7. Killion

KILLION

I t's the morning after the murder and I've hardly had a chance to wipe the sleep from my eyes.

I spent the better half of the night down in Eagle filing paperwork up to my eyeballs before I got home, flopped on the couch, and passed out. I slept for exactly three hours before showering and jumping in my truck. I need to head back to my desk, but for some reason my truck veers toward the country club instead and I can't help but smile because of it.

The morning sun filters through the red leaves of the sugar maples as Rookie and I pull up to the Brambleberry Bay Country Club. I pull in right next to Ginger, Hattie's beloved 1953 Ford F-100. Its rusted and freckled red paint is a cheerful contrast to the somber skies above.

Looks like rain is in the forecast, and a darn good storm at that.

Rookie and I jump out and he runs right up to Ginger and gives her a few friendly barks before trotting my way.

"That's right, buddy. They're here," I say, offering him a few quick pats as we make our way to the main hub, otherwise known as the Cottage House.

Its stone fa?ade and ivy-covered walls exude an old-world charm that makes it a favorite spot for both locals and visitors. We step inside the rotunda as the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hits me hard and makes my stomach rumble in anticipation.

A grand chandelier hangs above, covered with just the right amount of cobwebs, and to the right sits Seabreeze, a restaurant so pricey I'd have to ante up my firstborn in advance just to have a steak. But to the left sits the Cottage Grill, a far more down-to-earth establishment where the nickels and dimes I make at the sheriff's department can stretch far enough to land a decent burger in my mouth.

The country club itself is made up of a cluster of seven opulent buildings, and the entire makeup of it looks like a mini luxurious village.

There's a world-class golf course, several Olympic-size swimming pools, a spa, more fancy restaurants than I can count, and, of course, the lure of exclusivity seeing as only the rich and infamous can afford to toe the line as a member. I got a pass via the sheriff's department, but my mother is one of the socialites who rules the roost at this place.

We step into the Cottage Grill and I can't help but shed a quick smile at the dimly lit establishment, mostly because I can see Hattie's hand at work here. The entire place is decked out with Halloween decorations—cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, a small pumpkin on each table, and orange twinkle lights winking from above. It's festive without being too much, a balance Hattie has clearly mastered.

Rookie leads the way through the sea of familiar faces with his tail wagging like mad as he zeroes in on a table where Hattie is seated with her planner open in front of her and both Cricket and Jolly lounging on the spare chair.

Hattie looks our way and an instant smile lights up her face.

"Morning, gorgeous," I say, bending down to give her a quick kiss. "Mind if I join you?"

"I'd be mad if you didn't." She wiggles her shoulders my way, looking as adorable as can be in an orange sweater and jeans and her dark hair piled on top of her head in a bun, which only makes those blue eyes of hers siren out like beacons.

" Ooh , someone has a way with words today," she muses as she takes up my hand and I can't help but laugh.

Just last spring I learned a little something about my shiny new girlfriend that may have sent some men packing. She can read minds.

I shake my head at her.

But I never once had the urge to run. Instead, it's only brought us closer.

"So tell me"—she leans in hard, practically bouncing in her seat—"what's new with the case?"

A heavy sigh escapes me in lieu of an answer.

"Hattie, you know how I feel about these things."

A few months back, when it seemed to be raining corpses, Hattie took it upon herself to investigate. Albeit she solved the cases and landed more than a few killers behind bars, but I didn't like the fact she was putting herself in danger then and I certainly don't want that now.

"I know how you feel, and I appreciate the fact you'd like to keep me safe. But Killion"—she gives a quick glance around before continuing—"Silas was stabbed and so were those other two men—whose cases happen to be growing cold. I think we need to face facts. Venetta Brandt is a stone-cold serial killer!"

My chest thumps with the idea of a laugh.

"Okay, I'm kidding." She winces. "More or less. But don't you think whoever did this to Silas might be responsible for the other two homicides as well?"

"The thought did cross my mind. You've got great instincts. I'll give you that."

"Thank you, Detective." Her lips swim with a flirtatious smile. "And just so you know, I'm ready and willing to offer up my intuitive services whenever you like." She gives my hand a squeeze, and before I can answer a shadow darkens the table.

Rookie gives a quick bark and we look up to see Banister Grimm grinning down at us.

"It looks as if romance is alive and well In Brambleberry Bay," he says with a little laugh. "My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to see if you had any leads on who may have done this to Silas." His demeanor sobers up. "I heard rumors of unruly teenagers."

I shake my head. "I'd be slow to believe any rumors. But as soon as I get anything, I'll be glad to fill you in."

"Thank you," he says with a nod. "I appreciate that. And I expect to see you both at my place soon. Remember, dinner is on me."

"Thanks, man." I offer a quick pat on his arm.

Hattie nods up at him. "I cannot wait."

"Glad to hear it." He takes off for the bar, and no sooner does he leave than another shadow darkens the table, this time belonging to my mother.

"Mom."I stand and offer her a quick embrace before pulling out a seat for her. "Please, join us."

It's times like these that I'm glad I can't read Hattie's mind. I know she's not crazy about my mother, mostly because my mother insists on making it clear she's not crazy about Hattie.

" Killion ." Hattie shoots me a playful yet mournful look and shakes her head as if to refute it. "Nora, we're thrilled to have you. Please do join us."

"Of course, I'm going to sit with my son," she says, hitching her purse to the back of her chair before falling into it. "But I'm afraid you'll have to go." She flicks her fingers at Hattie as if to shoo her away.

" Mom ," I say a touch louder than necessary. Although I think we all know it's necessary.

"What?" She shoots me an indignant look. "We've got a family matter to discuss. Apparently, Venetta was found holding the murder weapon." She turns to Hattie. "So, as you can see, this involves delicate information that revolves around a case. I'm afraid this is classified information that doesn't involve you."

" Mom ."My voice cuts over the din of conversation and three different tables turn our way.

"No, it's okay." Hattie jumps up and both Cricket and Rookie follow suit as they take off, and a part of me wishes I could go along with them.Rookie trots back and grabs his teddy bear by the arm before darting off once again.

"All right, what's going on?" I cut right to the chase. Knowing my mother the way I do, it's best to do just that.

"What do you mean, what's going on?" she scoffs at me as if I were a lunatic. "Do I have to remind you that poor, sweet Venetta experienced a deep level of trauma last night?Instead of being here and cavorting with the help, you should be there for her."

"You're right. I should be there questioning why she was holding the murder weapon."

My mother's eyes glow like flares. "Don't you dare grill that woman. You and I both know she didn't have a hand in that man's murder. She was simply trying to help. That's exactly why she pulled the knife out."

I lift a brow her way. It's not a natural reflex if that's what she's implying, but I stopped trying to understand Venetta's mind a long time ago. And that goes double for my mother's mind, too.

My mother gasps as if she's just had an epiphany. And if she has had one, I'm sure she'll make it known to me soon enough.

"Killion, I just thought of something."

"And here we go," I mutter.

"Don't you start with me." She leans in. "I think maybe someone is trying to set Venetta up."

"Mother."

"Don't you mother me. You know it's a possibility. Someone must have lured her out there, and they knew she'd want to help. They practically shoved that knife in her hand."

I openly frown at her.

"But who in the world would have it out for Venetta like that?" she muses to herself.

"I'm more concerned about the victim right now."

She gasps again with that same devious faraway look in her eyes.

"It's Hattie!"

"What?" I growl as I cast a quick look around and thankfully don't see a sign of her. "Mom, you cannot believe that. And for goodness' sake, don't repeat it."

"It's true and you know it. Hattie practically stole you from under Venetta's nose. She's probably losing sleep at night trying to figure out how to keep the two of you apart."

A mournful laugh rumbles in my chest. "I can promise you that's not happening." Mostly because Hattie has me signed, sealed, and delivered.

She scoffs once again, "You have no idea what's going on in that girl's head. Nobody knows what someone else is thinking."

"Hattie does," I mutter once again.

My mother is quick to wave me off. "It's clear you're under her spell. Don't worry. I'll handle things from here. If anything, I'll prove that Hattie Holiday is solely responsible for that man's death. That and the fact she orchestrated the whole thing so that she could keep you away from Venetta for good. And to think she thought she could send Venetta up the river. Oh, the irony it will be when you clasp her wrists with cuffs." She shakes her head a moment. "Pity, I so liked her mother."

I offer a sober nod at the woman who bore me. "I think we need to have a little talk."