Bell, Book & Candlemas

by Jennifer David Hesse

  I shuddered involuntarily. Who could have been so heartless?

  “You could be right,” Wes said. “Don’t you want to go to the police with this information?”

  “This is all conjecture right now. Still, I’ll stop by and see Detective Rhinehardt on Monday morning. In the meantime, I can’t help but wonder if there’s an entrance to a tunnel from the Cadwelle Mansion speakeasy.”

  I had already called Mila to see if she could meet me at her shop so we could scan the walls there for a hidden opening. Unfortunately, she was on her way out the door when I called. Her husband had insisted on taking her for an overnight getaway to help her forget her worries, at least for a little while. Under the circumstances, that sounded like an excellent idea to me, for Mila’s sake. While it made me nervous to think the killer might be using a tunnel to enter the shop, my search of Moonstone would have to wait.

  “I’ll help you,” Wes said. “If I can do anything to help track down Charlie’s killer, I’m in.”

  “Thanks, Wes. That would be great.”

  “There’s just one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s my assignment,” he said, with a teasing note in his voice. “I’m afraid sharing a room with you will be too distracting. How am I going to keep my mind on my job?”

  I felt a rising blush heat my face as I smiled into the phone. “I guess you’ll just have to figure out a way.”

  Chapter 21

  The minute I arrived home after work, I dashed around like a madwoman. I showered, fretted over what to pack in my small overnight bag, and tried on four different outfits before settling on a simple black jersey dress. I couldn’t believe I was really doing this. Though, whether my nervous excitement was more about spending the night with Wes in a romantic B&B or surreptitiously searching the mansion, I wasn’t quite sure.

  “I wish you could come with me,” I said to Farrah when I called her after I finished getting ready.

  “Yeah, right,” she said. “You’ve got lover boy to play Ned to your Nancy. You don’t need me.”

  I laughed as I peered out the front window to watch for Wes’s car.

  “I do wish I could be there to help you snoop, though,” Farrah said. “I found out the tunnel to the county jail was built in 1920, a year after Prohibition began. If somebody wanted to ‘smuggle them some moonshine,’ having a tunnel already started would have been mighty convenient.”

  “I take it official records didn’t show an underground passageway beyond the courthouse and the park.”

  “No. Not that I could find. I’ll make some phone calls on Monday to try to ‘dig up’ some more info. I still need to research the title chains for those downtown businesses, too.”

  I saw Wes pull up, so I told Farrah good-bye. I stepped outside into the chilly evening air and locked the door behind me.

  On the way to the B&B, Wes told me he and Sheana would be receiving a private tour of the mansion and then attending the mystery dinner. “Mrs. Thomison told me that you’re more than welcome to join us for the tour, and stay the night and have breakfast in the morning, but that the mystery dinner is sold out. She said she would make you a plate of food to eat in our room. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said. “That’s fine. I’ve already seen the show.” I wasn’t too concerned about Wes feeling like he was on a date with Sheana. I knew he’d be on his feet taking pictures during most of the performance.

  After I got a look at Sheana in the mansion’s parlor, however, I wondered if I should be worried after all. With her peekaboo hairstyle and low-cut, form-fitting ruby gown, she looked like she could be one of the evening’s performers. Wes, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, raised his eyebrows when he spotted her. “Did I miss the memo? No one told me this was a black-tie affair.”

  Sheana laughed and hung her head. “I thought it was going to be an audience participation kind of thing. I figured everyone would be in costume. Marco just set me straight.”

  I glanced over at Marco, standing by the fireplace and holding a tumbler of bourbon on the rocks. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes sparkled with glee. He looked like he was trying to hold back his laughter. “You look fine to me, honey,” he said.

  Wes furrowed his brow as he held back a smile, too. “You look like a 1940s film star. Isn’t this play set in the 1920s?”

  Sheana turned red, so I elbowed Wes. “Don’t be mean,” I said. “There’s no shame in being overdressed. So what if you’ve got the nicest outfit in the room? It’s far worse to be underdressed.”

  “Sorry,” said Wes, looking duly humbled. He took his camera out of its case and fiddled with the lens.

  Sheana gave me a grateful look and introduced herself. “Wes has told me so much about you.”

  He has? For some reason this surprised me.

  “If we have time later, I’d love to ask you some questions about last Sunday night. I know finding that body must have been upsetting. I’m working on a follow-up story focusing on the psychic shop. I’d love to have a firsthand account of what you saw.”

  She pulled a tape recorder out of her sequined clutch as if she were ready to start recording my comments that instant.

  “We’ll see,” I said noncommittally.

  A man dressed as a bellhop entered the room to gather our bags and take them upstairs. I didn’t recognize him from last week’s tour. I wondered if he was a new actor or if he was an actual servant. I glanced over at Marco, who wasn’t paying any attention to the bellhop. Instead, he was refilling his drink.

  “Ready for the tour, folks?” Marco asked. “Danielle is overseeing things in the kitchen, but she may join us in a bit.”

  Marco began his spiel about the history of the mansion and pointed out various antiques he had acquired. Sheana held her recorder up and asked questions while we walked through the downstairs rooms. Wes trailed behind us, snapping pictures along the way.

  When we entered the library, Yvette was reading in an easy chair. She jumped at the sound of Marco’s voice and dropped her book. I was nearest to her so I leaned over to retrieve it, but she snatched it up first. She tucked the book beside her in the crevice of the chair before I could see the title.

  “Where did you get all the books?” Sheana asked Marco. She pointed to a wall of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with an assortment of titles.

  “We purchased some from secondhand stores, but many were donated. Like these here,” he said, kicking a cardboard box on the floor. “I’m not sure what to do with these.”

  “Are those Bibles?” I asked, glancing down at the blue paperbacks in the open box.

  “Yeah.” Marco snorted. “The good Reverend Natty brought them by the other day.”

  “You mean Reverend Nutty,” said Danielle, entering the room in a rush. She wrinkled her forehead and bit her lip. “That man gives me the willies. I came downstairs yesterday morning and found him wandering around the house. He scared me half to death.”

  “You don’t lock the doors?” I asked.

  “Overnight we do. But in the daytime, guests are always coming and going.” Danielle turned to Marco and frowned. “We may have to do something about that.”

  Marco took a sip of his drink and tugged playfully on the frilly apron Danielle wore over a burgundy silk dress. “Don’t let the reverend get to you, dear. I’m sure he’s harmless.”

  Danielle looked down at her apron and winced. She untied it, slipped it off, and folded it over her arm. “The dinner guests will be arriving soon. So, if you’ll all excuse me . . . ” She hurried out of the room.

  “All right,” said Marco. “Let’s continue the tour upstairs. I’ll show you the two rooms you all will be staying in. The other bedrooms are occupied.”

  “What about the speakeasy?” I asked. “I bet Sheana and Wes would like to see it.”

  “That’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning,” he said. “We have a private party down there tonight.”

  “O
h, that’s right.” I glanced at Yvette, who hadn’t moved from her seat. “I heard Tish booked the space.”

  “Yep,” said Marco, heading for the door. “She’s trying to impress some muckety-muck investors and convince them to come to Edindale.” Marco winked at me. “See how the Cadwelle Mansion is benefiting the town already?”

  Sheana, Wes, and I followed Marco out of the library and toward the grand staircase in the front hall. Marco and Sheana were already on their way up the steps when the door to the dining room opened and Crenshaw emerged. He stopped short when he saw me and straightened the vest on his butler costume.

  “Why, Mademoiselle Milanni! You decided to see my performance a second time? I’m flattered.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Wes looked curiously from Crenshaw to me.

  “Hello, Crenshaw,” I said. “That’s actually not why I’m here. I’m just . . . having a tour with Wes here.”

  Crenshaw narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly as he stared at Wes. In turn, Wes raised his eyebrows.

  Ugh. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Wes, this is my coworker, Crenshaw Davenport. Crenshaw, this is Wes Callahan.”

  I sensed Wes tense up beside me, so I quickly added, “My boyfriend.”

  Crenshaw abruptly stuck out his hand, and Wes clasped it. It might have been my imagination, but they each appeared to be putting quite a bit of muscle into the handshake.

  “Wes!” called Sheana from upstairs. “Come up here and see this furniture! We need pictures of this.”

  “Excuse us,” I said to Crenshaw, while Wes gave him a curt nod. We proceeded up to the second floor, where we found Marco standing in the hallway reading something on his cell phone. Sheana was perched on a windowsill, scribbling in her notebook.

  Marco looked up. “As I was telling Miss Sheana, we have four guest rooms on this floor. These two here are for you all.” He indicated the nearest two rooms, one on each side of the hallway, their doors ajar. “The third floor is where Danielle and I stay, so we ask folks not to wander up there. We have one more nice guest room in the carriage house next door by the vineyard. It’s occupied, too, but Danielle can show you pictures.”

  I peeked into the bedroom called the “Sunflower Room,” which was decorated in an abundance of yellow and white. There was a suitcase sitting on top of a cedar chest, so I figured Sheana must have claimed this room. I turned to the other room. According to a sign on the door, this was the “Rose Petal Room.”

  Although I had seen the rooms during last week’s tour, I was struck anew by all the romantic elements. From the whitewashed stone fireplace and rose trellis wallpaper to the heavily pillowed four-poster bed draped with a red and white quilt, and the crystal vase of pink rosebuds, the room could have been called the honeymoon suite.

  I looked around as Wes took pictures and Marco described the antique furniture. After a few minutes, Wes asked Marco how soon the show would be starting.

  Marco glanced at his phone. “We’ll start serving cocktails right about now. Show starts in twenty.”

  Sheana stood up. “I’m going to go down and interview the guests. I want to find out where they’re from and make sure some of them will stick around afterward to give me a quote.”

  “I’ll be down in a few,” Wes told her.

  Marco led Sheana down the back staircase. Wes joined me in the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him.

  “I’m sorry you can’t come to the dinner,” he said, setting his camera on the bureau. “I feel bad about that.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “That’s not why I’m here, remember?”

  Wes drew near me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I know,” he said, reaching for my hands. “You’re here to play detective.”

  My heartbeat quickened at his touch. “That’s right,” I said. I looked into his eyes and recalled what Mila had said during my palm reading. Was I here to stake my territory as well?

  Wes leaned in and lightly kissed my lips. Impulsively, I pulled my fingers from his and encircled his shoulders. At the same time, we deepened the kiss, and I felt Wes’s hands move up my back. I had a fleeting thought that maybe he would skip the dinner.

  He pulled back and gently touched the side of my face. “What did I tell you? Here you are distracting me from my job.”

  I smiled and lifted one shoulder. He kissed me once again, then stroked my hair and played with the necklace at the back of my neck. He playfully pulled the necklace chain outside the collar of my dress.

  It was my pentagram. I wore the necklace to work and forgot to remove it in my rush to get ready for the evening.

  “What’s this?” Wes touched the pendant. “A good luck charm?”

  “You could say that,” I said, taking a step back. I turned around, afraid he would see the apprehension I suddenly felt.

  “I’ve seen that symbol,” Wes said. “What does it mean?”

  Without answering, I walked over to the window and looked outside.

  “Keli?” Wes came up behind me and put a hand on my arm.

  I’m not going to lie. This is who I am.

  I swallowed. “It means a lot of things. The five lines represent the five ancient elements: earth, air, fire, water, and spirit. The circle around the star represents infinity. Together, the continuous line symbolizes life, spirituality, and protection.”

  I turned around to gauge Wes’s reaction. He seemed slightly puzzled, but interested. “Isn’t this symbol used in New Age religions?” His eyes moved from the pentagram to meet my gaze. “Does it represent your religion?”

  Slowly, I nodded. Then I set my jaw.

  “Yes. It does. I’m . . . a Wiccan. I keep this part of my life private, because it’s a misunderstood religion. But this is the spiritual path I follow.”

  Now that I had begun, I felt the need to explain. “I try to live my life in tune with the natural rhythms of the earth,” I continued. “I believe the divine is within us and all around us, and it manifests in nature—in the trees, the wind, the plants and animals.” I took a step back. “But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Moving around Wes, I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. I trembled slightly and needed to feel grounded to the earth.

  This is so not what I planned for this evening.

  Wes came over and sat down next to me. “Why didn’t you tell me before? What do you mean I ‘wouldn’t know anything about that’?”

  I looked up. “You’re agnostic, right? A cynic? A doubter?”

  Wes scoffed. “So? Just because I question things doesn’t mean I can’t be sympathetic. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna dismiss people who do believe.”

  “But how can you not believe in anything?” I said, my voice rising. “How can you look around at the amazing, exquisite planet that supports all life and still doubt the existence of God? I just don’t understand that. It seems closed-minded.”

  He frowned. “Look,” he said, “maybe there is a God. I’m not saying there’s not. I just don’t happen to believe we can know for sure. There’s no proof.”

  I started to argue but caught myself. What was I doing? How could I judge him? I knew my path wasn’t for everyone. I looked down at my hands, before looking up to search his face.

  “So . . . you don’t mind that I’m Wiccan? You don’t think I’m weird?”

  “No, I don’t think you’re weird.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “This doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love that you’re unique. I love that you’re true to yourself and that you’ve shared this part of yourself with me.”

  Feeling a rush of relief, I let out my breath. I also felt a surge of affection for Wes and wanted to wrap myself in his arms. Then his cell phone buzzed.

  He pulled out his phone and opened the text. “It’s Sheana. The show’s about to start.” I nodded and sighed.

  “We’ll talk more when I get back,” he said, standing up and grabbing his camera. “I can�
�t wait to hear all about your religion.”

  * * *

  After Wes left, I wandered around the cozy “Rose Petal Room” in something of a daze. I hadn’t intended to reveal my secret tonight. I was so accustomed to holding fast to the truth that I was left feeling a little unmoored for having let it go.

  Yet I trusted Wes. I had almost opened up to him back when we first started dating last summer. I was sure he would keep my secret. Wouldn’t he?

  I halted in front of the mirror above the bureau and looked at my reflection. “Stop dwelling,” I commanded.

  I lifted the pentagram and dropped it back inside my dress. Then I left the room and quietly descended the back staircase. It was time for some snooping.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I turned toward the kitchen and opened the door a crack. A woman I took to be the caterer was assembling trays of food with the assistance of two uniformed waiters. A heavenly aroma of sautéed onions, garlic, and herbs met my nostrils, causing my mouth to water.

  Guess Danielle forgot about making me a plate.

  I remembered seeing a fruit bowl in the parlor, so I headed there next. Entering the room, I flicked on the light switch and looked around. Everything was neat and tidy, except Marco had left the liquor cabinet open. For a second, I considered making myself a drink, but then I thought better of it. I needed to keep my wits about me.

  I settled for a banana from the fruit bowl and polished it off as I sauntered through the parlor and over to the library. Yvette was gone.

  What had she been reading?

  Strolling past the bookshelves, I perused some of the titles and tried to determine whether any books might have been moved recently. It was impossible to tell.

  When I turned around to take one last sweeping glance around the room, my eyes fell upon a stack of brochures on the coffee table. I didn’t recall seeing them before. I picked one up and read the cover: Live Your Life According to the Bible. A Publication of the First Church of the New Believers.

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. I looked around the quiet room once again. Were these brochures here all along? I wished I knew for sure. I didn’t like to think Reverend Natty might be lurking somewhere in the shadows.