18. Mina

What?

That doesn't make any sense.

"I never sent that text message," Heathcliff growled. "I don't send text messages."

"It's true," I explained. "It took six months to wear him down enough to join a group chat with me and Quoth and Morrie, and he only uses it when he wants one of us to come and rescue him from a customer. Heathcliff either ignores people or calls them so that they can hear his disdain."

"Then how do you explain this text?" Wilson tapped her phone screen.

"Isn't that your job?" Heathcliff snapped.

I placed my hand on his arm, wishing I could communicate with him telepathically the way I could with Quoth and tell him that talking back to DS Wilson was probably not in his best interests.

Don't you think I haven't tried,Quoth's deep, raven voice echoed between my ears. He must be nearby in the bushes. Even if he could read your thoughts, he wouldn't listen.

Wilson folded her arms. "I'll need you to come to the station for questioning. Do you have your phone with you?"

"No. That's why this doesn't make sense. I accidentally picked up Allan's phone this morning, and he has mine."

"Uh-huh, sure." Wilson didn't sound as if she believed him. I guess she heard that kind of excuse all the time. But I knew Quoth had Heathcliff's phone because he called Morrie on it, but I didn't understand why. What was this secret wedding stuff Heathcliff and Quoth were up to? "We'll need to speak with Allan, as well. Will you follow me to my car, or do I need to get a couple of officers over here?"

"I'm coming." Heathcliff gave my hand a squeeze. "Mina, please don't worry. I didn't commit this crime or send that text. We'll get this straightened out and I'll be back to marry you before you know it."

His hand slipped away as he followed Wilson to her car.

My stomach churned. How can this be happening?

When I woke up this morning, the worst thing in my life was that I had to stick a second sign on the front door of Nevermore Bookshop announcing that my book launch was canceled. But now a wonderful man was dead and my fiancé was suspected of murdering him.

A sick sensation churned in my stomach. It was true that I found myself in the middle of murders more times than the usual person, but it didn't make them any easier. Iwan was our friend, and now he was gone. And I wanted to do whatever I could to help bring his killer to justice.

But that probably meant finding out what my three fictional fiancés were getting up to in secret.

Behind me, Morrie tossed the tote bag containing Quoth's clothes over a box hedge. I heard a raven croak, and a few moments later, Quoth emerged and wrapped his arms around me. I felt the prickle against my skin as his feathers threatened to burst through the surface. He was upset, too.

"It's all my fault," he whispered. "Heathcliff told me to text Iwan and tell him not to worry about the chocolate delivery. That's why I had his phone. But in all the chaos, I forgot. If I'd just sent that text, Iwan wouldn't have come here?—"

"Did you hear what the police said? Heathcliff did text Iwan, telling him that he was going to meet him here."

"That's not true." Quoth held me tighter. "I had Heathcliff's phone, and I didn't send a text to Iwan. Oh, what a horrible mess. I'll go to the station and explain everything."

"Quoth, what did happen?"

"I came here as soon as Heathcliff called me," he whispered to me. "The police were already here when I arrived. Apparently, they'd had a tipoff about Heathcliff having an altercation with someone at Lachlan Hall. But that's not true."

The killer called the police. Whoever they were, they didn't merely want Iwan dead, they wanted to frame Heathcliff.

"I don't understand any of this." I turned to Morrie and Quoth. "Why would anyone want to kill Iwan to frame Heathcliff? Do you guys know anything about this? Has it got something to do with all this secret wedding stuff?"

There were three beats of silence, during which time a thousand dark thoughts ran through my mind. Then Morrie said, "I don't think Heathcliff's taste for imported chocolates or over-the-top wedding decor are anything to get a murderer worked up about. It's more likely that this is about Iwan, some dark secret he was hiding, and the killer is looking to make Heathcliff take the fall so the police stop looking for them."

Quoth nuzzled his face into my shoulder, and said nothing.

"The police will quickly figure out that our favorite Luddite couldn't have sent those texts once we show them his phone," Morrie tried to reassure me. "Then they can focus on finding the real killer?—"

"But then who could have sent those texts? They must have some kind of tech knowledge to convince Iwan that they were Heathcliff. If we hurry back to Nevermore Bookshop and Morrie checks over Heathcliff's phone before the police come for it, maybe we can figure out how they did it and?—"

"Oh no," Morrie said. "Quoth, don't let her go or she'll run headfirst into a new murder investigation."

"You mean you don't want to know what's going on? This is important." My voice cracked. "They think Heathcliff did this!"

"This isn't our fight, gorgeous. We'll get Heathcliff out of this, and Hayes and Wilson will get to the bottom of Iwan's murder. You already have a case, remember? The missing duck. And we're getting married in two days?—"

"Are we?" I snapped, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice.

I was starting to resent all this secret-keeping around the wedding. I was excited that Heathcliff wanted to surprise me, but that was before our celebrant was murdered. Now, it made me feel as if the guys were deliberately keeping me in the dark, like they didn't trust me.

And that gave me a similar squirmy sensation to how I felt when I read Jen's letter about my book.

"Of course, gorgeous. It won't take the police long to clear Heathcliff's name. As long as we cooperate with them, I'm sure everything will be fine and that this has nothing to do with us. It's probably something sordid in Iwan's past."

"I can't imagine Iwan having anything sordid in his past." Iwan was a beloved member of the community – a parish council member, and on the school board. Sure, he might have annoyed a few religious busybodies like Dorothy Ingram by campaigning for gay marriage, but from what I'd seen, since the law had changed and no one had been struck down by a lightning bolt for their ‘sinful union,' most villagers seemed happy to let people who were in love get married no matter what sex or gender they might be.

Morrie patted my arm and led me back towards the waiting Uber. "Take my word for it. Everyone has skeletons in their closet."

"You've spent most of your life hanging around criminals. I think you have a skewed sample."

"I agree with Morrie." Quoth pulled me into the back seat behind him, never letting me go for a moment. His voice wavered a little. "We have to let the police handle this one."

"But how can we? They have Heathcliff in custody! And we don't have a celebrant! I wanted Iwan to marry us! I don't feel right having the wedding."

Panic rose in my chest. I'd been taking it for granted that on the 20th, I'd get to marry the three men of my dreams. But now…

"Heathcliff is just answering questions. And Iwan would have wanted us to go on with the wedding."

"But it took us forever to find someone who would agree to perform our ceremony." Marrying four people wasn't legal in the UK, so our ceremony couldn't be legalised, but we wanted to host one anyway. "I'm sorry, I know that's not what matters right now. Poor Iwan. I just feel so helpless. You guys haven't noticed anything strange about the wedding prep? Any clues that someone might be targeting Iwan, or us?"

There was another long beat of silence that made my chest tighten before Morrie replied, "Nope, we're as shocked as you are. But don't worry, we'll get you home and help you forget all about this…for an orgasm or two, at least."