Pressing the Issue

by Daryl Wood Gerber

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen that before. I mean, I’ve seen the type—in sales magazines—but I’ve never purchased any. They’re quite expensive. Maybe it’s one of Dolly’s. She goes overboard around Ren Fair time.” She let out a dismissive cough. “Truth be told, she wants to outdo me at every turn. She’s the sole vendor that makes wreaths and garlands, and yet her competitive spirit rises up whenever it comes to crafts. Where did you see it?”

  Rhett flicked me with his finger to keep the secret.

  I threw him a look indicating I understood and said, “On the floor at a friend’s house.”

  “It’s very pretty. You know . . .” She didn’t continue.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Pepper fidgeted, like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t.

  Rhett wrapped an arm around me. “Hate to cut this short, ladies, but Jenna, we have to eat if I’m going to return to work on time.”

  “Fie on your shorthanded staffing issues,” I jibed.

  “I heard the food at Mum’s the Word is scrumptious this week,” Pepper offered. “They’re serving shepherd’s pie.”

  Thanks to her suggestion, Nick and I popped into the Word for a quick bite. The fair-themed menu didn’t disappoint. In addition to shepherd’s pie, they were offering beef stew in a bread bowl, Scotch eggs, and more. We ate at the counter—all the booths were occupied—and opted for the shepherd’s pie and glasses of sparkling water.

  As we waited for our meals, Rhett said, “Jenna, I hate that you’re dealing with this again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A friend dying. Seeing another body. Knowing you as I do”—he traced a fingertip along my knuckles—“you’re going to get involved, aren’t you?”

  “No, I—”

  “You asked the mayor about Melody.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And you showed that photograph to Pepper. You saw the bead on Nick’s verandah, didn’t you? Alan’s crow picked it up.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re curious. I get it. But, sweetheart—”

  “I’m heartbroken and Bailey is suffering, too. She bonded with Nick over the last month while making wedding plans. She needs closure. And don’t even talk about my aunt. She’s distraught. She’s known the Baldinis for years.”

  “Cinnamon will get closure. For all of you. She’s the best there is.” Rhett and Cinnamon had been involved years ago. Their relationship ended when she began investigating the arson at the Grotto. Once Rhett was proven innocent, they became friends again. “All I’m saying is don’t put yourself in harm’s way. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I . . .” He hesitated. “I love you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. In a good way. This was the first time he’d said the words. “Do you really?” I tipped my head coyly to one side and batted my eyelashes.

  “Indeed, I do, lass.”

  “Well, I love you, lad.” It was the first time I’d said the words aloud, too, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t say them playfully. “And I promise I’ll be mindful.”

  He kissed my cheek, his lips lingering a few extra seconds. “Thank you.”

  We ate our meal in silent companionship. After paying, he said, “I’m sorry I’ve got to run.”

  He rose and held out a hand. I grasped it and clambered to my feet. Outside Mum’s the Word, he kissed me purposefully on the lips and sped away.

  Because I still had a few minutes before I needed to get back to the Cookbook Nook, I decided that Maid Marian should have a wreath for her hair. I hadn’t purchased one yet, and I had promised Dolly that I would.

  I entered Thistle Thy Fancy and said, “Hi-ho, Dolly.”

  Dolly was hunched over the do-it-yourself table giving tips to three avid customers. She glimpsed me, and I noticed her eyes were puffy, as if she’d had a good cry. She held up a finger to signify she’d be a minute. I gave her the don’t-worry-about-me sign and sauntered to a pegged wall that displayed at least two dozen wreaths. I fingered one made with multicolored silk daisies, baby’s breath, and fake ivy.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?” a man with a melodious voice said.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Sean Beaufort was standing behind me.

  “What are you doing here?” I peeked past him for Melody but didn’t see her.

  “Buying a wreath for my wife. She refuses to spend money on herself. But with her features and hair . . .”

  “She’s quite pretty.”

  “The fairest maiden of them all.”

  “Sean”—Dolly inserted herself between us, the satin folds of her forest green gown swishing noisily—“you’re biased beyond belief.” She plucked the wreath I was interested in from its peg.

  “And why not? I’m madly in love.”

  “She is indeed the fairest of them all,” Dolly said. “Even I’ll admit that.”

  He returned to browsing the wares, and Dolly handed me the wreath. “Try it, Jenna. It suits you.”

  I positioned the wreath on my head. As she adjusted it, I said gently, “I’m sure you’ve heard about Nick.”

  “Mm-hm.” Her voice quavered.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “You know me.” Her eyes glistened with moisture. “All grit and spit. The show must go on, right? Nick would want it that way.”

  Sean brandished a green crystal wreath made of vines and sea-green beads, one that would be perfect for a woodlands bride. “I like this one.”

  “Not for me.” I shook my head. “I prefer flowers.”

  “No, I meant for my wife. She loves sea-green.”

  “I love anything green, too,” Dolly chimed. “Green eyes, green gown.” She dragged her hand along the bodice of her dress and performed a slight curtsy. “That wreath is one of my favorites, Sean. The beading is so delicate. I nearly went blind completing it.”

  Dolly’s quip about the beading made me recall my conversation with Pepper. She had suggested that Dolly might sell the kind of bead the crow had stolen. “Dolly, I don’t see a lot of beads around.” I swiveled to take in the entire stock. “I spy some on the do-it-yourself table. Where are you keeping the rest?”

  “They’re hidden. They’re the first things the varmints around here steal. Want to see my stash?”

  I pressed my lips together, remembering what Rhett had said to me—I should let the police do their job—but I truly believed the bead had some significance. Granted, it was a long shot, but if I learned something, I could share my findings with Cinnamon. I clicked the photograph icon on my cell phone and showed the snapshot to Dolly. “Do you sell this one?”

  “I used to. They’re very expensive. I sold my last set to Hannah Storm. Is that Nick’s patio?”

  I nodded.

  Sean sniffed. “Hannah.”

  “You don’t like her?” I asked.

  “I didn’t say that. I . . .” He worked his tongue inside his cheek.

  “Go on,” Dolly encouraged him. “It’s not healthy to keep negative feelings inside. Believe me, I know.”

  “It has nothing to do with me, but”—Sean folded his arms across his chest—“I saw her arguing with that guy that was killed. Nick Baldini.”

  “Where were they?” Dolly inclined her head.

  “Between booths. Out of sight of the mainstream crowds. I’d gone to buy a coffee and was taking a cut-through to our stall.”

  “What were they fighting about?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. I heard Hannah say, ‘Leave me alone.’ Her tone was sharp. I peeked around the booth. Baldini was gripping her shoulder.” Sean aimed a finger at me. “Come to think of it, she was wearing a necklace of those beads. She knocked his hand away and said, ‘Stop.’”

  “Was Nick making a pass at her?”

  “No . . . I don’t know. She said, ‘You owe me,’ and he said, ‘Do not.’ She said something else that I couldn’t make out, about water. They separated, so I didn’t think anything more about it.” Sean rubbed his ch
in. “Gee, you don’t think she had something to do with his death, do you? If you found the bead on his patio . . .”

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to think. How many people had Nick argued with over the last few days? Had pretending to be the king gone to his head? An off-the-wall notion struck me. Bailey had teased Nick about Hannah being the woman he loved. Except Nick said the woman wasn’t free. Was Hannah in a committed relationship? I didn’t think so, but I could be mistaken. I didn’t know everyone’s comings and goings. Had she fallen for Nick, too? You owe me, she said. Were they quarreling over how long it was taking him to break it off with Dolly and how he owed her resolution? No, he had ended that relationship days ago. Maybe You owe me meant Hannah had refused his advances and she deserved his respect.

  Sean resumed his search for a wreath.

  “Dolly.” I spun around to question her, but she had drifted away and was straightening ribbons on a rack.

  She glanced furtively at me over her shoulder. What was up with that? A horrible notion flew into my head. Maybe she went to Nick’s place, enraged that he had ended it, and hit him with the winepress, and then she planted the bead to throw suspicion on Hannah. She just said to Sean that it wasn’t healthy to keep negative feelings inside. Had she let hers goad her into action? No, that didn’t make sense. Dolly had been in love with Nick; Hannah would have been her target.

  Pummel the competition, my boss at Taylor & Squibb used to say. I didn’t agree, but he had made it his mantra.

  “Dolly,” I repeated.

  She didn’t glance my way.

  I plucked the wreath from my head and strode toward her. “Dolly, I’d like to purchase this.”

  In an overly theatrical way, she clapped a hand to her chest and said, “Were you calling me?”

  Hmph. She knew I had been.

  She took the wreath from me and sashayed to the cash register. “You’ve made a good choice. This will look lovely on you.” She rang up the purchase.

  I handed her cash. “May I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Following your workshop yesterday—”

  “Jenna, I can’t believe Nick is dead,” she blurted, tears spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks. “What will I do without him?” She whisked a tissue from a Kleenex box beside the register and dabbed her eyes. “It’s so unreal. So unfair.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “We could have patched things up. I know we could have. Deep down, he loved me.”

  “I’m sure he did.” I reached across the sales counter and petted her shoulder. “Um, after you left the shop yesterday, did you—”

  “Kill him? You can’t possibly believe I had anything to do with his murder.”

  I shook my head, unwilling to say the theory had flitted through my mind. “I was going to ask if you reached out to him or talked to him after you left your workshop. You ran off in such haste.”

  “I went straight home to make some wreaths.”

  I cocked my head as I replayed the event in my mind. She had abandoned the workshop simply to do more crafts? Why didn’t I believe her?

  As if reading my mind, she hastened to add, “I’d completely sold out.”

  “You should tell the police.”

  “Why? Do they think that I could have . . . that I would have . . . ?” She chewed her lower lip.

  “They might.”

  “I didn’t kill him, Jenna. I loved him with all my heart.” She slammed the cash register drawer and handed me my change along with the wreath and three lethal-looking hairpins. With a bite, she added, “Stick those in tight.”

  Chapter 8

  As I left Thistle Thy Fancy, my mind was reeling about my encounter with Dolly. I glanced at the hatpins in my hand. Luckily, she hadn’t had a voodoo doll available. What was she hiding? I couldn’t imagine her hurting Nick. On the other hand, if the story about her taking a baseball bat to a shelf in her shop was true, she had a serious anger issue.

  To ease my anxiety, I headed toward the end of the Pier, where Aunt Vera’s tarot reading stall was located. I didn’t need a reading, but I could sure use a pep talk. Outside her purple tent hung a sign that said it all: Palm Reader/Tarot Reader. Two red palm prints flanked the words. Silk purple bearded iris festooned the signpost. She required a farthing for a reading.

  I stole a look inside. A round table covered with a lavender-colored cloth stood in the center of the room. My aunt sat on one side. A humped-back woman who was dressed like a witch, complete with a bulbous nose and a wart on her chin, sat opposite her. Gracing the rear of the stall were two smaller round tables, each set with lit lavender-scented candles. A battery-operated tea set sat on a narrow rectangular oak table. The aroma of lavender tea was enticing.

  My aunt ended the session and handed the witch a deck of tarot cards.

  The witch gave my aunt a few coins and swept past me. “She’ll do right by you, dearie. Mark my words. My gingerbread cottage will be graced by tasty visitors very soon.” Cackling, she whisked her black cape across her body and scurried out.

  “What a character,” I said as I slipped inside.

  “Indeed she is.”

  “Got a sec?”

  “For you, I have hours.” She met me halfway and clutched my arm. “What’s wrong? If it’s Bailey, I visited with her. She’s going to be fine. She’ll be back at the shop by the time you return.”

  “It’s not Bailey.”

  “Sit. Would you like tea?”

  “No, thanks.” I perched on the antique three-legged stool the witch had vacated. “I went to Thistle Thy Fancy—”

  “I like the wreath. It suits you. Would you like me to put it on you?”

  I handed it and the hatpins to her. “Sure. I don’t have a clue how to do it.”

  She deftly anchored it to my head. “There. Lovely. Now, what ails you, besides the obvious?” She sat opposite me and clasped my hands, her spirit radiating warmth and calm.

  I replayed my conversation with Dolly and shared the feeling that Dolly was hiding something of importance.

  “Don’t read into things.”

  “She’s lying about her alibi. I’m sure of it.”

  “Alibi?” Aunt Vera tsked. “Marlon warned me that you were revved up. He could see it in your eyes.”

  “I’m not revved up. I’m attentive.”

  “Give Dolly time to report to Cinnamon. If she doesn’t, you can tell Cinnamon what you sense. Okay?”

  I nodded and then filled her in on Sean overhearing Nick and Hannah going at it. “How many people did Nick fight with this week? Even the mayor said she and he quarreled.”

  “Nick was a passionate man, dear. Everyone knew that about him. As for Hannah, I’m sure the police will be speaking to her. She’s a neighbor of the Baldinis. The police will want to know whether she heard or saw anything.” She patted my hand. “You take care of Bailey. The rest will work itself out.”

  “Is that your official reading?” I shook free of her grasp.

  “Don’t mock me.”

  “Never.” I kissed her on the cheek and left.

  • • •

  When I returned to the shop, it was overrun with customers. We apparently were having a sale that I hadn’t planned. A sign sitting atop the bestsellers’ table read Buy 2, get 1 free. I approached the sales counter, where Tina was assisting a customer. Her cheeks were as red as her dress. A tinge of perspiration lined her upper lip. Due to the excess of customers, it was hotter than an oven in the shop. I considered kicking on the air-conditioning unit. We rarely used it. Instead, I propped open the front door using a doorstop. A cool breeze wafted in.

  Tina handed the customer one of our pretty bags and turned to me. “Bless you for letting in air, Jenna. I am roasting.”

  “What’s up with the twofer sign?”

  “Your aunt gave me the order. She said it had slipped her mind earlier with all the . . . you know.” Tina swooped a tendril of hair into her bun and secured it with a bob
by pin. “She suggested we have some item on sale every day this week to lure customers. Guess it worked. Some folks are tweeting the sale while they stand in line. And take a look at how many are holding the castle cookie jars.”

  In addition to salt and pepper shakers and aprons and puzzles, we stocked lots of cookie jars. For this week’s specialty, I’d made sure to find the cutest castles I could. My particular favorite was the glazed brown-and-white one with family crests on either side of the drawbridge.

  I said, “If Aunt Vera authorized it, okey doke.” I was the merchandizing whiz. I knew how to decorate the shop and lay out books. My aunt juggled the accounts and knew what we could afford to discount. Our business relationship was a match made in heaven.

  “Bailey’s here, by the way. She’s not in costume, but that’s okay, isn’t it? She’s wearing a really pretty silver dress, espadrilles, and earrings.” Tina wiggled her fingers. “You know how jingly earrings boost her spirits.”

  “It’s fine. Where is she?”

  “She went to the café, but she’ll be right back.”

  I made my way toward the breezeway and ran smack into Bailey exiting. She didn’t see me because she was devouring a delicious-looking morsel.

  “What is that?” I begged. My stomach grumbled.

  “Frozen chocolate cheesecake bites. There’s a raspberry in the middle. Katie is calling them sin-in-a-cup.”

  I licked my lips. “I must have one, but first . . .” I gave Bailey a hug and held her at arm’s length. “How are you?”

  “Okay. Not bad. So-so.” She sighed. “Tito is worried. He’s afraid I’ll cut bait and run.”

  “You won’t, will you?”

  She shook her head. “Are you nuts? I adore that man. Plus, your aunt convinced me to hang tight. I haven’t contacted Tito to let him know that I’m rebounding, but I will after I have two or three more of these.” She brandished the sweet treat and grinned, which thrilled me. Her humor was returning. “Have you heard anything from Cinnamon about Nick’s murder?”