arms enveloped her, held her tight.
“Don’t leave me,” Morgan murmured, wrapping her arms around him.
I’m sorry. I wish I could stay, but I can’t.
“No. Please.”
You have to let me go. It’s time. I love you, Fay…
“I love you, too—" Morgan’s eyes flew open, her arms tightly gripping her pillow, her legs tangled in the sheets. She sat upright, disoriented. Looked around her bedroom, her eye caught the clock. 3 a.m. She shoved her choppy brown hair out of her eyes.
So real. So close.
Griselda, her black cat, was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching her.
“C’mere Gris,” Morgan patted her leg and the large feline climbed into her lap. Morgan had adopted the Maine Coon after the cat’s fortune telling owner was murdered a couple of months ago. Gris placed a paw on her hand and began purring. Morgan took a steadying breath, cradled Gris close, and lay back down. A single tear ran down her cheek.
“How am I supposed to let him go when his murderer is still out there?” Morgan whispered into the cat’s soft fur.
Gris mewed.
Morgan sighed and settled back under the covers of her bed in the cozy beachside cottage she inherited from her mom, Billie. Gris curled up tighter beside her.
I came back to Bijoux to get away from a stressful and complicated life and now I’ve gone and stepped into another one.
Her return to her hometown, and taking on the position of police captain, was supposed to be easy, relaxing, a chance for Morgan to unwind from her time as a homicide detective in Detroit. And a way to try to let go of the pain of Ian’s death. Hardly anything ever happened in Bijoux. Then, on her first day on the job, a murder. Three more followed over the summer. The first ones Bijoux had seen in almost a hundred years and they were happening on her watch.
Unacceptable.
Dreams. Nightmares. They were all the same, whether she slept or didn’t sleep. She was tired. Exhausted. Most nights spent tossing and turning, intent on solving the cases in front of her. Intent on solving Ian’s murder from five years ago. Her husband had been working undercover. The investigative officers declared it a drug deal gone bad.
Morgan had other ideas.
“I will not let go, Ian,” she whispered as her eyelids grew heavy once more. “Not until I find your killer.”
“Whoa, Cap’n,” JJ said as she walked into the station. Jeremy Jones, aka JJ, the solid, six-foot-four, red-headed deputy was leaning against the worn oak front counter, talking to his girlfriend, Hannah Bellamy of Hannah’s Heavenly Confections, also a red-head but almost a foot shorter.
“What?” Morgan’s eyes narrowed, daring him to speak.
JJ held up his hands. “Nothing. You just look like you’ve been wrestling Griselda.” He grimaced. “And Gris won.”
Morgan took a sip from the to-go cup of rich, black coffee she’d picked up at Dave’s Deli on the way to work. Jerome, the ever opinionated waiter, had commented about her appearance, too, only he went into great detail about the puffiness around her eyes and possible remedies.
“What you look like is you could use one of these.” Hannah opened the magenta and green polka dot box sitting on the counter and pulled out a cupcake. “Triple Mochaccino.” She smiled as she handed the work of culinary art to Morgan. “Dark chocolate cake, whipped milk chocolate frosting, coffee crème center. And vanilla sprinkles.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Morgan closed her eyes and all but purred as she inhaled the deep chocolate and coffee scent in her hand. She peeled back a bit of the delicate turquoise blue paper and took a bite of cake and frosting. Just the perfect amount of each. “Hannah, would you like to be my new deputy?” Morgan looked over at JJ. “There’s going to be an opening for that position very soon.” She took another small bite. “You will, of course, have to bring these in every day.”
Hannah laughed. “Thanks, but I have my hands full with the bakery.”
“Seriously, Cap’n,” JJ said. “Are you all right? Because you don’t look all right.”
Morgan paused mid bite and stared at him over the top of the cupcake. “Do you have a death wish today?”
“Who has a death wish?” Caleb Joseph asked as he walked into the station. The tall, dark-haired owner of The Raven’s Nest Bookstore, former U of M lit professor, and best-selling gothic romance writer (under a nom de plume), flashed a grin. “And should I be worried?”
“It’s not always about you, Cal.” Morgan glanced over at him, noticed he was wearing jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt today, the sleeves rolled above his elbows. Interesting. He never dressed down. Plus, there seemed to be a new raven tattoo on his left forearm. Huh.
Cal glanced back, then stopped and looked her up and down. “Damn, Morgan. I know it’s been challenging with those murder cases since you got here, but you probably should try to look, well….”
She scowled at him. “Look like what, exactly?”
“Less like the cat won?” he offered.
“That’s exactly what I said!” JJ grinned.
“What is wrong with you people?” She looked down at herself. Okay, maybe her blue and khaki uniform wasn’t as pressed as it could be and maybe she had a lot of cat hair on her and maybe her sleep was riddled with nightmares lately. But that didn’t mean anything. She sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “I’m fine. Why do you guys insist on getting into my business? I promise, I’ll tell you if I need help.”
“No, you won’t,” Cal countered. “That’s not who you are, Captain Morgan.”
Morgan shrugged and took another bite of the cupcake. There. That made everything better.
“You’re eating it wrong,” Cal said.
Morgan swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Everyone knows you eat a cupcake from the bottom up. Save the frosting and sprinkles for last.” Cal looked at Hannah. “Am I mistaken?”
Hannah shook her head. “I am not getting in the middle of this argument.”
“JJ?”
“Actually, you’d be wrong there, Cal.” He picked up a cupcake. “Being the stuffy professor you are, I can see why you’d think starting with the cake is better, since that’s boring. The truth is, you dive headfirst into the icing, then top it off with the cake and a glass of ice-cold milk.” He took a giant bite, leaving frosting on both sides of his mouth. Hannah giggled and handed him a napkin.
“You’re both ridiculous,” Morgan interjected. “You eat them simultaneously. That way you get the best of both worlds, all at the same time.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you two. And I mean that on a lot of levels.”
“Well, you’ll have the opportunity to ask the cupcake queen herself the best way to eat one of these this week,” Cal said, holding up his cupcake.
“Hannah has already refused to participate in this discussion,” Morgan said around another bite, washing it down with a sip of coffee.
Hannah laughed. “While I appreciate you think I’m the queen, there’s only one true cupcake queen and that’d be Sassy McComas. Queen Sass she’s called. Founder of Queenie’s Loquacious Cakes. She’s from the UK but made her baking name here in the states.” Hannah clapped her hands together. “She’s my idol. I’m so excited she’s bringing her Baking Network Cupcake Competition to town!”
“That’s this week?” Morgan asked. It wasn’t like her to forget something as important as an event that would bring hundreds of outsiders to Bijoux. Potential trouble for her small town, especially considering death seemed to go along with every event Cal organized. She really needed to get herself together. She looked over at Cal, saw the worry on his face, in h
is eyes, decided to ignore it.
“You do remember Hannah won that contest to host the bake-off, right?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. Tell me, does that have anything to do with why you’re dressed like a lumberjack?”
“Ah, deflecting. This I can deal with. Yes, it’s why I’m casually dressed. I’m helping to get things set up at the community center. We’ve enlisted some of the high school art kids, too. They’re painting a mural of giant confections on one side of the building. Dancing cakes and things.” He paused. “No porn star mustaches, though. I was pretty clear that was a no-go.”
Morgan snorted. Her first day back, besides dealing with the murder of a famous romance writer, found her and JJ investigating a graffiti ‘artist’ who was going around painting giant Tom Selleck-esque mustaches on everything. “And you thought you’d dress like them? Dude, you look like one of the Village People.”
Cal carefully placed his cupcake on the counter, stepped to the center of the space, did a spin followed by formation of the Y M C A letters with his arms. He walked back over and continued eating his cupcake. From the bottom up.
JJ whistled. “I did not see that coming.”
“No one did, JJ.” Morgan just stared at Cal. “No one did.”
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