Spirited Away Page 6

  Bee wasn’t exaggerating about Ellie looking bad. If anything, she looked worse than he’d said. Her cheeks had become sunken, and dark shadows lingered beneath her eyes. Her hair had returned to its natural mousy brown and hung in limp strands over the front of her shoulders and covered her eyes. Even her posture had returned to its former please-don’t-notice-me slump.

  “Are you okay, Ellie?”

  She peered out from beneath her long bangs. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  When was the last time she’d seen Ellie? She couldn’t recall off-hand, but not more than a month ago. She’d definitely seen her since the weather had turned warmer. How could so much have changed so quickly? “I . . . um . . . what’s that you’re doing?”

  “We had a barrel of potting soil left over after we did our planting for the season, and we’ve had this adorable antique tricycle with the little basket in the front hanging around for quite some time . . . Here, let me show you.” She looked around then climbed the few steps to the porch and gestured toward a rusted tricycle sitting on a stand beside a stack of paintings partially covered with a canvas. “So, I figured I’d plant some impatiens in the basket and try to sell it as a planter.”

  “That’s such a cute idea.” Ellie had found her calling working in the antique shop. The work suited her, and she’d discovered a talent for recycling old things. Cass spun the trike’s front wheel. Despite a small squeak, it seemed to be in perfect working order. “You really love what you’re doing, don’t you?”

  She smiled. “I really do.”

  “I’m happy for you.” How could she possibly approach the subject of what was bothering her when she seemed so content?

  “So, what can I help you with this morning? Surely you didn’t drive all the way out here to discuss my well-being.”

  Actually, that’s exactly what she’d done. “I was thinking of putting a few more rocking chairs out on the porch at Mystical Musings. And maybe a couple of those barrels with the checkerboards on top, you know? So people could sit outside and have something to do while they waited.”

  Ellie’s brow furrowed. “We have a rocking chair or two, but I know we don’t have any of the checkerboard tables.” She grabbed the rim of the barrel she’d been taking soil from. “Unless you want to take this and maybe have Emmett make a checkerboard for the top.”

  Since she didn’t bat an eye at the mention of Emmett’s name, Cass could only assume she hadn’t heard what happened. Not surprising, since Ellie generally kept to herself. “That’s a good idea. I’ll have to talk to him about it when I see him.”

  “If you want, I can pull out whatever chairs I think you’ll like once we open and have Willie drive them over later on today.”

  “That’d be perfect, thanks, Ellie.”

  “If I find any more barrels, I’ll throw them in the back of the truck too.”

  “Great, thank you. Just send him with a bill, and I’ll pay cash.”

  “No problem.” She pushed her hair back behind her ear, leaving a dirt smudge across her cheek.

  “How’s everything else going?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  So much for being discreet. “Oh, I don’t know. You seem happy with your career choice, so I just wondered how things are going in your personal life.”

  “Fine.” She carried the small bucket she’d filled with dirt onto the porch, then glanced around, suspicion darkening her eyes.

  “Do you want to come in for a reading later?” Ellie wasn’t one to open up about what was going on in her life, but if Cass could get her into the shop for a reading, she might be able to figure out what was wrong.

  Ellie swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder, then down the road, before settling her gaze on Cass’s feet. “That’s okay. Thank you, but I’m fine.”

  “You know if you change your mind, you can just come in, right? Anytime.”

  She shrugged and used the small gardening shovel to fill the tricycle’s basket with soil, her attention fully focused on the task. “Sure, thanks.”

  “I mean it, Ellie.” No matter how hard Cass tried to make eye contact, Ellie’s gaze lingered on the basket. “I’ll always make time for you.”

  Ellie finally looked up and focused on something over Cass’s shoulder. “I know, Cass, and I appreciate it. I have to get this done now, though. It’s almost time to open. It was good seeing you.”

  “You too, Ellie. Thanks.” With no idea what else she could say to her, Cass turned and walked to her car. Before climbing in, she stopped and watched Ellie work.

  Every couple of seconds, Ellie lifted her head long enough to look around, then returned her full focus to the ground in front of her. She hadn’t acted like that since her domineering mother had been killed. Or since her abusive ex-husband had fled Bay Island to avoid prosecution and disappear . . . ed . . . Oh, no. The thought Jay Callahan might have resurfaced and contacted Ellie sent a skitter of sheer terror up her spine.

  But what were the chances? Jay knew he’d be arrested the moment he showed his face anywhere on Bay Island. He could have called Ellie. But would a phone call warrant such a drastic change in the woman’s behavior and appearance, make her fully revert to her former self? Maybe. Cass just hoped Ellie hadn’t gotten involved with someone new. When you were as used to submitting to someone as completely as Ellie had to her mother and then Jay, it was a difficult cycle to break.

  Cass made a mental note to get in touch with her and push to find out what was going on.

  Her phone rang, and she checked the caller ID. “Hey, Bee, what’s going on?”

  “Can you meet me at the deli?”

  “Sure thing.” She climbed into the car. “I’m on my way. Did everything go okay with Luke?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cass circled the block for the third time, then crept past the deli, hoping a parking spot would open up. None did.

  Sunlight glinted off the hood of Bee’s Trans Am where it was parked against the curb directly out front, almost like it was mocking her. She wondered how long he’d had to wait for such a prime spot.

  Who was she kidding? Bee was not only the king of gossip, he’d been questioned by the police regarding the murder. Heck, Emma had probably stood out front holding the spot open for him.

  She’d try one more time. Surely someone had gotten their breakfast and was ready to leave. She rounded the corner again, passing several people walking along the sidewalk toward the deli. Apparently they’d given up on getting a close parking spot. The cool air blowing full force on her face from the vents burned her eyes. If there was nowhere to park this time, she’d have to give up and walk. If she didn’t get a dose of caffeine soon, she ran the risk of falling over.

  Still no open spots.

  With no hope of getting closer, Cass drove three blocks down and parked. The walk would do her good, anyway, maybe wake her up a little.

  She locked the car and started toward the deli. Despite her eagerness to find out how things had gone with Luke and Tank, since Bee had refused to share any of the details over the phone, she took her time strolling down the block. Already the sun beat down on her. It would be another hot, still day on Bay Island. If this heat wave didn’t break soon, she was going to have to give in and call a repairman for the air conditioner, though even the thought brought a wave of anxiety. Emmett had handled Cass’s repairs since she’d opened the shop. How could she call in someone else? Especially after he’d stuck up for her the night before.

  The closer she got to the gossip hot spot, the more she regretted letting Bee talk her into meeting him there. Despite having a new topic to draw attention from her blunder the night before, that dirt was still new enough to earn some gossip time, especially since it was somehow connected to the murder at Emmett’s.

  Then again, it was the middle of the summer tourist season, and the deli would be packed at that time of the morning regardless of whether
or not there was good gossip. Locals were heading off to work, and tourists often grabbed breakfast before heading to the beaches or to browse the boardwalk shops or to ascend one of Bay Island’s lighthouses.

  She only hesitated a moment before bracing herself and walking in. To say the place was packed would be an understatement. People were crammed in everywhere, forcing her to turn sideways and finagle her way through to try to find Bee. She couldn’t even get to the small area that held a few tables for dining, never mind sit down and eat.

  Murmurs followed her as she passed, the undercurrent sizzling like a live wire as she moved deeper through the crowd. Stares weighed heavily. A headache started at her temples, pounding a steady rhythm through her brain.

  A woman she didn’t recognize leaned closer to the man she was with and whispered something in his ear, all the while staring directly at Cass. The man’s gaze shot to her as well, then lingered as Cass passed.

  A few people said hello, but more than a few either studied her openly or turned away when her gaze met theirs. Heat blazed in her cheeks.

  Crossing the small shop seemed to take forever before she finally found Bee holding court beside the coffee counter, the crowd gathered around him hanging on his every word. When he spotted her, he held up a finger for her to wait and pointed toward the kitchen doorway behind the counter, indicating he’d already ordered their breakfast. Thankful she didn’t have to wait on the line that wound through most of the shop, she found a quiet corner beside the front door and leaned against the wall, willing herself invisible.

  At least they’d be out of there soon. As much as Bee loved being the center of attention and trading good dirt, he wouldn’t try to eat in the middle of that crowd. When he sat down to a meal, he wanted peace. So much so that he’d bribed the four Talbot boys to behave more than once so he could eat his meal without them acting up in the diner. He considered it four dollars well spent.

  Cass’s vision blurred. She rubbed her eyes. For just a minute, she entertained the idea of closing Mystical Musings for the day. If her welcome in the deli was any indication, she doubted she’d have any customers anyway, and she really needed some sleep.

  She tried to listen to what people were talking about, but her mind drifted in a fog of confusion. Sleep deprivation?

  “Help him.” The words came to her softly, barely loud enough to hear.

  She jerked away from the wall and looked around. Everything was the same as it had been a moment ago. She didn’t even think the line had moved. She shook her head and tried to dispel the fog. Had she dozed off?

  “He needs you.” A woman’s voice, soft, melodic.

  Cass sagged back against the wall and closed her eyes. She tried to focus on where the sound had come from. As terrified as she was, she tried to clear her mind and open herself.

  Until recently, she’d always thought her “psychic” skills were a combination of good instincts and years of psychiatric training. But that wouldn’t explain how she’d been able to “read” people so accurately as a teenager, before she’d received any of that training, when she’d spent her summers on the beach, swimming, sunbathing, playing volleyball, and “reading” tourists. And she’d been accurate, very accurate.

  It hadn’t scared her then. She’d simply open herself and things would come to her, information she shouldn’t have any knowledge of but somehow did. That had been before she’d left Bay Island, before she’d gone to school, before she’d met and married Donald Larson, before . . . her world had crumbled.

  She opened her eyes and shook off the haze. It was no use. Her mind was too closed, too chaotic. Whatever, or whoever, was trying to contact her wouldn’t be able to get through.

  “Well, well . . .” A man she didn’t recognize had started to walk out, then stopped short when he’d spotted her. “If it isn’t Cassandra Donovan.”

  Cass shivered, not because she recognized him, but because she didn’t. No one had called her Cassandra since she was a kid, which meant he knew her from way back, and if his stone-cold expression was any indication, he wasn’t a fan. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  “Why am I not surprised?” His paunchy features twisted into a sneer. “What kind of woman doesn’t even remember the man whose life she ruined?”

  Her heart rate kicked up, and she straightened from the wall. What was he talking about? She tried to imagine what he’d look like younger, slimmer, with a full head of hair rather than the thinning combover he currently sported.

  “Don’t worry.” He leaned closer and pitched his voice low. “I’ll give you time to figure it out for yourself before I return the favor.”

  “Is there a problem here?” A big hand landed on the stranger’s shoulder.

  He whirled around straight into Bee’s solid chest, then jerked back. His head moved down as he took in the more than six feet of red-faced, well-built Bee, paused when he reached the platform shoes Bee always wore with his skinny jeans, then inched back up until he faced him. “Nope. No problem.”

  Bee stepped back and gestured toward the door.

  “Not yet, anyway,” he mumbled as he nudged Bee with his shoulder on his way by.

  When Bee started to turn, Cass grabbed his arm. “It’s okay, Bee, but thank you.”

  Bee looked after him but, thankfully, let it go. “What’s his deal, anyway?”

  Cass shook her head, no closer to remembering who the man was than when he’d first confronted her. “I have no idea, but I have a strong feeling I should figure it out sooner rather than later.”

  “Define feeling.” Bee looked out the window in the direction the man had gone. “Like a gut instinct or an ‘I should go find myself a cross and some garlic’ feeling?”

  The tension eased out of her and she laughed. “Just a feeling, Bee. And for the record, crosses and garlic fend off vampires, not ghosts.”

  “Yeah, well, you can never be too careful.” He picked up his bag and a cup holder with three coffee cups from the wide front window ledge. “We can leave your car here if you want, and I’ll drop you off to get it later.”

  She nodded. She probably shouldn’t drive. If whatever had happened to her before happened again while she was driving, she might lose control. And if whatever it was came back, she wanted to be able to open herself completely. Or at least try.

  “Hey.” Bee frowned. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled the door open for him, then followed him out.

  He hit the button to unlock the door, then stopped beside the car and studied her. “Are you sure he didn’t do anything to you?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You look a little pale.” Like Beast with a bone, Bee was not going to let this go.

  “I’m fine, Bee. I just . . . something happened in there . . . and I need some time to wrap my head around it. I’ll explain while we eat.” She reached for the door handle.

  The door locks popped back down. Bee stood, lower lip caught between his teeth, staring at her.

  She lowered her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Give me your keys.” He tucked the paper bag beneath is arm, stuffed his keys back into his pocket, and held out a hand.

  “What?” She didn’t need this right now.

  “I said, give me your keys.” He didn’t budge.

  “But I’m parked three blocks down.”

  “It’s a nice day for a walk, and dieting is turning out to be harder than expected, so I need the exercise.” Patting his flat belly, Bee studied her, his eyes filled with hope.

  She pinned him with a glare. “Bee . . .”

  “Oh, all right, fine. Last time I took you to the cemetery, my baby’s engine was wonky for months. And now you’re acting all weird and voodoo-y, and I don’t want anything . . .” He looked around her, as if searching for a spirit hanging over her, then gazed lovingly at his Trans Am. “I don’t want anything . . . you know.”

  “No, what?” She bit back a smile and feigned innocence. She knew exactly wha
t he was talking about, but she was going to make him say it.

  He huffed out a breath and held his hand back out for the key. “Fine. I don’t want you bringing anything in my car with you.”

  “That’s okay, Bee, I want to swing by the house and pick up Beast, anyway.” And there was no way Bee was putting Beast in his car. She laughed and started walking down the sidewalk with Bee beside her. She was too used to him to be offended, and who knew? This time he might actually be right. Though she’d never admit it to him. “So, what happened with Luke and Tank? You never said.”

  He shrugged. “It was fine, they just questioned me about what happened and that was it.”

  “Did it seem as if they thought Emmett was guilty?” She still couldn’t wrap her head around Emmett as a killer.

  “I couldn’t tell. They’re completely stone-faced, those two.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  Bee stared off for a moment, his thick eyebrows furrowed into a deep V. “They did ask one strange question, though.”

  “Oh? What was that?”

  “They asked me if I knew if Emmett played baseball.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cass went through her morning routine, preparing to open Mystical Musings while Bee stuck their breakfast sandwiches in the microwave. Most everything was already done, since they’d stayed late the night before to organize it all. She considered propping the doors open to ease some of the crushing heat, but that could wait until after they ate. She didn’t want anyone to walk in while she, Bee, and Stephanie were having breakfast.

  Stephanie, who was not only one of her best friends but also her bookkeeper, skimmed through the sales book for the week. “Your sales have practically doubled since last summer.”

  The news brought a burst of pride in how much she’d accomplished in such a short time, a dash of relief she might have enough savings to make it through next winter, and then sadness that all her dreams might collapse because of one bad night.

  “Don’t worry, Cass. It’ll all work out.” Stephanie closed the ledger and returned it to the shelf beneath the register. “Come on, let’s eat.”