Brittany turns and runs through the swinging door.
I don’t understand. How could Brittany’s mother not know where she is? I thought Stella and my mother came to an agreement about Brittany.
A horrifying thought hits me right between the eyes. What if Brittany’s adoption was illegal?
Chapter 4
I toss my napkin aside and slide out of the nook. “This makes no sense.” I glance at Dylan and then Meg. “How could Stella not know Brittany would be living with Mom?”
My father clears his throat. “I might be able to help with that one.”
We all turn our heads, and I ask, “You know about this?”
“A bit.” Dad shoves his hands into his pockets. “Your mom promised Stella that Brittany would be shipped off to a prep school, not be forced to stay here in Sunset Cove, where Brittany was wasting her academic talents.”
“Brittany is a genius with computers. But why lie to Stella about that?”
Dad grimaces. “Brittany asked Zoe to lie. If Stella believed Brittany was tucked away at some boarding school, she couldn’t come back to freeload off Brittany the next time one of her mother’s relationships tanked.”
Dylan says, “Because Brittany was running her online scam to support them?”
Dad glances my way with panic-filled eyes, like he said too much in front of law enforcement. “Brittany had no choice. She had to eat. Besides, those men she tricked into sending her money were scum trying to take advantage of underaged girls.”
“I know.” I give my father a hug. “Brittany doesn’t do that anymore. Dylan knows that. I better go talk with her.”
Meg slides out of the nook. “I’ll come too. You might need someone who’s actually been a parent for more than a minute for backup.”
I should probably take offense. Unfortunately, I’m still learning how to balance being part sister, part parent.
The door to Brittany’s bedroom is ajar, so Cooper pushes it all the way open with his nose and leads the way.
Brittany tosses clothes into a backpack as tears stream down her face. She takes one look at me and croaks, “Go. Away.”
Meg crosses the room and lowers herself on the side of Brittany’s bed. “We’re not going anywhere. And neither are you.” Meg pats the bedspread beside her. “Sit!” My dog runs behind my legs in fear.
When Brittany instantly complies, I’m shocked. I can’t even get Cooper to sit that fast. I need to learn how to use that stern mom voice.
Meg takes both of Brittany’s hands. “Sawyer and Gage were just trying to protect you. As a result, they inadvertently disrespected you by treating you like a child. So Sawyer is going to apologize first.”
Both Meg and Brittany turn my way. I’m not sure how this became my fault, but I guess I’ll play along. “I’m sorry, Brittany.”
Meg nods sharply in approval. “Now, Brittany, you need to understand that none of us knew until a few minutes ago that you and Zoe had a deal to keep your location a secret. So you should apologize to Sawyer.”
“I thought you knew.” Brittany’s tear-filled gaze meets mine. “Sorry.” She quickly looks at her feet again.
“Thank you.” Huh. That went well. I’ll have to remember that technique. “But you also need to know Meg and I love having you as our sister. That will never change.”
“Never.” Meg wraps an arm around Brittany. “Let’s fix this. Okay?”
Brittany glances at her shoes. “My mom said she’d be here Wednesday. To take me back. And that she’s changed.”
Oh, I want so badly to say her mother, a person who left Brittany for weeks at a time to fend for herself and forced her kid to earn a living for them both, will never change. Instead, I say, “We’ll see what Gage and Dylan think about that.” Then a thought strikes me. “Unless you want to go live with your mom?”
Brittany won’t look at me as she says, “Maybe if she’s changed….”
Panic fills me, and I’m not sure what to do. Or say. I turn to Meg and beg with my eyes for her to take over.
Meg clears her throat. “You should talk with your mom on Wednesday, Brittany. Ask her some tough questions. Then judge for yourself if she’s changed.”
I don’t want that irresponsible woman anywhere near Brittany, so I say, “Meg? That’s not what Zoe and Stella agreed to.”
“That’s true.” Brittany looks at Meg. “Zoe helped me hide. And Stella will probably never change. But I still miss her.”
“Of course, you do.” Meg gives Brittany’s shoulders another squeeze. “So, we’ll revisit this after you see your mom again. But for now, we have an important question about your adoption. Do you know how your mom paid for it?”
Brittany’s eyes grow wide. “How could Mom possibly pay for anything? She never had money unless I gave it to her. I thought Zoe paid for it with trust money, or maybe from the wine collection, she left Sawyer.”
I sit beside Brittany on the bed. “That’s what I presumed too. Gage is trying to find out if Uncle Frank gave your mother the money to break the trust without my mom’s knowledge.”
Brittany worries her lower lip. “Do you think Gage told my mom that Zoe died? Would that give my mother the right to get me back?”
“No. But we’d never stand in the way of you seeing her.” Meg runs a hand up and down Brittany’s back. “Zoe left us as your guardians. That part is airtight because Gage drew up those papers. You need to leave the worry and the details to us and go finish your dinner. Sawyer and I need to discuss something, then we’ll be right down.”
Brittany slowly nods. “Okay. Thanks.” She hops up off the bed and pats her leg. “Come on, Coop. Let’s go see if there are any scraps for you downstairs.”
Cooper perks right up and bounds out the door behind Brittany. When I’m sure we’re alone, I turn to Meg. “We’re only her true guardians if that adoption was legal in the first place.”
“I know.” Meg sighs. “Maybe we need to be sure Brittany’s not here when her mother arrives?”
“That’d be the icing on the cake. If the adoption isn’t legal, then you and I could be under suspicion for kidnapping, while Dad is a suspect for Tina’s death. We’d all be fugitives from the law,” I say sarcastically.
“Maybe we’ll all end up camping in the woods to hide out after all.” Meg shivers dramatically.
I smile at her sheer horror at the thought of camping. “Or we figure out what really happened with the adoption money before Stella gets here. And maybe if we’re lucky, Uncle Frank will be in jail so we can finally live in peace.”
“Yes!” My sister raises a hand for a high five. “Operation Defeat Stella and Frank begins now.”
I return the palm smack, but in my heart, I’m not sure how we’re going to achieve our goals in just three days.
On Monday morning, I grab Coop’s leash, and we set out for my bookstore while everyone else in the house is still stirring upstairs. I called the school and left a message that Brittany was sick because I don’t want to risk Stella showing up there. Brittany is a good student. She’ll have no trouble making up the work she misses. And she’ll be safer with my dad and sister in the house to protect her. Dylan even thought it was a good idea when I talked to him last night. He never trusted Brittany’s mother.
As Coop and I head down the hill on this beautiful November day, I draw in a deep breath of cold salty ocean air, trying to convince myself that everything will work out just fine. But the thought of losing everything, including possibly Brittany too now, weighs heavy on me. Maybe I need some chocolate. And my best pal, Renee. They both come hand in hand and always cheer me up.
When we hit the little town square, I press my hands against the glass and peer inside Renee’s ice cream and treat shop, The Daily Scoop. There’s no apparent activity inside. I’ll just call her later.
The barbershop is still closed too, so I’ll have to talk to Pete about the flower switch a bit later as well.
So much for my detective work or my ch
ocolate fix. Maybe my daily croissant delivery will include my favorite fudge-filled ones. Not the worst compromise in the world.
I unlock my mystery bookstore, Cloaks, Daggers, and Croissants, punch in the alarm code, and hit the lights. All the quaint reading nooks my mother designed offer a familiar welcome I hope the customers feel too. One day, it’d be nice if most of our foot traffic became real buyers rather than the locals who come for the free gourmet coffee and croissants we serve each day. My mom started the tradition, and I’m determined to keep it up, but I won’t be able to if my store doesn’t start turning a significant profit soon.
Luckily, Mom left me an extensive wine collection she inherited from one of her customers who loved a good mystery as much as she did. Selling a bottle now and then has helped keep the lights on.
But by now, I’d hoped the trust would have started construction on the restaurant I plan to build. Gage helped me take advantage of a loophole in the trust that will allow me to rent the space and all the equipment and furnishings in the building next door that I inherited too. Not many know it’ll be me I’m renting to. Gage has helped facilitate the plans for his “Mystery Chef” client by showing my uncle the lease and obtaining all the paperwork, all without revealing my name. But because all the assets in my trust are frozen until we fix the Brittany issue, I’m just plodding along at the bookstore.
The bell tinkles over the front door, alerting me to the arrival of my first guest. I hope it’s a paying customer.
No such luck. Madge is barreling toward me. Today, her Christmas sweater is blue with blobby stars all over it.
“Morning, Sawyer.” Madge swivels her head. “No croissants yet?”
“Nope. Should be here soon.” I fire up the computer on the front counter that doubles as my cash register. “Have you heard anything else about Tina? Or Uncle Frank?” Madge working at the police station has come in handy these past few months. She gets some major insider scoop.
“A little.” Madge moves closer to share her secret, even though it’s only the two of us in my store. Well, Coop’s on his favorite couch snoozing, so that makes three of us, I guess.
I lean in too. “And…?”
Madge grins. “I do love a dramatic pause.”
More like she loves knowing things others don’t. “Odd, I’m finding this pause super annoying. Spill.”
My pal chuckles, “Your Aunt Carol told Dylan that Frank was too busy last evening to speak to the cops. Dylan is in Frank’s office right now. Therefore, I took the opportunity to come see you.”
“Me? Or my croissants?” I ask as I wipe down the glass counter.
“A little of both, I guess.” Madge shrugs. “But what I know is the initial scan of Tina’s body didn’t show any major heart events, like ruptured arteries or anything. We have to wait for the autopsy for a more detailed report. They can’t rule out murder.”
I ask, “Would that scan show if someone was electrocuted?”
Madge frowns. “Don’t know. But the electrician’s report came back. The trick checked out. There wasn’t any obvious way Tina could have been hurt by your dad’s equipment. But the electrician said the floor plug it was connected to was loose. There’s still a chance Tina could’ve touched something she shouldn’t have.”
“So that should let my father off the hook?” I toss the paper towel into the trash.
“Not quite yet. The electrician said the floor plug had obviously been tampered with or incorrectly repaired, because there were exposed wires. Dylan assigned one of the deputies to look into the community center’s repair records. But guess who owns the community center?”
I already know. “Uncle Frank. He often tries to make quickie repairs on the buildings he owns before he calls in professionals.”
“Really? A rich guy like that? What a cheapskate.” Madge’s brows furrow. “Possibly no record of a repair, then. Add the fact that your uncle can’t stand your father, and things are getting even more interesting. Especially if Frank stands to lose most everything if your Aunt Carol found out he and Tina were having an affair.”
I grab the feather duster and head for a nearby bookcase. “I’m not following.”
Madge hurries to catch up with me. “It’s just a guess, but what if Frank helped your dad with the tricks because it allowed your uncle to frame your father for Tina’s death? By making sure Max used the tainted floor plug.”
I stop dusting and consider her suggestion. “If he framed my father—who some might think was a scorned man—and Tina was out of the way, there wouldn’t be anyone to confirm the affair. He could claim he and Tina were just friends. And no reason to blame my uncle. But maybe my uncle didn’t realize both Pete and Dylan knew about the affair. Did you know about it?”
“No.” Madge shakes her head. “And I know most everything. But maybe news was starting to leak, and your uncle got wind of that. Rather than lose so much, your uncle decided to get rid of the one person who could actually confirm or deny it. Tina. And let’s not forget, most people in town knew Tina was seeing your father up until recently and wouldn’t suspect she was seeing Frank too. This theory works.”
“Maybe.” I go back to my dusting. “But I’m not sure how to prove all this.”
Madge taps a finger on her lips. “I’ll have to give that some more thought. I’ll check back on my lunch break. Maybe we’ll have more information by then.”
“Sounds good. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to Pete, see if he can fill in some blanks about the name switching on the flowers. And see if he’s remembered anything else that might help us.”
Madge checks her phone. “Yikes, I’m late. See you later!”
Before I can respond, Madge is heading full steam toward the door. I’ve lost all interest in dusting, so I grab my keys.
I want to talk to Pete. His barbershop must be open by now. “Coop, hold down the fort. And no jumping on Betty when she delivers the croissants. I’ll be right back.”
My dog, who’s still snoozing on his favorite couch, opens one eye. Then he rolls onto his back, four paws in the air, and promptly falls back to sleep. A watchdog is something he’ll never be. His superpower is getting everyone who comes inside the store to pet him, and he’s darn good at that.
I flip over the sign that says I’ll be back in ten and head up the sidewalk.
A familiar big hand lands on my lower back, and Dylan says, “Where ya heading?”
Darn it. Dylan and I called a truce after I almost got killed snooping into a case recently. We agreed to disagree that Madge and I should leave the police work to him.
I stop and face him. “Hi. How’d it go with Uncle Frank?”
Dylan raises a brow and stays silent, clearly not amused with my attempt to redirect the conversation.
I open my mouth to deflect again, but then, that’d be pointless. “I was on my way to Pete’s place to ask him about the name-tag switch. I thought I’d just tie up that loose end so you wouldn’t have to waste your time doing it.”
“Considerate.” Dylan slips an arm around my shoulders, and we start walking again. “But has it occurred to you that because you’re not the cop here, you talking to Pete doesn’t do any good for my official record? It’d just be redundant.”
I lift a finger to make my point. “But if what Pete says doesn’t have relevance, it won’t go into your report, right?”
“Wrong. Every data point goes into the file. Including the note I made on my phone last night about who was supposed to get which flowers. But sometimes it’s good that the person being questioned, who happens to be a gossipmonger, doesn’t know he’s being questioned. You can help me with that.” Dylan opens the door to the barbershop for me and whispers, “Don’t ask Pete a thing. He won’t be able to stand it, and he’ll ask us the questions.”
“I can do that.” Wow. Dylan is going to let me help for a change.
“Thanks.” Dylan takes my hand and leads me inside.
There are three empty swivel chairs li
ned up in front of mirrors, and Pete is in the fourth, the closest to the street, reading a newspaper. He glances up and smiles. “Hi, guys. What can I do you for?” The aroma of shaving cream and men’s cologne wafts in the air.
Dylan sits in an empty chair and says, “I need a trim, but Sawyer thinks I always get it cut too short. Thought I’d bring her along to tell you when to stop.”
Pete lumbers out of his chair, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Happy wife, happy life and all. Have a seat.”
I start to correct Pete about the wife part, but Dylan’s head shakes ever so slightly, so I let it go. “I like the way you make it short on the sides, Pete, but a little longer on the top would be nice.” I run my fingers through Dylan’s thick hair and lift it up. “Maybe a little more volume here. Especially the way it curls so naturally.”
Pete twists his mustache as he considers it. “I can do that, I suppose. But don’t you think it looks a little…girly?”
I laugh and lay a hand on Dylan’s bulging bicep. “I don’t think it’s possible to look anything but intimidating with these guns. But let’s compromise. Give me just a little extra on top this time, and we’ll see how it grows out.”
“Fair enough.” He wraps a cape around Dylan’s shoulders and whispers, “Lucky for you, Sheriff, that can be fixed later.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead sit on a hard plastic chair. The magazines on the coffee table are all about cars, trucks, and camping. Luckily, I’m not here to catch up on my reading, but I need to pretend I am, so I dig in.
Who knew RVs these days could be so lovely? I need to tell Meg about that. Even she could be happy with the spacious bathrooms they have.
After about five minutes with no conversation at all, Pete says, “So I was thinking about what happened backstage and all.”
Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3 Page 4
