“Is that Trish?” Ashley’s hair whipped from side to side as she glanced between the body and Galen. “Seriously, is that Trish?”
Galen nodded. “That’s her.”
“Well, why aren’t you transporting her to the hospital?” Ashley barked. “Why aren’t you helping her? I mean … she doesn’t look good. I’m going to make sure she knows you just left her there looking like that and she’ll sue you.”
Galen was calm as he slowly got to his feet and moved closer to Ashley. I studied his face for a sign of what he was feeling, but he was ridiculously hard to read. “She’s not going to get better. She’s already gone.”
“What? No.” Ashley furrowed her brow as she studied her friend’s body. “That can’t be right. I … no. You’re wrong! Either this is a dream or you’re wrong!”
“I definitely wish it were a dream,” Galen said. “I also wish I was wrong. But I’m not. Trish is dead. She died sometime tonight, although it will be a little bit before we have an exact time of death. I’m sure you understand why I dragged you here.”
“I … .” Ashley worked her jaw. “You think I did it.”
“I think you and Trish exchanged harsh words this afternoon,” Galen clarified. “I think you two were fighting about something. I want to know what that something was. In fact, I want to know who that someone was you were referring to in the middle of the argument.”
Ashley wasn’t quite ready to give up her secret. “How do you know we were fighting about a guy?”
“Because you kept referring to ‘him’ and ‘he,’” Galen replied without hesitation. “I’m not an idiot. You guys were fighting over a man. I want to know which man … and I also want you to confirm your whereabouts since I last saw you at the bar.”
Ashley was clearly caught off guard by Galen’s matter-of-fact nature. “You think I murdered Trish! I couldn’t. I was angry with her, sure, but I would never kill her.”
“I didn’t say I thought you murdered her.” Galen was careful, remaining calm even as Ashley’s demeanor fired with fury. “I simply want to know who you were fighting over and where you were this evening. We’ll start there.”
“I was here all night,” Ashley snapped. “I was in the beer tent … and maybe outside one of the food trucks for a bit. A bunch of people saw me here. You’re not going to pin this on me.”
“We’ll work hard to confirm your alibi.”
“As for who we were fighting over, it seems stupid now, but … it was Booker.”
The revelation stole my breath. Booker? The same Booker who was hurt when a murdering lawyer kidnapped me? The same Booker who did work around my house? The same Booker who helped me uncover a family secret? That couldn’t be right.
“Not my Booker,” I said automatically, earning a surprised look from Galen.
“Your Booker?”
Uh-oh. I sensed trouble brewing. “You know what I mean,” I said hurriedly. “He helped me.” I swallowed hard. “He got seriously hurt helping me.”
Galen’s expression softened, but only a little. “I understand what you mean. But you have to understand that Booker is much more than that.”
“Much, much more,” Ashley agreed, taking on a dreamy expression.
“Ugh.” Galen rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you and Trish were both spending time with Booker and he didn’t bother to tell either of you he was playing the field. Am I close?”
Ashley returned to reality and shrugged. “He liked me more. Trish simply couldn’t deal with it.”
“Criminy.” Galen pinched the bridge of his nose. “All I wanted was a quiet night with my girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?”
That was a loaded question. “Since when do you refer to me as your girlfriend?”
Whatever bravado remained withered as Galen shook his head. “Of course you would latch on to that one word. I should’ve seen that coming.”
“You definitely should have,” Dave agreed as he passed behind Galen and made a clucking sound with his tongue. “You’ve dated enough women to know that was a stupid thing to say.”
Galen sighed. “Live and learn.”
Live and learn indeed.
5
Five
May was in the kitchen when Galen dropped me off. He wasn’t so distracted by Trish’s murder that he didn’t spend a full five minutes kissing me goodnight, which left me breathless and a little disheveled when I walked into the house.
May looked amused by my flushed cheeks and messy hair. “Hello, dear. How was your date?”
The question caught me off guard, as did the mug of tea that May magically had waiting for me on the counter even though she didn’t have corporeal hands. I was still trying to figure out how she managed to physically move objects. “I … it was okay.”
“Just okay?” May’s expression was speculative. “It looks as if things went better than okay.”
I kicked off my sandals and left them by the front door before moving into the kitchen. Even though I wasn’t in the mood for a hot beverage, I sipped the tea as I got comfortable on a stool and regarded my dead grandmother. “It started out great. It ended great. There was a spot in the middle that wasn’t so great.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” May tsked. “What happened in the middle of the date? Did Galen get handsy? I only ask because he’s a bit notorious as a lothario.”
That was the last thing I wanted to hear. “No. He didn’t get handsy.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“We discovered a dead body and he had to work.”
“Oh.” May turned serious. “Who died?”
“Trish Doyle?”
“Maureen Doyle’s girl?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. She was brunette and pretty, looked to be in her mid-twenties. I never met her. I saw her in Lilac’s bar fighting with a woman named Ashley Conner earlier today. I think Ashley is Galen’s prime suspect.”
“That would be the girl I was thinking of. How did Trish die?”
“She was stabbed in the neck and dumped between two tents at the festival. Apparently she lost a lot of blood.”
“That’s a lovely picture.” May made a face. “It’s also a hard way to go.”
“It is,” I agreed, sipping the tea. I wanted to ask May about what Galen related earlier, but I was uncomfortable broaching the subject. Finally I knew I had no choice. “Did you really touch dead bodies and tell Galen how they died?”
The question clearly caught May off guard. “I … well, yes.”
“How did you know?”
“I could see visions from right before they died. When something traumatic happens, it sticks with a body for a bit. I couldn’t always make it happen, but when I could I tried to be helpful.”
“That’s pretty much what Galen said.” I sipped again. “How did you figure out you could do that?”
“I touched a body at the funeral home once,” May replied. “Edna Wharton. Everyone thought she fell down the stairs, but when I touched her I realized her longtime maid shoved her. Granted, Edna was a real pill and mean to everyone, so she might’ve had it coming. I often wondered why the maid didn’t quit and find something else to do. I told Galen what I saw, he questioned the maid and she owned up to what happened. After that … Galen called me occasionally when he needed help on a case. I went because I figured it was my duty.”
“How often was that? I mean … how often does Moonstone Bay have murders?”
“You’d think it would be a rare occurrence given the island’s size, but that’s not the case.” May’s smile was sympathetic. “Did you touch Trish?”
I shook my head. “Galen changed his mind about asking me. He said that he didn’t want to push me before I was ready, and said he’d handle things himself.”
“That seems gallant.”
“Yeah, well … .” For lack of anything better to do, I drained the rest of the tea. “I kind of feel guilty because I didn’t insist on touching her. If I could provide answers I
can’t help but feel I should.”
“And I think it’s a waste of time to get worked up over things like this. You might still be able to help. You can’t go back in time and change what happened to Trish, so ultimately it doesn’t matter all that much that you didn’t touch her. I’d focus on that rather than what you appear to see as a lack of courage.”
“I know I can’t bring her back. That doesn’t mean I can’t help find her murderer.”
“Galen may be young, but he’s good at his job. He’ll figure it out.”
“I guess.” There was nothing left to drink so I tapped my fingers on the counter. “Trish and Ashley were in Lilac’s bar earlier. They were getting along for the most part, seemed to be gossiping and having a typical outing between friends. Then they turned on each other out of nowhere and started fighting. That’s not normal, even in Moonstone Bay, right?”
May chuckled, genuinely amused. “I’d say not. Do you know what they were fighting about?”
“A man. They never said who at the bar. They promised to stop fighting if Galen let them go, but it was obvious they didn’t mean it. When Galen had Ashley brought to the scene tonight, she seemed legitimately surprised that Trish was dead. She actually seemed upset, too.”
“Perhaps she had nothing to do with it,” May suggested. “Maybe it was a coincidence that they fought and that Trish later died. I certainly hope that’s the case, but I’ve never considered Ashley Conner the violent sort.”
“Galen asked who they were fighting about.”
May arched an expectant eyebrow. “And?”
“She said it was Booker.”
Instead of being surprised, May choked out a laugh. “Ah, well, the boy does have a way with women.”
“I’ve never seen Booker with a woman.”
“You’ve been here two weeks.”
“Yeah, but … he didn’t hit on me or anything.” I had no idea why I said it. I realized even as the words escaped that it made me seem petty, as if I wanted Booker to hit on me. That wasn’t true. I simply couldn’t wrap my head around the enigmatic jack-of-all-trades and what he offered the island. He was definitely more than he appeared to be, and yet two women fighting over him seemed to indicate he was somehow less than what I expected. I couldn’t explain it. “I don’t want him to hit on me,” I added hurriedly. “I just never pegged him as a ladies’ man.”
“Booker is so many different things I lost count years ago,” May supplied. “He is a vital part of the Moonstone Bay team, even though he fights that notion.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“He’s also got a way about him that serves as catnip for women,” May continued. “He doesn’t have to put any effort into the seduction. The women go to him.”
“And he lets them?”
“He … enjoys various forms of entertainment.”
I didn’t miss the fact that May was purposely vague. “If everyone on this island is some sort of magical misfit who belongs on the paranormal spectrum, that means the same is true of Booker. What is he?”
“He’s many things.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
May flicked her eyes to the corner and, as if on cue, the antique grandfather clock positioned there struck midnight. “Oh, will you look at the time? You need your beauty rest.”
“I’ll sleep after you answer the question.”
“Later.”
“But … .” I didn’t get a chance to finish my interrogation because May winked out of existence and disappeared from my kitchen, leaving me more agitated than when she’d appeared. “This isn’t over,” I called out, irritation weighing down my shoulders. “I’m not done asking you about Booker no matter what game you’re playing.”
May didn’t respond or reappear. Typical.
“This place is just one thing after another,” I complained as I flicked off the downstairs light and headed for the stairs. “Only a crazy person would choose to live here.”
That said a lot about me, of course, but I meant it all the same. “I think I’m turning into a loon.”
“It’s a family trait, dear,” May’s voice whispered as I hit the second-floor landing. “You’ll get used to it. You might even see it as a good thing.”
I doubted that. “You’re not going to tell me about Booker, are you?”
“Goodnight.”
“That’s what I thought.”
WITH NOTHING BETTER TO do with my morning – I still had no idea what sort of job I wanted or what I was even qualified for on Moonstone Bay – I headed toward the beach the next day.
I packed a bag full of bottles of water, sunscreen and a book, and walked down the sandy beach until I hit the public access point near the main docks. It was early in the week for tourists, which left the beach almost empty.
In truth, I hoped I’d stumble across Booker. I knew he’d been working on various projects at the tourist center at the edge of the beach and was hoping that he’d continue today. I didn’t even have to go through the pretense of spreading out a towel and opening a book because I recognized Booker’s ancient van right away.
I found him at the front of the building, scraping letters from the window. He didn’t look particularly hot or perturbed. He didn’t look as if he thought the job was beneath him. He didn’t look especially engaged in the task either.
His handsome face lit up when he saw who was coming to visit. “Hey, Hadley! I haven’t seen you in a bit. How you doing?”
That seemed an odd question because he was the one who’d been hurt saving me. “I was just about to ask you that.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m fine, too.”
Booker’s grin widened. “I guess we’re both fine then.” He stopped what he was doing long enough to dig in the bag by his feet, coming back with a hefty bottle of water. His eyes roamed my face, seemingly intent on whatever he found there, but he didn’t ask me any odd or invasive questions. “I heard you were at your first festival last night,” he said finally. “Did you have fun?”
That was the last question I expected. “It was … fine.” I wasn’t sure how to answer. “Given what Aurora told me yesterday morning, I expected some weird festival shenanigans or something. But it was a normal festival.”
“I’d argue that nothing is ever normal on Moonstone Bay.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that.” I sucked in a breath as I debated what I wanted to say. “The festival had food trucks, games and a lot of people having a good time. That’s how festivals are in most places, so it didn’t seem strange or different to me.”
Booker chuckled. “I guess that’s fair enough.” He took another swig of water. “Still, I heard Galen got called away to investigate a murder. I’m sorry your date got cut short.”
Hmm. He was giving me an opening. It seemed almost too easy. “We had a good time until then. He promised to take me back. I think interrupted outings are a constant possibility when dating someone in law enforcement.”
“That’s a healthy attitude to maintain.”
“And I think you were dating the woman who died.” The words slipped out before I could give much thought to the intelligence associated with uttering them. It was as if I couldn’t control my own tongue and something inside took over … and issued a very rude proclamation. “I mean … um … .”
Booker’s expression was hard to read. He tilted his head to the side, pursed his lips, and said absolutely nothing. To me, that was worse than saying something stupid.
“I know you probably think it’s none of my business,” I started.
“It is none of your business.”
“Probably not, but I can’t help being curious. I didn’t know the dead woman – Trish Doyle – but I interacted with her earlier in the day because she got in a fight with another woman at Lilac’s bar. Ashley Conner. I believe you know her, too.”
“Moonstone Bay is a small island,” Booker shrugged. “I know almost everyone on the island.”
/> “Yes, but both those women said you were dating them.”
“And you believe them?”
The question caught me off guard. “I … well … they were fighting. Galen said they were friends, but they were fighting over you. That seems to suggest they felt they had something legitimate to fight about.”
“That’s some fine deductive reasoning.” Booker took another drink of water before returning the bottle to his bag. “As for my dating life, I wasn’t aware you had such an interest in it.”
“I don’t.” I hated being on the defensive, but I felt that way now. “I just … didn’t realize you were actively dating.”
Booker chuckled, seemingly amused. “You are a trip. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Surprisingly enough, multiple people had told me that. “I know it’s none of my business. You can tell me to stuff my questions if you want. I just kind of want to know the answer. I haven’t seen many dead bodies in my life and it was strange to know that I saw Trish hours before she turned up dead at the festival.”
“I can see how that would be traumatic.” Booker dragged a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not sure I should say anything. I’m worried it would encourage you to stick your nose in my business.”
“I don’t want to stick my nose in your business.” That was mostly true. “I can’t help thinking of you as a friend, though. When my friends are in trouble, I want to help. I have to think that dating two women at the same time – and the death of one of those women – suggests trouble.”
“Ah.” Booker didn’t look convinced. “So, your reasons for poking into my personal life are altruistic. That’s what you’re saying, right?”
He was backing me into a corner. I recognized the signs but couldn’t figure a way out. “I’m saying that I want to help if you need it.” That was also the truth. “I didn’t realize you were even dating. If you want me to butt out, all you need to do is say so.
“The thing is, you got hurt while visiting my house,” I continued. “I was worried about you. Of course, right before that I was worried you might be a killer, so that actually makes my guilt double the size it would normally be because I feel bad about suspecting you. I want to help if I can.”
Witches Just Want to Have Fun Page 32
