It's All Sixes

by Cindy Stark

  “Do you have proof of that, Gretchen? Anything the police can use?”

  “No, but it’s obvious, isn’t it? Anya never valued my son. She stole him from me but never loved him. Not like I did. She constantly harped on him. Then when she couldn’t get him to conform to her unreasonable demands, she tried to kill him.”

  Hazel was beginning to wonder if the poison was really Gretchen’s thoughts and not anything Anya might have done. “You suspect poison because of his stomach issues. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  Sobs mingled with her words, and Hazel feared she’d upset her more than she’d meant to.

  “Why are they looking further?” Gretchen continued. The tone of her voice bordered on hysterical. “They found his body outside her house. The gun was in the river right across the street. She’d probably tried to hide it under a rock and, thank God, the river’s current moved it out.”

  Hazel’s empathy evaporated, leaving her cold. Only Peter, Anya, and she knew where she’d found that gun.

  Or that it was even in the water.

  Could have been along the edge of the river for all Gretchen knew.

  Hazel inhaled a steadying breath and wondered if Peter had caught that tidbit of information over the phone, too.

  She composed her features into a mask of sympathy, needing to hold onto the pretense a little longer. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be on you. But we need to allow the police the time they’ll need to analyze the information they found. Crime scenes give the police all sorts of information that we can’t see with the naked eye.”

  Gretchen grew quiet. Her eyes widened, but she wouldn’t look Hazel directly in the face.

  Hazel couldn’t help but wonder, if Gretchen was the killer, then what was her motive? From all accounts, she’d loved her son dearly.

  Still, if Hazel pushed hard enough, she might get her to break. “They can tell if someone was shot at close range or far away. If Anya did it, she might have inadvertently left a hair or a fiber from her clothing. Gathering that kind of evidence can give the district attorney a lot of power when prosecuting the murderer.”

  “What if they find one from me? I could have given that when I hugged him earlier that day.”

  Hazel sensed her wavering. “That’s true. That’s why they gather all the evidence they can so that they can eliminate people if they don’t meet all the criteria.”

  She paused to inhale and let her words sink in. “In fact, depending on the angle the bullets entered your dear boy, they can tell how tall the person is who fired the weapon.” She didn’t know if that was true, but it sounded good. “With Anya being at least five-foot-ten, the angle of her shot would be much different than yours.”

  Gretchen flicked a quick glance at her. “They can tell that?”

  She nodded, assuring her. “Oh, yes. It’s amazing what they can do. I’ve heard that they can even find traces of gunpowder residue weeks after the firing of a weapon and can trace it back to the gun.”

  That was a total lie, but she was on a roll, and Gretchen seemed to be buying into it all. “So, let’s say for some weird reason at one point you’d held the gun that killed your son. As long as they couldn’t find traces of gunpowder, you’d be cleared.”

  Gretchen dropped her gaze to her hands. “The gunpowder can stay even after someone scrubs their hands a million times?”

  Hazel didn’t answer and waited for Gretchen to meet her gaze. When she did, Hazel found blatant fear quivering there. “Gretchen? I sense that you haven’t told the entire truth, have you?”

  Gretchen nodded. “Of course, I have.”

  Hazel shook her head in response. “I don’t think so. I think you’ve held the gun that killed Isaac. I also think you pulled the trigger.”

  “No!”

  The frantic tone of her voice cautioned Hazel to be careful, but she couldn’t back down now. “Why would you do that, Gretchen? Why would you take the life of the one person you loved the most?”

  Gretchen stood and glared at her. “You don’t understand.”

  Hazel didn’t want to add to the frenzy of the moment and worked to keep her own emotions calm. She slowly stood and met her gaze. “Then help me, Gretchen. Help me understand what happened.”

  The light in Gretchen’s eyes had grown frantic. “I didn’t shoot him. He shot himself. He knew he was dying of stomach cancer and wanted to see Anya. He said he wanted to make things better, but I could see through Anya and knew she didn’t deserve his forgiveness. She’d tried to murder him, Hazel.”

  Hazel placed a hand on Gretchen’s arm and nodded encouragingly. “Yes, because of his stomach issues.”

  Gretchen ran a ragged hand through her hair, causing some of the strands to poke out at odd angles. “Yes. Exactly. But Isaac was determined to see her. Said he’d walk all the way there if I wouldn’t drive him. It was dark out, and he wouldn’t back down. I couldn’t let a sick man wander out on his own.”

  “Of course not. You loved him.”

  Fresh tears sprang to Gretchen’s eyes. “I do. So much.”

  She needed a moment to settle again. “I drove him to Anya’s and parked on the opposite side of the road. He might have wanted to see her, but I didn’t.”

  She closed her eyes for a long moment as though reliving awful memories.

  When she opened them again, an eerie calmness resonated there. “He got out and was walking across the street, but then he fell. He fell,” she said in a soft voice. “I heard a loud bang, and I feared what had happened.”

  “He shot himself,” Hazel answered for her.

  Gretchen met her gaze, and the sadness Hazel found there was excruciating. “He took the gun from my house after he’d moved to Boston because he’d had some trouble and wanted to protect himself. I didn’t think he had it on him that night, though. Why would he carry it in Stonebridge? I think he meant to make Anya pay for treating him so horribly and trying to poison him, but he didn’t think I’d understand his reasons for wanting her dead, so he hid it.”

  “But you said that he’d wanted to see Anya to ask for forgiveness.”

  Gretchen shook her head. “She deserved no such thing.”

  Hazel nodded to keep Gretchen talking.

  She inhaled a desperate breath. “And then he fell…”

  The defining moment.

  Hazel took Gretchen’s cold hand and pressed it between her own. “You didn’t call for help?”

  She shook her head. “He begged me not to. Said if he was already dying then what was the point of trying to save him.”

  Hazel blinked back tears. “Oh, Gretchen. I’m so sorry.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “He begged me to end it, Hazel. Begged.”

  She couldn’t imagine being faced with that situation with Peter. She didn’t know if she could pull the trigger to spare him.

  “Then you were the one to shoot him the second time?”

  She nodded and then crumpled onto the couch where she curled forward and bawled.

  Hazel heard the front door close and turned to see Peter striding toward them. She gazed at him with beseeching eyes. “You heard?” she asked softly, and he nodded.

  “I have a couple of units on the way.”

  Hazel nodded and then sat on the couch next to Gretchen and wrapped her with a warm embrace. “Hush. It’s going to be okay, dear. It’s going to be okay.”

  Gretchen sobbed. “Nothing will ever be okay again.”

  Hazel wanted to argue, but she wasn’t sure anything in Gretchen’s life would ever be the same. Hazel could only hope that in time Gretchen and Anya would find some sort of healing.

  Epilogue

  Hazel glanced across the cab of Peter’s truck as he pulled into the wooded picnic area just outside of town. He’d been in a great mood when he’d picked her up that Sunday morning, and his happiness had rubbed off on her. They’d had a rough couple of weeks, but she was more than ready to put that behind them now.

 
Anya had cried when Hazel had told her what had really happened that night. No one would know Isaac’s intentions toward Anya, but it no longer mattered now. Her friend had chosen to believe Isaac had gone to her house to ask for forgiveness, and though Anya hadn’t been able to give it in person, she did send the words toward the heavens.

  Anya was safe and had the opportunity to restore her quiet solitude and happiness. She still wasn’t certain how the town would accept her, but at least they no longer believed she was a murderer.

  Peter killed the engine and glanced over at her. “Ready?”

  The trees surrounding them were lush and green and swayed with an early morning breeze. She ached to be in their rejuvenating presence. “I’m so ready.”

  He helped her from the truck and carried the picnic basket to a secluded spot deep within the trees. “How does this look?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  She grinned. “Perfect.”

  She’d meant that “perfect” had described him more so than the area, but both were more than she could ask for.

  She spread out her grandmother’s quilt, and they sat. She removed plastic plates and linen napkins, and they took turns sampling the finger foods.

  Hazel swallowed the remainder of a salty olive. “I have a question.”

  Peter lifted his brows in answer.

  “Did you ask Gretchen about Anya’s name on Isaac’s arm? Did he do that as a message to her or was it Gretchen?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Gretchen did it. That’s one of the many things she did after Isaac shot himself that won’t help her case.”

  “Because Gretchen hated Anya or because she wanted the insurance money for herself?”

  He folded a piece of salami around a slice of cheese. “She says she didn’t want the money, but she thought Anya was guilty of poisoning her son and didn’t deserve the insurance pay out. She wanted to frame Anya, and though some on a jury might find empathy in their hearts for shooting Isaac, I doubt they’ll feel the same when they learn about wanting to harm Anya.”

  Hazel shook her head as a wave of sadness passed over her. “Poor Anya never did a thing to deserve any of this.”

  “Nope.”

  “Did I tell you Anya doesn’t want any of the money from Isaac’s death? She’s donated it all to Gretchen’s lawyer to help with her defense.”

  He widened his eyes and then nodded. “I can see Anya doing that. Good for her.”

  “She has a forgiving heart that will serve her well. I have a feeling Gretchen will live in her own special hell for what she’s done.”

  He nodded. “She still believes Anya tried to poison Isaac. Can’t convince her otherwise.”

  “But it was always the cancer.”

  “That’s what the evidence says.”

  She smiled, thinking of their questions throughout this investigation. “That’s what my witchy sense tells me, too.”

  He chuckled. “Your witchy sense. Yeah, I guess I need to give it more credit than I have.”

  “It’s a blessing and a curse sometimes.”

  “Like many things in life.”

  She wiped her mouth and set her napkin on her plate. She was full of food, happiness, and love.

  He set his plate on the quilt next to him. “I have a question for you, too.”

  She smiled. “What’s that?”

  He slipped two fingers into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out a black velvet box.

  He met her gaze, and her heart stopped.

  “Peter…” Her voice wouldn’t carry higher than a whisper.

  A mischievous smile curved his lips, and he opened the box. He tugged a sparkling silver ring from the white satin.

  She placed a hand over her mouth, and tears of happiness filled her eyes.

  “Hazel,” he said, and she was certain his voice wavered. “Will you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife?”

  A cry of happiness escaped her. “Peter.”

  She blinked and tried to breathe.

  He grinned. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, Peter. That’s a yes. I would be honored to be your wife.”

  He grinned and blinked back his own tears. His hands were unsteady as he took hers and slid the simple emerald-cut diamond ring onto her finger.

  She exhaled, stunned by its beauty. “It’s gorgeous, Peter. I would have been happy with a piece of twine around my finger as long as I could spend my life with you, but this is incredible.”

  He chuckled. “If all you want is a piece of twine, I could take it back.”

  She covered her left hand and tucked it against her heart. “Oh, no. This is mine, and I adore it.”

  He smiled, tugged her to him, and they both fell back on the quilt. He wrapped strong arms around her, and she cuddled against his chest. “Words cannot express how much I love you, Peter.”

  He squeezed her tight. “I love you more.”

  She snorted a laugh. “No, I love you more.”

  He rolled over until he pinned her against the quilt, a huge smile on his lips. “Let’s argue that for the rest of our lives, okay?”

  She grinned and nodded. “Every day until forever.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers, and she dissolved into happiness. She couldn’t wait to tell Cora and Margaret. They would be ecstatic. Her mother, not so much, but she didn’t care.

  She had the man of her dreams, and nothing could keep them apart.

  ****

  If you enjoyed reading this book, the greatest gift you can give me is to tell a friend and leave a review at Amazon or Goodreads. It helps others find stories they might love and helps me to continue pursuing this crazy writing career.

  Thank you and happy reading,

  Cindy

  Read on for an excerpt from Book Seven.

  Excerpt from Spellbound Seven

  Teas and Temptations Book Seven

  Brisk chirps and soft warbles dragged Hazel Hardy from her sleep. The early morning sun barely lit her bedroom as she blinked herself awake. She’d slept with the windows open to enjoy the cool evening breeze, but with the birds making a ruckus, she wondered if that had been a mistake.

  She slid her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. Mr. Kitty sat on her windowsill, also interested in the morning commotion. His chatter to the birds and thumping tail caused her to smile, and she walked up behind him to peer out the window, too. Whatever was out there, Mr. Kitty wanted to get his claws in it.

  When she spotted an owl with the coloring of tree bark on a branch not far from her bedroom window, she sucked in a surprised breath. He noticed her at the same time, and she swore he widened his yellow eyes.

  The vibrating sounds of his warbles grew louder, triggering alarms inside her. Owls were supposed to sleep during the day. Worse, her grandmother had warned visits from owls could be bad omens. Normally, Hazel paid no mind to such things, but this time the hairs on her arms stiffened.

  Mr. Kitty stood and hissed.

  The owl screeched, sounding like a woman’s terrified scream. Hazel released a startled cry, and the bird took flight. Her cat’s tail fluffed like a plume, and he howled back as though to say good riddance.

  Mr. Kitty turned his gaze to her, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

  “You’re afraid that owl means something bad is going to happen.”

  The cat held her gaze, and she tried to brush off the fear forming inside her.

  “That’s an old superstition. I’ve seen plenty of owls in my life, and nothing bad has happened before.”

  Except her grandmother had been adamant about taking their warnings seriously. In fact, now that Hazel thought about it, her mother had said she’d seen one outside her window the day that Grams had died. Her mom thrived on drama, so Hazel hadn’t believed her.

  But what if it was true?

  Hazel forced a chuckle and tried to shake off the chill that enveloped her. This was silly.

  Except the silly thought wouldn’t settle. “Okay, t
hen. Let’s say the owl was a threat. What do I do about it?”

  Mr. Kitty gave her a look that said she was doomed. Then he jumped from the sill and dashed out of the room as though her bad luck might spill on to him.

  “Thanks a lot,” she called after him.

  She closed the window with a bang and drew her blinds down over it. “Coward,” she muttered, knowing her cat wouldn’t likely hear her.

  Hazel made herself a cup of lavender lemon tea and spread butter and orange marmalade over two pieces of wheat toast before she took a seat at the kitchen table. She considered texting her mother to see what she thought of her morning visitor, but the information she might gain would be tempered by an intrusion into her life, snarky comments, or worse.

  Funny how, before she’d come to Stonebridge, she’d never worried much about omens and signs. Her life had been carefree. Well, except for her relationship with Victor. He’d been her first true experience with pain and unhappiness, and she couldn’t help but wish he’d never entered her life.

  Still, even though she now lived in a town where she had to watch her step, she had the man of her dreams, a gorgeous old home, and a loyal, if sassy, cat.

  She couldn’t forget to include the company of her ancient grandmother’s ghost.

  If one could call an unpredictable ghost a perk.

  Perhaps the ethereal woman could provide a clue how to protect against omens. She glanced toward the ceiling. “Clarabelle? Are you here?”

  “Clarabelle?”

  When nothing made a noise or stirred the air, Hazel blew out a frustrated breath and then sipped her tea. She’d ask Cora whether to worry or not about what the owl might represent when they met at Teas and Temptations later that morning.

  ****

  Two hours later, Hazel carried two teacups full of Blackberry Sage tea out the front door of her shop and placed them on one of the turquoise bistro tables she’d purchased earlier that year. Golden sunshine rained down on Main Street in the quaint town, and a slight breeze cooled the early September air.

  She glanced down the cobblestone sidewalk toward Cora’s Café and caught sight of her friend heading toward her wearing a light pink t-shirt, khaki capris, and her blond ponytail swinging as she walked. She could count on Cora like clockwork.