Chapter 9

Jane opened the bathroom door to find Beau resolute with his arms crossed over his chest. A line of three waited behind him. His expression demanded answers.

Because she had a long-standing rule to never lie to her friends, or anyone–though, yes, she sometimes misled for a case–she smiled sweetly and tugged Beau down the hall to rejoin the guests.

"Be on the lookout for paperwork that gives the Treasure Room to Maggie Johnson," she instructed softly.

His eyes narrowed. "How do you suddenly know there's paperwork when I've heard nothing about it?"

"You have your ways, I have mine." Her gaze landed on Jacob Thacker, who seemed to have been waiting for her. He glided toward her. Excitement and triumph flooded Jane. Ignoring him and his father had worked, luring over the weaker link. "Game face on," she muttered.

"Jane Ladling?" Jacob asked, his tone pleasant. Not the route she'd expected him to take.

"Yes. That's me. And please, Mr. Thacker, call me Jane. This handsome slice of pound cake is Beau." The war vet faced the town's first son. "Hello," he grunted.

"I'm Jacob Thacker. Though you clearly knew that. I'm also president of Golden Pages Book Club." He extended his hand, and they shook. Then he shook Beau's hand. Then she shook Beau's hand because she got caught up in the moment.

Get it together, Jay Bird.

Beau tried not to laugh at her.

"Please, call me Jacob," the newcomer added.

"Nice to meet you, Jacob," she said. "Out of curiosity, and no hard feelings, did you block my invitation to speak to the book club members?" How smooth would he be, getting out of the hot water she'd just poured all over him?

He blinked, as if stunned. Then he surprised her by blushing a little and laughing nervously. "I did, yes. After my mother's arrest, my lawyer advised me to avoid everyone with a connection to her case." He shrugged his shoulders, all you understand, right? "That's why I asked Mags–Maggie to strike your name from the list."

Oh, he was good. Not just smooth, but slick. Bringing up his mother's arrest without becoming accusatory was either the move of a perfect gentleman or a great gamer.

Attempting to lull Jane into liking him, so she would remove him from the official suspect list? Too bad, so sad.

"How long have you served as book club president?" she asked.

"This is my first year. I took over for Mags. Maggie," he clarified once again.

Time to dig deeper. "Are you and Maggie close?" They must be, for him to continue using such a personal nickname.

He offered a wry smile as his glance strayed toward the mechanic, who remained in Abigail's court. "You could say that."

Ooooh. Did he love her? He loved her, didn't he? That's why he lived in the house next door to hers.

How easy it would be to go back and forth between residences planning Hannah's murder. A man in love might kill to make the object of his affection happy.

The idea had merit. But so did the supposition that Jacob had worked alone to ultimately eliminate the main witness against his mother, with Hannah being collateral damage. "Did you two ever date?"

He flinched, as if he found the concept repulsive, and Beau covered his mouth with his hand. "No. I can honestly say I've never dated Mags."

What a strange reaction and way to word his denial, as if he were overcompensating. Or gay?

"Mind if I join you?" a gruff voice asked. The mayor entered their three person circle, his demeanor and countenance as sour as ever since his wife's arrest.

Perhaps Jacob had worked with his father, as Jane had speculated. "Please do," she replied, mentally rubbing her hands together with glee. Dig, dig, dig. "Why did you follow my fiancé and me yesterday?" Might as well keep being blunt. Look how far it had gotten her already.

A noise of surprise escaped Beau.

Mayor Thacker's mouth formed a small O before he narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to blame me for what happened to Hannah? I knew you would!"

"Dad," Jacob said, his cheeks reddening. He darted his gaze. "Please don't do this. That isn't what she's doing. Is it?" he asked her. "We had nothing to do with the murder, so we couldn't possibly be suspects."

Jane didn't miss the fact that neither man had answered her question. "I only ever go where the evidence takes me." A statement he could take as reassurance or a threat, depending on his involvement.

He nodded, as if she'd just proven his point, and Jane glanced at Beau, hoping to prod him into speaking up. The darling man had reinstated his I will tackle anyone who looks at my friend wrong stance.

Very well. She continued. "So, let me see if I understand this, Mayor."

"Robert," he grated.

"Robert. You expect me to believe you feared being implicated in a murder, so you followed the case investigators to ensure we didn't implicate you? That's an odd thing to think unless you have some kind of relationship with the victim." Or the murderer. Like, say, he hadn't participated in the act, but he knew his son did the deed and now he hoped to muddy the evidence.

"I'm not claiming anything." Robert lifted his chin. "I wasn't following you."

Lie! What other whoppers had he told?

The clang of silverware against a glass sounded, and the crowd went quiet. "I want to thank everyone for coming," Maggie announced, and all eyes focused on her. "Hannah was such a dear friend, ever since we sat next to each other at the Aurelian Hills Women in Business Association. Now defunct, sadly."

There'd been a women in business club here and Jane had never known about it? Hadn't even received an invitation to attend a single meeting? Wow. Clearly that explained why it went bust. They'd ignored the owner of one of this town's oldest ventures.

Well, no matter. Jane wouldn't have wanted to join, anyway. She notched her chin.

"Hannah saw the best in Aurelian Hills and hoped to keep the town thriving. Who knew her plan of opening a market for local crafters would become a tearoom and bookstore?" Maggie swallowed and blinked back tears. Real or faked? "I've seen her waive booth fees time and time again. I only hope…"

Hmm. What had Maggie stopped herself from saying? She only hoped she did just as good a job when she took over the Treasure Room?

Jane observed the crowd to gauge whether people were buying what the mechanic was selling. A remorseful, smug, or skeptical expression might just lead to the killer, but she spotted only sorrow and tears.

Still no sign of Ashley Katz. No sign of Donnie Eggerson either. Had he left?

Christopher remained at Maggie's side. Though his arm no longer wrapped around her waist, he watched his girlfriend with an adoring smile. Sensing someone's attention, he scanned the room until he found Jane. His smile widened, and he shrugged as if to say, Isn't she wonderful?

"Hannah enjoyed hearing our stories," Maggie continued, drawing Jane's focus back to her. "That's why I thought we could all read a passage from our work in progress."

"Beau would love to kick things off," Jane declared.

He glared at her then nodded to the guests, who zeroed in on him, as he whipped out his phone. "I'll share the opening line." Staring at a blank screen, he improvised on the spot, saying, "Once upon a time, a military vet threw the maddening woman who constantly embroiled him in situations over his shoulder and carted her outside to deliver a long overdue–"

"Dance party? Surprise picnic? Hot-air balloon ride?" Jane exclaimed, so enthralled with the story she forgot to search for any documents. Maybe the rest of the audience was engrossed, too. No one spoke.

"How…interesting," Abigail said amid the quiet. She clapped somewhat woodenly and others joined in. "Why don't I go next?" She reached behind her to lift a notebook from a side table, then flipped to the first page. After casting a smug smile Jane's way, she read, "Death at the Cemetery by Abigail Waynes-Kirkland. Chapter one. Zane Maddening, owner of Forest of Recollections Burial Grounds, died as he deserved. Badly. My name is Tabby Paynes-Murksand, and I did the deed. Let me tell you how…" She closed the notebook and grinned. "If you want to hear more, you'll have to wait for the publication."

Beau stiffened, and Jane's jaw went slack. Had Abigail just issued a taunt, cat and mouse style?

* * *

Jane reeled for the rest of the evening. Reeled as she relayed everything she'd learned at the memorial to Conrad, who verified the details Christopher shared about Donnie Eggerson and promised to take a deeper look at the video game expert. Conrad also promised to look into the paperwork Maggie might or might not possess, Jacob's maybe-maybe-not crush on the mechanic and Abigail's story. Jane reeled harder as they dissected the pros and cons of each suspect. Reeled faster as she wrote more on her own book, letting scenes flow from her all night long. She only began to calm when her amazing lawman drove her to a mystery locale "for the wedding" late the next morning.

With one hand on the wheel, he reached over to twine his fingers with hers. "We'll figure it out, sweetheart. We get closer every day. I'm reviewing the phone records of our suspects, and I can tell you Jacob Thacker and Maggie Johnson speak often. Thacker and Abigail Waynes-Kirkland speak almost as much. If they conspired to commit murder, we'll catch them. But as for today, we aren't investigators. We are two people very much in love, planning our wedding, intending to spend the rest of our lives together."

He wasn't wrong. They were two people in love, planning their wedding. And knowing Jacob Thacker often spoke on the phone with Maggie and Abigail satisfied Jane's need to learn more, more, more—for now.

"All right," she said. "Today only, there'll be no case talk. Except to say Abigail is the worst, she might have worked with Jacob, and Maggie might or might not know." Jane's current working theory. "But I'm only doing this because you handled your punishment like a champion, and this is your reward."

He snorted, then lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. "If we learn how to bottle your sweetness, we'll be millionaires."

They reached the town square, and he parked his SUV in front of—Jane gasped with excitement. Daisy's Diner.

"Is Daisy catering our wedding even though she refuses to cater anyone's wedding, even her own mother's?" Jane disengaged her seat belt and bounced in her seat while clapping her hands. "Is she?"

"She is not."

Oh. Jane deflated in a hurry.

Then Conrad added, "But she has agreed to make our cake. Or cobbler. Or pie. Or bread pudding. Whatever we decide on."

Squealing, Jane began jumping up and down again. "That's even better! How in the world did you swing this?"

"A man's gotta have his secrets." Her amazing lawman gave her a wolfish grin as he exited. He rushed around to open her door, and they headed into the diner. Half the town sat crammed inside the small space, enjoying the brunch special. Country fried steak, with a side of cheese dumplings, cornbread and okra fries. None of them were her suspects, however. Not that she was an investigator right now.

Conrad led her to the kitchen. The actual kitchen where the world's most amazing food was prepared. Oh! The scents! The buttery aroma of freshly baked biscuits, the savory scent of simmering gravy. Even hints of cream cheese frosting tinged the air, wafting from a display of red velvet cake. Oh! There was Daisy in her usual floral-patterned dress. Despite being in her mid-sixties, she sported not a speckle of silver in her auburn hair, now pinned in a bun as no-nonsense as the woman herself. She chatted with a waitress as she stirred a crock of her famous chicken noodle soup.

Jane experienced a total fan-girl moment. Here was a rockstar who could cook Jane and everyone she knew under the table. Would it be bad form to ask for an autograph?

"Have a seat, you two," Daisy said with a welcoming smile, her eyes crinkling in the corners. Though she could be commanding and firm, the master chef had never met a stranger. She motioned to a small round table off to the side, where several dessert servings waited. "Taste everything, tell me your favorite, and it'll be my wedding gift to you."

Eek! A wedding gift. From Daisy. Jane practically floated to the table. Conrad held out her chair, and she sank down. He eased beside her.

Beaming at him, she kissed his cheek. "You are the most amazing man in the entire world."

"I would conquer worlds to see this look on your face." He kissed her knuckles a second time before piling both their plates with samples. "Should we start with the—" He barked out a laugh as Jane shoveled in the first bite. "The peach cobbler then."

The sweet flavors exploded on her tongue, and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. "This one! I choose this one."

He forked a bite of the bread pudding into her mouth. A groan burst from her.

"This one," she repeated.

His next laugh contained a dollop of enchantment. How Jane adored his laugh. During the first few weeks of their acquaintance, he'd rarely even cracked a smile. Now he almost always exuded joy. When he wasn't standing near dead bodies, of course.

They tasted everything once, twice, thrice, and Jane had to accept a clear fact. She couldn't decide.

Conrad's phone rang. He frowned and withdrew the device. "Let me turn off the ringer." His frowned deepened after he spied the screen. He heaved a heavy sigh. "I need to be an investigator for a couple minutes and take this call."

"Absolutely, yes. Go, go," she said, shooing him away. "I expect a full report upon your return. Because I'll get to be an investigator for an equal amount of time."

A half-smile spread as he grazed his fingers along her jawline. Then he stood and strode into a quiet corner to take the call. Jane used the time alone to eat more food and check her messages. Her eyes widened as she saw the string of texts.

Fionality: You're not gonna believe what just happened.

Jane: What? Tell me! I must know!!!!

Three dots followed. Bless her, Fiona knew how to build anticipation and stretch out the drama.

NewsKat: Someone slashed all four of my tires! I didn't make the party, but I'm hoping you'll share your thoughts with me. PLEASSSSE!

For this, Jane lowered her fork. So, someone had immobilized Ashley just before Hannah's memorial? Since there was no such thing as a coincidence, the killer must have known of the reporter's plan to attend and taken measures to stop her. Which meant the killer might have access to her schedule. Like, say, Jacob and his father, thanks to their connection to the Headliner.

Beaudyguard: Why would someone cover beautiful hardwood floors with carpet?

Jane: A moment of insanity?

Juniverse: Have you heard anything about a love curse? Mom keeps mentioning it.

Nope, not touching that one.

Fionality: …

Come on, Fee!

Tiffinator: Can you DIY distressed ink?

Jane knew what those words meant, but all together in a sentence, they made no sense.

Trickster: You owe me a feast of casseroles for dealing with Tiffany. I've been to the Cave of Wonders Hobby Shop three times. Three. How much cardstock does one woman need?

Though Jane hated defending Tiffany, a woman needed several packs of cardstock. Different shades, different weights, different patterns.

Trickster: And she's convinced she's seeing aspirations in Autumn Grove.

Trickster: *apparitions

Autumn Grove? Hardly. That section of the cemetery was steeped in tranquility.

Jane: For the hundredth time, the Garden isn't haunted.

Fionality: Molly Gallaway called my pancakes subpar!

Jane: How dare she! No falser claim has ever been made in history!

Conrad returned, his frown still in place and seemingly set in stone.

Her heart skipped a beat, everything else forgotten. "What's wrong?"

"Jacob Thacker was killed in his home last night."