I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “Can you be more specific?”
“Sure.” Lilac leaned closer. “Gus and Henry were both on the wrestling team in high school and they both insisted on being in the same weight class so they could wrestle only each other. We’re on an island, so there’s only one wrestling team, and the participants spend all their time going after the same people. When it came to Gus and Henry, the stories are legendary. Apparently there’s even talk of genital punching.”
Lilac was so earnest I could do nothing but nod. “Okay. That’s … quite the picture you’ve painted. That’s not the stuff of lifelong feuds, though.”
“I don’t think you understand how seriously some people take wrestling … or genital punching.”
“There has to be more to it.”
“Oh, there’s more to it.” Lilac risked a look at Gus and lowered her voice. “Gus also had an affair with Barbie Conner.”
I furrowed my brow. “Barbie Conner?”
“Ashley’s mother.”
I ran the scenario through my head. “Wait … so Barbie Conner is Henry’s wife and she had an affair with Gus? That means she had an affair with her husband’s mortal enemy. That can’t be good.”
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Esmerelda,” Lilac teased. “The only things more active than the feud over the years were the affairs. There are so many rumors about affairs between the Conners and Doyles that I have no idea which rumors are true.”
Huh. I didn’t see that coming. “So Gus slept with Ashley’s mother. How did Henry take that?”
“Not well. He and Barbie divorced when Ashley was close to graduating high school. They split custody, although I remember seeing Ashley with Henry more than Barbie over the intervening years.”
“Is Barbie still on the island?”
“Yeah. She lives on one of the side streets … Magnolia, I think. She bought a place of her own shortly after the divorce. She doesn’t participate in much town stuff. I think she fancies herself above it.”
“You sound as if you don’t like her.”
“I don’t like most of these people,” Lilac admitted. “Barbie has always been full of herself. She’s like a southern belle without the breeding or pedigree. It’s hard to explain.”
“It sounds like it.” I rubbed my chin as I gazed at Gus. “Do you think it’s possible that Henry killed Trish as payback for Gus having an affair with his wife?”
“I guess that’s a possibility,” Lilac hedged. “That was a long time ago. It wasn’t as if Henry was even in love with Barbie. They didn’t like each other at all. In fact, most people say that Henry was in love with Maureen but settled for Barbie when he couldn’t have what he wanted.”
“And who is Maureen?”
“Oh, sorry.” Lilac’s smile was sheepish. “I forget you’re not up on all of this yet. Don’t worry. You’ll catch up.”
That was a terrifying thought. “Who is Maureen?” I repeated.
“Maureen Doyle. Or, well, she used to be Maureen Doyle. She moved to the mainland when she split with Gus about five years ago. I hear she’s remarried and only sees Trish, like, once a year.”
Wow. It was like being trapped in a soap opera. I had no idea what to make of it. “So, you’re saying Henry was in love with Gus’s wife and Gus had an affair with Henry’s wife.”
“Pretty much.”
“And now they’re all divorced and unhappy.”
“I would definitely agree with that.”
“And Trish Doyle is dead,” I added as an afterthought.
Lilac sobered. “Yeah. That’s less funny.”
There was no doubt about that.
I LEFT GUS TO HIS drinking for thirty minutes before I decided someone needed to curb his reckless habits. Lilac tried talking me out of approaching him – although her efforts were fairly feeble because she was mildly curious as to how things would turn out – but I was determined to talk to the man.
He barely lifted his eyes from the bottom of his glass when I took the open stool to his left.
“Hi.” I hoped I didn’t sound too chirpy. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was at the police station yesterday.”
Gus flicked his red-rimmed eyes to me. “I saw you.”
“I’m Hadley Hunter.”
“I know who you are. You’re May and Wesley’s granddaughter.”
“Yes.”
“You’re also Galen Blackwood’s girlfriend, which came as something of a surprise because he’s never much showed an interest in having a full-time girlfriend before.” Gus was clearly drunk. His pronunciation meandered a bit and his face was flushed with color. “How did you manage to bring down the esteemed sheriff, by the way? My Trish had a crush on him for years, but he barely showed her any attention.”
Ugh. This was not the direction I wanted the conversation to go off the bat. “Oh, well … .” I didn’t have an answer for him. From the moment Galen and I had met there had been a spark. It wasn’t love at first sight or anything – I don’t believe in that – but something chemical snapped off in both our brains. It was interesting … and a little daunting. “I don’t know. We just seemed to click.”
“I think that’s how it is with people.” Gus didn’t seem especially bothered by my answer. “I’ve seen that happen with people before.”
“Did it happen for you with Trish’s mother?”
“With Maureen?” Gus’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “No. It most certainly didn’t happen with Maureen. With her it was more of a Dumpster fire than anything else.”
Oh, well, that was a lovely thought. “What about with Barbie?” Initially I wasn’t going to push him too far on the issue. He was drunk enough that I figured he’d barely remember he didn’t know me and proceed to babble. “Did you feel that way with her?”
Instead of immediately responding, Gus made a face. “Did I feel what way with her?”
My footing turned shaky. “I … um … well, I heard there might have been a thing between the two of you.”
“Did you now?” Gus’s unhappiness was obvious as he straightened on the stool. “And where did you hear that? Did Galen Blackwood tell you that? Did he tell you that I had an affair with Barbie and that somehow made it okay for my daughter to die? Is that what he told you?”
It was a mistake to confront him. I realized that now. But it was too late to turn back. “He didn’t tell me that.” I swallowed hard. “He never mentioned any of it. I heard other people on the island gossiping.” That wasn’t a total lie. Lilac was “other people” and she certainly liked to gossip. “Galen never said one thing about you and Barbie. Please don’t think he did.”
Gus scowled as he tipped back his glass and drained it. “I need another, Lilac,” he barked, still glaring.
“I’m on it, Gus.” Lilac’s expression was sympathetic as she strode to the end of the bar and grabbed the empty glass. “Are you sure you want to keep doing this? You seem a little tipsy.”
“I’m sure I want you to mind your own business and fill my glass,” Gus shot back. “I didn’t come here to be judged.”
“No one is judging you.” Lilac shot me a brief look. “As for the story about you and Barbie, don’t take it out on Hadley. That story has been going around the island for years. You know that as well as anybody. Given everything that’s happened … well, people can’t stop themselves from talking.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s true.” Gus was bitter as he watched Lilac fill a glass. “I never had an affair with Barbie. I know that story was going around, but it’s not true.”
“Then I believe you.” Lilac was sympathetic as she handed Gus a fresh drink. “I’m sorry if the gossip upsets you. Moonstone Bay does gossip better than most places.”
“Yeah. That’s why I hate it here.” Gus took a big gulp, the corners of his eyes leaking. “I never had an affair with Barbie. I mean … does she even look like my type? Plus, even if I could get past the looks I could never get pa
st her attitude. If you ask me, Henry started that story around the time of the divorce because he wanted to drum up island ill will and point it at me.”
I couldn’t help being surprised, and looked to Lilac for confirmation. “Is that possible?”
Lilac shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time this island has gotten things wrong when it comes to the coconut phone gossip line.”
“The worst part was when people started saying I was Ashley’s father,” Gus grumbled. “Ashley and Trish were already friends by then and it put a strain on their relationship. Henry didn’t want them hanging out, but I was secretly relieved. Do you want to know why?”
“Because it meant they would end the feud and you wouldn’t have to expend effort to do it yourself,” I automatically answered, causing Gus’s eyes to widen.
“That’s exactly right.” Gus bobbed his head. “I thought they would put an end to all of it. Instead, Ashley put an end to my baby.”
My heart almost broke at the look on his face as he took another drink. He was a man mourning hard. I didn’t understand that in practice but I did in theory. I didn’t know my mother enough to miss her. She was simply gone from the start. I mourned her in my own way, though, because I recognized something was missing. I didn’t know May to mourn her, yet I felt odd pangs of regret all the time when thinking about her.
For someone like Gus, someone who loved his daughter and hoped she’d be able to do the one thing he couldn’t, the loss had to be crippling. I understood why he was drinking himself into oblivion in the middle of the afternoon. It was easier than carrying the emotional burden reality wanted to foist upon him.
“I’m sorry about Trish’s death,” I offered after a beat. “Are you sure that Ashley killed her, though? I’m not saying I doubt you or anything. I’m simply asking if you’re sure.”
Gus was morose instead of furious when he snagged my gaze. “The police are sure.”
I knew better, but kept that knowledge to myself. “Well, I know things won’t get better for you, but I hope you at least start to feel less lost.” I awkwardly patted his hand. “I’m sure Trish wouldn’t want you drinking your days away.”
Gus snorted. “My daughter wasn’t perfect. She was a good girl, but she would be happy to know that her death crushed me to the point where I couldn’t function. That’s simply who she was.”
“It kind of is,” Lilac agreed, a whiskey bottle in hand as she moved toward Gus’s glass. “I called a cab, by the way. It’ll be waiting on standby when you’re done, Gus. Just let me know when you’ve hit your limit.”
“Thanks, Lilac.” Gus watched her pour him another drink. “I keep hoping I’ll get so drunk that when I wake up this will all have been a dream.”
I understood the inclination, but recognized he wanted a miracle that was never going to happen. “You should take some aspirin, too,” I suggested. “You’re going to feel terrible tomorrow.”
“I’m going to feel terrible regardless. The alcohol has nothing to do with that.”
I sighed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
12
Twelve
I listened to Gus complain for a full two hours, waiting until he slurred so badly that I couldn’t understand a single thing he said. Lilac waved me off when I offered to help her load him into a cab, saying it wasn’t necessary and she had everything under control.
Then, for lack of something better to do, I found myself at the cemetery with nothing to watch but empty grounds that I wasn’t allowed to visit. I stood at the spot Galen showed me more than a week before, the location boasting a picture window that allowed Moonstone Bay residents to watch their zombified loved ones shuffle about inside – without danger of attacking anyone, of course – after dark, and stared into nothing.
I didn’t know what to make of Gus’s story. He could’ve been lying. Maybe he did have an affair with Barbie Conner and he simply didn’t want to own up to it. Maybe Henry Conner killed Trish Doyle as some form of payback. Or – and this was far more likely – perhaps Ashley decided to join the family feud and make her father proud by killing off his rival’s daughter.
The notion made me sad and sick to my stomach.
I pressed my forehead against the glass, positioning myself as close as possible to the walled-off cemetery, and closed my eyes. Galen was worried when he showed me what was inside. He thought I might try to climb the wall to get to the mother I’d never known. I’d had no idea she was even buried on Moonstone Bay. My father kept an urn full of what he said were her ashes on our mantel when I was growing up. I’d yet to call him for a clarification. It seemed like a lot of work for an answer that wouldn’t change anything.
Since then, I’d stayed away from the cemetery because … well, because seeing my mother as a zombie didn’t make me feel closer to her. It was the exact opposite, in fact. Meeting May’s ghost and talking to her made me feel closer to my mother. Meeting Wesley and trying to build something with him made me feel closer to my mother. Looking at a zombie through a window made me feel … nothing. I was left bereft and empty. I didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling, so I decided to ignore it.
Why I came back now was a mystery to me.
The glass was cool on this side of the cemetery thanks to the overhanging foliage. The residents wanted the tourists to stay away, so they built the window in the back and were careful to patrol the area after dark so they could dissuade looky-loos from getting too close. During the day it was blissfully abandoned.
Galen explained that two workers entered the grounds regularly to mow and keep things neat. Other than that, the cemetery was off limits for everyone … including him. Residents could look through the window but never touch. Not that anyone wanted to touch a zombie, of course.
Even though I had no idea why I chose to visit the cemetery now, I took advantage of the quiet and focused on Trish Doyle’s murder. I didn’t want to believe that Ashley Conner was capable of killing her friend, but if the evidence really was piling up against her maybe there was a reason behind it. Maybe she had snapped and killed Trish. Maybe she regretted it after the fact. That didn’t change the outcome. Trish was dead and Ashley was in jail. That was unlikely to change in the near future.
The shuffling of what sounded like feet on foliage caused me to jerk my head to the right, narrowing my eyes as I searched the heavy underbrush for a sign of movement. I didn’t see a person. Of course, the leaves were so thick anyone could hide in there without me knowing. If I was a better witch I figured I could reach out with my senses and somehow magically know if it was man or animal watching me. So far, though, I was a terrible witch.
I pursed my lips as I studied the spot, uncertain. “Hello?”
No one answered. I wasn’t really expecting someone to pop out of the bushes and say, “I’m here!” Still, something inside wouldn’t allow me to let it go. I squared my shoulders and spoke again. “Is anyone there?”
No voice answered, but something rustled in the underbrush, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
I could have been brave and stormed to the spot where I was convinced someone watched me and confronted my rogue stalker. I could’ve been the heroine everybody cheers for because she’s full of courage and sass. The idea didn’t sit well with me, though. Sure, it could’ve been a small animal – maybe a cat or dog – screwing around in the bushes. My inner danger alarm didn’t believe that. It was far more likely a killer in a hockey mask, and I was the sort of heroine who went to investigate a noise in the middle of a storm after her friends mysteriously started disappearing. Those types of heroines are never heard from again.
Instead of moving forward I took a step back. “I’ll just be going now,” I murmured. I stared for another beat and then turned on my heel and practically broke into a run as I made my escape. I was at the corner of the cemetery when I finally found the courage to look over my shoulder. I didn’t see anyone, but the malevolence I thought I’d felt mere seconds
before doubled as an involuntary shudder ran through my body. Someone was definitely there … watching me. And, if what I felt was even remotely true, someone wanted to hurt me.
I kept moving around the corner, desperate to put space between whatever was hiding in the bush and me, but I ran into something hard and solid, forcing me to swivel and prepare to fight.
“What the … ?”
Booker caught my hand before I could slap at him, making a face as he looked me up and down. He looked more frustrated with my reaction than worried I might do him physical damage. I couldn’t blame him.
“What are you doing back here?”
I glanced over my shoulder again, exhaling heavily when the overpowering fear dissipated. I felt a bit sheepish given my ridiculous reaction. “Oh, um … .”
“They don’t come out during the day.” Booker gentled his voice as I met his gaze. “I know Galen showed you what’s in there – that was smart of him, by the way, to be with you – but you can’t see her during the day.”
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about my mother. “I know that.” I straightened. “I just … was doing something and ended up here. I’m not sure why.”
Booker narrowed one eye. “You’re not sure why you ended up here?”
“No. I was at Lilac’s bar and ran into Gus Doyle. He made me sad. I ended up here.”
“Uh-huh.” Booker didn’t look convinced. “What were you running from?”
I thought about telling him I believed someone was watching me from the bushes, but the more thought I gave that, the more I realized it was unlikely. It was probably my imagination running wild, which was a fairly normal occurrence in my world. “I was just heading back to town.”
“Well … I’ll walk with you.” He didn’t offer as much as demand I accept his services as bodyguard and reluctant tour guide, so I readily fell into step beside him. “What was Gus saying?”
I told him about our conversation, leaving nothing out. I wasn’t sure I understood all of it because Gus was so very drunk, but when I was done Booker made a hissing sound as he shook his head.
Witches Just Want to Have Fun Page 38
