A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set Page 27

  “What are you doing?” asked Dash.

  “I’m sorry. I've gotta go.” Turning my bike in the opposite direction, I headed toward the warden station.

  Chapter Six

  I arrived at the station and parked my bike, running inside in a huff. When I got to the front desk, I didn't know what to say or why I was there in the first place. I stood in indecision, contemplating whether to stay or go home for too long before someone noticed me.

  “Oh, hey, Charli,” called out Zeke. “You lookin’ for your brother?”

  “Not exactly.” I panicked, unable to come up with the reason why I was there. “I’m here to speak to Mason. I mean, Detective Clairmont.”

  “He's busy at the moment, but I don't think he would mind if you wanted to wait.” Zeke offered a nearby seat.

  “Thanks,” I uttered. Sitting down, I did my best to be patient. But I couldn't stop the replay in my head, and I found myself more steamed than before. By the time Mason’s deep tone echoed down the hall, I was in tune with it and ready to go on the attack. However, he escorted Horatio out, and I wanted a chance to talk to my friend.

  “Charli,” Mason said in a calm voice. “Why am I not surprised? You have a habit of not taking my advice.”

  “I want to talk to you in a second,” I demanded. But first, I took the troll by the hand and pulled him outside. “Tell me,” I insisted. “What did they say or do?”

  Horatio reassured me. “I am not under arrest, if that is your concern. I have, however, been informed not to leave Honeysuckle anytime soon, which is not an imposition due to the fact of my involvement in the election. So it shall not change my future plans more than to add grief and concern to my life. I do not believe that they have any idea who might have brought harm to the old woman.”

  “As long as they follow the evidence that points away from you, then I'm okay with that,” I exclaimed.

  “That's the problem, my dear. Your detective is acting under the philosophy of Occam's razor. The simplest explanation is usually the best. If I were him, then I would suspect me as well. She was found in the library, which is my domain. If you are right and she was choked to death, it would not be an unreasonable leap to think that a troll with as large of hands as I possess could easily manage her delicate nape.”

  “What about the poem?” I asked.

  Horatio sighed. “My affinity for language and the written word is renowned. Although the American masters are not my forte, it does seem as if somebody is going to extraordinary lengths to have me at the very least be considered a suspect. Whoever they are, they have achieved their goal to great success.”

  “But the words and their meaning. I think they're talking about change, right?” My mind raced to make sense of it all.

  The troll smiled in acknowledgment. “You are indeed correct. The entire poem speaks about how nothing can remain the same.”

  “If I didn't know better, I would think that it was a political statement,” I observed.

  “Another pointed arrow aimed in my direction, I think.” He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

  “It could be for any of the candidates, Horatio. Or meant as a message to anyone who believes that our town shouldn’t change at all. But none of those pieces of evidence definitively call you into suspicion.” I intended to say exactly that to Mason in a few moments. “And what about the blood under the fingernails? Did the detective say anything about that?”

  The troll shook his head and smiled down at me in amusement.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I cannot help but think of a quote from the Victorian author Elizabeth Gaskell. ‘There is always a pleasure in unraveling a mystery, in catching at the gossamer clue which will guide to certainty.’ You are a marvel to watch, Charli. You definitely have a magical knack for finding things, including clues,” he complimented. “It's a wonder that you don't make a living at it, for if you did, you'd be the first I would hire.”

  Juniper arrived at the station and flung herself at Horatio. I left the two to their lives and headed back inside. To my surprise, Mason waited at the front desk for me.

  “You had something you wanted to add?” he asked.

  Too surprised to respond with words, I nodded.

  The detective escorted me back to his office and closed the door. He offered the seat in front of his desk, but I refused, choosing to stand. I paced around while he sat down in his chair and leaned back, waiting.

  “Horatio thinks that you are going with the simplest explanation, which is why you think he might have killed Mrs. K,” I started.

  “Occam's razor. I'm familiar with the philosophy. However, that doesn't always present the actual truth. I will follow the evidence where it leads, Charli.” He paused to give me the floor again.

  “But that's the thing. There is evidence that already proves he didn't do it.”

  “Like what?” challenged Mason.

  “The blood on the fingertips and under the fingernails. Mrs. K scratched at whoever did this to her,” I said with excitement.

  Mason leaned forward on his desk. “I’ll wait for the doc to make that discovery official. But what do you think it means?”

  “It means that whoever did this should have scratches on their arms. And Horatio did not. On top of which, he's a troll.” I noted my friend’s biological status as a benefit. “His skin is so tough that it would take more than a fingernail to breach it.”

  The detective lifted an eyebrow in appreciation. “That's an astute observation. One that I had already made, however, which is why he is going home rather than spending the night here.”

  “Oh.” I couldn't think of anything else to say in defense of my friend. I stopped pacing and sat down.

  “Was there something else?” Mason pushed.

  I opened my mouth a couple of times to try and breach the barrier between us. Unable to muster up enough courage, I closed my mouth.

  Mason relaxed into the back of his chair with a sigh. He folded his hands in front of his face, his fingers tapping on his mouth. “Listen, I'm sorry for my demeanor back there in the library. It caught me off guard to find you with another dead body.”

  “I promise, I don't go looking for them,” I said.

  “I don't know. Two dead bodies in the time I've been here, and both times, you've somehow been involved.”

  “At least this time, I'm pretty sure I don't have a death curse trying to take my life,” I joked.

  “Probably not,” admitted Mason. “But your involvement with the body could have been noticed by the person who committed the crime. Did you think of that?”

  The detective had me on that point. “No.”

  “Well, I did. You shouldn't be involved. It could put you at risk. Any help you give me or the department could put you at risk.” His voice softened. “That's the last thing I want to do.”

  “Is that why you stopped asking me to help? It's been ages since we…” I trailed off. The more he pushed me away, the more I was certain that I had imagined any connection to him in the first place.

  “Partially that. And more my behavior at that one event,” he added.

  He caught my attention. “Which one?”

  “The one with your cupid friend, Skeeter.”

  My eyes widened at his confession. “Are you talking about the one with the lemonade? Mason, nobody that was involved was in their right mind. I don't think anyone could be held responsible for their actions that night.”

  Affected by many love potions mixed together that had gone wrong, both Dash and Mason had clashed over my attention. Although I questioned the validity of their professed emotions at the time, I didn’t take anything that was said that evening seriously. However, the detective’s regret for his actions at the time surprised me.

  “Whatever happened, Mason. It doesn't matter,” I insisted.

  “But it does, Charli. This job comes with its downfalls. If I want to do it right, then I need to make it my focus. I can't let any obstacles
get in my way.”

  My heart sank like a rock. “And that's what I am to you? An obstacle?”

  “No. Yes. I don't know what I mean.” Mason wiped his face with his hands.

  “Are you trying to say that Sheriff Big Willie can't do his job because he's married and has kids? Or what about my brother? He has a wife and a baby on the way,” I pointed out.

  “And that’s great for them. But for me, it has never worked out.” He frowned at his admission.

  “Having a wife?” I pushed.

  “Almost. I had a fiancée, and that ended, well…” He stopped talking.

  The new information about the detective’s past bowled me over. “What happened?” I asked in a small voice.

  Mason stood up. “I think we’re done here, Miss Goodwin.”

  “For good?” My eyes got a little glassy.

  “For now."

  Chapter Seven

  When I hopped on my bike to head over to Nana's house, a little orange streak blurred its way in my direction. Peaches rubbed her furry face against my leg, her demanding little body insisting she come with me.

  “You want to visit your old buddy?” I asked, picking her purring body up. In answer, she leaped into the basket on the front of the bike, her tiny body disappearing as she settled in until her head popped up.

  Once I got us on the road, I pedaled my way to my grandmother's house without using the magic and enjoyed the exertion of energy. The faster my legs went, the more Peaches enjoyed the wind ruffling through her fur. As I approached the house, nostalgia squeezed my heart.

  It had been a hard decision to move out of Nana's, my home for so much of my life, including some of the most important events so far. I missed being woken up by her teasing in the morning, maybe more so than her incredible cooking. Returning now made me feel like an outsider. Like I had taken all of my secrets with me, and the only place I belonged was sitting in the formal parlor. Grabbing Peaches out of the bike basket, I trudged up the porch steps and knocked on the screen door.

  “Get your behind in here, Birdy,” Nana called out. “Stop acting like this isn't still your home.”

  With a creak and groan, the screen door pulled open, and I stepped inside, the comfort of the place wrapping itself around me like a warm blanket. The scent of something baking made my mouth water, and I followed its path to the kitchen. My cat pushed against me and rocketed out of my arms to greet Loki, my grandmother's gray-striped jerk of a cat. Maybe my kitty’s presence would keep him from biting my ankles, and I enjoyed watching the two of them greet each other with sniffs and licks.

  It took me a second to take in the scene around me. Cooking and baking implements scattered about every single surface. Flour, oil, and other ingredients dotted the landscape. Plates of various baked goods were stacked on every free surface. By the looks of the dirty pans on top of the stove, I'd bet that the fridge was full as well. Always a stickler for cleanliness, my grandmother’s stress levels must be hitting a new high based on the entire scene.

  “Nana, is everything okay?” I asked with caution.

  My grandmother slammed the oven door. “Don't say anything. I know, I know, but it's the only thing that keeps me from blowing things up with my magic.”

  “That bad, hey?” It had been since my dad’s death that she’d been this affected.

  Nana placed her hands on her hips. “Child, I don't think anything has been as bad as it is right now since before you came to us. And back then, I was a much younger woman. Of course, I'm pretty sure I aged a few years in the past day or so.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow.

  Without hesitation, I rushed to her and wrapped my arms around her. Normally, she was the one who consoled me with her epic embraces. But if I could give her a fraction of the compassion she'd offered me throughout my life, then maybe I could make a dent in her anxiety. She melted into me and hugged back with fierce pressure. I'd risk losing consciousness from lack of oxygen any day to help this woman that I loved so dear.

  “I’ll be fine,” she muffled into my shoulder.

  I rubbed her back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She squeezed me hard, patted my behind, and pulled away so she could look me in the eye. “Eat as much as you can while you're here and take a lot home with you?” A wry chuckle followed her request, and she sniffed. “Frosted fairy wings, I'm a mess, aren't I?”

  It ruffled me to see her in such disarray. The woman had been a solid rock for as long as I could remember. Even with the death of both of my parents, she had remained the solid foundation from which I built my structure of support. Yet, I saw her now as a flawed being like anyone else, and it was freaking me out. Drawing on all of my strength, I hid my panic.

  “I think you have reasons to be a little worried. A lot's been going on.”

  “You're telling me.” Nana lifted the bottom of her apron and wiped underneath her eyes, smearing a little flour across her cheek in the process. “Big Willie was here this morning, filling me in on Eugenia. I knew that woman was a few spells short of sanity, but I had no idea she was so far gone. That outburst on the stage took me by surprise.”

  “It took us all by surprise, Nana.” Picking up a lemon bar, I bit into the tangy treat. “But seeing her there on the library floor like that doesn't make any sense either.”

  My grandmother narrowed her eyes at me. “The sheriff told me that you had been there. Being around dead bodies like that is getting to be a habit with you. One I wish you’d lose as quick as lightnin’.”

  “It wasn't by choice.” I proceeded to tell her everything that had happened up until my confrontation with Mason in his office.

  “I’ll admit, you do have a way of finding things. Apparently, clues, too. So you think whoever did it wanted to make Horatio look guilty?” she asked.

  “Why else would they bring the body there, and include the poem about change?” I’d recited what I could of the Longfellow lines, enough for her to get the idea.

  “Maybe they were trying to make a statement about the elections,” suggested my grandmother.

  “That's one heck of a statement. And I haven't seen that kind of protest around here anyway.” None of the pieces of the entire puzzle made sense to me yet.

  Nana pulled out the chair from the table and collapsed into it. “That's because I'm mighty good at my job. Nothing has been out in the open, but the council has received numerous complaints over these past few months.”

  “From who?” I demanded.

  She shook her head. “Not your business. And besides, sometimes the notes were anonymous. Everyone here has a right for their voice to be heard. We all knew that making any changes would come with resistance. It's why we tried things out like the farmers’ market.”

  “And the new stop signs at that one intersection, which I think everyone appreciated after the almost-accident,” I added.

  “Yes, but everyone wanted that. It's too soon for an election and a new council seat, but with the addition of Nora…” My grandmother trailed off, staring out the window, her brow furrowed.

  For the first time, my grandmother looked her true age, a little tired and more worn down. “You got pressure from Hollis and Nora, didn't you?”

  My grandmother pursed her lips. “Can't tell you that. Not unless you want to throw your hat into the ring and try to win the election.”

  “Sounds like a dangerous proposition,” I attempted to joke back with her. When she didn't crack a smile, I asked a more serious question. “Are you going to go through with the election now? You know, considering the dead body and all.”

  “That's what's got me cooking.” She gestured around the kitchen. “I have to make the final decision today.”

  “And what's your first instinct?” My grandmother's gut never failed her in the past, but she had always had more support on the council when Uncle Tipper was still alive.

  “There’s what I want versus what my gut tells me. I want to delay the election until we find w
hat happened with Eugenia. Or maybe until everyone is more prepared for bigger changes.” She took a sticky cinnamon bun in her hand and unrolled it bit by bit. “But my gut tells me that stopping this election will do more harm than good at this point.”

  “But harm’s already been done,” I exclaimed. “Do you think Horatio can still run after all this? He may not be guilty, but in a small town like ours, sometimes rumors are stronger than the truth.”

  “And that will be his battle to fight, not yours, although I love how loyal you are to your friends. Let's talk about something else. Tell me why you came here in the first place.” Nana licked her fingers clean of frosting.

  My grandmother's ability to dig beneath the surface and find the truth in my life was uncanny. I never could hide anything from her, but maybe that was why I'd come to her today. As tired and distracted as she was, she didn't need to be burdened by my problems. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Birdy, look at me.” She waited for me to comply. “There is absolutely nothing in this world that will get in my way of taking care of me and my own. You hear me?”

  I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

  Nana got up from the table and opened the fridge. After she poured some iced tea into glasses, she ushered me into the living room, and we both sat down in our favorite places. “Now, tell me, is it seein’ Eugenia that has you frazzled?”

  Taking a sip, I pondered the question. “No, it wasn't pleasant, but it didn't really bother me.”

  “And that's a problem to discuss for another time. Then what’s got your feathers all ruffled?” she asked.

  I feared to tell her my concerns about not being able to find Raif’s pug. Anytime something went wrong with my magic, Nana forced her own particular cure on me in the form of a disgusting, awful, horrible gray slime that she made me drink. Valuing my taste buds, I skipped over those fears. “Has Matt told you anything about Mason? Like is there something going on in his life to bother him?”